Page 1 of Archer

Chapter 1

Archer

Weddings were my least favorite events to shoot. They took hours, and I’d yet to photograph a single wedding where there wasn’t some kind of family drama. I’d seen some crazy shit in my time, but I could honestly say this was the first time I’d seen the bride and one of the guests get into a catfight.

The bride’s grandmother was ninety-eight-years-old, and no one had thought she’d live to see her granddaughter marry, so I’d been asked to be sure and take pictures of her when possible. During the wedding ceremony, I’d manage to get one teary-eyed picture of the grandmother while the bride was saying her vows, but for the most part, my focus was on the couple. Once we moved to the reception, I wanted to make sure I got some goodshots that included the older woman. That was what I was doing when the fight broke out, so I missed how it actually started.

I heard someone yell, “You bitch, those are mine.” And by the time I located the sound, claws were out, and they were rolling around on the floor, pulling hair and screeching.

I doubted they’d want to remember this part, but I lifted my camera and captured the moment because that was what I did. Nobody was ever going to say an important moment happened on my watch, and there weren’t any pictures of it.

From what I could piece together from the insults and profanities that were being hurled back and forth, the bride’s something old was an heirloom that belonged to the aforementioned grandmother. Her cousin had thought it was going to be hers, and she wanted it back. The bride said this was her special day and the cousin could go to hell.

I stayed the course, my camera shutter clicking as the groom, the father of the bride, and some other gentlemen pulled them apart, but by then, they were both a mess. The mother of the bride rushed forward, trying to straighten the bride’s hair and dress.

When she realized it was pretty much hopeless, she shot the cousin a glare that would have incinerated her on the spot if that was possible. Yes, I caught that on camera as well. She let out a sigh and shook her head. “Maybe we should just send everyone home, dear. The wedding was beautiful, so you’ll always have that.”

“Send everyone home?” the bride exclaimed. “I haven’t cut the cake or had my first dance or my father-daughter dance. There’s no way that bitch is ruining my day. My day, do you hear me? It’smyday.”

In her defense, up until this moment, Autumn, the bride, had been nothing but delightful. I’d seen no bridezilla tendencies at all, so it had to be the stress of the moment and the idea that all her dreams and plans for this day were going to be ruined.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Mitch, the groom, assured her. “Think of it this way. People will never forget our wedding. I mean, how often can you say you saw a badass bride kick someone’s ass at their wedding?”

A small smile tweaked her lips. “I did kick her ass, didn’t I?”

“Totally,” he assured her.

I wasn’t so sure that was true, but I commended him for knowing exactly the right thing to say.

“Well, if we’re continuing on, we need to get you cleaned up.” Her mother patted her on the arm and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll go check with the venue and make sure it’s okay if we run over time.”

She looked around and spotted me there still taking pictures and walked my way. “How about you, Archer? Do you mind staying?”

Did I mind staying? Yes, I actually did. I had plans for the rest of the day that included a nice bottle of wine and some time spent in my darkroom. But no matter how badly I wanted to leave, there was no way I wanted her wedding portfolio to contain amateur pictures taken with cell phones. Not if it was going to have my name on it.

“I can stay. No worries.”

“Thank you,” she said before turning to another of the guests. “Paula, you take your daughter and get out of here before I finish what Autumn started.”

It was a good two hours later when I pulled my car into my parking spot at the Windsor. It had been a long day, and I was beat. I’d never been so grateful for the fact that my studio was located on the ground floor of the apartment building I lived in because that meant I could unload all my gear, and then make my way upstairs to my apartment.

Of course, that wasn’t what I did since there was also a bar in the old hotel lobby that looked very inviting after the day I’d just had.

I was both relieved and annoyed to see both Hitch and Bram sitting there. Turning the old Windsor Hotel into a condominium was Hitch’s brainchild, and I had to say, he’d done a fantastic job. The upper floors were all individual units of varying sizes, and the bottom floor was several different shops, a restaurant, a bakery, and the bar. He’d kept the character of theold building by turning the lobby into something of a community space that felt very homey.

I’d found this place when I was looking for somewhere to open my photography studio. I hadn’t expected to find a new home as well as friends that were the closest thing to family I’d had in years. That’s exactly what I’d found, though, which was why, even if I really wanted to have a drink and then go upstairs and brood about what a shitshow today had been, I was mostly glad to see them.

“Hey, Arch, what’s up? You look rough.” Hitch motioned to Quincy, the bartender, to get me a drink. Quincy looked at me, and I gave him a nod. He didn’t even need to ask me what I wanted. I liked my whiskey neat, and Quincy knew exactly what kind I liked.

“Yeah, well, it was a rough day.”

“What was it this time? A toddler with too much energy or someone who wanted perfect photos of their dog even though it refused to stay still?” Bram asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “Worse.”

Quincy handed me my drink, and I downed it in one shot. “Easy, man, that ain’t Black Velvet. That’s for sipping, not chuggin.”

“I know, Quincy, but it’s been a day. Get me another, and I’ll treat the second one right.”