Lies and Weddings(62)
The guests stared after them in confusion, before a man dressed in a priest’s robes announced in a booming voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, please follow the rose petal trail to the sacred ceremony.” As Rufus and Rosina joined the procession heading outside, gasps could be heard from the guests walking ahead of them.
“Ohmygod!”
“No waaaaay!”
“Unbe-fucking-lievable!”
“What’s happening?” Rufus wondered as he tried to peer over the crowd. There was a bottleneck at the doorway as the guests made their way into the garden, but they finally crossed the threshold and stood gawking at the sight before them. Fifty hot-air balloons, positioned in a perfect circle in the vast palm grove, were all fired up and ready to take off.
“Here’s your very simple wedding,” Rosina said, nudging Rufus with her elbow.
A team of concierges stood by with iPads, directing each guest to their assigned balloon. “Mrs. Leung, you’re in balloon number two, with the Radfords,” the attendant said to Rosina.
“Wonderful.” Rosina nodded as she and Rufus began walking toward their balloon.
“Sir, wait a minute, sir, you’re in a different balloon,” the concierge called after them.
“No, he’s with me. He’s my plus-one,” Rosina insisted.
“I’m sorry, but there’s only room for you on the Radford balloon. It says here ‘Leung Guest—balloon number eighteen,’?” the concierge confirmed.
“See you up there,” Rufus said amiably as he parted ways with his aunt and headed toward his assigned balloon. Arriving at a striped silver and blue balloon, he was helped aboard the wicker gondola by the pilot, who introduced himself as Mehmet. As Rufus observed the other balloons quickly filling up with three or four guests per gondola, he was just beginning to wonder who else was going to be riding with him when he spotted John Grey heading over with Martha Dung.
As Mehmet helped Martha aboard, Rufus was able to study her up close for the first time. For some reason, whenever he met Asian women in particular, he would always hear his mother’s voice invading his head. It was something he found annoying but unavoidable. He knew that Arabella would consider Martha’s face “common” and disapprove of her tan, but Rufus could clearly see that her complexion came from a life lived outdoors. She looked to be in her midthirties, and had the physique of an athlete and a cool bohemian style that reminded him of some of the female surfers he knew in Hawaii—she was dressed in an indigo-dyed sleeveless linen shirtdress that revealed a serpentine tattoo going up her right arm (another thing his mother would have abhorred), a broad leather belt with hammered silver studs, and a straw fedora over shoulder-length black hair that had been pulled into a ponytail.
Rufus greeted them cheerily. “Hello! I wasn’t expecting you two as my ballooning companions today.”
“We might have gotten to choose our balloon,” John said with a wink.
“Really? And I passed the security clearance?”
“With flying colors! I have a confession, mate. I was vetting you a bit last night, just to be sure you hadn’t become some kind of crypto-evangelical start-up monkey.”
“The last thing we wanted was to be trapped in a pitch meeting with some tech desperado while we’re a thousand feet in the air,” Martha (Diocesan Girls’/Geelong Grammar/Griffith) chimed in.
“The only kind of pitch I know involves cricket. I don’t have much of a brain for business.”
“How refreshing,” Martha said.
Rufus turned to John. “So you work for Martha too?”
“My bank does. Sorry for the subterfuge,” John said.
“Believe me, I get it. In London I have to go by another name.”
“Why is that?” Martha asked.
“I’m an artist, and I want my work to be judged on its own merit.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because people tend to judge me just based on my name.”
Martha was still confused. “What’s so special about your name?”
Rufus looked at her a bit awkwardly, and John jumped in. “Martha, in certain circles, Rufus is rather famous. He’s got one ninety K followers on Instagram.”
“Actually, someone else made that account. I’m not on Instagram,” Rufus clarified.
“No wonder there’s nothing but shirtless pictures of you on it!” John guffawed.
Martha gave Rufus a curious look. “Wow, I had no idea we were going ballooning with someone famous. John didn’t tell me a thing about you except that you were mates at school.”
“I’m really not famous,” Rufus insisted.
Before John could explain any further, Mehmet the pilot interrupted their chatter. “Okay, everyone, I need your attention. Before we take off, here are a few safety rules,” Mehmet said. After giving them a quick rundown, he fired up the flame and the balloon lifted off slowly and steadily into the air. Everyone gazed out at the view in awe.
“I didn’t think it’d be so quiet,” Martha said, almost in a whisper.
“This is what I love about ballooning…the absolute peace,” Mehmet said.
The three of them soaked in the glorious sight of the other balloons rising all around them in unison, and the crisp blue sky was invaded by a riot of colors. “Isn’t this quite hard to do? To get all these balloons to float at the same level?” John asked the pilot.