Bryce stepped into the restaurant that he had seen the guests go to, with his envelope in hand, and walked up to the maitr d�s podium.
"Your name sir," the man asked politely
"Uh, I�m Bryce markham, and I need-"
"I�m sorry sir, but your name is not on the reservation list," he informed Bryce. "You�ll have to wait until an table becomes available."
"Erm, I�m not exactly hear to eat I have to-"
"You�re not?" he asked.
"No, I�m-"
"I�m afraid I�ll have to ask you to leave," said the maitr d in a snooty manner. "This establishment has a strict policy concerning loiterers."
"I�m not a loiterer," Bryce said incredulously. "I�m a Photographer, and I�m trying-"
"We do not allow flash photography in this establishment during dinner hours."
"I�m not here to shoot the friggin� place," Bryce exclaimed angrily. "Just let me finish my sentence, for crissake! I�m a Photographer who needs to speak with-"
"Oh, are you with the wedding party?" The maitr d asked appearing to realize something.
"What?" Bryce asked.
"You�re wearing a Tuxedo," the maitr d observed. "I take it to mean you are with the Rayne wedding party."
"Brilliant deduction Holmes!" Bryce said exasperated.
"They are right through that doorway," he pointed. "Private dining room B."
"Thank you," Bryce managed and walked toward the door. He turned around to add one more after thought. "And you, my friend, will receive no tip!" With that he walked through the door and headed into the dining room.
"No tip?!" The restaurant employee exclaimed. "Cheap bastard! Next!"
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