With the lightning reflexes of a trained tactical officer, Mateo calmly extended his polished leather shoe just enough to hook the rubber wheel of the heavy cart.
Teresa’s six-inch designer stiletto heel caught the edge of the plush Persian rug.
With a dramatic, arms-flailing screech, Teresa lost her balance entirely.
She pitched forward like a falling tree, crashing headfirst straight into the middle of the massive mobile dessert cart.
A loud, wet, glorious SPLAT! echoed through the high-ceilinged ballroom.
Fifty gallons of thick, lukewarm, sticky pink strawberry fondue and chocolate cream erupted over Teresa’s head like a tidal wave.
It drenched her pristine white designer gown from head to toe, plastered her styled hair flat against her skull in dripping pink icicles, and filled her expensive leather pumps with gooey red sludge. A large, soggy candied strawberry landed squarely on top of her nose like a ridiculous clown nose.
