“How dare you!” the brat shouted.

Explosive anger number seven, thought Jeffrey.

“Donald and I love each other very much. We can’t wait to get married,” the brat said. “Is it wrong to want the perfect wedding? Isn’t a girl’s father walking her down the aisle part of that perfect wedding? That’s all I want.”

Jeffrey knew he wasn’t gong to convince her today. It was like those couples who thought a buffet at five dollars a head would be fine, then were amazed when everyone was hungry after their allotted three pieces of cheese.

“I’ll tell you what: let me see what we can do and then we’ll try him out at the wedding rehearsal and dinner. That way you can see him in action and still give us a few hours for final adjustments before the wedding if necessary.”

Jeffrey was relieved when the brat took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He placed his hand on the small of her back and moved her toward the door.

“But you’ll make him taller?” she asked.

“I’ll see what we can do,” Jeffrey said.

A moment later she was gone and Jeffrey had to fight the urge to lock the door behind her. He returned to his desk, gathered the paperwork for the android into a neat stack, and slid it into a hidden pocket on the back of the android’s suit jacket. Jeffrey knew he was legally covered. No court would say he hadn’t honored his part of the contract. He decided to let the android stay as is and let the brat take him to court if she was foolish enough.

“Please, Miss,” said Jeffrey, “just try him out, see how he does for the rehearsal.”

Jeffrey stood at the back of the chapel talking to the brat. A red carpet ran from them down the center aisle through the fifty rows of pews to the pulpit where the minister, her fiancé, and the eight attendants waited. Her mother, future in-laws, and other friends and family sat in the pews on their respective sides, their bodies twisted around, their heads craned back to wait for her approach.

“He doesn’t smell right,” said the brat. “How can you expect me to walk down the aisle on the biggest day of my life when my father doesn’t smell like my father?”

Jeffrey leaned into the android and sniffed its shoulder. Not detecting a problem, he moved over and sniffed its neck. It smelled like he expected, so he walked behind the android and sniffed between the shoulder blades.

“Miss, I don’t detect an odor,” said Jeffrey.

“Not an odor, you moron,” said the brat. “Look, I’m giving you a break even though you didn’t make it any taller, but can you at least make it smell right? I’ve got to walk all the way down there with it and no one will believe it’s how my father would have done it if this thing doesn’t smell right.”

The whine was rising in volume and Jeffrey was experienced enough with the brat to know a full tantrum was soon to follow.

“But Miss, the latex we use for the skin of our androids is odorless. Before we left the showroom tonight, a mist of a proportionate mixture of your father’s favorite aftershave, soap, and deodorant was applied to the android.”

“My father didn’t smell like flowers,” the brat said, each word forced through clenched teeth, short and clipped. She squinted her eyes into a piercing stare and leaned forward slightly, forcing her face into Jeffrey’s personal space, glaring at him.

Angry face number one, Jeffrey thought. Lord, he was going to be happy when this wedding was over. It was customers like this that made him glad he insisted on payment up front. He fought his natural urge to step back and reestablish his personal space. Instead, he pointed to the flower arrangements attached to the ends of each pew.

“Is it possible that you are smelling the floral arrangements, Miss?” he asked in as pleasant voice as possible. He had noticed a couple of months before that it infuriated her when he spoke accommodatingly while not letting her have whatever impossible request she had made.

The brat looked as if she was seeing the arrangements of carnations for the first time, their white and red blossoms bursting out of the tops of the baskets Jeffrey had had to special order so one side was flat against the pew and the other jutted a few inches into the aisle.

“Please, Miss,” Jeffrey said while gesturing to the people waiting and then to the android.

He didn’t think he had won when the brat moved into position. He wouldn’t declare victory until after the real ceremony. Jeffrey had been lucky in that the brat hadn’t been able to counter his argument. Otherwise they’d still be fighting about what her father smelled like. While his androids may not have smelled exactly like the people they resembled, Jeffrey refused to try and add the element of body odor into the mixes.

The brat had made it to the altar and the android was now sitting in the pew next to her mother. Jeffrey could see the look of adoration the brat and her intended gave each other. He almost never judged the chances of a marriage succeeding, but in this case, unless the groom was a spineless full wallet, Jeffrey didn’t give them a year.

After the rehearsal and after the wedding party had posed for the spontaneous photographs for the memorial book, Jeffrey signaled the android and they left before the brat could start up again. There was still the rehearsal dinner to get through, and Jeffrey wanted to check each minute detail again. His biggest worry was the new modifications that had been added to the android’s programming to satisfy the brat. She had shouted, stomped, and flounced until Jeffrey had agreed with her request just to get rid of her.

She didn’t want the android just to sit at the table and eat. Her father liked to dance and mingle with the guests. It was her wedding and she wanted the android to act like her father.

Jeffrey was grateful the groom’s parents had been in charge of the rehearsal dinner. They had been so easy to work with. If the brat didn’t like anything tonight, he’d just refer her to her future in-laws.

The private room was set up exactly as he had specified. The band was already there and set up. They were on one end of the room with a large wood dance floor separating them from the tables. Jeffrey walked around the tables, inspecting the settings. He picked up the fork at one, confirming it had water spots. A signal to one of the two women assigned to serve the dinner brought a fresh fork. As he placed it on the table, two of the bridesmaids came in. He stepped to the side, the android already moving to greet them.

Jeffrey took the opportunity to work out the final details for two upcoming receptions with the manager while the rehearsal dinner progressed. When he got back to the room the toasts had concluded, the meal finished, and the dishes cleared. The smell of broiled chicken still filled the air, but a hint of alcohol was there as well. The band had changed from light rock covers to a harder funk sound, heavy on the bass. The lights of the room had been dimmed except for those over the dance floor. Red and blue color lights had been added there to give a more festive look. A dozen people bobbed and swayed on the dance floor.

“There you are,” the brat said.

Jeffrey turned, his eyes adjusting from the bright hallway he had come from. He could see the brat a few feet to his right.

“There’s something wrong with your android. Again,” she said. She stood with her arms across her chest, right foot tapping the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, mouth pursed together and pushed to the left side. Pissed off number two.

“Excuse me, Miss, but what has happened?” Jeffrey asked.

“Just look,” the brat said, shouting as she gestured toward the dance floor.

Jeffrey looked again, this time picking out the android dancing with two of the bridesmaids. His suit jacket and tie had been removed, his two top buttons undone. The three danced in a line, hips bumping together, then swiveling and gyrating between hits. After a series of four hip bumps the two young ladies spun into the androids arms and drew close to each other; a group hug with the participants shimmying their bodies in place, bouncing against each other. After an eight count the ladies extended, reestablishing the chain, and the hip bumps resumed.