by Cody Ryder
I snuck a glance at April as we wound up towards the big moment. She nodded to me. Then I happened to look over and see Carol, who looked like she desperately wanted to come up and take the photo herself. Then she pulled out her cell phone and looked at its screen down the bridge of her nose, tapping on it with an urgency that suggested she thought that she had better have a backup photo.
“And do you Matt, take Sarah as your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.”
“And Sarah, do you take Matt as your lawfully wedded husband?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well. Then with the power vested in me by the state of California, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
They kissed, and the reception cheered and clapped. I captured the moment, complete with bokeh. After it was done, April nodded to me and gave me a thumbs up, and I returned it.
During the reception the DJ played the requisite “Cha Cha Slide” and even Carol had enough alcohol in her to stop pestering people and enjoy the celebration. I watched with amusement as she joined the lineup with her husband, the groom’s parents, and a few of the other uncles and aunts while the younger crowd laughed and clapped along.
I snapped a few shots of the dancing crowd before moving off towards the bar to take a quick break and partake in the free drinks. “Any of the cocktails covered?” I asked the bartender.
“Sure, just the basics though,” she chirped.
“Vodka cranberry, please,” I said. “Better throw in a Stella too.”
“Vodka cran and a Stella.” She mixed the cocktail and popped open the beer and slid them in front of me. “Long day, huh?”
“Gotta make my breaks count,” I laughed, and took a big swallow of my cocktail. It was nice and strong, and I gave her a few bucks for tip. “Thanks.”
She nodded and winked, and then turned her attention to the man who had just come up to the bar. I looked over, my face still in the glass, and saw that it was Mr. Popular from earlier on. My heart thudded suddenly, my curiosity regarding the handsome stranger piquing again. He leaned over the bar, resting his arms on the counter like he was getting ready to tell the bartender a big secret, and she leaned in towards him.
“Scotch, neat,” he said with a velvety smooth voice, and pointed to a bottle of MacCallan that was on the shelf. “Actually, can you make that a double?”
“Sure, but scotch isn’t comped,” she said. She looked flustered by the guy, as if his request for scotch had been a confession of love to her or something. The guy was incredibly gorgeous. He stood out from everyone else, not just because he was impeccably dressed, but his very presence radiated charisma and attractiveness. Put this guy in a McDonalds and it could pass as a five star restaurant.
“And thank God for that, otherwise I’d be asking for the whole bottle,” he said, flashing perfect teeth. The bartender laughed and pulled the bottle of MacCallan down from the shelf and tipped it into a glass.
“I recognize you,” she said. “I know you from somewhere.”
This got my curiosity burning even brighter. I sipped my drink, trying not to seem too interested in their conversation, but damn did I want to know just who this guy was.
He smiled and shrugged, looking down at the counter. The way he did it, I knew he had to be someone pretty famous. That was the action of someone who knew he was big but didn’t want to seem like a show off.
“Twenty two dollars, please,” she said, sliding the whiskey over to him. He took out a long, rectangular leather wallet from his inner breast pocket and pulled out a fifty.
“Keep the change,” he told her.
“Thank you!” she said, shocked. Then she pointed at him. “Oh! That’s it! You’re William Masterson! My little sister loves you. She’s got your posters all over her room.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s me.” He picked up one of the small square cocktail napkins from the bar. “Got a pen? I’ll autograph it for your sister.”
The bartender nodded, looking star struck. So that’s who he was, a teen idol. No wonder all the cousins were fawning over him. He signed the napkin and slid it over to the bartender and gave her a smile that made my knees weak. I quickly swallowed down the rest of my drink and moved on to my beer. A nice buzz was coming on.
“T-thank you,” she said, staring at the autograph. It looked like she was considering keeping it for herself. He raised his glass to her in a ‘cheers’, and then stepped away from the bar, looking out over to the dance floor where the older guests were now dancing to ‘Gangnam Style’. I saw the group of cousins at their table throwing glances over in his direction, chatting frantically amongst themselves. He was standing basically right next to me, one hand thrust into his pocket, the other holding his whiskey with his thumb, middle and forefinger. He looked like he had stepped out of a magazine ad.
“So, uh, how do you know the bride and groom?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
He looked over at me, his eye brows raised for a moment, and then smiled. “Sarah and I go way back. Old middle school friends.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding.
“Hard for me to believe she’s getting married,” he said. “We always thought I would be hitched before she was. But I guess that was before the whole singer thing happened.” I thought I heard a longing in his voice that resonated with me and my own thoughts towards my relationship successes.
Just then, the gaggle of schoolgirl cousins flocked up to him, holding out napkins for him to sign, their eyes practically starry. They surrounded him, and though he smiled and graciously signed each of their napkins or whatever else they offered up to him, grinning brightly when they pulled out their cell phones to take selfies, I did feel a little bad for him. He was at his old friend’s wedding, surely he wanted to get away from all that and just be treated like a normal person.
When the girls left, I told him my thoughts.
“It does get a little tiring to have everyone know who you are,” he said. “Can’t even remember what it's like to not be recognized. I mean, not to sound douchey or anything.”
I laughed and took a swig of my beer. “Don’t worry, I have no idea who you are,” I said. “You’re just another guy to me.” An amazingly hot guy, I thought.
“Well, cheers to that, man,” he grinned and held up his glass, and we clinked. “I’m Will.”
“Luke.”
“Pop music not your thing, huh, Luke?”
“I’m more of a rock kind of guy,” I said.
He nodded. “Trust me, pop isn’t mine either. I grew up on Bowie, Van Morrison, The Beatles, older stuff. Stuff my dad listened to.” He swallowed a gulp of his whiskey. I wasn’t sure why he was telling me all this, maybe because he was happy to be hanging out with “normal” people for once, or maybe he was just buzzed. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.
He pointed to my camera. “You’re the photographer here, huh?”
I lifted the Canon DSLR and shook it. “That’s me.”
He eyed me for a moment and then nodded with a small smile. “What would you rather be shooting, Luke? Because I can tell this isn’t it.”
I laughed. “Damn, is it that obvious?”
“I mean there are some whose thing in life is to shoot weddings, but I can see it written on your face. You want something else. So tell me, what is it?”
Had it been anyone else, the questions would’ve felt like prying and I probably would’ve told them to mind their own business, but with Will I just felt at ease about it. Hell, I wanted to tell him.
“Well, wedding photography is definitely not what I studied in school. I’d love to shoot homes and gardens. Real people’s living spaces. I think there’s nothing more beautiful than being able to capture the real feeling of home, you know? A warm kitchen filled with fresh vegetables and food on the stove, or a lush backyard garden where a grandparent is playing with his grandchild.”
“Really,” Will said. He looked genuinely surprised, and
I felt my face grow hot.
“It’s kind of my dream. Probably the only thing that gets a fire going in me.”
“I can tell,” he said, and sipped his whiskey. “It sounds beautiful.” He seemed distracted now.
“What about you? What’s it like to be living your passion?”
There was a flash of something on Will’s face, almost confusion. Then he smiled. “Oh, it’s amazing. I’m blessed. So blessed to be where I’m at.”
I almost expected him to add “but…” The way he said it sounded practiced, like something an actor would say when promoting a movie he knew was shitty but had to talk it up anyway. I waited for him to continue, but he just swigged down the rest of his whiskey.
I felt a buzz in my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. It was a text from April, saying she was going to take a smoke break.
“Shit,” I said. “Gotta get back to work.”
I wanted to keep talking to Will Masterson, famous pop idol who I’d never heard before – though I did know his name. It was one of those names you always heard tossed around on the Internet or in conversations from time to time, along with other pop stars like Kanye West or Justin Bieber. Not that I was any kind of expert on pop idols, but I didn’t think Will Masterson was quite as famous as those two, but he was still a huge name. Will was friendly and down to earth, nothing like what I would’ve expected a celebrity to be like, and I felt really comfortable chatting with him, which was unusual – sometimes when talking to guys I found really attractive I would freeze up and not know what to say. My beer wasn’t even finished, and I placed it on a table where I could find it.
“Okay,” Will said, nodding. “It was cool meeting you, Luke.”
I really, really wanted to stay and talk to him. As I left the bar I looked back and saw him shifting from foot to foot, looking around the room. The bartender behind him, stared at the back of his head, her eyes still wide and star struck. I realized that Will was opening up to me because he knew no one here – he had come alone. It must be lonely to be a stranger that everybody knows.
I found April, she was changing out her memory cards by the doors out of the venue. “So that guy,” I said to her, “He’s that pop singer, William Masterson.”
“Wait, what? No fucking way,” she said, pulling out a cigarette and putting it to her lips. “I must be blind. Where?”
I pointed towards the bar and saw Sarah, the bride, hurry up to Will and give him a hug. They were talking, and he grinned and punched her lightly on the shoulder.
“Well, damn. That’s something.” She smiled and nudged me with her elbow. “He’s pretty hot. Eh? Eh, Luke?”
“Yeah, he’s alright,” I said, shrugging, suddenly caught off guard. “Hey, you could write about him being here in your blog.”
“Hell no. I don’t do tabloid crap, you know that. Hey, you should ask him out,” she said, nonchalantly.
“What?” I stammered. “No. Why would I do that? I mean, he’s celebrity and he’s not even…Look at him, he doesn’t swing that way.”
“Are you kidding? He’s totally gay.”
“How do you know that?”
She shrugged. “My gaydar, is excellent. You never told me you were.”
“I’m not, though. I just—”
“Would rather fuck dudes than girls. Come on, Luke.” She clapped me on the shoulder. “Believe in your heart. How often do you get to ask a celebrity out?” She grinned. “I’m gonna go smoke.”
I sighed and walked back towards the dance floor, snapping a couple shots of friends who were gathered and talking. They posed for me, throwing up fake gang signs and sticking out tongues, and I noticed that Will had left the bar. I looked around to see where he went and saw that he was up speaking to the DJ, a middle aged guy who I doubted was part of Will’s fan base. The DJ looked confused for a second, and then shrugged.
The music faded. “We’ve got a special performance here today, as requested by our very own Mrs. Sarah Martin! Come on up here Matt and Sarah. Ah—” he turned to Will to get his name again, covering the mic with his hand. “Will Masterson here is going to sing them a song!”
There were cheers from the crowd and the new husband and wife walked up to the dance floor. The cousins rushed up, clutching each other and screaming in disbelief.
“Seems like you’ve got fans,” the clueless DJ said, and handed the mic over to Will.
“Evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Will said into the mic. His voice was silky smooth, obviously trained and practiced for public performance. I was sure he didn’t even need the mic to project to everyone. I didn’t even know Will or his music – I had just met the guy for God’s sake – but I found my heart beating faster in anticipation for his performance. I wanted to know what he sounded like when he sang. I raised my camera up and snapped a photo as Sarah and Matt joined hands, Will standing behind them like the officiate had during the ceremony.
“My name’s William Masterson.” There were cheers from the guests, and especially loud ones from the teenaged cousins. “I’d like to dedicate this song to my oldest friend, Sarah. To her future with Matt, who is just one of the most fantastic guys I’ve ever met. And, by extension, I’d like to dedicate this song to love.” He smiled widely, and I thought I heard the cousins sigh. “Because you never know where you may find it.” Will turned, and my heart leapt as his gaze found mine, all the way across the room. It was only a split second. I had no idea whether he had intended that look for me, or if it had just been coincidence, but it made me feel weak, and just like that I had felt myself falling hard for this guy.
I tried to fight back the feeling, telling myself there was no way that was intentional, at least not for me. I was just projecting. I was attracted to him, and was projected my desires on what had happened. If anything, it was some kind of stage technique he knew – looking every single fangirl (or boy) in the eye with one sweep to make them think “he looked at me!” That had to be it. I wished April was here to snap me out of it.
The DJ started a song – an old classic romantic pop that I knew the lyrics to but not the name of – and Will began to sing. The cousins and scattering of other younger guests who knew Will’s music weren’t surprised to hear his voice, but there were enough people there who didn’t know him at all, and I saw heads turning with wide eyes as his singing carried out through the venue. I was shocked, a shiver running down my spine. His voice was beautiful. It was powerful, clear and precise. The guy honestly could’ve carried the song without any back track. Yeah, he definitely was a pop star, alright.
Matt and Sarah danced, and I snapped out of my daze and hurried up to snap photos of them. I heard the second kachick of a shutter and saw that April had come back in and was shooting too. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and I was sure she had been drawn back inside by his voice. That was the power of Will’s voice – it could draw people in. It drew me in that night, and I understood how those girls could be reduced to blubbering masses by him. It wasn’t making a fanboy out of me, but it definitely was captivating me and making my heart race. I was trying my best to keep the newlyweds as the focus of my shots, but my eye kept wandering back to Will. When he sang, it was like he was glowing.
The song finished and Matt and Sarah kissed, and the entire guests were on their feet applauding both Will’s performance and the couple’s romantic dance. It was definitely a moment that everyone would remember and talk about when they recalled their favorite wedding experiences. Even jaded old me thawed out a bit and remembered everything I used to love about weddings at that moment. The feeling only lasted a short while though, because it was suddenly replaced by the sad and disappointing realization that my infatuation was with a pop star who I would never see again after tonight.
I kept snapping more photos, switching to my backup camera for some nice close ups of the newlyweds, and then a few of Will, who was beaming at them. I wished he would sing again, but after giving the two of them a hug, he returned to the bar. I wanted t
o go talk to him and tell him how amazing his singing was. April’s suggestion suddenly ran through my mind. She had been completely serious about it. But I couldn’t do something like that…could I? The guy was a famous pop singer. And what if he wasn’t into guys? What if April’s gaydar was wrong for once? I couldn’t deal with that embarrassment.
You should do it, a voice in the back of my head said. Just be casual about it. You don’t want to miss out on this chance.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told myself. “It’s not happening. I’m not going to ask him out.”
Will was buying another glass of scotch from the starry-eyed bartender, and a few of the guests had gone up to shake his hand.
He wanted to keep talking with you. Go, ask him!
I realized my palms were sweating, gripping the plastic and rubber body of my camera. I felt my legs moving, slowly pistoning me forward like the way an old steam engine’s wheels start to chug as the train comes to life. What would I say to him? I had no clue, but my body was taking me to him, and nothing was going to stop it. Nothing…