Someone for Me

by Addison Moore

  “How about eBay?” Ally offers. Ally and I are both up Poor Man’s Creek without a sound financial paddle, so I appreciate all her suggestions.

  “Well”—I’m half-afraid to admit this—“I did go on eBay and I found the exact sweetheart neckline Vera that I’ve got my eye on. And I can afford it.” I try to summon all the faux enthusiasm I can muster, sort of the way I do with Molly in the morning. “There’s just this one tiny detail . . .”

  “Spill it, Jordan.” Lauren axes the words out.

  “The bride may or may not have been jilted at the altar—”

  “Mmm, mmm.” Lauren wags a finger with her latte still pressed to her lips. “Hell to the no. You just back away carefully from that haunted auction. Trust me, the last thing you need is bad dress juju following you around.”

  Bad dress juju—that’s exactly what I was afraid of.

  “It’s too late,” I snap. “I’ve already put a bid on it. It’s my size and it’s my Vera!”

  “God, a Vera? How’d you get the money for a Vera?” Ally’s face is alive with color at the thought of the matrimonial miracle.

  “I didn’t,” I say flatly. “It’ll take an act of God for me to win. There were at least thirteen other brides throwing their desperate Italian veils into the ring. Anyway, if I did manage to pull it off, I’d simply put it on my credit card.” Never mind the fact I’ve been hitting all the sales around town, purchasing little knickknacks here and there in hopes of making my big day a little brighter. Of course, once I nail down a theme, all the prebudget spending will be much more streamlined. Not that I have the money for a budget.

  Lauren needles me with her beady-eyed judgment.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I couldn’t resist—it’s like ninety percent off! And God knows it’s my only shot at walking down the aisle in style. Not that there will be an actual aisle where I’m headed.” Way to make it sound like I’m getting hitched in a penitentiary.

  A brief yet vivid scene of me and Cruise having hot prison sex wafts through my mind like an erotic summer’s breeze, and I fan myself with a napkin.

  “You’re not getting married in hell, Kendall.” Ally closes her eyes for a moment. “I’ll create an aisle for you if you want.”

  “You’d do that for me?” I get all teary-eyed and weepy, and just as I’m about to blanket her with a big old hug, Blair walks in with the douche bag she’s leashing herself to for the rest of her life, Rutger Crones. “Asshole alert, twelve o’clock.” Surprisingly, I managed to get the time orientation right.

  Ally turns momentarily. “Bleh.”

  I wrap my fingers around the edge of the table and continue with our conversation. “How’s your wedding, Lauren?” Truthfully, the way Lauren’s been prepping and spending, you’d think she were in heavy training for the Bridal Olympics. But really I’m only half interested at this point because the disease that’s hell-bent on destroying my happily-ever-after with Cruise is staring me down. I don’t take my eyes off Blair. There’s got to be some way to get her to relinquish my wedding date at the chapel. Maybe I can convince her to have a cliffside wedding? And maybe afterward, both she and the groom could take a nice swan dive into the Atlantic as a gift to the rest of the world.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you!” Lauren jumps in her seat. “I’ve booked the grand ballroom at the Carrington Country Club. I’m going for a masquerade theme, so you’ll both be in full period costume. It’s sort of Regency masquerade fusion with an Oriental flair because Cal is addicted to Chinese food. But I’m more into Japanese, so I’m compromising and having a sushi chef flown in from Hong Kong.” Lauren looks to me. “How are you handling the reception?”

  I swallow hard.

  “Actually, it’ll be small. Like less than ten or so. I was thinking we could go to the Della Argento after and have a nice dinner and a champagne toast.”

  Lauren lifts her chin at me and nods as if I’ve just spoken some mysterious new language and she hasn’t a clue what just flew from my mouth.

  “What about your cake, Lauren?” Ally leans toward her like this is the dirty detail she’s waited all day to hear.

  “Marzipan.” She wrinkles her nose. “Traditional Swiss on the inside, but we’re going to the Cake Chief and having him do something designer just for me. We’ve already talked to the producers, and our episode will air a few weeks after the wedding, just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

  She says it so nonchalantly that both Ally and I are left open-mouthed.

  “You’re going to have your wedding featured on The Cake Chief?” My stomach pinches with jealousy. “Lauren, that’s amazing!”

  “God, yes.” Lauren lowers her cup to the table like a gavel. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my wedding confection. This is the cake to end all cakes in a person’s life.”

  A cake to end all cakes. And here I hadn’t even thought of that pile of flour and eggs up until this moment. Maybe I don’t deserve a wedding. If I care at all about my wedding, I should make a beeline for the nearest bakery right this fucking minute. Of course, I won’t have to feed the masses—maybe just a small cake from the Cake Chief would be enough. After all, it’s the cake to end all cakes.

  I lean in. “So how much does your average cake run at the Cake Chief?” I bet whatever it is I can cut that number in half by the simple fact I’ll have less than a dozen mouths to feed.

  “At least five or six for a primo wedding design. But I want the recipe and blueprint destroyed afterward so there’ll never be another like it, and there’s a nominal fee for that as well.”

  “Five or six hundred?” God, that’s a ton of money, but mine would be far less than that. I smell a cake adventure for Penny and Cruz.

  “I wish.” Lauren looks to the ceiling and lets out a hearty guffaw.

  Five or six thousand? I bite down over my lip to keep from letting the expletives fly like I want.

  “Oops.” Lauren glances at her phone for a moment. “I gotta run. I’m auditioning stylists this afternoon.”

  “What’s the stylist for?” Ally asks.

  “Oh, hon”—she tousles Ally’s hair—“you can’t just expect me to show up at all these appointments in a T-shirt and jeans. I’ve got to look presentable, especially on television. I’ll see you later! Ta-ta for now!” she sings as she heads out into the street.

  “Ta-ta for now,” I say weakly.

  “Hey”—Ally shakes me by the arm—“cheer up, girl. You’ve already got what you need to pull off the perfect wedding and his name is Cruise Elton.”

  “You’re right.” I twist my lips into something just shy of a smile. “Cruise is by far enough.” I drum my fingers against the table so hard my bones rattle. “It’s just . . . I’ve always dreamed of having a perfect wedding. You know, it’s sort of a one-shot deal. Too bad it’s coming up at a time we’re both pretty broke. And sadly, I really don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

  “I hear you. Morgan and I are pretty tight ourselves.”

  “How about you, Ally? Do you have your heart set on a fancy wedding?”

  “Nope. Never have, never will. Morgan and I will probably elope one day.” She scoops up her things. “I’ve got to run to class. Catch you later.” She bullets out the door before I can contest the idea.

  Elope? They’d better not. I have every intention of witnessing my brother and Ally tie the knot. I’d feel cheated if I didn’t.

  Ally seems perfectly content without having her heart set on some stupid fancy wedding.

  Why can’t I be more like Ally?

  Blair swoops in and takes Ally’s seat. She’s buried in a thick furry coat that looks like it cost thousands of chinchillas their lives, and that crimson lipstick smeared over her face looks as if it cost one or two of them some blood as well.

  “I have something you want.” Blair’s eyes ignite like a pair of wildfires.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “It must hurt to know I took something you wanted so badly. Just like
you took Cruise from me.”

  She gets up and leaves, and all my hope of having a Christmas Eve wedding at Garrison leaves with her.

  Cruise

  It’s been one week, dude,” I say to Cal as he helps me lower my weights back onto the press. I’ve been busting his balls for a little over an hour about his nonconformist trespasser of a relative.

  “Pound on the door.” He wipes the beads of sweat off his face with the back of his hand. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  I’ve been more than patient with Lisa “the Skin,” but she hasn’t come through with the deposit, and a part of me is sure I’ve let a bunch of squatters settle into the bed-and-breakfast.

  “I thought maybe you could talk to her.” I sit up and wipe my face down with a towel.

  “No can do. Our families have a lot of bad blood between them. I haven’t talked to Lisa since we were kids.”

  “What?” I’m not sure why this surprises me. “You talked to her a few weeks ago when you set this whole thing up, didn’t you?” Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like the answer.

  “Not exactly.”

  Shit. My stomach acids churn with his admission. If I vomit, I’ll be sure to aim right for his shiny new gym shoes.

  “She texted me the night before, and I gave her your address. It was less than a text, really, so I wouldn’t count that as communication. Besides, if my mother finds out, she’ll revoke my invite to Thanksgiving dinner. There’s no way in hell I’m missing that.”

  “Great.” I run my fingers through my hair. It looks like the only real turkey around here is me. “So you’re telling me I’ve gotten myself and my business caught up in some familial revenge scheme. Why do I get the feeling a gun battle that rivals that of the Hatfields and the McCoys is about to erupt on my property?”

  “No way. We’re past the gunslinging phase of our relationship.”

  My eyes bulge out of my skull because, for one, I was fucking kidding.

  “After my grandfather did some time, we put away the shotguns. That arm of the family isn’t worth even walking past the shadow of a penitentiary.”

  “What the hell did you let me rent the entire B and B out to her for?” I’m panicked. “She made it sound like they were setting up shop for months.”

  “She might be.” He wipes the sweat from his brow. “I did a little research the other night, and the Plague has a gig near Carrington scheduled for the next three months. They’re headed to LA just before New Year’s, or I would have booked them for the wedding.”

  “Three months? The bed-and-breakfast will belong to the bank if they don’t pay before then. I’d better hunt down the Skin infection and make sure she coughs up some green stuff. I’d hate to lose the business the first year it was entrusted into my hands.”

  “So how things going with you? You pretty happy running the place?” He knocks back half his water, and I wait for him to finish.

  “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” I swat him on the chest with my towel. “I’m in the shitter. I need to pull the bed-and-breakfast out by the balls and pray it makes some cash, or Kenny and I will be penniless and homeless. Some husband I’m going to make.”

  “Relax. Everything will kick into gear. You’ll see. Why don’t you go around and spy on all the other B and Bs, see what they’re doing right, and steal their ideas? That’s what I did with the gym.”

  “Did it work?”

  “I don’t have the top-selling membership in the tri-city area for nothing. You’re damn right it worked. Check out the competition and believe you me, once you start implementing all their genius ideas, things are really going to turn around for you.” Cal smacks me on the back. “I better run. Lauren wants me to meet her downtown to approve a monkey suit for the big day. You get the monkey suit yet?”

  “Nope. But I think I’ve got a suit tucked away from my grandfather’s funeral.”

  Cal barks out a laugh. “Grandfather’s funeral! You got me good.” He hoots all the way out of the weight room.

  Too bad I wasn’t kidding.

  Kenny comes home right after her last class of the day with Molly in tow. They’ve been commuting to save on gas, and it’s kind of nice to have both of my girls home at the same time.

  “Just FYI”—Molly makes eyes at Kenny as if she wants her to keep quiet about something—“I might have a guest over tonight.”

  “Go ahead.” I wrap my arms around Kenny and seal my lips to the back of her neck. She tastes as sweet as an apple. “You’re welcome to have your friends over anytime. And if you want to overdose on chick flicks, you’re welcome to do that, too. Kenny and I will steer clear.”

  “It’s not that kind of friend,” Kenny whispers into my ear.

  “What?” I can feel my big bro overprotective superpowers kicking in. “No way.” I shake my head at my sister. “Don’t even think of bringing boys around here. I might be moved to commit a felony.”

  “Cruise!” Molly bites the air when she says it. “Stop treating me like I’m a baby.”

  “Yes, Cruise.” Kenny spins in my arms until she’s looking up at me with those sea-silver eyes. “Whether you like it or not, Molly is an adult. She has as much right to date as you or me.”

  I shake my head just barely at Kenny. In no way do I want her to join in on the Molly-gets-to-bring-dates-home parade.

  “Look”—I sigh at my sister with her beautiful blonde hair, her little body wrapped in not enough clothes—“I understand the fact you want companionship. That’s what friends are for. You can talk all night on the phone—heck, have a girlfriend or two spend the night. You can have as many slumber parties as you like. But as far as boys are concerned—I don’t think you need to be wasting any time with them.”

  “Cruise”—Kenny pinches my ribs—“you’ve got to be kidding.” She turns to Molly. “You’re welcome to date. Just bring the boy around so your brother can approve. And for God’s sake, be aware he’s probably going to have a one-track mind. No one-night stands. You hear me? You need to look for a solid guy who has eyes and a heart just for you. You need to fall in love, Molly. When you’re in love, sex can be this amazing—”

  “Whoa.” I cover my ears for a moment. “Kenny, why don’t you take a walk with me down to the B and B for a minute. I need to see about getting that deposit. If they see your beautiful face, they might actually come out of hiding.” She blushes as we make our way to the door. “As for you”—I narrow my gaze over at my sister—“don’t go looking for love. When the time is right, it’ll just happen. Focus on school, would you?”

  “Oh, I will.” She nods with that “you’ll regret this” look in her eyes. And trust me, I already do. Crap. Anytime Molly agrees with me, it’s cause for alarm.

  Kenny and I make our way out the door, and the icy air cuts right through my clothes. I collapse my arms around her and rub my hands over her arms as we head toward the B and B.

  “Boy, you’re really tough on your little sister, you know that?” Kenny’s dark hair blows back against the gray day, and she looks like a poem written over the landscape.

  I press a simple kiss over her lips. “I just want someone to love her the way that I love you. I don’t want to see her heart broken ten thousand times in a year, because she’s trying so hard. And for damn sure I don’t want to hear the sound of grunting coming from the next room.”

  “Speaking of grunting.” She pulls a strand of her dark hair into her mouth and slips it out seductively. “I’m sort of in the mood for some grunting myself.”

  “Forest or beach?”

  “Cold and colder.” She makes a face.

  We walk up the steps to the porch of the B and B and give a brisk knock on the door. I can’t think of a single time that I’ve knocked before entering.

  We hear the sound of footsteps scuttling upstairs, then nothing but silence.

  “They’re in there but they’re ignoring us.” I say, this time giving a series of powerful blows.

&nbs
p; “You think the band is in there?”

  “Doubt it. They take off every day at four, and I have no idea what time they get back.” For the most part they’ve been dream tenants—except for the tiny detail of nonpayment.

  “Let’s just go inside.” Kenny turns the knob but it’s locked.

  I pat my jeans down. “I left my key back at the cabin.”

  She points to the living room window that’s open a few inches and makes her way over. Kenny slips it open farther and unhitches the screen. In less than a minute she has the B and B’s front door open.

  “You’re the sexiest cat burglar I’ve ever laid eyes on. Remind me to arrest you later for trespassing.” I run my tongue over her lips and she gives a little laugh.

  “You’ve got to see this place.” She pulls me in, and I shut the door behind me. It’s quiet as a tomb. Gone is the dark cherry-stained furniture of my grandparents, replaced with clean, art deco lines. Most everything is stark white, with enough mirrors set out to make you feel like you’re lost in some sci-fi fantasy. This stuff qualifies more as pieces in a modern art museum than furniture in a B and B.

  “Thank God my mother is away,” I whisper, taking it all in. “She’d have a coronary if she saw what I let happen to the place.”

  “You’re going to get it all back, right?”

  “I’d better.” I glance down the hall and note that the grandfather clock that’s been watching over the B and B like a soldier all these years is missing, and my heart sinks like a brick. “Anybody here?” I project my voice enough to carry throughout the facility because I damn well know Lisa and her delinquent Skin are hiding out upstairs.

  “I guess she’s not in the mood to deal with you.” Kenny wraps her arm around me and sighs.

  “Are you in the mood to deal with me?” I brush a kiss over her ear.

  “Why, whatever did you have in mind, Professor Elton?” She bites over that pink lip of hers, and I take a nibble right alongside her.