by Brown, Tara
Rustic chic is what Nat and Sami call it.
And I have to admit, it’s impressive the way the rustic pavilion and lake shore and fresh-cut firewood balance against the pretty tables, ambient light, and designer dishes and accents.
“When Sami said she wanted pictures of you boys doing the setup to capitalize on your fame, I had no idea you could accomplish this.” Nat slings an arm into Brady’s and rises to her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. “Well done.”
“She gave us a specific photo with a map and detailed instructions.” I hold up our picture. “Chimps could have done this.”
“Blindfolded chimps,” Brady laments. “And she picked us because we’re the only ones here who know how to light a fire.” He points at the bonfire we have readied and will light the moment this starts.
“No, this is awesome. And just imagine, girls all over our Instagram will be gushing about the super sweet hockey players who participated in the wedding set up.” She kisses him again. “I’ll help you put the throws on the backs of the chairs; if, Lori, you want to finish setting up the rope lights and paper lanterns lining the walkway in?” She takes over, directing us as if we haven’t been doing this whole thing alone all along.
Brady winks at me because we had already agreed we were doing that next.
“Roger that.” I salute and skip to it while Brady and Nat place the lavender throw blankets on the backs of chairs, for when it gets cold later. As I finish, I help them arrange the canister candles along the stairs to the pavilion.
“They have to finish the tent and we’re done.” Brady folds his arms, taking it in. “I hate to admit it, but this is going to be impressive.”
“Yeah, dude. Sami and Nat have an eye,” I agree.
“What?” Nat calls from the other side of the pavilion.
“Nothing. Just mentioning how worked we’re getting,” he jokes. “Speaking of getting worked, how’s it going with that redhead?” Brady asks. “What happened earlier? Because she looked pissed off when she came back inside after yelling at you by the lake. Is that some foreplay you guys have going on? Or do you know this girl from somewhere else?”
“I don’t know her at all.” I take a deep breath and hang the last light. “She walked in on me taking a piss, watched me pee, and then yelled at me for being a dick while staring at my dick. I tried to figure out who she is, and she yelled at me some more and flipped me off.”
“Hot crazy scale?” Brady asks.
“Oh, I suspect she’s a ten in both categories, which I will say is also enticing.” I laugh bitterly as he rolls his eyes. “But I checked with Sami, she’s genuinely a PR rep sent here by Stan Levisohn. I thought for sure she was a puck bunny, stalking me constantly in bathrooms like some hot crazy nut.”
“Who’s hot crazy?” Nat asks as she comes over to us.
“You, Banks.” Brady scoops her into his arms and runs for the lake.
“No!” she screams and hits his back, but he doesn’t slow until the last second, feigning throwing her in the water but holding on. She screams and he laughs. It’s my turn to roll my eyes.
He slides her down his body, kissing gently. She hits him but gives into the kisses. They melt into each other and I avert my gaze to the cone-shaped tent being erected by the guys who brought the tables over for us to set up. It’s more of a linen teepee than a tent and will sit on the shore and house the band.
“Hey, guys! Stop slacking off. It’s time for you to go get ready for dinner,” Sami shouts at us as she marches over with an entourage of lackeys, not bothering to compliment the hard work.
I forgive her since she looks hot. She’s dressed to the nines and yet somehow manages to pull off a fresh-faced vibe, as if she just happens to look this way. Having seen her sans makeup and hair product, I can say without a doubt she does not.
She’s wearing a pale gold-colored summer dress that’s off the shoulders, revealing flawless tanned skin and a glow I’m sure has something to do with the sparkly lotion she forced me to rub on her shoulders and back before. Her hair is a little more silvery than normal. She said it was toned out for the wedding. I’m not sure what that entails but it sounds bad. The result is stunning and with the lacy wedding dress she has, she will be the hottest bride I’ve ever seen.
“Seriously, you need to go get ready before the guests arrive.” Sami claps her hands at us.
“Get ready for the cookout dinner?” Brady glances down at his shirt and shorts. “You want us to dress up for the campfire? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Brady—” Her tone is warning. “You will go and put on the clothes I’ve labeled in your bag and be back here in eleven minutes, or I will kill you.”
Tense isn’t the right word for her and this isn’t the moment to discuss it.
“Lori?” Her eyes dart to mine.
“All right.” I lift my hands. “Eleven minutes, got it!” I walk to my golf cart but am unable to resist poking her from this safe distance. “Do I have clothes labeled as well or can I choose for myself?”
She growls but I can’t understand the words. Not that I need to. She packed my bag. And Nat’s. And Brady’s. And Matt’s. Carson was allowed to pack his own clothes, as was Rich, but with our crowd there was a specific look she was going for. The rest of the guests were also given detailed packing instructions in the few hours of notice they received for the wedding. I think it’s too much to expect to control what people wear, but Sami is extra.
I dress quickly, putting on the clothes she labeled “Wednesday Night,” and head back to the pavilion to get seated. Luckily, I’m put with Cap, Carson, and Rich in the middle of one of the long wooden tables.
We sit down as beers are brought out in samplers, a selection of Sami’s choosing to go with the gourmet barbecue.
Guests pour in. Everyone is punctual and dressed appropriately. They must know Sami well enough to be afraid of her. Sami’s dad carries in little Eli, giving him kisses and holding him gently as the kid sleeps like a log.
Matt’s mom and sister-in-law walk in with a demure demeanor. I haven’t seen his mom like this, ever, but maybe she’s been humbled by Matt being her keeper.
Her eyes are glossy, hinting she’s still taking the prescription meds, unable to cope with her husband and son’s death. Matt’s sister-in-law is similar. Neither seems interested in the wedding, beyond seeing their few friends Matt invited. They sit together in one section of the tables and don’t interact with anyone else. I haven’t seen his mom hold Eli yet and the sister-in-law has a nanny who always has the kid.
Matt escorts his grandparents to their seats. His father’s family from the South is put closer to the team, keeping them as far from the rich folk as possible, likely a smart plan. Gran will say whatever she’s thinking and the wealthy elite don’t tend to enjoy that.
Cousin Bev winks at me as she sits. I have to grin back. She’s easily the coolest girl I’ve ever met.
She’s followed in by the least cool girl I’ve ever met, the redhead from next door, and her little brunette friend. Of course they end up seated across from us, right next to Bev. I prepare myself for an evening of banter.
“Ladies,” Cap says, standing as they walk to their nameplates. He’s being weird. “I’m Nick Belamy. Everyone calls me Cap.” He holds a hand out to the brunette and his game becomes clearer. He’s setting up to score later. On the sly. “This is Lawrence Eckelston. Carson Bellevue. Rich Fairfield.” He introduces our close circle.
“Jenny and Sukii.” The brunette points to the redhead first and then herself.
“So you all are part of the PR team that saves people like us on the reg?” Carson jokes.
“Indeed,” Sukii says, beaming. She is stunning. Big dark eyes, long glossy hair, glowing skin, and high cheek bones.
“That must be some job.” Rich laughs. “Between Sami and Matt you must have had your hands—”
“Brady,” the redhead mutters. “Sami and Brady. But you’re no slouch yourself, Lawrence.”
“Oh, the Clinton,” Rich agrees quietly. “I can see that being a bigger problem than Matt being drunk.”
“Well, let’s not forget about Laramie,” I add before I think about it.
Quiet nods surround me as no one wants to talk about it. Not this close to Sami and Matt. That was the blow job heard around the world.
“So where are you ladies from?” Cap asks, changing the subject.
“I’m from Miami, she’s Canadian.” Sukii motions her head toward Jenny who flinches as if she didn’t want us to know that.
“Canada, eh?” Cap points at me and does the fun “eh” thing for sport. “Lori’s from Canada too.”
“Oh I know,” Jenny’s eyes meet mine for the first time, narrowing for a microsecond before she smiles but there is no kindness in them. It’s all piss and vinegar. This girl hates me.
“Where in Canada?” I have to ask. She doesn’t want to speak to me which makes me want to talk to her more, provoking her and refusing to let her off that easy.
“British Columbia, same as you.” She knows me. I almost take it the wrong way before I remember she’s my PR rep, of course she knows where I’m from. That’s her job.
“Vancouver?” I ask.
“Van Isle. The northern end.” She doesn’t want to say her town on Vancouver Island, which means I have to grill harder.
“Oh, near Port Hardy?” I refuse to let up. I’m grinning at the flicker of disappointment when she realizes I know the island well enough.
“Port McNeill,” she clarifies.
“Right, of course. I had a buddy from there. We went to Notre Dame together.”
“Cool.” She smiles, turning to glance down the line of guests, not asking me who the buddy was.
But again, I don’t let her off the hook. “Brent—”
“Doesn’t sound familiar,” she cuts me off and offers her fake smile once more before she turns to Bev and smiles genuinely. “Jenny.”
“Bev.” Bev smiles wide, her twangy tone is soft. “Matty’s my moron. So you’re the one spending your life wiping his ass and cleaning his messes?”
“Something like that.” Jenny laughs, lifting one of her beers.
“Wait, Jenny?” Cap leans forward. “Not Snowdon?” He squints. “Holy shit.” He points at her and true terror fills her gaze.
She is pleading with him to stop. “You must know my brother’s band. Yeah, Josh Snowdon, is my brother,” she offers quickly. “The lead singer of Twin Peeks—”
“Errr, yeah. Right.” Cap doesn’t lie as well or as fast as she does, but he gets her drift. What the hell is happening? How did he know her brother and her last name?
No one else is noticing this weird exchange except the little brunette next to Jenny who cuts in, “So, Cap, are you guys bummed about the playoffs? That was a brutal loss to the Senators.”
It’s his turn to cringe but he answers with the exact diplomacy a captain needs, “All we can do is learn from the loss and move on. We’ll get them next year.”
She smiles at him and I get a weird twist in my guts.
If anyone is playing the back nine tonight, it’ll be Cap.
Not sure I ever saw Cap as one of the guys who cheats, but as far as the brunette is concerned, it’s game on.
9
Coolest girl at the party
Jenny
The setting for the meet and greet is amazing.
The rustic farm tables have cream lace runners with burlap woven around the leaf-covered olive branch centerpieces placed throughout, adding a splash of color. Pale wooden lanterns are set every few feet, creating a warm glow. They match the chandeliers and are offset perfectly by the white flower bouquets placed here and there between the lanterns.
The small speeches, toasts, and awkward beginnings are over, thank God, and we are eating. The food is incredible. A feast of barbecued meats, amazing salads, and the best roasted potatoes.
Cousin Bev, the coolest girl I’ve ever met, is a blast and has been filling me in on the story of Matt and Sami, the behind-the-scenes version.
She’s affectionately drunk as she leans in, shouting her blissful Southern twang over the band’s weirdly good version of “Summertime” by George Gershwin. “So then Matt and Sami patched things up.” She motions her head at asshole Lawrence who is deep in jolly conversation with Carson and Rich. “If not, Lori and Sami might be the ones getting married. He offered to be her baby daddy and save her reputation.” She lowers her voice and leans in more, her words brushing against my ear, “Deep down, he’s always had a thing for her.”
“No way!” I shout back, stunned but also seeing the predictability of someone like Lawrence being into Upper East Side girls.
She lifts her finger to her lips. “He doesn’t know I am onto his feelings.”
“I won’t say a word.” I do the stupid thing Sukii always does and lock my lips with a zip.
“So changing the subject”—she pauses and sits back, eyeing me up—“what’s your deal? How are you here?”
“At this party or this point in my life?” I ask with a weird beer giggle, realizing it’s hitting me.
“Both.”
“The short answer is my boss didn’t want to come.” I scan the lively group of people eating, drinking, and laughing. “He’s eighty. So this isn’t really his scene.” It’s the understatement of the year. “He kinda forced it on me. I didn’t want to, but he’s helping me find an apartment in Midtown for cheap if I came in his place.”
“What?” She laughs again. “He bribed you?”
“Yeah.” I laugh too. “Cheap rent in Midtown is unheard of. And I was desperate and I’ve only been with the company for six years. I couldn’t say no. I feel awful but he’s moving my apartment this weekend.” I hiccup, regretting bringing this up. “I’ll come home to a new place to live on Sunday. But it’s a debt I owe now.”
“Damn, he must hate weddings.” She finishes off her mug of beer and lifts it up. “Garcon.” It’s the worst French accent attempt I’ve heard. “More beer!”
I follow her gaze to Lawrence who smiles and nods. When he looks at her, there’s something handsome about him, beyond the obvious gorgeousness. It’s a kindness and respect in his gaze I haven’t seen before.
“And one for my lovely friend here.” She points at me. As his eyes flicker to me the smugness finds its way back.
I part my lips to say I’m fine but he turns and waves at the server. He points in our direction, moving his finger in a circle as if asking for drinks for the group around us.
“And you were saying?” Bev nudges my attention back to her.
“What?” I’m lost.
“How did you end up here, at this place in your life? Single, living in New York, taking bribes for cheap rent, and attending weird celebrity weddings with zero notice?” She hiccups as she finishes the question.
“That is a long story.” I run my finger around the rim of the empty mug.
“We ain’t got nothing but time.”
“Well, starting at the beginning,” I laugh, “when I graduated from university, I was offered a position in New York for a PR firm. I’ve been here since—”
“No, the part about you being single.” She lifts a finger and points at my nose. “It’s new. What happened?”
“How can you tell?” I am stunned at her guess. I thought I was doing well hiding it.
“You haven’t hit on or flirted with a single dude here. No ring. And your eyes are a tiny bit puffy, like maybe you’ve been crying recently but you’re good at covering it up.”
“That’s impressive,” I say flatly.
“Spill!”
“He cheated.” It falls from my lips before I can stop it. Realizing I have admitted the worst part, I continue, laughing at the stupidity of the story. “Yesterday,” a tense giggle interrupts, “I was bringing him a coffee from his favorite café. I’d just come from my dad and stepmom’s house. And she was so mean to me, and I needed someone to listen to me
vent. I thought I’d see him and complain for a minute and then maybe we’d have sex and I would feel better.” The giggle ends and the cruel reality stings.
“And when you got there, he was with someone else?” She’s psychic, I’m convinced.
“Yup,” I squeak, certain I’m the most pathetic person she’s ever met. “Aslin, a girl from work.”
“We hate Aslin,” Bev says flatly. “Did you bust in and kick some ass? Are you wanted by the police for assault and that’s why you’re here? Your boss is hiding you?” She waggles her dark eyebrows with excitement in her eyes.
“I wish.” I snort. “Actually, I ran.” My face lowers with shame but the words don’t stop, “I took the coffee cups with my name on them and left his house key in a puddle and ran home. I changed my number and deleted him from my social media, erased the last three years of my life, except work.” The humor is gone and I’m ashamed of what I’ve admitted and who I am right now. “I’m moving apartments and I hope I never see him again.”
“He has no idea that you know?”
“No.” I swallow hard.
“That’s amazing. You are my fucking hero, girl.” She grabs the beers from the server as he begins handing them out. “I need your attention please. We have a toast, everyone!” Bev shouts at the people in our area. “Lift your glasses to my new friend, Jenny. She is a boss ass bitch.”
The table of hockey players, rich kids, and Sukii lift their glasses.
“To Jenny!” they shout in unison, knocking glasses. I laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. They have no idea what they’re toasting. And no one cares. They just want to drink and have fun.
Bev hugs me and plants a juicy kiss on my cheek. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, but I’m glad you’re here. This bunch of assholes is normally unbearable.”
I kiss her back. “No, thank you for making me feel welcome. I was worried about coming to this. I’ve been a ball of nerves since Stan asked me to take his place. I keep sweating for no reason.”
“Stick with me, you’ll have a blast.” She takes a long drink off her mug. “In fact, tomorrow is supposed to be a spa day for the girls. But I can’t do Sami and Nat and spa day. I’ll kill someone. And it just so happens this place has a premier paintball course. So me and Matt’s other hillbilly cousins from the sticks brought our gear. We play at home.” Her eyes sparkle with delight and mischief. “You wanna come play?”