THE JUNIOR BRIDESMAID

by Amy Baker

  So, having use for it at that particular moment, I heeded the advice my mother had doled out fifteen years prior and agreed with Julia.

  “You’re right, Jules. My bad.”

  I watched Julia nod once in victory and I realized that Mama was right. It really wasn’t all that painful accepting what someone else thought was your wrongdoing. The topic was dropped and Julia was moving on to greener pastures. “Where should we go for dinner?”

  “You pick.” I walked straight to her and wrapped my arms around her. I knew Julia was upset so I decided to address it head on. “I’m going to miss you, too,” I whispered in her ear. “I love you, Jules.”

  Julia being Julia was not one to get all mushy and sensitive. I knew this about her. She could be tough as nails. And I was sure that my admission wasn’t timed very well because she was already thrown off kilter with the news of my pending departure. So essentially I wasn’t surprised by her response. “Shut up and go get ready. And put on something nice. Not one of those big New York outfits,” she instructed.

  Since I was still embracing her, I gave her a gentle squeeze while a genuine smile instantly appeared on my face.

  Since my belongings hadn’t arrived that day there was little danger of embarrassing Julia with any of my ‘big’ outfits anyway. So I let her go and stared her in the eyes. “No worries there. I’ll have to borrow something. My stuff didn’t arrive today like it was supposed to.” I let her go and turned to head down the hallway. “They hit some sort of bad weather and won’t arrive till tomorrow.” I timed the last morsel of information with closing the bathroom door. I needed to rejuvenate and the best way to do that was with a nice hot shower.

  As I turned on the shower I could hear Julia through the door. “You should have just told them to turn around,” she suggested. “Saved yourself some miles.”

  “Huh,” my shoulders fell.

  Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  Chapter 21

  “Holy shit. I can’t feel my lips,” Julia laughed gutturally through her confession. She was pressing the tips of her fingers of her left hand into her upper lip and then releasing it quickly. Needless to say, she was totally wasted. We had parked our bottoms on a barstool three hours ago and had only left our post to use the bathroom. Julia was steadily drinking Vodka and Lime on the rocks. I was sticking with my tequila. I was definitely tipsy but Julia was three complete sheets.

  “Wait,” I said randomly. It wasn’t like Julia was making a hasty getaway. Nor had she started to tell me something that needed clarification. But since Julia was as inebriated as I was, she waited listening intently for what I wasn’t exactly sure.

  Then she got tired of waiting and leaned into me expectantly. “I think I’ve waited long enough,” she whispered conspiratorially. Then she slid off of her bar stool and staggered down a few feet. I watched her with rapt attention as she stopped in front of two guys with whom we had gone to high school. I hadn’t seen them in years but I remembered the one who was sitting farther away pretty well. He was cute and funny. And, if memory served, had had quite a crush on Julia in high school. She never so much as gave him the time of day. However, as soon as we stepped inside the bar he had his eyes trained on her and not very discreetly. So when Julia approached him, he spun around on his stool to face her.

  “Sup, Jules?” he asked with this ridiculously sexy voice. My eyebrows went up with his question. He was asking way more than what was up with her.

  Speaking a little more boisterously than her usual (which was normally pretty loud) Julia began to explain to the devilishly handsome guy, Mason, what exactly was going to be up. It was like the Anti-Julia.

  “I think that I have waited long enough, Mason. Are you ready to take me home?” she asked seductively. She leaned forward until her chest hit his and then harshly planted her lips so hard on his I could actually hear him wince his pain audibly. My eyes shot open the size of dinner plates. Mason was clearly taken aback and not just physically. His arms froze mid air as Julia worked him over like a professional. Her body wiggled left and right. Her hair flung from side to side. It was impressive that Mason was able to stay on his barstool. Once I saw Mason’s free hand snake around her back and tug her in tighter, which seemed nearly impossible, I knew I was on my own for the rest of the night. Just as well. I had to get packing. I hopped off of my stool and approached Julia and Mason.

  I tapped Julia on the shoulder and held out my hand. Without removing her lips from his she dropped her car keys in my palm. “Wow,” I stated completely impressed. Then I tapped Mason on the shoulder and addressed him. “Don’t wake me up when you two get home.”

  I heard a faint, ‘Mmhm’ acknowledging my demands and then I turned to leave. Good for Julia. Mason was a good guy and he had loved her for as long as I could remember. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t fuck it up.

  By 10 o’clock the next morning I was immensely grateful for two things- coffee and Julia’s stackable washer and dryer. I washed all of the clothes that I had lugged in my carry-on, folded, and balanced them on top of the dresser in Julia’s spare bedroom. I laid out all of my belongings so as not to forget to pack them and made a list of any last details that needed to be taken care of before I left. Feeling somewhat accomplished in my endeavors of getting organized, I decided it was time to reward myself with a second cup of coffee. I made my way to Julia’s kitchen and started washing out the pot. Only seconds had past when I heard the handle of Julia’s bedroom door squeak. I peered through the little kitchen window to see who might be heading my way and saw Mason exiting her room. I watched as he blew her a kiss from the doorway and backed out of her room closing the door. His shirt was unbuttoned and un-tucked, his hair was a mess and he looked quite pleased with himself. I couldn’t help the smirk that took control of my mouth. Mason came toward me so he could say good morning. The first thing he noticed was the look on my face.

  “What are you lookin’ at, Delilah?” he teased.

  I shook my head before I answered while the corners of my mouth tipped down. “Nothin’,” I said quite unconvincingly.

  “Don’t be givin’ me that look. For ten years I was under the impression she hated me.”

  “Understandable. Whether it is intentional or not, I’m not sure. But she does give people that impression, doesn’t she?” I smiled knowingly.

  Mason smiled back. “Yeah. I guess she does,” he dipped his chin and shuffled his feet trying to hide his infatuation. When he looked up we both smiled wider for a brief second then he soldiered on. “She said you were leavin.’ That true?” he asked.

  “Wow. Pillow talk to boot?” I skirted.

  “Just a little,” he confessed.

  “It’s true. I’m heading back tomorrow,” I shared.

  “She’s going to miss you, ya know,” his smile faded outlining his honesty. I knew Julia was going to miss me. To the extent that she would share it with Mason during a one-night stand of torrid sex, however, was surprising. I was going to miss her too. But before I could share that morsel of information, Mason cut in. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep her occupied.” Then a devious smile appeared on his face.

  “You better take care of her, you hear?” I informed with my southern accent.

  Mason just nodded once. But I had little reservations concerning his feelings for her. And, conversely, the fact that Julia let him in at all spoke volumes for her feelings about him. Drunk or sober.

  “I have to go,” he gestured toward the door.

  I nodded my understanding. “Bye, Mason.”

  “Goodbye, Delilah,” he answered with a smile on his handsome face.

  As soon as Mason left I finished brewing a fresh pot of coffee. That was when I heard the pipes in the bathroom rattling like thunder. Her geriatric plumbing system alerted me to the fact that Julia was up and functioning. As she staggered down the hall holding her head I remembered that she had had a few too many the night before.

  She walked into her little kitchen wh
ere I was resting a hip into the counter.

  “Coffee?” I asked.

  “In a second. Can you reach behind you in that cabinet,” she pointed with her eyes closed. “I need a pain reliever,” she confessed.

  I turned immediately to retrieve the medicine and took a glass from the cupboard. I filled it with water and turned to give it to her. She had her palms pressed up against her forehead. Her fingers stretched as far back as she could reach. It looked like she was squeezing. “That can’t feel good, Jules.”

  “Surprisingly, it does,” she answered on a whisper.

  “Here,” I reached out to her with my palm opened flat, facing up.

  She scrounged for the pill in my hand as if the pill was performing evasive maneuvering trying to avoid ingestion. Once she finally corralled it, she carefully placed it on her tongue. Her eyes hung closed as if her lids were too heavy to lift as she washed the pain reliever down in one acrid gulp.

  “Why do I do that to myself?” she asked as if I had the answer. Her faced looked pained and I wasn’t sure if it was from the hangover, the pill, or Mason’s company.

  “I guess you don’t know when enough is enough,” I answered logically taking a stab at the answer that made the most sense.

  “I meant Mason.”

  I wasn’t actually sure what she meant. “What do you mean? What about Mason?”

  She exhaled heavily before she clarified squeezing her eyes closed harder. “Why do I start things when I know I am only going to hurt myself in the end?”

  “Jules. I’m still not following.” Figuring it was time to get some caffeine into her body, I opened the cupboard and started the process of finding her favorite mug. “Mason adores you,” I gingerly closed the cupboard. “He has for a very long time. As far as I am concerned you should have started it with him a long time ago,” I shared my unsolicited opinion facing her once again.

  “Oh, please, Delilah. Mason is just like every other guy out there. He got what he wanted. Now he will never call again,” her hands found her face again and the tips of her fingers began to intensely massage her own forehead. “You forget the cow story your mother shared with us on more than one occasion?” She asked. Obviously my mother had shared her sage advice with more than just me.

  “Julia, not all guys are after one thing. Mason’s a good guy. He’ll call. You’ll see.” I turned toward the coffee pot and grabbed the carafe.

  “I don’t know, Dee. I made that mistake once before,” she confessed. “And it never worked in my favor.”

  My body stilled mid-pour. “You slept with Mason before?” I couldn’t help the shock that accompanied my tone.

  “Not Mason.” When I turned my head to look at her, her hands fell away from her face. Her eyes fluttered opened and found mine. She looked remorseful, repentant, guilty and awfully sorry.

  An instant pit formed in my stomach. Not Mason. I felt my heart begin to flutter a funky beat. And then a warning siren started screaming in my head. My breathing became shallow and I started salivating inexplicably. I felt my face pale and I began to have flashbacks of Stacey and Carson in the closet. “Julia,” I began still clutching the coffee pot. I had a terrifying feeling that I knew where her confession was going.

  “Delilah Jean, I did not sleep with Hugh Rowen. Wipe that look off of your face right this second.” She scolded me for my invading thoughts.

  I felt the rush of air leave my lungs with the adrenalin that had built up from my visions of betrayal. I lowered the coffee pot to the counter harder than I had planned but luckily it didn’t shatter. I had suffered the blow of betrayal once before and had no desire to relive it ever again. I couldn’t handle hearing that Julia had slept with Hugh. Thank God I had wrongfully jumped to conclusions. “Then who?” I asked.

  “Ryan,” she confessed.

  My jaw instantaneously dropped two inches. My eyes fluttered uncontrollably in disbelief and I started to shake my head. Once my facial features recovered from the shock of her confession, I just had to clarify. “Ryan, Hugh’s brother?”

  Julia just nodded her response.

  “Ryan,” I repeated. “The Ryan married to Darcy. That Ryan.”

  Julia nodded again.

  “When did you sleep with Ryan?” I asked with sourness in my tone. What I should have asked was what Julia was thinking when she slept with Ryan. As much as I despised Darcy, I found it hard to believe that Julia would have slept with Ryan knowing he was married. And even if that moral high ground was surmountable, which apparently it was, frankly, he didn’t seem her type.

  “You can’t say anything,” she informed instead of answering my question.

  “Julia. I would never say anything to anyone.”

  “Not even Hugh,” she further insisted.

  Damn. Now she was asking a lot. “Fine,” I answered not very convincingly.

  “Cross your heart with your friendship ring finger?” Julia began.

  “Oh, is that back in full effect now?” I responded instantaneously. I watched as Julia rolled her eyes in response and then I continued. “Fine,” my finger reflexively went to my chest so I could cross it over my heart. “Julia, when did you sleep with Ryan?”

  “Three years ago. New Year’s,” she paused as she used her pointer finger bouncing it around in midair trying to visualize the proper title for that evening. “Day Night? Is that how you say it?”

  I just shrugged. Who cared what night it was or what the proper name for it would be.

  “Everyone in town was partied out from New Years Eve and I was at Preacher’s trying to get the jump on the coming year’s gossip. Ryan was working the bar. Apparently he couldn’t find anyone to fill in that night. Everyone was hung over. He and I were the only ones in the entire place. We got to talking. One thing led to another,” she shrugged. “We ended up back at my place.”

  Since I had recovered from the initial trauma that Julia had not slept with Hugh in my absence, I turned back to the coffee pot to pour some into her cup. “You haven’t had sex in three years?” I asked with disbelief. Of course I honed in on the superfluous information that she shared. But in all seriousness it was hard to believe. Julia was what most men might consider a piece of ass. Pretty, delicate, blond, but could tear you a brand new rectum at any given moment.

  A true winner.

  “Is that the only part of that sentence you heard?” her voice pitched higher. “Jeeze, Dee! Try to focus,” she admonished.

  I pursed my lips and did as she instructed. I grabbed the milk from the fridge and dropped a dollop in Julia’s coffee. “Does Darcy know?” I don’t know why I cared. The girl had spent the better part of her life tormenting me.

  I turned to put Julia’s coffee in front of her and watched Julia’s mouth form a straight line. “She knows. Didn’t you see the dirty looks she was tossing my way the other night?”

  “I thought those dirty looks were directed at me,” I shared leaning back into the counter.

  “Nope! All me,” she countered and then lifted her mug to blow some steam off. “In my defense. Ryan was determined that night,” she put emphasis on the word ‘determined.’ “Not that I was protesting that hard. But I know I threw at least one ‘we shouldn’t’ and I even suggested a ‘think about your wife.’ He didn’t seem to care,” she sighed at the memory re-gripping her mug at the same time. “I found out later Ryan was using me to get back at Darcy. Apparently, she had cheated on him and slept with Griff. You know, before he was with Tiff,” she added quickly as if I would be devastated having the intimate knowledge that Griff had cheated on Tiff years ago.

  “How is it that you never mentioned this before?” I had to admit my feelings were a little bruised.

  “Let’s just say it wasn’t my finest hour.” Clearly Julia regretted her choices from that one night. Her eyes followed her mug, which she rested on the counter.

  Holy beheebees. What the hell was going on in my hometown? I thought people were screwed up in New York, with Stacey screw
ing Carson in a closet and Will stalking me over a cup of coffee. “I, I, I don’t know what to say,” my lack of inflection outlined my disbelief. I found my cup on the counter and took a comforting sip.

  “Yeah, well,” Julia nodded continuing on her original train of thought. “So, I doubt Mason will call. He was probably using me, too. You know what your mama always said. Once word gets around,” she swiped her mug from the counter and headed for a kitchen chair.

  I slowly followed behind unable to believe her line of thinking. “Julia, that was three years ago. Having sex once every three years hardly gives people the impression that you are the town sperm bank,” I stated the obvious. “Mason has been in love with you forever. He’ll call,” I insisted. “And your assuming he even knows about Ryan at all.”

  “Time will tell.” Julia dropped into a chair and immediately pulled her legs up seemingly unconcerned. She wrapped her arms around her shins and cradled her chin in the v she created with her knees. “Could you make me some toast?” She asked with her eyes closed.

  I looked back into the kitchen as if my answer was written on the wall somewhere. “Yeah. Of course.”

  I found the bread and threw a piece in the toaster before I walked over to the fridge to see what kind of condiments she had. The butter was easy to find parked front and center. “Jelly?” I called out to her.

  “No,” she answered. Whether the no meant she didn’t want it or didn’t own it didn’t much matter.

  I heard the ding of the toaster and pulled out the scalding bread with my fingers. Receiving only a couple of second degree burns, I scraped the butter on the toast spreading a nice thin layer. As I walked it back to her, I had to admire my work. The butter had melted into the bread making the toast glisten. It looked scrumptious. I placed it in front of her as gently as I could. “Here,” I whispered.

  “Thanks, Dee,” she murmured back.