Free for the Wedding

by Briggs, Laura

  “Too bad Heather wasn’t up for this,” he said, raising his hand as if to serve. His fingers rolled the ball as a thoughtful look crossed his face. “She sounded kind of froggy over the phone–like she’d been crying. Was she upset about the dress?”

  “A little,” said Val. Hopping to the side as he drove another shot her way. Her racket clipped it from beneath, the momentum enough to put it back over the net.

  Where it bounced unnoticed at Jason’s feet, his racket swinging by his side. With a faint smile, he strolled to the net, arms resting on it as he pegged Val with a searching look. “Tell me the truth. It was something I did, right?”

  She didn’t know how to answer. “Yes and no,” she said at last. Moving to meet him, her fingers twirled the racket in her hand. “Heather is feeling a lot of pressure from juggling the ceremony and the reunion at the same time. She feels like you don’t appreciate the stress she’s under.”

  “Mm.” He played with the netting as he considered this information. “That could explain a lot. Plus, the reason for that sign up sheet in the lobby.” Pulling a face as he said, “Name That Mystery Tune–need I say more?”

  Her mouth twisted in a helpless smile beneath this winking commentary. A dangerous sentiment, considering the vulnerable state of her own heart.

  “Heather was always a little high strung,” he said, as they wandered to the bleachers, a set of mixed doubles taking their place on the court. “You could handle her better than anyone else, though. She’s lucky to have a friend like that.”

  Heat fanned Val's skin with these soft words. Eyes tracing the shape of his jaw, the childhood scar she remembered finding rugged at the time he earned it.

  “Everyone needs someone to keep them grounded sometimes,” she said.

  Stealing a sideways glance in her direction he asked, “Is it like that with you and Riley? One of you excitable, the other a rock?”

  The question took her aback. She felt he was fishing for comfort, the notion that most successful relationships were a fire and ice sort.

  “We’re not very much alike,” she admitted after a moment. “I mean, I don't think so. There are times that I just want to throttle him.”

  A laugh met this confession. “Yeah, I picked up on that a few times.” Growing serious again, he continued. “That’s normal, though. To be with someone who’s your opposite, someone you make concessions for.”

  He was talking more to himself than to her at this point. Arguing the case for a difficult relationship that seemed immersed in conflict now.

  Was that he what he wanted? She could see a certain appeal, an element of excitement in the fight. Her thoughts flashing to those moments when a certain individual tugged her emotions with an unexpected look or touch.

  Only it wasn't Jason in these memories, which surprised her most of all.

  “How about a drink?” he said, rousing her from thought. As she moved towards the vending machine, he caught her arm.

  “How about something stronger?" he asked, with a grin. "They mix a mean tequila sunrise in the lounge. Nice seating space, live entertainment–what do you say? Catch up on old times?”

  There was only one answer. Even so, she was afraid it might be the wrong one as she took her seat at a table for two in the corner.

  She had planned to spend time with both her friends to determine the state of their hearts. Nothing could be more innocent than a conversation in a public place, where several of their classmates were already gathered for recreation.

  “Here’s to friends,” Jason said, clinking her glass.

  Taking a draught from the orange liquid, he cleared his throat before speaking again. “I feel kind of bad about the reunion stuff bugging Heather. She never said a word against it when we were planning.”

  “She was making a concession,” Val guessed. “Like you said earlier.”

  A microphone buzzed on the performance stage, where equipment was being setup for the resident jazz band. Piano chords resonating in a practice tune up, before the classic love song “Under My Skin” was announced.

  “I guess we’re even maybe,” he speculated. “After all, she vetoed all the honeymoon options involving long-distance travel. As well as the apartment I looked at on the street close to the newspaper office. Sounds like a fair trade, doesn’t it?”

  Heather seemed to be asking a lot at this point– dictating their travel options, their resident location. Not to mention the little jabs she took at his sporting hobbies, implying it would be better if he gave them up for something more along the lines of her taste.

  The bride-to-be saw Jason's drawbacks, clearly. But did he see hers? Or only the perfect girl of his school-age dreams?

  “Do you guys have something special you do together?” she asked, sipping her drink in a casual manner. “Hobbies, hangouts, that kind of thing?”

  He shrugged, a frown creasing his mouth. “Not really. She has a book club thing, girl’s night out, and some art related stuff. I hang with the guys on the tennis court or maybe take in a movie.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Separate interests. That doesn’t mean you can’t find something new to enjoy.”

  Although nothing came to mind as a suggestion. Her thoughts occupied with a memory of fourteen-year old Heather declaring that fashion and ‘N Sync were the only things essential life. A reminder Val didn't know either of her friends very well anymore; at least not well enough to offer advice on this subject.

  Val twirled the cubes remaining in her drink, her thoughts falling momentarily into undefined territory.

  “Another?” Jason asked, reaching for the empty glass before her.

  She nodded. “Yes, please.” Their eyes locking for a moment. The sight of his face close to her own threatened her resolve to be an impartial judge. If she told him the truth, here and now, what would he say?

  Something plunked next to her hand, a fresh tequila sunrise to replace the empty glass. As Riley pulled a third chair up to the table, turning it backwards so his arms straddled the rungs.

  “So, I heard you guys hit the court this morning,” he said, a thread of annoyance running through the otherwise upbeat tone. “Way to be healthy. Except, you should probably start earlier next time to miss that noon heat index.”

  The groom merely chuckled, taking a drink from his own beverage. “Good one,” he said. “My fiancée would agree with you. She would say it was better to skip the tennis altogether, though.”

  Val’s eyes narrowed as she took in the glass before her. The sneaky maneuver she could only assume was meant to upstage Jason’s having bought the first round.

  Another revival of Riley's harebrained scheme to make her more “viable” as the perfect woman. This thought triggered her fears, an alarm mentally clanging in response to his presence.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, turning towards Riley with a look meant to serve as a warning. “There’s not a gym here, so I know your workout regiment must be off the table.”

  He stared back at her without flinching. “I had a phone conference. Two and a half hours.”

  Convenient. She took a deep breath, trying to keep from making another scene. Especially since the lounge was growing more crowded, a flood of people in name tags taking the tables by the stage.

  “All right, guys and gals,” came the jazz musician’s voice over the microphone, “it’s time for a little game we call Name That Mystery Tune. Me and the band will play fifteen seconds of a classic song, and all you gotta do is write the name on a slip of paper…”

  “Can you believe this?” Jason was shaking his head in bemusement.

  “…put the papers in the numbered basket on your table,” the instructions continued, “and the table with the most correct answers gets a swingin prize. So let’s get started–”

  “This has to be the final word in boredom,” said the groom. “Plus no one can guess a tune based on fifteen seconds.”

  Val laughed in agreement, but the former deejay wasn’t having
any of it. “Fifteen seconds is actually pretty generous. The radio station I worked for gave away prizes all the time for sound bites in the five second range. ”

  “Five seconds?” The groom snorted. Eyebrows arching in Val’s direction as he reached for a slip of paper on the table.

  Riley snatched another, as if they were gunslingers facing off in duel. Pens scribbling furiously as the jazz band struck up a soaring beat that hung in the air for a mournful note. Dying away as quickly as it came, only for another equally mysterious noise to take its place.

  How did this happen? Val’s irritation was rising. Wrapping her fingers around the bottom of Riley’s pen, she scribbled the word ‘Stop’ in letters beneath his nose.

  “Okay, I give up,” he said, tossing the implement aside. His smile strained as he said, “Who wants to bet the prize is a coupon for this place?”

  Jason’s phone beeped, the sound of a text message's arrival. He pulled up the screen to his tablet–an e-Volution model, she couldn't help but notice–and scrolled through a series of messages.

  “Get this,” he said, leaning towards Val with a confidential air. “Remember Chad Wilkins, the school quarterback? Someone just emailed me this link from a news site. He’s actually a fugitive from justice now.”

  “No,” she gasped. “What did he do?” she asked. Remembering the long list of offenses Chad was never caught for at Wardruff High. Including the times he TP’d the principal’s car and planted a pack of cigarettes in a science geek’s locker.

  “Looks like he embezzled from a sporting goods store. Weird, huh?” He continued to lean next to her, his finger scrolling through the rest of the messages, most of them old ones from Heather.

  This would improve Kimberly's odds for a quick divorce, Val thought. A notion which brought back Heather's fears about their classmates' failed track record of relationships.

  “Hear about Chad?” a fellow classmate asked, slapping the groom on the shoulder in passing.

  ‘Yeah, we just heard,” he replied.

  His use of the word ‘we’ was innocent, but sent a shiver up Val’s spine, as it had long ago. “Sad but not too surprising,” he added, with a shake of the head.

  “Definitely,” said Riley. His sudden entrance to the conversation drawing stares from the others. “That is, from what I’ve heard about him,” he hastened to explain. “From his soon-to-be ex, Kimberly.”

  A murmur of assent from the others was punctuated by a loud finish to the mystery tune competition. The band struck up a soft number that would have been relaxing, if not for the awkwardness of the situation.

  “These guys are pretty good,” said Jason, glancing towards the stage. “Kind of reminds me of this group I jammed with in college. Except they did more Blues than Jazz.”

  Val soaked in the tidbits concerning his life after he moved on. There were a lot of years missing, a lot of changes she knew. “I thought you only played guitar,” she mused.

  “I dabbled in piano,” he admitted. Draining the last of his glass with a modest air.

  “Amateur musician,” Riley butted in. “Me too. I guess we both had to look reality in the eye at some point on that one.”

  “It was tough when it came down between the two scholarships,” Jason admitted, pocketing his tablet. “But in the end, sports ruled the day.”

  “Of course, some people have different versions of reality.” Riley glanced at the untouched tequila sunrise, reaching as if to down it in one gulp. Only to set it down again untouched, his fingers drumming the table in a furious beat to match the band’s new tune.

  The groom moved his empty glass aside, his gaze returning to Val with a soft smile. “So I just realized we’ve been together for roughly ten minutes without discussing the wedding.”

  “And now you ruined it,” she quipped. A half-smile forming in response to his own. “I’m glad we talked, though. There’s some things I’ve been meaning to ask you–”

  "Like what?" His voice was soft. "You know, it's been a long time since we really had a conversation. I think the last time we were both in high school. And I don't remember it as well as I should..."

  Her heart skipped a beat as he moved closer, his face serious with this recollection. She remembered their last conversation with clarity. She was in a yellow sweater, he was in an AC/DC t-shirt. She hugged him goodbye, the back of his old car filled with things for his college career.

  “Excuse me, please–can I have everyone’s attention for a minute?”

  Val froze as if suddenly turned to stone. The voice on the mic was not the jazz musician. It was someone who only moments before had been sitting directly across from her.

  “Hey, sorry to interrupt the music.” Riley was holding the mic with a sense of ease that chilled her bones. “These guys have been kind enough to let me steal the show for a minute, because they understand there are moments in a man’s life that he just has to seize.”

  Was he going to dedicate a song to her? Recalling the story of his biology-loving sweetheart, she shrank from the thought, imaging the looks of mirth on the faces of her classmates at the surrounding tables. Jason's eyes she avoided, as Riley's speech plodded on.

  “True love is a lot like a classic song,” Riley continued, pulling this from the air apparently. “Timeless, changeless, and most of all, unforgettable.”

  Pointing directly at their table, he spoke into the mic with a low, earnest voice.

  “Valarie McCray, you’re the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

  CHAPER TWELVE

  “What is wrong with you?”

  Val let her voice travel several octaves above its normal range, until it was almost a scream. Her arms crossed in a look of fierce disapproval, eyes glaring as she confronted her opponent like in an animal caught in a trap.

  Except the trap was only her locked room, where she dragged Riley the moment he exited the stage. Ignoring the cheers and whistles from strangers and classmates, the look of complete shock on Jason's face.

  A fake smile was plastered on her own face as she took Riley's arm. No doubt everyone assumed that she pulled him aside to answer with a perfect yes.

  “Is this some kind of medical condition?” she asked, backing him towards her closet. “Some compulsive urge to lie that can’t be helped?” The words sounded cruel even to her, but she couldn’t seem to stop them from spilling out in a rush of anger.

  Flattened against the wall, Riley remained calm. “You needed a game changer. You’re playing this all wrong–”

  “I’m not playing anything,” she interrupted. “I’m re-connecting with my friends, I’m helping them sort through critical emotional issues. The open and honest way,” she added significantly. "This whole thing about impressing them is just a personal quest–understand?"

  “Two days,” he said, an ominous ring to the statement. “That’s all you have left to make a lifetime impression. Do you really want to give up now? Just when that certain somebody can see how great you are?”

  She wavered slightly, running her hands through her hair. He was closer to the truth than he realized, the truth of her feelings and the loss of her long-ago crush forever. She would have to leave it buried or let it make its peace.

  Sinking onto the bed, she hugged a pillow. Rocking slightly as she considered the options before her.

  “This is go time,” Riley said, as if picking up on her doubt. “This is take no prisoners, kick down doors time–”

  She groaned, hands pressing her forehead in exasperation. “You’re doing it again. Turning this into some kind of sales pitch, some blueprint with formulas and charts.”

  “Maybe it could work that way,” he insisted.

  “No it can’t.” She tossed the pillow aside. “This isn’t about facts, it’s about hearts, Riley. One of which is mine, so stop and think before you say something stupid.”

  The tone wasn’t angry, but the words had a clear impact. Riley’s complexion turned pale.

  “You’re right,�
�� he said. A hand rubbing the back of his neck as the words sank into him.

  “I guess I came on a little strong,” he mumbled, as if talking to himself. His gaze returning to hers with a look of misery. “You probably want some alone time. I mean, everyone knows you're great, right? All these people see it right away. They don't need to see somebody chase you to know you're worth it.”

  He turned and opened the door to her room. He was already in the hall before she could reply, his door closing behind him more swiftly than she could move.

  Another door opened further down the hall, a frazzled-looking Heather emerging.

  “There you are,” she said, turning towards Val with relief, as if they’d been apart for years instead of hours. Her arms hugged a notebook, a pencil tangled in her blonde curls.

  “Honey, wait up,” called Jason, emerging from her room with a look that suggested he’d participated in his own form of arguing. “It’s no big deal. You’ve got plenty of time to finish your vows.”

  “I can’t work under pressure,” Heather insisted, her fingers bending the notebook as she talked. “The bridesmaid’s dresses have been delayed, the rehearsal dinner is three hours from now...”

  Val’s eyes widened. “I forgot about the dinner.” Her mind had been occupied with other things as the groom well knew. His thoughts turning in the same direction, judging from the curiosity on his face.

  “So do we owe you a congrats?” he asked. A question that received a puzzled look from Heather, her vows and bridal gowns forgotten in the implication.

  “Hmm?” said Val, her mind working on a possible answer. “Oh…he was just kidding.” She forced a laugh as if to illustrate this point. “He does that all the time.”

  "It looked pretty serious to me," said Jason.

  "Well, that's just–I mean, that's just silly," said Val. "We've only known each for–for a month. I mean, who gets engaged that quickly?" A second later, she bit her tongue, realizing how short the reunion between Heather and Jason had been before he proposed.