Smoke and Fire

by Julie Cannon

  Nicole returned the smile just before Brady’s attention was drawn back to the maid of honor she escorted down the aisle. Brady kept her eyes straight ahead until she got almost even with Nicole, when she turned her head slightly and looked at her and again gave a slight nod before she passed. The rest of the bridal party filed down the aisle, followed by the family of the bride and groom, the rest of the guests leaving in an orderly manner, starting with the second row.

  The receiving line was outside in the courtyard between the church and the fellowship hall, and Nicole made her way through the slowly moving procession to congratulate Sara and her new husband. After that, Nicole found Barbara standing with her husband off to the side, enjoying the happiness of their daughter. “Nicole, I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You know that. Sara’s beautiful.”

  Both Barbara and her husband blushed with pride. “The reception, cake, and dancing are in the fellowship hall.” Barbara pointed to the doors of the building about forty feet away. Please eat, drink, and enjoy yourself. There’s plenty to go around. And please stop by and chat with Sara for a few minutes. I know she’d love it.”

  Nicole greeted a few more friendly faces and after ten or fifteen minutes wandered into the hall with several mutual friends. The room was decorated in typical wedding motif. Streamers hung from the ceiling, balloons saying CONGRATULATIONS and JUST MARRIED hung from the lights, and a DJ had two computers open on the table in front of him, flanked by speakers on either side.

  Nicole glanced at the guests milling around waiting for the bride and groom to enter the festivities, then meandered to one of the four bars placed around the room and ordered a beer. She was dressed in one of her better suits, and holding a beer in her hand probably looked out of place, but she didn’t care. She liked beer. Cocktails hit her too hard, and wine sometimes gave her a headache.

  She tipped the bartender just as the crowd broke into applause, and she turned as the bride and groom made their way to the bridal table. Sitting to Mark’s left was Brady, then a couple that Nicole assumed were his parents. Sara’s side of the family was equally represented on the opposite side.

  Nicole sat at a table near the back of the room and settled down with several guests. They introduced themselves as a waiter came around and filled their champagne glasses about half full. Nicole watched as Brady stood and tapped her glass with a fork.

  Tink, tink, tink. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Brady said into the microphone, her voice strong and clear coming through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen. I understand it’s my role to propose a toast to the bride and groom. But first I have the responsibility of telling an embarrassing story about these two.”

  Nicole watched as Brady regaled the guests with a funny story about Mark and Sara and a particular episode involving a floodlight, the back of a pickup truck, and a cold winter night. Nicole saw a very different Brady than the one who was in her office a little more than two weeks ago. This Brady was engaging, entertaining, funny, and obviously very fond of Mark.

  She couldn’t get over how attractive Brady was, and the saying that the clothes made the man obviously didn’t quite fit in this instance, but they definitely fit Brady. But there was something about her now that kept drawing Nicole’s eyes back to her. The words dapper, handsome, and striking came to mind. She looked strong and powerful and confident, and Nicole felt a surge of unfamiliar desire.

  Brady looked like she could handle anything, like she would take charge, but she looked confident enough to let go. Nicole flushed with heat when she thought what it would be like to have Brady take control of her. Her hands itched to touch what she suspected was a tight, firm body under the formal clothes.

  “So in closing, ladies and gentlemen,” Brady said, “I propose a toast. To Mark and his beautiful bride Sara. May you have all the happiness and never-ending love that will create the pack of kids I know you’re going to have. A toast. Congratulations.”

  Mark pulled Brady into a hug, slapping her on the back several times before finally releasing her. Brady leaned over and kissed Sara on the cheek. Nicole wondered what it would feel like to have Brady kiss her on the cheek, on the mouth, and in other places.

  Brady took a sip of champagne and her eyes scanned the room and found hers. More than fifty feet separated them, but Nicole felt like Brady could see inside her and know what she was feeling. The heat rose to Nicole’s face and Brady raised her eyebrows slightly.

  The DJ clicked a few keys and music came over the speakers. Mark and Sara moved to the dance floor for the traditional first dance of the bride and groom. Brady danced with the maid of honor, and if people didn’t know they probably couldn’t tell she was a woman. But Nicole knew, and her body definitely knew.

  An hour later Nicole was talking with Barbara and several of her friends when a voice behind her said, “Wanna dance?” She turned to look at the man beside her. He wore a slightly rumpled suit, his tie and the first button on his collar were undone, and a cocktail jostled in his chubby hand.

  “No, thank you,” Nicole replied politely. “I’m not really in the mood to dance right now,” she said, trying to soften her decline. It didn’t work.

  “Come on, dance with me. I’m in the mood.”

  “I said no, thank you.”

  “You know, you don’t have to be so snooty.”

  “I’m sorry if I sounded that way to you. I don’t mean to be. I just don’t want to dance right now.”

  “You must be related to the bride,” the man said, his words slightly slurred. “My family knows how to be polite.”

  Nicole didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to encourage any further conversation with this man.

  “Robbie, please,” Barbara said. The words didn’t deter him.

  “You think that just because you’ve got on fancy clothes and probably drive a fancy car you’re too good for the likes of me. Well, let me tell you—”

  “Robbie, there you are,” a welcome, familiar voice said just before Brady came into view. She stepped close to the man and put her arm around his shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” Brady said to Nicole and the other women. She turned her attention back to the man. “Mark’s looking for you, buddy. He asked me to find you.”

  Robbie turned his attention away from Nicole and looked at Brady. “Who the hell are you?”

  Brady didn’t hesitate. “Brady, I work with Mark.”

  Robbie looked at Brady. “What the hell?” Before Brady got a chance to say anything he added, “You’re a fucking dyke.”

  Brady didn’t miss a beat. “You’re a smart guy, Robbie. Come on, man, let’s go. Mark wants to talk with you,” Brady said, putting her arm around Robbie’s shoulder, effectively turning him away from Nicole. “If you’ll excuse us,” Brady said, and directed Robbie away from them and across the room.

  “Thank God,” Barbara said, a look of relief on her face.

  “Sorry about that,” Nicole said.

  “Good grief, Nicole, you didn’t do anything to encourage him. That was Mark’s brother. He didn’t want him here but was afraid he’d drop in. No one in the family wants to have anything to do with him, but obviously somehow he found out.”

  “Brady will take care of him. She’ll get him out of here.”

  “She’s a wonderful person,” Barbara said to Brady’s retreating back. “Mark talks about her all the time. When he first said he wanted her to be his best man I threw a fit. But the more he talked about her the more I realized he could have whoever he wants. It’s his wedding too.”

  A few of the ladies nodded in agreement. “If my daughter trusts Mark and Mark trusts Brady, then I trust Brady. It’s as simple as that. His brother on the other hand…” Barbara didn’t need to describe him any further.

  “Get your hand off me, bitch.” Robbie tried to squirm away, but Brady tightened her grip on him.

  “Come on, Robbie. Keep walking.”

  “Where�
�s Mark? You said he wanted to talk to me.”

  “I lied,” Brady said simply after they were outside. “You need to go home. I’ll get you a cab.”

  “I don’t wanna go home. I wanna see my brother,” he said, his words slurring.

  “He’s gone. He left with Sara about ten minutes ago.” Brady lied again. No way was she going to say anything to give Robbie any ideas of staying. “Now you need to go home.”

  “What are you doing here? Who are you anyway?” Robbie repeated himself.

  “I’m your brother’s friend and I look out for him, and because I’m his friend, I look out for you too.” Brady said, keeping Robbie walking.

  “That babe I was talking to, she was hot. I could get into her pants without batting an eye.”

  “That babe you were talking to is a lady, and she didn’t seem interested to me.”

  “She just needed to warm up, that’s all.”

  “Well, I tell you what, Robbie. Why don’t you go home and try another day.”

  Brady escorted Rob to the front of the church where several cabs were waiting for just this purpose. She poured him into one, listened while Robbie recited his address, and flipped the driver a twenty to get him home. Brady stood with her hands on her hips as the cab drove away. Mark was right. The guy was an asshole.

  She’d been keeping her eye on Nicole since she saw her in the church. She’d watched her mingle and make polite conversation but not stay too long with any group of people. Brady had seen her at the bar only twice, each time coming away with a bottle of Michelob Ultra in her hand. Brady thought that was pretty brassy: a fine woman drinking beer at a fancy wedding. Brady didn’t like women who drank too much. They reminded her of her mother, and that was the last thing she wanted to think about when she was with an attractive woman.

  She’d watched as Mark’s brother circled Nicole, his eyes reflecting that dangerous look drunk men have when they’re looking for trouble. She’d stood in the wings close enough to hear when he talked to Nicole. Nicole could hold her own, but everyone could use a little help now and then, and when Robbie had started getting out of line, she’d stepped in.

  The look of relief on Nicole’s face told her she’d done the right thing. Somehow she’d gotten him away from Nicole without making a scene and was going to reward herself with another cold beer.

  Brady was counting out her cash at the bar when a voice behind her said, “Let me get that.” Brady turned around and gazed into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

  “For rescuing me,” she said. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “I didn’t rescue you.”

  “Yes, you did. Don’t argue with me.”

  “Let’s just say I was at the right place at the right time.”

  Nicole seemed to think about that and finally answered, “I can live with that.”

  “And you don’t have to buy me a beer.”

  “I know,” Nicole said, and did anyway.

  Brady tapped the neck of her bottle to Nicole’s in acknowledgement of the gesture and took a sip. The cold liquid felt good on her suddenly parched throat.

  “Would you like to sit for a few minutes?” Nicole asked.

  “Sure,” Brady said, and indicated an empty table nearby.

  She held Nicole’s chair as she sat, and when she sat down in the chair next to her she couldn’t help but smile when Nicole said, “You’re very gallant.”

  “No, just polite.”

  “Do you make it a habit to save damsels in distress?”

  Brady liked Nicole’s sense of humor and chuckled. “You may be a damsel, but I seriously doubt you’re ever in distress.” Brady’s fingers tingled when Nicole laughed.

  “Well, then I suppose I shouldn’t call you my knight in shining armor. However, that suit is very becoming.”

  Brady looked down at her clothes, and for the first time since she’d put on the stifling formal wear, she liked it. And she definitely liked the way Nicole’s eyes traveled down her body.

  “This old thing? It was in my knapsack. I just pulled it out.”

  Nicole smiled again. “Good planning. You never know when you might need one.”

  “Did you have that in your knapsack?” Brady asked, referencing Nicole’s outfit and mimicking the trail Nicole’s eyes had taken over her body. She had to force herself not to lick her lips.

  Nicole laughed. “No, it was in the front of my closet. The shoes, however, were another story altogether.”

  Brady settled back into the chair, wanting this relaxed conversation to continue. “Do tell.”

  “Some other time. So how long have you known Mark?”

  “About three years, off and on. How long have you known Sara?”

  “About six years. Actually I know her mother. She’s one of my good friends, therefore…” Nicole gestured as if saying “here I am.”

  “They make a cute couple, don’t they?” Brady tipped her head in the direction of Sara and Mark on the dance floor.

  “Yes, they do.”

  Several minutes passed with no conversation. “I don’t mean to keep you if you have best-man things to do,” Nicole finally said.

  “No, for the most part my job is done. I was responsible for getting Mark to the church and making sure he didn’t collapse at the altar, the ring, and the toast. Oh, and the bachelor party. That was a couple nights ago. We’re all still recovering from that.”

  “Do tell.” She mimicked Brady’s words back to her.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Nope, you’re not getting it out of me.” Brady crossed her arms across her chest.

  “Is it because I’m the boss?”

  “No, not at all. It’s because you’re a lady.”

  Nicole quickly covered her look of surprise at her answer.

  “What about you,” Brady asked. “Do you have any particular job as the friend of the mother of the bride?”

  “Not today. Up to this point it was listening to Barbara complain, glow, think out loud, plan, change plans, Sara change plans again—you know, those kinds of friend things.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow it’s listening to her recant everything that happened today. And about a month from now I’ll be listening to her bitch when the credit-card bills come.”

  Brady laughed. “So that tradition of the parents of the bride funding the wedding is still alive, huh?”

  “At least in that household it is.”

  “How about you?” Brady asked. “It’s not a tradition, but do you have any bad habits you’d like to break?”

  Nicole thought for a minute. “I don’t think I’d call them bad habits.”

  “What would you call them then?” Brady asked, very interested in Nicole’s answer.

  “Things I’d like to maybe do differently.”

  “That’s a politically correct phrase. And what would those be, give me an example.”

  “Well, I’d like to not drink as much coffee as I do.”

  Brady thought about that for a few seconds. “Give me another one.”

  “Um, not make as many trips to the Dairy Queen.”

  This time Brady ran her eyes over Nicole’s body. “From what I see it doesn’t look like you’ve taken too many trips.”

  Nicole blushed a very nice shade of pink. Brady wanted to see it again. “Give me another one.”

  “Try to have a little more work-life balance.”

  “What do you do for fun?”

  Nicole stopped and thought about the answer to that question. Did she tell Brady the truth? She didn’t remember the last time she had fun. “I paint,” she said, the first lie that came to mind. No one had asked her that question, or any personal question, in a long time. As a matter of fact she hadn’t made social small talk with anyone in a long time.

  “As in artist or walls?’

  “Walls.”

  “Do you have a painting business on the side?”

&nbs
p; Nicole didn’t want to continue the lie but had no choice. “No. I bought a house several months ago that needs a lot of work, and it seems as though all I’ve been doing lately is paint.”

  “Are you any good?”

  “Well, it doesn’t take much skill to paint a flat wall.” At least that was an honest answer.

  “Sure it does. What about edges, trim, cutting in, and trying not to drip on the carpet?”

  “Okay, I get your point, but I’m still convinced it doesn’t take a lot of skill to paint a wall.”

  “So what else?’ Brady asked.

  “No, no, no.” Nicole shook her head. “I’ve given you three. It’s your turn. Give me one bad habit you’d like to break.”

  “Women.”

  Nicole choked on her beer. She coughed, patting herself on the chest several times. “Women?” she managed to squeak out.

  “Yeah, you know, ones that aren’t good for me.”

  Nicole had no idea how to follow up on that subject so she stayed away from it. “How about another one?”

  “I really don’t have any more.”

  “You don’t have any more?” Nicole was surprised. “You have one bad habit and that’s it? What are you, some kind of saint?”

  Brady laughed until she could barely breathe. “Not hardly. I do what I want to do when I want to do it, and if it’s not good for me, I either do it or I don’t.”

  “I see,” Nicole said, even though she really didn’t. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “No, well, I guess if that’s what you want to call it. I had to live somebody else’s life for so long that when I got my own, I promised myself it would be my own.”

  Nicole thought for a moment. “So there’s no one?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Nope.”

  “Ever been anyone?” Why am I asking this?

  “Well, I don’t want to sound like a cad, but there’s been a lot of someones but not any one.” Brady emphasized the word one.

  “Do you see one in your future?” Stop asking questions.

  “Nope.”

  “You seem pretty confident of that.” Nicole felt a pang of disappointment.

  “Yep.” Brady looked at her, obviously waiting for Nicole to say something. When she didn’t she said, “It’s not a bad thing, it’s just my thing. How about you? Anyone?”