Love Struck

by Laurelin McGee

  “Right. Terrifying.” Lacy was already wary about the outing. Only a little more than a year ago she was planning her own wedding. Though she’d been “fine” through the months since, was it really a good idea to spend the day reminiscing about her own choices? The group of singer-songwriter friends she’d chosen as her musicians, the daisies—the first flower Lance had ever given her—the old theater that she’d picked as her venue. They constantly sat at the edge of her conscience, haunting her. Though she was hopeful they’d one day pour out of her in song, she was also terrified that instead they’d explode when she least expected it. Like while sitting through her sister’s planning meeting.

  But wait—why was Andy scared? “Terrifying like how, exactly?”

  Andy offered a hesitant frown.

  “Hey, I’ve seen every wedding planner movie, including the JLo one. And I’ve been to lots of weddings. Hell, I’ve played enough weddings to have the drill down pat. So I can say with authority that planners are just there to make sure your shit goes smoothly. No reason to be scared. If you’re freaked, it’s probably because you’re freaked about the whole shebang. Which is natural.”

  Lacy hoped she sounded comforting, though she really wanted to say, Sheesh, Andy, get it together. The planner she’d hired was obviously good. Lacy had double-checked on all the online bridal boards and found he was by far the planner most recommended. It wasn’t really fair for Andy to blame her insecurity on the poor guy just because her wedding was going to be widely reported. Which was what happened when you married one of the city’s richest businessmen.

  Luckily, bridezillas were almost Lacy’s specialty at this point. She knew how to handle them. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said she’d sung at enough weddings to know what they were like. At last count, there were almost thirty. It didn’t mean she thought Andy would turn into a nightmare bride, exactly. Just that, if she did, Lacy was prepared.

  “I wasn’t freaked about the wedding until I met Tim. I know he’s well meaning. But he’s also terrifying.”

  Lacy doubted that. He wouldn’t be the best in the city if he were honestly terrifying. But she didn’t want to argue, so she closed her eyes for the remainder of the ride to avoid discussing it further. A sharp elbow to the ribs told her where they were at the stop, unnecessary since she wasn’t actually asleep. She swallowed her irritation and held her sister’s hand as they walked up the tiled path outside Boston Brides as she remembered another thing from her own wedding planning—getting married was the scariest shit ever.

  She’d almost forgotten that. The little doubt-spiders that had crept up her spine constantly. Forever? Creep, bite. With one person? Bite, bite. Putting the whole event together? Bite, venom, coma.

  Even though she’d wanted it. Even though she’d known Lance was The One. There had still been the fear. She squeezed Andy’s hand to reassure her. Or herself. Maybe they both needed a little squeeze.

  But when they weren’t even up the steps and the door burst open so forcefully that Lacy was concerned it would fly off its hinges, she started to wonder if she should have given Andy’s remarks more credibility.

  “There you are! It’s about goddamn time. We’re behind!”

  Lacy drew up short, tightening her grip on her sister’s hand. The man in the doorway was only about her height, five ten maybe, with beautifully coiffed blond hair, a pressed suit, and black-rimmed glasses. He looked like he should be the butler in a movie about an Italian fashion designer. The crass words that came out of his mouth, however …

  “Told you,” Andy muttered. “Tim! We’re early, actually.” She leapt up the steps and gave the man a kiss on the cheek. He wiped it off, semi-surreptitiously, and glared.

  “Barely,” he told her. “Who’s the blonde?”

  “My sister. Remember? I told you she’d be with me.” Andy was much more patient with her planner than called for. Then again, he was the best.

  “But you didn’t tell me she was blonde.” This time Tim’s glare went past Andy to fall on Lacy.

  “You’re blond too,” Lacy reminded him.

  He narrowed his eyes further but directed his comment to Andy. “She’ll throw off my color scheme! It was built around your hair. Are you dead set on involving her?”

  Lacy’s mouth fell open. Was he really suggesting cutting her from the wedding just because her hair was the wrong color? Maybe he just had an odd sense of humor. The kind that wasn’t funny.

  “Yes, Tim. That’s a non-negotiable.” So far Andy appeared to be perfectly capable of handling the man by herself. If Lacy wasn’t so stunned by him, she might have suggested her sister take the meeting without her.

  Tim sighed overdramatically. “Well, screw everything. We’ll have to revise. You better come in.”

  Lacy fingered her scheme-destroying curls as Tim led them inside to a wood-paneled room filled with low tables, portfolios, and very expensive-looking rugs. With each step, he winced, as if he had hidden nerve endings in the carpets. He stopped at a table and flipped open a binder.

  “You see this?”

  Lacy and Andy leaned down to study the pictures before them. “You did the Jen Jankovich wedding?” Lacy asked, recognizing the elite heiress socialite celebrity in the photos. It had been one of the biggest events in recent Boston history.

  Tim theatrically clapped his hand to his chest. “God, no. If I’d done that event, the city would still be talking about it. That planner had absolutely no taste. There’s far too much white going on and far too few elephants.”

  “I didn’t realize there were elephants at all.” Andy seemed to actually be imagining how to incorporate pachyderms in her ceremony.

  “There weren’t. That’s my point.”

  Lacy bit her lip. “Terrifying” wasn’t the word Lacy would have used for him. “Hilarious” was better. He was so strange, so outrageous, so intense. It was hard to imagine that his plans for the big event wouldn’t reflect those same attributes. Now that was terrifying.

  “That was an example of what not to do.” He slammed the portfolio shut. “Your event, on the other hand, is going to be gigantic,” he informed Andy. “The talk of the town. The ceremony of the century. A mind-blowing pain in the ass.”

  Lacy was baffled. Wasn’t that a good thing for someone whose living was made off gigantic events?

  “I know, Tim.” The desperation in Andy’s voice was at least half put on. “That’s why I need you. I’m completely overwhelmed.”

  Lacy would have sworn he actually puffed up like a fancy bird.

  He turned to pat her sister’s hand. “I know, Andy. You do. You really do. Especially with this insane timeline you’ve given me. Less than four months to plan the kind of wedding you want? I’m the only one who could pull it off. Truly.” Just as quickly, he dropped Andy’s hand and swept his arm toward a tray holding two Bloody Marys, garnished with olives, limes, and beef jerky. “I made you drinks. You’ll need them.”

  Lacy, who was bubbling with the urge to say a lot of things she shouldn’t, grabbed one and took a large gulp. It was stronger than she’d anticipated, and spicier. She tried to disguise her cough with a moan of “yum,” but Tim gave her a Look that said he knew what she was doing.

  “Let’s get to work, then, yeah?” Andy was stupid-perky. She took a small sip, which didn’t seem to faze her.

  “Have another,” Tim said to Lacy when she’d finished her glass. She also thought she heard him mutter, “One more round ought to do it.” It was hard to be sure since the first drink had been quite strong, and unless getting them drunk was the goal, another round was not a good idea.

  He focused his attention on Andy. “We’ll start small. Your event is going to be big news around here, so it should be equal parts traditional and progressive. Have you chosen a dress?” He looked like he’d not only swallowed a lemon, but could possibly be growing a lemon tree in his mouth at the thought.

  “No, I thought Lace and I could do that together”

 
Tim looked both mollified and suspicious, if such a combination were possible.

  “Fine. We’ll go first thing tomorrow. Try to be sober.” He sent sharp glances at the drinks he had just given them.

  “You’re going to come with us to pick out a dress?” Andy asked. Lacy wasn’t sure if she sounded worried or hopeful at the prospect.

  “Of course I am, gorgeous. You think I’d let you choose something so important on your own? Never. You could end up looking like a giant peacock.” His eyes lit up as though he’d suddenly had a brilliant idea. “Unless you like peacocks…”

  Lacy couldn’t let that go without chiming in. “No, she doesn’t like peacocks.”

  “I don’t?” Andy asked, unsure.

  Lacy shot her a glance that she hoped said, Who are you and what have you done with my usually self-assured older sister?

  “I mean, I don’t.” Not quite as confident as Andy usually was, but it would do.

  “Ah, pity. Moving on. Do we have a theme in mind? Say no.”

  “Um, no?” Andy smiled. “Tim, I’m relying on you here.”

  “Flowers,” he stated. “I’m seeing lots of flowers. A December wedding means it’ll be tricky, but we’ll fly things in. Did you have a preference?”

  “Either roses or lilies, whichever is more fashionable right now,” Andy replied, clearly happy to have an answer.

  “Roses!” Tim sputtered. “Lilies! No, no, no! I … I don’t even have words…”

  Lacy took several more gulps of her drink to cover her desire to break into laughter. She knew she probably should speak up and defend her sister’s flower choices, but she’d done her duty when she’d nixed the peacocks. Now it was more fun to be a bystander.

  Andy spoke tentatively over her glass. “So, roses and lilies are not available?”

  “Availability is never an issue with Boston Brides,” Tim practically screeched. “No one, and I mean no one, is using roses or lilies anymore. Are you under the impression that we are having an eighties’ flashback wedding? If so you need to be looking elsewhere for your planner. Do you need to be looking elsewhere?”

  “No!” Andy exclaimed, shaking her head emphatically at exactly the same time that Lacy’s inner voice shouted, Hell yes, find another planner! This one is cray!

  Tim let out a dramatic huff of air. “I don’t even know why I ask for opinions. I should just do everything, like I always do. Anything you choose will be less than acceptable. The flowers will be tulips. Red ones to fit the season. Thousands of them, like the Dutch craze is happening all over again. You’ll start a new trend in Boston. Stocks will soar. Fortunes will be made and lost over your wedding. Doesn’t that make you feel amazing … powerful?”

  Lacy could tell that Andy was purposely avoiding her eyes. That was good, because even with the drink held in front of her face, she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to hide her hilarity much longer.

  “I would say that makes me feel … some kind of way.” Andy bolstered her statement with a smile.

  Lacy choked a little. Andy was better than she’d given her sister credit for.

  Tim gave her a tight smile. “Now. Venue. The Museum of Science’s Blue Wing is available so I booked it. Imagine—dinosaurs, stars, a million volts of lightning. The wine glasses will be charmed with the planets of the solar system. And don’t think I’m ignoring the Christmas Eve holiday. We’ll thread lighted boughs of evergreen up and down the aisles and have the wait staff dressed as angels. This is going to be the wedding of the century in New England. You’re welcome.” He topped up their glasses again and sighed heavily. The girls looked at each other as they drained their glasses.

  An hour later, they were holding each other upright, and trying to walk it off as they slowly meandered back toward their brownstone.

  “Okay, okay, I admit that he’s a little intimidating.” At least he’d kept Lacy from thinking about her own abandoned wedding dreams.

  “I told you so! Shit, Lacy, higeonpol—pigeonholing people is what I do for a living. But no, don’t take my word for it. God, he loved you.”

  “He hated me, what are you talking about?” Lacy bumped into a building, and ricocheted back to Andy’s side.

  “Nah. He’s extra mean to the people he likes.”

  She would have said there was no way that Andy could possibly know that, except that her sister had a certain gift for understanding people with very little interaction. “Do you think getting us drunk before noon was his plan all along? Keeping us pliable, so he’d get his way about everything?”

  “Absolutely. How do you think he got me to hire him in the first place?” Andy giggled. “I was deeply impressed by his tactics. I’m going to borrow them at the office holiday party this year.”

  “I have to admit, I dig his vision. It’s kind of bizarre, but you’ll certainly have a memorable big day. Wait, where are we?” They looked around for thirty seconds before realizing they’d been heading in the wrong direction for the past ten minutes.

  “I’m gonna call Blake. He’ll send a car or something.” Andy fumbled around in her purse, her cell phone continually eluding her clumsy fingers.

  “What? No. You can’t call Blake. He’ll blame me for getting you wasted before lunch.” Lacy liked her sister’s fiancé, but he was pretty straitlaced. Surely he’d be pissed.

  “Are you kidding? He’s about to get laid so good. He’ll probably send you flowers and a thank-you card. Get my phone, will you?” She thrust her bag at Lacy and wandered into the café they found themselves beside. “We need lots of coffee, and very little judgment, please,” she told the waitress as Lacy dissolved into laughter.

  Later, as she watched her sister stumble into the passenger side of her fiancé’s car, the fuzzy edges wore off. “Want me to drop you off at your place?” Blake sounded slightly irritated, but she guessed it was because he wasn’t tipsy along with them and not because he was actually mad.

  “Nah,” Lacy said. “I’ll catch the train.” While the happy couple never shut her out on purpose, it was hard to not feel like a third wheel in their presence. And they deserved their time alone.

  Lacy plugged her headphones into her iPhone and pushed play on the Blue Hills album she’d downloaded the night before. As the lead singer’s voice filled her ears, it was the banjo player who came to mind—his nimble fingers, his penetrating gaze, his soul-filled eyes. She headed toward the nearest Charlie stop, humming along to the music, feeling considerably less lonely than she had only minutes before.

  Chapter Five

  “Hey, man, I wanna change the chorus on ‘Godric’s Hollow.’” Jax bounced from foot to foot and stared over at Eli.

  Eli stared back at his lead singer. “What do you mean,’ change the chorus’? We’ve been rehearsing it this way for two months. It’s a really good song.” This was so typical of Jax, just making a pronouncement like that in the middle of practice. Admittedly, it had been Jax’s out-of-the-box way of thinking that had made Eli want to play music with him in the first place. And it was his unique style that had bonded them as friends. But lately, out-of-the-box was more like out-of-the-galaxy.

  And it seemed Eli was the only one who had the guts to challenge him.

  The other guys groaned and dispersed, used to these all-too-common breaks where the two strong-heads would duke out some decision.

  “I don’t know, man, I was up there last night and really feeling a connection with the crowd and all, and I suddenly got the idea.”

  “We didn’t even do ‘Godric.’” They’d done a pre-tour gig the night before. A chance to test their chops before the real thing, but they’d performed only their older material. The tour would debut their new stuff, which was why these rehearsals were so important.

  Also, he noted, his last sentence would have been a good line for someone to follow with That’s what she said. How was he the only one who ever heard the innuendo in time to land a joke like that? Okay, maybe he was twelve.

  “Right, but
I had an inspiration about it during the show. It came clear as a vision, ‘We should be singing the “Godric” chorus together.’” Jax smiled, nodding at his own wisdom.

  Well, that suggestion wasn’t that bad. “Yeah, we could sing it together. Some harmonies there might punch it up a little. That’s actually a good idea.” Eli started humming, already planning how to best complement the existing structure.

  “Oh, no, you don’t understand. Me and the audience, man. I want it to be us. So like, where right now the chorus is four lines, I just wanna change it to me singing ‘yeah,’ and then I hold out the mike and the crowd sings it back. It will make the fans crazy.”

  “So you mean cut the chorus. And replace it with ‘yeahs’ sung by you and the audience?” There was no way he’d kept his disgust hidden. Since when was fan engagement more important than the music?

  “Yep.” Jax nodded as if he believed Eli was completely with him. “Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

  No. No it would not be. It would be pretentious and oversimplify the whole song. Plus, that chorus was amazing. The word “yeah” is not.

  But he wasn’t going to waste his breath. At one time, these kinds of decisions had been made together. A collaborative effort. But then the band had grown more successful and Jax … well, he’d struggled. Without discussing it, the others seemed to agree that letting Jax have more creative control was a way to boost his spirits. But then he began to take advantage, standing firm on decisions even when the others objected. Now, if Eli put his foot down at changing the chorus, Jax would ignore him and ‘yeah’ through it anyway.

  Honestly, maybe it didn’t even matter. The Blue Hills were finally taking off. They’d had a few albums with mediocre response, but the last one had hit in the underground scene and now they had a pretty decent tour booked with the promise of more to come. This was everything Eli had dreamed of coming to fruition.

  So why did it feel like more chaos than it was worth?