The Wedding Party

by Tracey Richardson

  The two of them confused her. They seemed so close at times, other times distant or even a little pissed off at one another. Always there was a definite spark between them, a vat full of chemistry, an unending well of emotion that neither seemed willing or able to quite bring to the surface. Well, whatever was between them, she really didn’t want to examine it too closely right now. In truth, it made her uncomfortable and yet she couldn’t deny it comforted her too that they should find some kind of deep friendship together. “Look, never mind. Just have some fun tonight, okay? Both of you. And that’s an order.”

  “Yes ma’am. As your best woman, I’m beholden to follow your wishes today.”

  Shannon raised her eyebrows for effect but let the subject drop. They got into their poses, hamming it up, but serious too. They all looked so beautiful and vital, she wished she could freeze-frame this moment.

  The champagne fountain was a huge hit. It stood eight feet high, and the champagne, lit from below by blue and red flickering lights, cascaded down in narrow waterfalls so that guests could simply slip their glass under them for a refill. Dinner, grilled salmon in cranberry sauce, was exquisite, or at least Shannon supposed so. She and Dani were interrupted so often by clanging utensils demanding a newlywed kiss that they hardly consumed any food before it was whisked away and the speeches began.

  Jordan was her usual funny and sarcastic self, but tasteful, thank God, in recounting some ancient stories about Dani and about Dani and Shannon’s early dating days. Everyone laughed when Jordan told them how Dani had called and asked to borrow some Gravol before her first date with Shannon, she was so nervous. And then it was a whole package of Gravol before she popped the question. Jordan said since they’d become a couple, Dani had never even glanced once at another woman. “I was such a good friend,” Jordan joked, “that I even took up the slack for her! I mean, hey, isn’t that what friends are for?” When the laughter died down, she looked at Dani, uncharacteristic tears in her eyes. Her voice cracked with emotion. “Seriously, buddy, I am so jealous of you, you have no idea. Some of us never find our soul mate. The road to nowhere simply runs out eventually after a million detours. And some of us do find our soul mate but the timing’s all wrong. Kinda like hitting a road temporarily closed sign. But you . . . you hit the expressway to love. Happy journeys, you two.”

  Claire was next. Ever serious, she spoke eloquently about her long friendship with Shannon, about how Shannon had helped her through the toughest time in her life. She knew very well the gifts Shannon had to give, she said, and that made Dani a very lucky woman. Shannon felt herself blush a little as Claire described her attributes. “You’ve got the big things covered, you two, but don’t forget the little things. Don’t forget to say I love you every day, don’t forget to say you’re sorry, and no matter how tough times may get, don’t forget to laugh with one another. Smell the roses when you can, because it matters. Enjoy one another every day, because being with the one you love matters more than anything in the world.”

  They toasted one another, and Shannon reached over and gave Claire’s hand a squeeze. It couldn’t have been easy for her; her thoughts were surely on Ann tonight. She’d never been able to have a wedding with Ann, their time together far too short. With luck, maybe one day Claire would find someone else to grow old with. She wanted that for Claire, so much.

  Dani rose and took hold of the microphone. “Today, I am truly the happiest woman in the world. I thought I was on the day she said yes, but I was wrong. Today is the happiest day of my life.” She blew a kiss at Shannon. “You know, since I popped the question eight months ago, I couldn’t wait for this wedding. I wanted it to happen right away, like the day after she said yes. But I’m so glad it didn’t, because I didn’t realize until last night that I wasn’t ready before.”

  She paused to collect herself, her voice tremulous. “I’ve learned some valuable lessons in the last twenty-four hours. Lessons that I know will make me a better person and a better partner. I learned that dreams don’t die, they simply change because sometimes they have to. But you roll with it, you go forward, you adapt, you learn to make your way across the new terrain, because you have to. If you don’t—if you cling to the past—your future is doomed. I know that now. But I also know that I’m lucky enough to have a partner by my side, and that I will never ever take that for granted.” She raised her glass to Shannon. “To my beautiful bride, whose love keeps me strong and keeps me going forward. You’re the wind beneath my wings. I love you.”

  Shannon stood, smiling through her tears, and kissed Dani. It was her turn now. She would keep it short because if she didn’t, she’d end up blubbering her way through it. She thanked the guests for coming, thanked the wedding party for being so supportive and generous with their time. “But you’re not off the hook after tonight,” she said pointedly to Claire, Jordan, Heather and Amanda. “I’m afraid your duties continue for the rest of your lives. If Dani and I ever have a day where we’re angry or upset with one another, or where we take one another for granted, or mistreat each other, I’m counting on all of you to tell us we’re being stupid and to smarten up.”

  The four laughed and eagerly nodded their agreement.

  “Good. You didn’t realize you were signing a lifetime contract, did you?” Her gaze shifted to Dani. “To my partner, who has more strength and more goodness than she realizes. Luckily, I plan on reminding her every day! Dani, you are the love of my life, the person I want to grow old with, the woman who gives everything in my life meaning. Thank you for sharing the best and most rewarding years of my life with me. I love you so much.”

  They kissed for the millionth time today, wiped tears from each other’s cheeks. When Dani took the microphone for a second time, it was to proclaim that the party was on.

  Jordan, acting as emcee, cued the deejay to start the song for the bridal dance. There was a long pause, a glitch the deejay seemed befuddled about. Jordan stormed over to the deejay’s corner, ready, no doubt, to give her hell. Finally, the first bars of their wedding song, “I’ll Stand By You” began, but it was a karaoke version and not The Pretenders, as they’d requested.

  What the hell?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Jordan

  There was a hush in the room, a quiet ascendency, as though the pinnacle of some moment was about to be reached, but all Jordan wanted to do was throttle the deejay for screwing up the song. Just as she reached the deejay, a voice—deep, resonant, familiar, the kind that made your toes curl—faded in, singing the words, sending chills up and down her spine. Dez! Desperately, she scanned the darkened room. Where is she, dammit? The voice grew stronger; she was getting closer. And then she saw her, gliding toward the front of the room, a cordless mic in her hand. She was belting out the words now, and Jordan had an uncontrollable compulsion to cry.

  God, she’s beautiful. She was of course, but when she sang, she glowed with a joy that was ethereal, palpable. Even in the darkened room it was as though there were a spotlight on her, lighting her and magnifying her joy of singing, so that the light shone over everyone. Whatever that mesmerizing quality was—star power, charisma, magic fairy dust—Dez had it in spades. Dani and Shannon were the only ones immune, dancing together in their own little newly married world, but Jordan felt dizzy. She couldn’t believe Dez had come after all. Was she here for her sake? Had the Ella tickets done the trick? She swallowed, nervous as hell, wanting to faint or escape somehow, and yet she would not have left the room for anything in the world.

  The rest of the wedding party was being signaled to get out on the dance floor. Claire and Amanda began dancing, looking like an old married couple themselves, two-stepping in perfect time together. Heather beckoned her onto the floor. Reluctantly she followed, commanding her feet to move, nearly tripping along the way. She could not take her eyes off Dez and went through the cardboard motions of dancing with Heather.

  The next song was Taylor Dayne’s “I’ll Always Love You.” Yes, how perf
ect, Jordan thought. She wondered if Dez had any idea of the power she held over her, Dez the sun with the planet Jordan revolving around it. Magnetic, paralyzing, but oh, so sweet was the pull. As she watched Dani and Shannon hold each other close, she finally understood what it meant to need someone, to open up your entire being, to give up everything and yet gain everything at the same time. To be a part of something so much bigger. Sure it was scary, but at least she understood it now instead of wanting to heap scorn on it. No. She wanted to love Dez, wanted Dez to love her too, to give her a chance to show that she was capable of it. Worthy too. And she would not be afraid, she resolved. She was ready for this awesome, defining step.

  The song ended. The deejay switched to some eighties dance music—Blondie—and Jordan made a beeline for Dez. She would not let this opportunity slip by. It was time she went after what she wanted, go in for the kill like closing a business deal. And it was the biggest deal of her life.

  “Dez. You came.” She tried to smile but found she was too nervous.

  Dez looked equally nervous. Jordan hadn’t been expecting that. “Yes. I—Can we talk somewhere?”

  Without a word Jordan took her hand and led her out of the ballroom. Silently they rode the elevator up to Jordan’s room. If Dez was going to tell her to piss off for good, she wanted her heart broken in private.

  “Something to drink?” Jordan asked, not sure where to start. She needed to calm her nerves.

  “Do you have any wine?”

  Jordan produced a bottle of merlot and proceeded to open it. She was so nervous, she felt like a kid on the first day of school, or maybe more like a teenager on a first date. Hard to believe—the slick playgirl and hotshot real estate agent who was trembling so badly that she could not open a damned bottle of wine.

  Dez’s warm hand fell on top of hers and gently she took the corkscrew from Jordan. “Careful with that thing or you’re going to hurt yourself.”

  Jordan smiled dumbly and let Dez open the wine and pour them each a glass. She blinked, finding it hard to believe Dez was actually in her room with her. Alone with her. She fought the sudden urge to cry, or at the very least, to fall on her knees and give thanks. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

  Dez closed her eyes, her face crumpling beneath a sledgehammer of emotions. “Me either.”

  Jordan sipped her wine, took her time, forced herself to stay calm when all she really wanted to do was throw herself at Dez’s feet. She had no pride to swallow when it came to this woman. “So what happened to us?”

  Their glasses of wine were consumed in silence before Dez spoke. “You know, I have the original album from that concert.”

  “What concert?”

  “Ella. The autographed tickets you gave me. Carnegie Hall, July 5, 1973, part of the Newport Jazz Festival. They made a live album out of the concert. I was just a kid then, of course. I didn’t buy the album until much later.”

  Jordan let her ramble animatedly about her admiration for Ella Fitzgerald. Dez was obviously buying time, maybe sorting out her thoughts. But Jordan was in a hurry for the truth, whatever that might be. Was Dez going to dump her again? Give her the let’s-be-friends speech? Or dare she hope for something more? She threw off her uncomfortable bow tie and opened the top two buttons of her tux shirt, impatient to close this deal. “You killed me the other night, you know. When you dumped me.”

  Dez nodded, clamped her eyes shut. “I know.”

  “I thought things were going so well between us. I thought we really liked each other. I thought . . . hell, I don’t know. I really thought something good—no, great—was happening between us. And I thought you felt it too.”

  Dez opened her eyes slowly. There was fear there, and it was not what Jordan had expected to see. She moved closer to Dez on the sofa, placed her hand carefully over hers. “Tell me what you’re so damned scared of. I want to help you, Dez. I want to help us. I want to work this out. I’m not a horrible person and I’m not going to hurt you. Ever. My God, don’t you know what you’ve done to me?”

  “I didn’t want this to happen,” Dez answered softly.

  “Didn’t want what to happen?”

  “To fall in love with you.” She pulled her hand away and scrubbed her eyes, but all Jordan could think was, Hallelujah! Dez loves me.

  “I was so mad at myself for taking you home with me that night,” Dez continued. “For sleeping with you. For falling for you. I knew better and yet I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Why is it such a terrible thing? I don’t understand.” To Jordan it was beautiful, two people falling in love. Why was that so wrong? “Did someone you love hurt you? Is that why?”

  “Please.” Dez’s laughter was as blunt as a hammer. “I’m not some twenty-year-old who’s had her heart broken. I’ve been around, okay?”

  Okay, I deserved that, Jordan admonished herself. Dez was not some fragile, virginal young woman, frightened that the big bad Jordan Scott was going to tear her heart to shreds. “What then?”

  “You want the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, fine.” She spoke in a tone that said, You might be sorry you asked. “It was a while ago. The mid-nineties. I’d had a couple of top five hits. I was packing the concert halls, I was all over the radio, the clubs, made some TV appearances. I couldn’t miss. I was twenty-nine years old and I’d finally made it. Had everything I’d ever dreamed of. All the work finally paid off—singing at weddings, summer fairs, crappy bars, private parties, paying out of my own pocket to cut CDs. Begging people in the business to work with me. I’d finally made it. People dug my music. They wanted me, and I was making a good buck.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Dez went for the half-bottle of wine and refilled their glasses. “My agent talked me into moving to New York. You know . . . if you can make it there . . .”

  “You can make it anywhere.”

  “Exactly. So I thought, why not? The pop and dance music was paying the freight, but I wanted to get into jazz, blues, soul music—the stuff I grew up with. I could remake myself in the Big Apple, stretch myself. I started playing some cool clubs, making the right connections, cut a couple of albums I was pretty proud of—not chart-toppers, but it was the kind of music I wanted to do. I didn’t really care that much about the fame and the money, except that they allowed me the freedom to do the kind of music I really wanted to do.”

  “Sounds like you got exactly what you wanted.”

  “Yes and no. There was always pressure. My record company wanted the chart-toppers, so did my managers. People couldn’t make money off my ass if I kept playing the small clubs and cutting records nobody bought. It was a constant fight.” She sighed loudly, her shoulders slumped. “I made some mistakes. Big mistakes. Started drinking a lot. Got into coke. It was so easy—somebody was always handing you something. People would do anything to be your so-called friend.”

  “I’m no angel myself, you know. I understand. Better than you might think.” Jordan had spent too much time with the bottle occasionally, had even done her share of coke and weed in her younger days.

  “I’m sorry but it’s not a contest, okay? I’m not trying to compare our misdeeds and I’m not looking for sympathy or understanding. I’m trying to explain.”

  Ouch! “All right.”

  “Sorry I bit your head off,” Dez mumbled. “I don’t—”

  “It’s okay. Please. Tell me the rest.”

  “I stumbled through a few years like this in New York. There were women too—lots of women, faces I don’t even remember.”

  Jordan knew about that too, but she kept her mouth closed.

  “One night—it was May 3, 2001. I picked up this woman, Tammy, in a bar after I’d done a show and went home with her. She was bad news, I knew that, but I wasn’t very discriminating back then. I knew she’d do some drugs with me, we’d have a good time for a couple of days. She was exactly the kind of woman I’d pick up—it’s not like they’d ever go to the
press or to anyone that mattered with stories about what we’d done together. Who would believe them? They had no credibility, so they were safe. In that sense, anyway.”

  A growing knot formed in Jordan’s stomach. “Go on.”

  “We drank vodka, snorted coke, had some forgettable sex. Then we smoked some heroin—her drug of choice, not mine. I fell asleep. When I woke up I found her dead.”

  “Oh my God. That’s terrible.”

  “I panicked. Ran out, called my agent. He cleaned up my mess, but it scared the living hell out of me. I went into rehab, then I went underground. Spent a year back home in Georgia. Couch surfed after that with friends in California. I had to start over again, my career was trashed. People in the business knew I was damaged goods, and this was before the Lindsay Lohan era of third and fourth chances. I played small gigs, wrote songs, made money singing backup vocals for people like Madonna, Cher. It was Cher who helped get me this offer to open in Vegas a few months ago for Smokey. I’ve been very careful in the years since.” She held her hands out, palms up in surrender. “So. That’s what happened to the great Dez Adams.”

  “Wow, rough ride. I’m so sorry. I had no idea, but I knew from the minute I met you that you were a survivor. I could tell.”

  “What happened to that girl Tammy could have happened to me too. If I hadn’t made the changes I did—rehab, getting the hell out of New York . . .” She shook her head. “I almost destroyed myself there.”

  “Thank you for sharing this with me, Dez.” Jordan took her hand and gave it a squeeze. It was a sad story with a happy ending, but she was still puzzled. “What made you run away from me?”

  “Confusion. I don’t know. Before you, I hadn’t spent a night with a stranger since 2001.”

  “You were afraid I was going to get you into drugs again?”