by Dee Lagasse
Opening the door, I find Troy, just like I thought. He’s in a sleeveless navy-blue shirt, both of his fully tattooed arms are on full display. The white collar of the shirt has red trim and a bow at the center. His shirt is tucked into the matching blue pants. Everything is tied together by the white shoes and white hat with an upturned brim on top of his head.
He’s dressed as a sailor…and he’s holding a bouquet of roses.
Shit. Shit. Shit. He thinks this is a date.
Keeping with tradition, the entire O’Brien-Capparelli family make their entrance into the annual Gala together. Or well, I should say the three members of the O’Brien side of my family and the whole, crazy crew of Capparellis walk in together. Because of that, I had easily been able to come up with the excuse to brush Troy off, mentioning that I totally spaced the photographers and my Nonna and Gramma O’Brien’s insistence that we all go in together.
My brother picked up on my hesitation to go with Troy right away, asking me if I was ready to go, leading the way and opening the passenger door to his car, without even needing me to imply I needed an escape route. Twin telepathy came through with no time to spare.
Guilt had filled me for a few minutes, hoping I hadn’t given Troy the impression that this was anything more than the two of us working an event together. It quickly passed when I remembered in just a few more minutes I would be facing Chase for the first time since he left the cabin.
No matter what was going on between us, he knows what this night means not only to my grandmothers, but to my aunts and his mom, too. The Gala that started as a joint project for my Gramma O’Brien and Nonna has become something that my Aunt Grace, Zia Kat, and Mischa Merrimack have taken over together with Kinley planning the specific party details. Chase, Tucker, and Mischa have been walking in with us for the last ten years, too. There’s no way he would miss it.
“I don’t know what happened, but I’ll bet he’s just as nervous to see you too, Hol.”
I could bullshit my way through a response with anyone else, acting like I’m fine, that I have no idea what they’re talking about. Hell, I just did it with Ellis an hour before in my bedroom as we were getting ready, but my brother would call me out before the lie even left my lips. So instead, I let out a reluctant sigh. My brother doesn’t need to know the details, especially not tonight, but I’m sure by now he’s noticed that my Jeep hasn’t been in his neighbor’s driveway once since the weekend of the wedding.
Pulling into the hotel, an entire row of our family’s cars is parked in the front of the lot. Chase’s truck is nowhere in sight, giving me temporary relief, only to remember he could have driven in with Tucker, Travis, Kenny, or even his mom. Pushing through the revolving doors, I am greeted with faces of shock and awe. Looking behind me to see what everyone is gawking at, I feel my cheeks warm once I realize they’re looking at me. The heat of my flushing cheeks continues to rise as I shrug, wince, and brace myself for the backlash of the most revealing costume I’ve ever worn to a Gala.
“Hot dang, Hollis!” my cousin Elisabeth squeals, making her way through the crowd of our family gathering in the lobby.
Dressed as a pink fairy—her little dress and wings matching her bubble gum pink hair—she appropriately all but flies over to me. Since this is the first Gala that has happened since she turned eighteen last December, tonight will be her first Gala, ever. Linking arms with me, together we make our way to the front of the group. My heart drops when I hear my aunt exclaim, “Alright, we’re all here. Lead the way, ladies.”
Ellis swoops in beside me, sliding her arm into my free arm to the left, and the three of us make our way down the black carpet leading into the ballroom. The local newspapers, TV reporters, and hired photographers from the high school photography program are set up like paparazzi standing behind two roped off areas to each side. Smiling brightly as a dozen flashes go off, we pause half way through, looking in both directions on cue.
The room doesn’t open to anyone else for another hour, but it’s tradition for our family to get there before everyone and make our entrance together. We take an overabundance of professional photos, get first dibs on bids for the silent auction, and my uncles get started at the bar…this year I think I might join them.
As we walk into the ballroom, Ellis, Elisabeth, and I all gasp simultaneously. While my aunts and Mischa Merrimack put in the time and effort securing the sponsors, setting up the silent auction, and working with the high school culinary program to create a menu for the night, Kinley and her company oversee decorating. Trying not to create an overly specific theme that would limit people’s costume choices, for the last five years Kinley has created some of the most creative general Halloween themes for the Gala. I wasn’t sure she would be able to top last year’s Jack-o-Lantern theme, but I was happily proven wrong the moment we stepped foot into the ballroom.
Annie Lennox’s “I Put A Spell On You” plays through the speakers as we make our way to our assigned table, passing the biggest candy bar I’ve ever seen on the way. Above us, purple and black paper lanterns fill the ceiling space. Our table is covered in a deep purple tablecloth and a large black rose kissing ball centerpiece sits in the middle of the table. Kinley and her crew managed to make spooky elegant and sexy.
When Kinley started her party planning business, the Halloween Gala was the first big event she hosted. After the first gala, it was like the floodgates opened for her. She’s been booked non-stop ever since. This is the biggest event she plans every year. Even with the $150 ticket cost, all 500 tickets sell out every year. People come from all over New England to go to the Capparelli & Co. Halloween Gala.
Turning just in time, Kinley catches us as we’re putting our clutches on the table. Her eyes light up as she gives us an excited wave from across the room, turning back to a group of five other women within seconds. All of them, including Kinley, are dressed in black leggings, all white sneakers, and referee shirts.
“Drinks?” Davis asks, coming up on the side of me with my cousin Travis.
Since it’s just us, the gathering around the bar is still small. I won’t be able to drink more than one cocktail before I have to start hosting, but I need something to settle these nerves. Any second now, I’ll bump into Chase, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. Catching Ellis’s eye, I point to the bar. A small smirk and a nod of acknowledgment is all I get before her eyes snap back to Tucker, who is by her side and dressed like a police officer. Now her costume choice makes perfect sense.
As we wait for the bartender to finish making drinks for my dad and uncles, I feel my stomach knot up. Chase is here, in the room, close to me. Come on bartender guy, small talk is cool and all, but I need alcohol, stat.
“Don’t go home with him,” his voice is a demanding growl so low in my ear it sends shivers down my spine.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I turn to face Chase, feeling the unnecessary need to defend myself. “And even if I do go home with someone it’s no concern of yours, Ch-”
I stop short when I see him. Saliva pools in my mouth instantly, causing me to gulp. Holy shit. He’s dressed like a fucking pirate. The white dress shirt he has on is half unbuttoned, showing his defined pecs. When Ellis said she saw him earlier, I assumed it was at the store or something, but it must have been to do his make-up because his eyes are surrounded by black eyeliner, his eyelids are dark and covered in make-up too. His normally perfectly styled hair is covered by a wig of dreadlocks with random beads, a plain, worn red bandanna, and an aged brown leather pirate hat finish the look. He looks like Jack fucking Sparrow and I’m pretty sure I understand the term “the thirst is real” because holy fuck, I want some of that.
“Whatever this beautiful siren wants,” Chase tells the bartender when he makes his way over to us, “Goes on my tab. Anything she drinks tonight, it’s on me.”
“Alright,” the shaggy redhead shrugs. “What can I get for ya, love?”
“Um, the darkest rum you have o
n the top shelf and Coke,” I tell him, breaking my lock on Chase when I turn to face him to add. “Please.”
Every night before the cabin, I would have argued with Chase. But, what the hell. If he thinks buying my drinks tonight is some sort of white flag or apology, then more power to him. It’s not going to change anything, and I’ll get drunk, for free. If the only way I can hurt him back is through his wallet, then so be it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chase
“She looks fake.”
“Yeah, if by “fake,” you mean she looks like a perfectly crafted Barbie doll. Good for Chase.”
“Oh, please. I try not to judge based on first impressions, but she was all but dry humping him. Come on...A horny chihuahua has more self-control.”
“Alright, fine. She totally looks like Bimbo Barbie and I already want to punch her in her fake, orange face.”
Rolling my eyes as I realize my best friend—the woman I am in love with—and her cousin are talking about me and Bethany, my crazy co-worker who had not only shown up after hearing I would be here, but then when she got here, promised me “just one dance and I’ll leave you alone for the night.” Expecting her to keep true to her word, I let her drag me to the dance floor and was mortified when she started to give me an upright lap dance. When she didn’t take the hint after I told her my mother was here, I excused myself to the bar for some water. Truth be told, Hollis had just wrapped up her half of the night as MC and I wanted to get her attention before anyone else did.
“I usually refer to her as Bat Shit Crazy Barbie actually,” I chuckle, leaning in between Ellis and Hollis who have inched their way up to the bar, and are waiting for their drinks. Huffing, Hollis forces a smile toward the bartender and tosses some money on the bar.
“I can and will pay for my own drinks tonight, thank you very much.”
As she brushes past me, I notice her drink is a lot darker than her normal Blue Hawaiian she usually drinks at events like this. The fruity rum drink makes her a happy, lovey drunk, typically.
“What’s the mermaid drinking?” I ask the bartender after ordering my beer.
“Jack & Diet with lime,” he shouts as he pours my beer from the tap behind the bar. “What’s the deal with you two anyway?”
Fuuuuuuck. Hollis is drinking Tennessee whiskey. Which only means one thing. She’s pissed and I can guarantee it’s with me, deservedly so. I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight, but I’m determined. If nothing else, she’ll hear me out. She deserves that much, to know it wasn’t her or the thought of us being together.
“Long story short,” I answer taking the last beer I’ll be drinking tonight from his hands, “She’s amazing and I fucked up.”
“I knew it!” Travis, dressed as lumberjack, pipes in from the side of me. “I knew something happened. My cousin isn’t a very good liar.”
Well, that’s not the response I would have expected from any of the Capparelli fellas. My confusion must be written all over my face because he laughs before motioning for me to follow him, “Come on, man. We all know you’ve been avoiding us because you know you screwed up. You guys are gonna kiss and make up. You haaaave to. You’re Hollis and Chase. If you guys don’t work it out, the rest of us are fucked.”
Deciding sitting is probably the best way to stay out of trouble, I pull out a chair next to Davis at the table we were assigned with Travis, Tucker, Kenny, and Hollis’s cousin LJ. Which is right next to the table Hollis, Ellis, Cole, and Elisabeth are sitting at. If Ellis and Tucker are trying to hide that there’s something going on between the two of them, they need to quit staring at each other.
“Oh, look who decided to join us,” Davis nods to me as I sit down. “So, what’s the plan?”
“The plan?” I ask, taking a long sip of my Long Trail Harvest. My favorite brown ale is only seasonal, especially from the tap. I mean, any beer that has Vermont maple syrups wins me, but if I didn’t need to stay sober to make sure I’m good to drive at any given time, I would be drinking more than two beers tonight.
“The plan,” he repeats. “You know you’re gonna need help to get my sister to stop for two seconds to even talk to you, so what do you need from us?”
Before I answer him, I look around the table. My brother, Kenny, and Travis are all watching me, waiting, expecting my answer too. Man, I’m not one to get sentimental, but I am one lucky bastard. Davis and Travis have spent most of their lives chasing away any guys that just thought about attempting to date Hollis or Ellis. I can’t count how many times I heard, “You come near my sister again, I will break your fucking legs” growing up. Though, in their defense, all the guys were douchebags. If a stand-up, good guy had come along, I don’t think either one of them would have ever gotten involved.
Opening my mouth to tell them that I have no idea what I’m going to do yet, I stop and follow Hollis as she and Cole get up and make their way over to the dance floor. It only takes a few songs before some dickhead dressed like a gladiator gets her attention and leads her to the bar.
“A distraction,” I answer, finally. “We need a distraction.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hollis
As each song fades into the next, I feel myself caring less and less about the fact that Chase is sitting off to the side, watching my every move. Cole’s date had blown her off, so we decided early in the evening to implement the buddy system. Originally Ellis had been part of this deal, but she jumped ship the second Tucker asked her to dance. Traitor.
Tonight, I just wanted to be free, to drink and dance and for just one night, to not worry about the stupid tricks my heart and head are playing on me. But that wasn’t about to stop me from letting the hot Gladiator dude and his friend, Captain America, from buying me and Cole shots. Oh, no. That would be rude and foolish. And I am neither rude nor foolish. Well, I might be considering what got me to the point of needing to leave my heart behind tonight, but that’s beside the point right now.
As the four of us walk over to the bar, Captain America makes a horrible joke about crossing universal comic book lines by buying Wonder Woman a drink, sending Cole into hysterics. Great. There goes the buddy system. While we wait for our round of cinnamon toast crunch shots, Captain America and Gladiator Dude introduce themselves. Captain America—a lawyer named Sam—and his cousin, Deacon—the hot gladiator—were sent here by Sam’s dad and boss, a corporate sponsor of the gala. Sam’s date blew him off last minute, so Deacon had been his last-minute ticket filler. Just like that, Cole becomes putty in his hands, explaining that she too, was blown off by her date.
“And you?” Hot Gladiator Deacon leans over and asks as the bartender drops the four shots on the bar. “Please tell me no one was stupid enough to blow you off tonight.”
Taking a shot from Cole’s hand as she passes them back to us, I hand the first one to him, “No, no one blew me off.”
“So, where’s your boyfriend?” he questions, a glimmer of hope sparks in his bright blue eyes as he anticipates my response.
“No boyfriend either,” I answer, tipping the shot glass back between my lips.
Shuddering as the alcohol trickles down, a lingering trail of burning cinnamon slides down my throat. Before the bartender gets too far, Gladiator Deacon pulls out his credit card and orders another round for the four of us, another Jack and Diet Coke for me, and a Malibu and Sprite for Cole, despite Captain America telling him that he has a company card for their expenses tonight.
“Sometimes, you just want to be the one that buys a pretty girl a drink, Cousin,” he winks at me as he hands me my drink.
The next shot goes down a little easier, burning a bit less than the last one, which means only one thing. I am well on my way to being drunk. Confirming that is my sudden decision that I don't need Chase Merrimack or his kisses and that if he wants to be with a fake blonde airhead, more power to him.
Because, you know what? I. Don't. Care. I don’t care about him or his perfect smile, and his stupid laug
h, and the way he can make anything better just by being in the same room as me. The only problem being that, even in my almost drunken stubbornness, I know I'm lying just to convince myself, because I do care. So much. Too much.
In a poor attempt to stop myself from thinking about Chase and why I was stupid enough to fall in love with him, I pull Deacon—the hot Gladiator—to the dance floor with one hand, furiously sucking my cocktail through the straw the bartender kept replacing in my drink. Normally I wouldn’t drink with a straw, but I had made a joke that I needed to get alcohol in me quickly when I ordered my first drink tonight and the brilliant bartender had thrown a pink bendy straw in before handing me the glass of whiskey and diet cola.
As much as I try not to look over at the table the guys are all sitting at, I can’t help but notice as Kenny, Travis, Davis, Tucker, and Chase all make their way over to the DJ booth. My brother says something to Troy who nods and hands down his microphone before heading back to his set-up on the stage, giving the guys a thumbs-up.
Holding up his fingers, counting one, two, three, my brother holds the mic while he, Travis, Chase, Tucker, and Kenny all lean into the microphone and say, “This one’s for Hurricane Hollis!”
The guitar and banjo intro to “Shipping Up to Boston” by the Dropkick Murphys fills the room. All five of them raise their glasses to me, but the smirk on Chase’s face says more than enough. This was all him. Turning to Deacon, I thank him for the drink and excuse myself to give those fuckers a piece of my mind. They know it’s coming too, because Davis laughs and pulls Travis in front of him like a human shield before I make my way over to them.