Always the Bridesmaid

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Always the Bridesmaid Page 10

by Whitney Lyles


  “Be quiet,” someone hissed.

  “Look at them dancccing! Cut a rug! Whew!”

  “Shut up!” someone snapped.

  If it wasn’t so dark, she could’ve pinpointed who the wedding drunk was.

  “Val looks hot in a bikini! Yeaaaah, Sports Illustrated swimsuit model!” he yelled.

  After he narrated three more pictures, there was a brief exchange of gruff whispering from behind Cate. She couldn’t make out a word that was said, but the drunk was silent for the rest of the video.

  When the lights came on again, she looked over her shoulder, hoping to see his face. People had already resumed mingling, and it was hard to tell who had been sitting at the table behind her. However, she felt confident that the wedding drunk would surface again at some point. He’d definitely be back.

  She and Paul headed to the bar for fresh cocktails. On the way she introduced him to a few of Val’s friends who had been in Las Vegas, and to Uncle Jack.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jack,” Paul said as he gave his hand a firm squeeze. “Cate tells me you’ve traveled all the way from Connecticut.”

  “Yeah. Made the long haul with all the kids.”

  “I was just in Connecticut on business last month.”

  Paul always found something in common with everyone whom he met. Paul and Uncle Jack exchanged small talk about Connecticut.

  She was watching her grandfather teach Madison dance moves that were popular in his time when, out of nowhere, a man with red hair as coarse and thick as steel wool came cartwheeling onto the dance floor. He was wearing a suit, but his tie had been loosened and his shirt stuck out from underneath the back of the jacket. The crowd on the dance floor abruptly parted. People ran in all directions to avoid being hit by the cartwheeling maniac. Wedding drunk alert!

  After his fifth cartwheel, he landed outside the dance floor. She heard Val scream when he sprang to his feet. “The cake. Watch ouuuuuut!”

  Apparently he didn’t hear the warning, because his next flip landed within a millimeter of the table that showcased Val and Jim’s five-tiered cake. He raised his arms over his head in triumph, like an Olympic gymnast. “Five-point-oh!” he yelled.

  Cate recognized his voice as the drunken narrator of Val and Jim’s wedding video.

  “Cody!” Joanna shot across the dance floor like a bullet. “Co-dy!” She grabbed him by the arm as if he were a child, only she’d been too rough. In a fleeting, grotesque moment he lost his balance. He grasped for her hand. His fingers and palms becoming tight fists as he squeezed air. Backward he stumbled; down came the beautiful cake.

  Well, this will be a great story over brunch tomorrow, Cate thought.

  The music came to a screeching halt. Waiters ran from all directions, like secret service agents on full alert for drama.

  Cate could hear Val crying. “It’s okay. I’ll buy you a new cake while we’re in the Caribbean,” Jim said.

  They watched for a moment while two waiters escorted Cody from the reception. Joanna trailed behind.

  “Damn. That cake looked good, too,” Uncle Jack said.

  So that was Joanna’s catch. That was the romantic crème brûlée ring bearer? A redheaded drunk who couldn’t even produce a stable backflip. A wedding wrecker.

  “We don’t get any cake?” A tiny voice came from beneath Cate. It was Madison, still clutching her Barbie.

  “No.” Cate shook her head. “There won’t be any cake.”

  Madison began to cry, too. Cate and Connie consoled the crying child. Connie led her to a table and sat Madison in her lap, rubbing her back. Soon she had stopped crying, and Cate watched as her mother bobbed Madison on her knee, playing carnival ride with her. Cate remembered how much she used to love playing that with her mother.

  A few minutes later, Val’s dad was on the microphone. “Please, everyone. Continue to celebrate this occasion with us. There’s still plenty more dancing to be done. Let’s enjoy the night.” He nodded at the band.

  A drumroll sounded before they began to play “Celebration.” Uncle Jack was the first to resume partying. And eventually the dance floor sprang to life again.

  “Do you want to take a walk on the beach?” Paul asked. “Get some fresh air?”

  “That sounds great.” She was dying for some alone time with him.

  “Let me just use the rest room first.”

  Cate waited for Paul in the lobby. She felt a sense of relief that Val’s wedding was coming to a close. She’d have more free time to spend with Paul and one less wedding to stress about. She was standing alone when her grandmother approached. Gran looked worried, desperate.

  “Oh Cate. Thank God I found someone.” She squeezed Cate’s arm as she led her to a bench in the corner of the lobby. Her grandfather sat, hunched over. His eyes were glassy, wandering slits. “Your grandfather has had too much to drink. He needs to go back to the hotel. Can you please go get your Uncle Jack? He drove us here.” She started to cry. “Oh Cate. He didn’t mean to do this. I’m so disappointed that he’ll miss most of the night.”

  Cate put her arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Gran. Everything will be fine. I’ll go get Uncle Jack.”

  She found Uncle Jack in the middle of Val’s sorority, dancing to “Bust a Move” as if he belonged on Soul Train.

  She tapped him on the shoulder. “Uncle Jack!” She had to yell over the music. He spun around, clapping his hands, bouncing on his feet.

  “Grandpa’s not feeling well!” She yelled. “He’s had too much to drink. He needs a ride back to the hotel.”

  His palms slapped together as he hopped from side to side. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. “Grandma and Grandpa need a ride back to your hotel!”

  He rolled his eyes. “After this song,” he said irritably before he shimmied back to the group of girls. He tossed his head back while one of Val’s friends ground her pelvis up against his thigh. Another girl latched on to his other thigh, and Cate thought she actually heard Uncle Jack groan.

  “I didn’t know your uncle was a millionaire! And a former secret service agent for George Bush Senior!” Nikki yelled as she twirled past Cate and into Uncle Jack’s lair.

  “Are you kidding?” Cate yelled, but Nikki didn’t hear.

  Then it occurred to Cate that her very own uncle—her kin—was the freaky relative. And he was the worst kind of freak. What was so unsettling about Uncle Jack was that from the outside he looked normal. He was charming and attractive. But on the inside he was a selfish, horny, middle-aged loser who cared more about getting laid than taking care of his own parents, and his children for that matter.

  She felt like announcing to Val’s friends that he had just been through his third divorce and had spent a significant amount of time in a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center. He wasn’t a millionaire. He sold cell phones. Secret service agent? With all of his drug abuse in the past he couldn’t even get a job as a security guard. Then she noticed that there was something stuck to the back of his shoe: toilet paper, a long piece. She left him busting moves, a strip of toilet paper trailing from his penny loafer.

  She hurried back to the lobby. “Paul!” She nearly crashed into him.

  “Where were you?” he asked. She told him about her grandfather and Uncle Jack.

  “Well, I have my car,” he said. “Why don’t we just give them a ride back to their hotel?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “No.” He put his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead.

  Cate and Gran helped Grandpa to the front of the hotel while Paul got the car. He pulled up in the driveway in his Mercedes and helped buckle Grandpa in the backseat. Gran wept the whole way back to the hotel.

  “It’s okay, Gran,” Cate said. “Val and Jim are leaving soon for the airport anyway, and then the wedding will be over.”

  Paul pulled into the valet parking area at their hotel. He helped Grandpa from the backseat.

  “Thanks so much for helping us,” her grandmothe
r said as they walked them to the room. “Paul, you are a doll.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s not a problem at all.”

  “You’re a lucky girl,” Gran told Cate. “This guy is a keeper.”

  Cate put her arm around him. “I think so, too.” They both hugged Gran good-bye.

  “Adios!” Paul said as they left.

  “Adios, amigo,” Gran called back.

  They headed back to the reception. Cate was exhausted. She wanted more than anything to go back to Paul’s house, slide into his cool sheets, and snuggle with him for the rest of the night, but they had to at least say good-bye.

  Paul put his hand on her knee. “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  “Me, too. When do you leave again?”

  “Next week.”

  “Where?”

  “Maui. For three weeks.” He glanced at her as if he were apologizing.

  She was disappointed, but it wasn’t odd for his trips to be long. The last time he went to Colorado he was gone for three weeks because he had to go to five different ski resorts. She could feel the warmth from his palm on her knee.

  “Are you all right?” he asked when they pulled into the parking lot.

  She nodded. “Just tired. Really tired.”

  Queen Leslie’s Wedding

  9 • Dollar Signs

  Monday morning Cate checked her E-mail. She had one new message.

  DATE: Monday, July 19

  SUBJECT: Bridal fitting.

  Hi girls! As you all know today is the bridal fitting. I know I already gave most of you directions to The Bridal Chateau but I just wanted to send them again in case some of you forgot.

  Cate skipped over the directions.

  Anyway, we’re meeting at noon and you will need to bring some form of payment with you. You must pay for the outfit promptly after they take your measurements. Thanks so much girls. I am so thrilled to have all of you participate in this special occasion.

  Love,

  Leslie

  Outfits? Cate imagined all the bridesmaids in denim skirts with matching sweater sets and heels.

  Cate printed out the directions, even though she already had a sense of how to get there. She put the directions as well as a map to Ethan Blakely’s catering business in her purse. She had plans to meet with him later that afternoon.

  Cate was the first bridesmaid to arrive at The Bridal Chateau. Despite the fact that she had been in several weddings, she’d never actually seen the inside of a bridal shop. All of the other dresses she’d never wear again had been purchased via phone orders. She would relay her measurements to whoever took the order. Then, months later, the gown usually arrived through the mail, grossly off the measurements she had given, and in dire need of alterations.

  The Bridal Chateau was more like a warehouse than a bridal boutique. Assortments of veils and gloves covered the walls. Racks filled with bridal gowns and bridesmaid’s dresses lined the building. Cate noticed the princess-cut peach gown she wore in her sister’s wedding on one rack.

  While browsing through the dresses, she imagined which one she would pick if she were the bride. Except for a few gowns, most of the dresses looked the same to her. Some of them varied with beadwork or straps, but they all seemed to be cut from the same pattern. She couldn’t imagine herself wearing a traditional gown. She wondered if they even made dresses like the one she had in mind. Simple, elegant, sexy, formfitting. No hoops, or poofs, or beads.

  “There she is. Have you been waiting for a while?” Leslie asked as she approached Cate with her sister, Bethany, in tow. As usual, Leslie looked crisp and clean. She always looked put together, as if she were a very mature paper doll. She wore a white button-down blouse, each sleeve evenly rolled to the middle of her forearm, and khaki pants that looked as if she had ironed them only minutes earlier. A navy blue sweater was tied over her shoulders, and she held the handles of a box-shaped Kate Spade handbag. Not a hair of her perfectly trimmed brown bob was out of place, and her evenly distributed blonde highlights showed no roots.

  “No. I haven’t been waiting long. I’ve just been looking around.”

  “Good. Let me show you my dress while we’re waiting for the other girls to get here.” She led them to a rack in the center of the store, pushed a dozen dresses aside, and pulled one from the rack. It was an ivory dress made of the most elegant smooth satin Cate had ever seen in her life. It had a tight bodice, a deep V neck, and a long train attached.

  “It’s beautiful,” Cate said.

  “You should see it on,” Bethany said. “She looks gorgeous in it.”

  A saleswoman approached. “Would you like to try that on?” she asked.

  “I already bought this dress. I was just showing my bridesmaids what it looks like.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to try it on so they can see, if you’d like.”

  Leslie shrugged. “I may as well, since we’re waiting for the other girls. Also, they’re here to be fitted for their outfits. So we’ll need the seamstress to take their measurements. I’d like them to try them on though, just so I can see what the color is going to look like before we place the order.”

  “No problem. I’ll go get the seamstress.” She took Leslie’s name and order number before she left.

  “So, we’re wearing outfits?” Cate asked as they walked to the fitting room.

  Bethany trailed behind them, admiring some of the gowns.

  “You know my sister and my cousin Veronica are a little on the heavy side,” she whispered. “They were feeling self-conscious about wearing a gown, so we were looking around and we found these pantsuits. They’re really dressy, and they’re cute.”

  Pantsuits could be comfortable, Cate thought as she took a seat outside Leslie’s dressing room. While she was waiting, Veronica and Sarah arrived. Cate hadn’t seen Sarah since her wedding and gave her a hug.

  They were talking about Sarah’s Hawaiian honeymoon when Leslie came out of the dressing room.

  “Wow. It’s absolutely gorgeous,” Cate said.

  “Stunning,” Sarah added.

  “Who needs the fitting?” the seamstress asked.

  Leslie pointed to her bridesmaids. “They all need to be fitted.”

  “I see,” the seamstress said. She couldn’t have been taller than five feet. Weighed probably one sixty. Was losing hair and had no business wearing shorts. Her legs were like two blocks of blue cheese: chunky, white, and textured with cellulite and blue threads of varicose veins. The way her glasses dug into the sides of her bulbous nose seemed painful. It looked as if the frames were cutting off the circulation in her face. She wore a name tag that read Offra.

  She held up a pair of royal-blue silk pants with a matching top. The top had short sleeves, a high neckline, and zipped up the back. “Is this it?” she asked Leslie.

  Sarah threw Cate a worried look. Cate prayed there had been a mistake.

  “Yes, that’s it,” Leslie said.

  “All right who wants to go first?” Offra asked.

  Cate volunteered. Maybe silk pantsuits were making a comeback. And she didn’t want to be late to Ethan’s.

  “That way.” Offra pointed to a dressing room.

  Cate began to close the door when Offra’s fat hand shot in between the doorframe. She had yellow nails.

  “Don’t close the door yet. I need to take your measurements FIRST.” She spoke loudly. “Then you can try on the outfit. You just want to see what it looks like. Right?”

  “Yeah, I just wanted to see how the color looked on the girls,” Leslie said.

  “Well, I take the measurements FIRST. I don’t have time to sit around all day while you girls look at the color. I have fifteen weddings I need to prepare dresses for; one of them I have to FedEx the gowns to Maui.”

  Cate noticed that ever since Paul had left for Maui, she had heard the island’s name more frequently. Everywhere she went: Maui. Every time she turned on the television someone was talking about Maui. She won
dered if it was a sign.

  “Well, can the girls still try the outfits on?” Leslie asked.

  “Yes! After I take the measurements.”

  The seamstress’s eyes settled on Cate, blazing from beneath her thick glasses. “Lift your arms.”

  Cate raised her arms. Abruptly, Offra wrapped a measuring tape around her chest. “You’re definitely going to need alterations in the bust,” she said. “Thirty. You’ll be swimming in that top.”

  Now that the entire bridal shop knew that Cate had no boobs, she wondered if Offra would suggest a nose job as well. It was no secret that Cate was as flat as a countertop, but it stabbed her ego to hear someone else point it out.

  Years ago she’d actually looked into implants. After minimal research, the idea of a scalpel cutting her nipple open like the top of a teakettle to insert something foreign into her breast made her gag. Instead of feeling confident, she’d end up shuddering every time she looked at the fake boobs. Furthermore, if she was going to enhance her chest, she may as well have a plastic surgeon break and reshape the beak she’d inherited from her father. Or what about her thin lips? She’d never be perfect, and she’d learned to accept her desertlike chest as well as everything else she’d been born with.

  Cate sneezed, and Offra told her to hold still. As if she could help it. Maybe she was allergic to Offra.

  “Next!” she hollered as she unwrapped the measuring tape from Cate’s hips. Cautiously, Veronica stepped forward as if she were next in line for a prison hose down.

  She wrapped the tape around Veronica’s chest, then made a mark on her clipboard. “You’ll be needing a size twenty.”

  “A twenty? But I’m a ten,” Veronica said.

  “Well, you have a big back, and these suits run small.”

  Cate sneezed again.

  “Next!”

  Hesitantly, Bethany moved closer to Offra. “We’ll probably have to special-order for you,” she said. “You’re going to have a hard time with that seam in the back. With your hips it might ride up your butt.”

 

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