I look at Reed and Meaty and we just start laughing at Butter’s pun.
Thankfully, the conversation then turns to our next stop, the defining event of all bachelor parties, a strip club.
39
Broussard
I have a reserved booth at Babe’s, the strip club. We are sitting back from the stage a bit in the VIP section. I am happy enough that Ryan seems relaxed and happy where she is, flanked in the middle of the booth by Meaty on her left and Reed’s kid brother on her right.
Of course, Reed’s brother is relentlessly hitting on her, but she seems to ignore it mostly. It is when I get the second round, and occupy Reed with a lap dance that I notice Aiden turned towards Ryan with his mouth up to her ear, his arm along her shoulders.
I flip. Running through my veins is something damn near psychotic jealousy and possessiveness.
I stand up and go around to where Aiden is sitting.
“Hey kid, take a lap dance on me.”
I hold out a twenty.
He gives it a questioning look, but gets up.
“Got to take a piss-break anyways.” He says to me without taking the twenty.
I just ignore him and plunk down next to Ryan.
She’s gone quiet again.
Thankfully, Meaty is there to pick up the slack.
“So Chief, you did a mighty fine job planning this party.”
“Well thank-you, Meaty. It sure as hell beat any of my bachelor parties.”
“Oh-ho! Bachelor parties?” Ryan questions.
“Yea. Married twice. Can you believe it?”
“With your winning personality? She scoffs.
“Babe, it’s not my personality the women love,” I flirt back at her.
She blushes a bit at that and takes a sip of her drink, while I’m transported back to the memory of the first time we met.
We watch as Butters slips some money into the G-string of one of the girls onstage.
“You can always tell the ones that are classically trained,” Ryan breaks in.
“Huh? Classically trained?” Questions Meaty.
“Yea. Well...guess it takes one to know one.” She laughs out.
“What do you mean, ‘takes one to know one?’” I ask as an image of Ryan stripping pops into my brain.
She looks at me. Takes a breath in so that her cleavage rises up. I try not to look, but fail.
“Well, I trained to be a ballet dancer before I joined the Marines.”
Reed and one of his future brothers-in-law rejoin the group.
“No way,” Reed says. “I don’t see it.”
“Well, you don’t have to believe me…” Ryan returns.
“Prove it.” Says Meaty.
“Prove it?” she questions.
Reed goes along with this idea. “Yea, give us some fancy twirl-twirl shit.”
“All right,” she states before climbing over me.
I get a pretty good chubby when she practically sits in my lap. But she’s over and out the booth before I can even savor the feeling.
She reaches back to the table and downs a shot. She’s looking a bit tipsy, glowing and flushed.
“For...you know courage,” She says. She then places her hand on Reed’s shoulder for balance and slides her shoes off. Tucks them under the table with her feet.
She points her toe out to the side and then brings it in, the momentum initiating her spin. One full revolution, two, then three on the ball of her foot. Then she stops with a little bobble, not entirely graceful. She bows and a couple of the strippers clap their appreciation.
She sits back down next to me (I have to quickly scoot over or she would have been in my lap again) while pulling her shoes back on and laughing.
“Damn. I’ll drink to that!” Meaty says with a grin while raising his glass to his lips.
Reed takes a spot at the table, while one of the professionals starts chatting up Ryan.
“Girl, you need a job?”
Ryan laughs and shakes her head.
“I’ll leave it to the real professionals.”
Aiden comes back then, leading a saidprofessional by the hand.
“I bought you a lap dance, Sugar,” He tells Ryan.
He’s lucky the use of the name ‘Sugar’ doesn’t land him with permanent brain damage.
“Yea?” Says Ryan very nonchalantly.
“Yea. Even got you a private room. So we can enjoy it together.”
Slimy little cocksucker.
“How nice of you…” Ryan says and then turns her head fully to me.
“But, I think you should take the man of the hour, your brother. Besides, Broussard and I were just about to get the next round of drinks.”
She pulls me up by my hand and I make sure to wrap my arm around her shoulders as we head to the bar.
“Gawd,” She says when we get there, “He just won’t take a clue.”
I lean up against the bar and take a good look at her.
Her eyes are rimmed in black eyeliner, making them stand out. Her lips are pouty, almost bee-stung and if it wasn’t in fashion I’d say they’re obscene. A little blush, and her trademark short hair, in blonde with artfully messed up waves.
“Well, Sugar,” I put extra emphasis on the sugar, “You’re probably the only Playboy bunny he’s ever gonna meet.”
She sighs at that, and yells the drink order over the bar to the bartender.
“Yea.”
We gather up the drinks and deliver ‘em back to the table.
But she doesn’t sit down. Instead she goes up to Reed and gives him a hug, while telling the guys,
“All right assholes. I’m going back to the hotel and catch up on my beauty rest so you can let your hair down.”
Meaty and Butters give her hugs and goodbyes.
Aiden says, “I’ll walk you out.”
That slippery weasel sure is fast. Good thing I’m older, wiser and have brute strength on my side.
I take Ryan by the arm and tell him, “I’m walking her out, kid.”
Ryan
I had had quite a few drinks and feel relaxed. I really do enjoy the guys company, but strip joints aren’t my thing. I know I am probably crimping their style.
I say my goodbyes to Reed, assuring him I’ll see him tomorrow at the wedding. The hugs from the rest of the guys make me feel cared for, and I know I am making the right decision to leave a little early and let them have their fun.
Of course, I am just about to tell Aiden I don’t need his help, when Broussard grabs me by the elbow.
He looks as he usually does, annoyed, when he tells Aiden he’ll be walking me out.
Had he even broken into a smile tonight?
We get outside the door and into the parking lot when I pull from his grip.
“Jeezus. Broussard, what’s your problem?”
“My problem?”
“Yea, you don’t have to manhandle me. I may have had a few drinks, and don’t usually wear heels. But, I can walk, ya know?”
I pull my phone from my purse and start to bring up the car ride app.
“Joe can give you a ride back to the hotel and come back for us.”
He’s steering me over to the rented SUV that was hired to drive us around tonight.
“Oh. No worries. I can catch a ride with Uber.” I hold my phone up so he understands.
“Just get in the car, Ryan.”
“Sheesh. Ok.”
I go around to the passenger side of the black SUV while Joe (who has rolled down the window at our approach) and Broussard converse.
“Joe, can you take her to her hotel and then come back and pick us up?”
“Sure thing, Chief.”
I roll my eyes as I buckle in.
When I look up Broussard is at my window, so I roll it down.
His visage has transformed from annoyed to concerned and I feel myself melting at the handsomeness of his face.
“You need a ride to the wedding tomorrow?”
The wedding is on the
beach at sunset, the reception following across the street at a old hotel from the 1950’s.
“Um. I don’t think so.” Gah. I sound so lame. Speak with confidence, Ryan.
“I’ll pick you up. You can help me with my best man duties and all that. Seventeen thirty. Be ready.”
I nod ok. Thankfully, Joe puts the vehicle into gear sparing me anymore awkwardness.
We roll out of the parking lot and I have something new to worry about - my ‘date’ with Broussard tomorrow.
40
Broussard
Am I making the right moves with Ryan? I’m not sure. But I know I want to convince her to stay a while in Pensacola. I want to show her everything I’ve done with the house. I checked with Reed to make sure she didn’t have a date before I asked her. He assured me she only RSVP’d for one.
If I am honest, I want her to see the house because I had done it all with her in mind. Her cooking in the kitchen, her standing on the deck with a glass of wine in her bikini, her in the bedroom with nothing on, I’d pictured it all while installing appliances and countertops, laying floor, finishing out the deck, and painting the bedroom.
I mull over possible conversation topics while I pull to a stop in front of her hotel. She is already standing, waiting for me in the hotel entrance way.
She fairly takes my breath away with her classic grace. Wide leg white pants, linen is what I think they call them, a sliver of tanned skin playing peekaboo at her midriff and a sleeveless top in a black print that shows off her cleavage. A sleek and simple gold necklace drapes against the tanned skin of her breasts.
“You look beautiful.” I tell her simply.
“Thank you. You do too. Well look handsome,” she finishes.
I give her my arm and escort her to the passenger side of my new truck.
“Where’s the jeep?”
“I sold it,” I tell her, “terrible gas mileage.”
I get in the driver’s seat and we continue our conversation.
She laughs, “Does this tank get better?”
“A bit. But I really needed something to haul building supplies in.”
“Ah, yes. Reed told me you had been renovating a house on the beach.”
“Not renovating. Finishing is more like. The contractor went bankrupt before they could put in all the finishing touches. It was just a shell, really. Walls, windows...not much else.”
“And, where did you learn to do all this finishing?” she asks me.
“My dad is a house contractor. Most summers of my high school years, I spent with him laying tile or putting up sheetrock. And, what I didn’t know, I Googled.”
She laughs at that.
I am damn near giddy from the whole conversation we are having. Of course, Ryan being Ryan, once I have the truck in park, she is already out before I have the chance to come around and open the door for her.
When I step up next to her and offer her my arm again, I notice our faces aren’t level. Her face is level with my shoulder.
“No heels tonight?” I ask while looking down at her feet, her toes are peeking out.
“Nope. Too much trouble between sand and dancing.”
“Well, you can either hang out here at the hotel bar till it’s wedding time, or you can come across to the beach with me and watch us all take pictures.”
“Hmm. I’ll go to the beach,” she says, “as long as you don’t think I’ll be in the way.”
“Never,” I tell her.
Ryan
I love the beach. And to see it with a wedding, it’s so romantic and beautiful that I am irrationally jealous of Jessica, Reed’s bride. I find a place away from the chairs and decorated arbor/alter, on a little mound of sand and take a seat.
Pulling off my flip flops, I bury my toes in the sand and listen to the ocean.
This part of the beach has just a few people milling about besides the groom’s side of the wedding party and photographer.
I close my eyes and feel the warmth from the sun on my face and shoulders. I could live here, I think. Just me, the ocean and the sun.
I open my eyes and watch the photographer position Reed, Broussard, and Aiden in front of the altar. They look good and my appreciation for Jessica’s taste goes up a notch.
Instead of having Reed and Broussard wear their dress uniforms, she’s got all three in cream colored suits, white linen shirts, casually unbuttoned, no ties with white flowers pinned to their jacket lapels.
Broussard even has on brown leather flip-flops. His feet, of course, are as sexy as the rest of him.
I watch as the photographer positions them this way and that. Snapping group shots in various poses. Reed’s and Broussard’s impatience grows, I can tell by looks on their faces. The photographer must sense it too, beccause soon they are dismissed. The first few guests start trickling across the road to the beach for the ceremony.
Broussard scans the beach and stops when his eyes come to me. I stand up and brush the sand from my butt.
He beckons to me. I walk over to where he is standing just off to the side of the altar with Aiden.
“Just twenty minutes to go, and we’ve got official duties,” he says to me, “Bride or Groom side?”
“Groom,” I tell him and let him escort me to a middle row.
Meaty appears in the aisle, and after greeting Broussard with a handshake and man-hug, tells me, “Scoot down one more Ryan, Butter’s is gonna want to sit with us.”
Broussard leaves to escort guests and family to their seats then and before I know it, we are standing as the bride walks barefoot in the sand to her groom.
During the vows, I can’t help but feel my eyes get dewy. Not because weddings are heart melting and sweet, so much, but because I am thinking about moments such as these that T should have been here for. Thinking of T then has me thinking about David, and wondering for all the world if things had gone as we had planned what type of wedding we would’ve had. The words spoken are simple and direct, with prayers and blessings for the new couple. I squash down my melancholy and harden my heart.
My eyes slide to Broussard standing next to Reed, and I can’t help but be pulled into his magnetic gaze.
“Do you, Noah John Reed, take Jessica Elise St. Clair, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.”
“And do you, Jessica Elise St. Clair, take Noah John Reed to be your lawfully wedded husband?
“I do.”
“You may kiss the bride.”
Cheers and whoops erupt, and I stand pulling my gaze from Broussard’s. My cheeks feel warm.
41
It is a great reception. I dance with Broussard, eat some cake. I stand up and pretend I want to catch the bouquet- but leave it to one of the bride’s sisters to catch. I shake the feeling that I shouldn’t be here, and surrender to the moment.
Soon we are directed by Reed’s mother-in-law to gather sparklers from a basket and head out to the parking lot for the send off.
I can feel a pounding at my temples. I need air.
I slip through the doors while everyone is occupied lining up, and head to the beach. The moon is shining brightly, nearly full and I can see the wet sand glistening in the light.
There are a few kids with flashlights running around looking for crabs, but I can hardly hear them over the crashing sounds of the surf.
I am lost in my thoughts, my memories.
My feet lead me along the beach, back to the high-rise condos that are the newest construction on the beach. I pause and look up at their artificial lights, realizing I just walked five miles without saying goodbye to anyone.
I pick out the condo I am staying in and keep walking the six hundred or so feet to its wood decking.
Once I get up to my room, I kick off my flip flops and do my own flop onto the bed.
I dig my cell phone out of my pocket and see I have two missed calls and four text messages.
It was rude of me to just leave without a word. But, it was that or stick it out w
ith an awkward goodbye to the guys later in the night. With the potential of tears.
Something like panic squelches out of my stomach when I think about Meaty, Butters and Reed all going back to fight.
Leaving before being confronted with that reality is my way of taking back control.
I text Broussard back, Walked back to the condo. Thanks for the ride. It sends and I pull up Google, searching for hair salons close by.
It’s time to take back something else of mine too.
Broussard
I watch Ryan’s tall form cross the street and stand on the beach for ten minutes after the send-off.
From the way she is standing, contemplating the ocean, I know that this is a time she’d probably like her space. Heaven knows I have been in that same exact posture a million times myself, that same mood of being lost to the memories and resenting anyone that pulls you out.
She is leaving, I can feel it in my bones; but maybe I can at least finish out the night with her before the forever goodbye.
I go back to the open bar deciding to let her come back to the party in her own time. The wedding dancing is continuing on, and I grab myself a beer and sit down with Meaty and Butters to wait her out.
Our conversation turns reminiscent as they are always want to do when the members of the team get together. And, before I know it I am at the bottom of my beer, swilling back the last lukewarm dregs.
I pull out my phone and text Ryan.
Gave it five minutes before getting up and walking down to the beach.
There is no sign of her, and the beach is fairly deserted.
I call. No answer.
I go back to my truck and consider possibilities. She is a grown woman. A SEAL. No reason to worry.
I have to fight the instinct to jump in the truck and drive up and down the beach. Instead I try calling again. And when I get no answer this time, I give up and go in to tell Meaty and Butters goodbye.
Back in the truck, I send one more text in hopes that she’d at least let me know she has gotten back to her room safe and sound.
42
Ryan
The Distance Between Dreams Page 15