Perfect on Paper: The (Mis)Adventures of Waverly Bryson

by Maria Murnane

  “Why, of course, sir.”

  “Thanks, my good man.” He raised the divider back up.

  I put my champagne flute down in one of the limo’s built-in drink holders and crossed my arms. “Scotty, what’s going on?”

  He smiled. “Sweetheart, I just want to make sure that tonight is perfect. And there’s something I need to pick up to make that happen.”

  “I’m really confused. Why didn’t you ever say anything?” I said.

  “Say anything about what?”

  I whispered, “About, you know, not really being gay?”

  Just then the limo came to a stop, and we heard Malcolm get out of the car. Scotty scooted forward toward the passenger door just as Malcolm was opening it.

  “Just a minute, Waverly. I’ll be right back.” He put his champagne down and stepped outside of the limo, shutting the door behind him.

  I leaned back into the deep leather folds of the seat and closed my eyes. Was I dreaming? What was going on?

  Five minutes later, the door opened, and Scotty sat back down with a small velvet box in his hand.

  He looked at me and smiled. “All set.”

  I glanced at the box. “What happens next?” I said.

  “Off to a fabulous little Italian restaurant, my lovely lady. Waiting there is a romantic candlelight dinner that I hope will enchant you as much as you enchant me.”

  I set my champagne down again and looked him straight in the eye.

  “Scotty, you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “What question, darling?”

  “We’ve been friends for years. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t gay?”

  He put his hand on my arm.

  “Sweetheart, who said I wasn’t gay?”

  What?

  “What?” I said.

  “What what?”

  “You’re not straight?” I said.

  “Nope, I’m not straight.”

  “So you’re still gay?”

  He laughed. “Yes, I’m still gay.”

  “Then why—”

  I put my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God.”

  “What?” he said.

  “You’re here out of pity.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You bid on me because no one else would.”

  “Waverly—”

  “To save my feelings from being hurt, right? I knew it. Oh my God, I’m such a los—”

  He grabbed my hand. “Waverly, calm down.”

  I looked at him.

  “I didn’t bid on you because no one else did,” he said.

  “You didn’t?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He laughed. “Yes, my love, I’m sure.”

  “Then why did you bid on me?”

  He leaned back and took a sip of champagne. “Who said I bid on you?”

  What?

  “You didn’t bid on me?”

  He shook his head. “No, I did not.”

  “Then why are you my date tonight?”

  “Who said I was your date tonight?”

  What??

  “Scotty, cut it out. I’m serious. What’s going on?”

  “Gorgeous, didn’t I tell you I wanted this night to be perfect, for you?”

  I nodded. “Yes, you did.”

  “And didn’t I say I just needed to pick up one thing to make it perfect, for you?”

  I nodded again and glanced at the box on the seat next to him. “Yes, you did.”

  “And have I ever lied to you?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Well I haven’t, and I’m not about to start now.” He leaned over to press the divider button again. “So what do you think? Should I tell our good driver where the restaurant is so we can be on our way?”

  I looked down at the velvet box, then up at the black divider as it slowly opened. Through the front windshield I could see the sign for the Plaza Hotel. We were back at the Plaza?

  Then the driver turned around.

  I gasped again.

  The person sitting in the driver’s seat wasn’t Malcolm anymore.

  “Hi, Waverly,” he said.

  “Hi, Jake,” I whispered.

  As I was trying to process what was happening, I heard knocking on the passenger window. Scotty opened the door, and Shane’s and Kristina’s smiling faces poked in.

  “Hey there, Scott,” Shane said.

  Kristina smiled. “Hi, Waverly.”

  “Hi, everyone,” Jake said, moving to the backseat and sitting next to me.

  I looked at Jake and Scotty and then back at Shane and Kristina.

  “How did …?” I whispered to no one in particular.

  “I’ll explain everything,” Jake said.

  “He’ll explain everything.” Shane pointed to Jake.

  “He’ll explain everything.” Scotty squeezed my knee and pointed to Jake.

  Then McKenna and Andie poked their heads in. “Nice ride ya got going here,” Andie said.

  “Mackie? Andie? What the …?” I said.

  McKenna shook her head. “Don’t ask me, you’re the one with all these crazy famous friends.”

  “Hey now, watch your language,” Kristina said.

  Scotty climbed out of the limo. “All right, people, I’m outta here.” Then he leaned back in and kissed me on the cheek. “Have fun at dinner, Miss Bryson. Mr. McIntyre, please take good care of her.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Jake said.

  “Hey, wait a minute.” I grabbed Scotty’s hand and pulled him toward me.

  “What, love?”

  “What’s in the box?” I whispered.

  He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up. “This?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s a key to Tad’s apartment. He’s out of town until tomorrow, but he left me a key with his doorman so I could stay at his place tonight.”

  “That’s it?” I said.

  He smiled. “That’s it.”

  I pointed at him and laughed. “Mr. Ryan, you got me bad.”

  “That’s why I receive marriage proposals from women across the country, my dear. Now, shoo.” He kissed my hand and shut the door.

  Then my real date began.

  Twenty minutes later, Jake and I were seated in a quiet corner at Cacio e Pepe, a picturesque Italian restaurant in the East Village.

  He poured me a glass of red wine. “So, we meet again.”

  “We meet again,” I said, still dazed.

  “Here’s to People magazine.” He lifted his glass up to mine.

  I held my glass tight as I touched it against his. “So you’re Wendall P. Feldman?”

  He laughed. “Oh, that. Wendall Feldman was my next-door neighbor growing up.”

  “So he’s a real person?”

  He nodded. “He’s a real person.”

  “What does the P stand for?”

  “Poindexter.”

  “Wendall Poindexter Feldman? Ouch. So why the fake name anyway?”

  He smiled. “I thought you might go running for the hills again if you knew it was me.”

  I blushed and looked down. Running for the hills? Yeah, right. If he only knew how many times I’d thought about running my fingers through his hair.

  “And I thought you had a boyfriend this whole time anyway,” he said.

  I looked back up at him. “A boyfriend? What?”

  “Yeah, actually, I thought Scott was your boyfriend. Or at least that you were dating him.”

  “Scotty?” I said. “Really?”

  He nodded. “You two always looked rather chummy, especially at Dale’s wedding, and then I saw him kiss you at that Giants’ game in the spring.”

  The waiter set our entrees down and quietly retreated.

  I pushed my pasta around with my fork and shook my head.

  “Jake, Scotty was never my boyfriend.”

  He looked at me and smiled. “I know that now,” he said,
and I could feel my pulse start to race.

  “How did you meet him?” I said.

  “At a barbecue at Shane’s house a few weeks ago. When he introduced me to his boyfriend, it sort of cleared things up.”

  “You met Scott at a barbecue at Shane’s house?” I said.

  He nodded, his messy brown hair nearly reaching his eyes. “His boyfriend works at the same agency as Shane’s agent. Anyhow, I told him that you’d pretty much given me the Heisman every time I’d seen you since we met.” He moved his hands into the position of the little guy on the Heisman Trophy, one hand behind his head and the other straight out in front of him.

  I smiled and pointed at him. “I so did not give you the Heisman.”

  He pointed back. “You so did, but Scott set me straight, and then Kristina backed him up.” He smiled and looked right at me. With those blue eyes.

  “Oh,” I said, thanking God I was already sitting down, because my knees were beginning to feel really weak, and I had already fallen on my face one too many times that day.

  “Then Scott said he had a clever idea for how you and I could meet up again, and here we are,” he said.

  “So this was all Scotty’s idea?”

  “Yep, pretty much. He also said something about owing you.”

  Owing me? Oh yeah, the U2 concert he didn’t take me to. Talk about making good on your word.

  “But how did you work out the whole surprise thing? I mean, what if I’d seen you bid on me at the auction?” I said.

  He laughed. “I have some connections.”

  “Connections?”

  “Yep, I wasn’t even at the auction. The auctioneer just knew to make the highest bidder the gentleman in the back.”

  “But … but what if …?”

  “What if what?”

  “Well, I mean, I know it sounds insane, but what if someone else had bid a lot of money on me?”

  He laughed. “That’s where it comes in handy to be buddies with an NBA star. Shane and Kristina said they’d take care of it if the bidding got out of my price range.”

  “They did?”

  “Well, mostly Kristina,” he said. “She said she thought we’d have a good time.” Then he lowered his voice a bit and smiled. “I think she was right.”

  I couldn’t take any more of those sexy smiles. I took a sip of water and tried to cool myself off.

  “Um, so why didn’t you just do the regular auction? Were you busy last night?” I said.

  He shook his head. “I wanted a real date with you … alone.”

  “Oh,” I whispered, nearly falling off my chair.

  “So, were Scotty and Kristina right in their prediction?” he said.

  “What prediction?”

  “That you’d be glad to find out that your date was with me?”

  I could feel the blood rushing to my face. I looked over his shoulder and then up at the ceiling. “Um, well, yeah, but, um …”

  He smiled. “But what?”

  I couldn’t believe this was really happening.

  I closed my eyes and sighed.

  “Waverly? Are you okay?”

  I opened my eyes and shook my head to focus them. “I’m sorry. I was just … I was just thinking….”

  “Waverly?”

  “Yes?”

  “No more thinking, okay?”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  Just then the waiter appeared with a single piece of chocolate cake with a small candle on top.

  I looked at the cake and then at Jake. “How did you know?”

  “Hey, give a guy some credit. Now go ahead, make a wish.”

  I laughed. “You want me to make a wish?”

  “Yep.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you sure you’re not related to Scotty?”

  “What?” he said.

  “I mean, are you sure your last name’s not Ryan, too?”

  “Ryan?” he said again.

  I raised my eyebrows. “You know, Jake Ryan, Sixteen Candles?”

  “Huh?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a girl thing.” I leaned down and blew the candle out, then looked up at him and smiled.

  “Happy birthday, Waverly,” he said.

  “Thank you, Jake McIntyre,” I whispered.

  He cleared his throat.

  “So …,” he said.

  “So …,” I said.

  “So you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “Um, what was it again?”

  He smiled. “You’re killing me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Have you ever noticed that I tend to change the subject when I get nervous?”

  He laughed. “I’ve noticed. Okay, I’ll ask you another question. Do you remember what you asked me when we first met?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. What had I asked him? That whole night was a blur.

  “Um, if you like pineapple on your pizza? If you own any Barry Manilow music? If you’ve ever eaten a whole chicken?”

  He laughed again. “Nope.”

  “Can you give me a little hint?” I tapped my fingers on the table.

  “You asked me what I don’t like about working in the NBA. Do you remember?”

  I nodded. “That’s right, I did ask you that.”

  He scratched his eyebrow and took a deep breath, then leaned across the table and took my hands in his. His touch set off a spark that shot through my entire body, from my fingers all the way down to my toes.

  “Can I answer that question now?” he said.

  I nodded again. The ability to speak was gone.

  “Waverly, there are a lot of beautiful women in the world, and you are certainly one of them. But appearances can be deceiving, and that night I was going to tell you how hard it is for me to meet someone who is real, someone smart and witty and independent and down-to-earth.”

  My eyes were slightly unfocused.

  “It is?” I said softly.

  He leaned closer toward me and smiled. “Yes. I wanted to meet someone who is all those things, someone who’s as beautiful as she looks, but whose true beauty can’t be captured in a photograph.”

  I swallowed hard. “You did?”

  He rubbed his thumbs over my palms. “I wanted to meet someone like you.”

  My voice came back as a squeak. “I’m those things?”

  He nodded. “I knew it from the first few moments I talked to you. You’re different, Waverly. I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about you.”

  “There is?”

  “Maybe it’s your sarcasm. Or your ridiculous yet adorable observations. Or that you aren’t afraid to speak your mind. Or the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh.”

  I sat there, frozen.

  “Or maybe it’s none of those things.” He squeezed my hands tight. “Maybe it’s just that when I’m with you, all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you.”

  “Me?” I whispered.

  He slowly leaned toward me. “Yes, you. You have something special, something very, very special, and I’m determined to figure out what it is.”

  “You are?”

  He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Yes.”

  I took a deep breath and looked at him.

  “Jake?”

  “Yes?” He leaned even closer.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He nodded. “Have you ever noticed that I like you a lot?” I whispered.

  He put his finger on my lips and smiled. “Shhh.”

  I smiled and closed my eyes. I was … melting.

  And then Wendall P. Feldman kissed me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The day of the wedding was unusually warm, so McKenna and I decided to go for one last walk before the big one down the aisle. We met in front of Peet’s Coffee at ten. Our hair and makeup appointments weren’t until two o’clock, so we were good on time. After dozens of practice runs, we’d finally decide
d that she would wear her hair down and straight and mine would be pulled back into a high curly bun.

  Oh, and I was going to wear a tiara.

  Just kidding.

  As we headed down the hill, I looked out at the sailboats and then back at her. “Hey, Mackie, how many of these walks do you think we’ve done?”

  “Oh God, a ton,” she said. “I don’t know, maybe a couple hundred?”

  “Wow, that’s a boatload of walks. You’d think you’d see some evidence of that in my calves,” I said, looking down at my legs.

  She laughed. “I hear you on that.”

  “I can’t really remember what my life was like without you and these walks in it, ya know?” I said.

  She put her hands on her hips. “You’re not going to get all sappy on me, are you? I don’t want to have puffy eyes for the wedding.”

  I pushed her arm. “Shut up, I’m being serious. I really want to tell you how important you are to me.”

  “I know, I know. I can’t remember what my life was like without you either. And I don’t even want to think about what it would be like without you now.”

  “I can pretty much assure you that you won’t have to worry about that, especially if this whole ‘quitting my job’ thing backfires and I end up sleeping on your couch,” I said.

  “Oh please, you’re going to do great.”

  “But seriously, without your friendship I think I would dry up and blow away like an old snail shell,” I said.

  She put her arm around me as we walked. “Lovely visual. Are you going to use that one in a Honey Note?”

  “Hmm, not a bad idea.”

  “Ya know, I’m still waiting for some sort of royalties from all the creative inspiration this friendship of ours has given you for those cards,” she said.

  I extended my hand. “I’m sorry, have we met? I’m Waverly Bryson. And I don’t think so.”

  After our walk, we stopped in front of my apartment, hugged each other a tearful goodbye, and headed home to shower. The plan was to meet back up in an hour at a cute B&B down in the Marina that we had rented out as the designated “getting ready” place for the girls. After the rehearsal dinner, both of us had spent the night there, but we wanted to shower at our own places because it was just easier.

  Once inside my apartment, I walked into my room, threw my clothes into the hamper, and put on my robe and slippers. Then I picked up my phone to see if I had any messages. There was one from Jake: