by Claire Cook
We went back up to our room. Cannoli lapped some water from her travel bowl, then took another nap. Maybe I should learn to nap. I packed up my kits for tomorrow. My cell phone rang. I ran across the room to get it.
“Hello,” I said, without even bothering to look at the caller display.
“It’s me,” Mario said.
“Oh, hi. How’d the rehearsal dinner go?”
“You’re not going to believe it. Throw some clothes on and come have a drink with Todd and me. We’re downstairs in the bar.”
Cannoli was looking at me with her ears perked up. “Is there a cute little Jack Russell terrier down there?” I asked.
“Bella,” Mario said slowly. “Don’t you think you’re starting to go a little bit overboard with this dog thing?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “It wasn’t for me. I was asking for a friend. I’ll be right down.”
Mario and Todd were sitting at the bar in high-backed indigo-painted barstools. “You guys look great in blue,” I said.
“Thanks,” they both said at once.
Todd moved over with his wine, and I climbed up on the stool between them. They both leaned over to give me a kiss. Cannoli came sauntering into the bar with Indie hot on her heels.
“Bella,” Mario said. “Tell me that’s not your dog. You said you weren’t bringing it.”
The bartender put a napkin in front of me. “Chardonnay, please,” I said.
He poured three glasses of wine and brought them over to us. “These are on Indie,” he said.
“Thanks,” we said.
“Who’s Indie?” Todd asked.
The bartender pointed. “The little guy with the date,” he said. “He runs the place.”
I turned to Mario. “Take it back,” I said.
He clanked his glass against mine. “Fine, I take it back. She has great dog connections. But she’s still not going to the wedding, so don’t even think about it.”
I took a sip of my wine. “She’s got another commitment anyway,” I said.
“Speaking of dates,” Mario said, “where’s yours?”
I still held out hope that I’d soften up Sean Ryan at the college fair and talk him into coming with me to the wedding. “Tied to my bedpost,” I said. “I don’t like to let him out at night.”
“Never mind,” Mario said. He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “Guess what? Todd and I saw Mom and Dad coming out of the same hotel room.”
“So what,” I said. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
Mario turned to Todd. “See,” he said. “I told you it didn’t have to mean anything.”
“Of course it does,” Todd said.
Mario and I looked at each other. “Gross,” we both said.
Todd smiled. “How old are you two?”
I looked around for Cannoli. She and Indie were curled up together under my chair. “As far as our parents are concerned, I think we’re forever frozen at seven and eight.” I took another sip of my wine. “They could have at least given us some warning.”
“You know Mom,” Mario said. “Her favorite saying is, ‘That’s why they call it a personal life.’”
“Ohmigod, that’s exactly what she said to me at the airport.” I shook my head. “It just makes me so sad. I mean, imagine if they get back together, and we had to go through all that for nothing. Back and forth from house to house, never sure where you’d left your favorite sweater or school book.”
“That room I had at Mom’s,” Mario said. “It was like a shoe box.”
“At least you had your own room,” I said. “Angela and I were packed into that rickety bunk bed like sardines.”
“Or,” Todd said, “you could be happy for them that they found each other again.”
Mario and I both rolled our eyes.
“So,” Todd said. “Changing the subject. Did Mario tell you we had dinner with the Hairhouse guys?”
“Cut it out,” I said. “What’d you do, smoke a peace pipe?”
“Pretty much,” Mario said. “They’re nice guys. No way are they trying to run us out of business. And they swore up and down they weren’t the ones who called in the complaint about our septic system.”
The bartender came over and placed a bowl of peanuts on the bar in front of us.
“So,” I said, once he’d walked away. “You haven’t even told me how the wedding rehearsal went.”
“Not bad,” Mario said. “Except for the part where Tulia looked away for a second and Myles swallowed Andrew’s ring.”
27
“HE ATE THE RING?” SEAN RYAN ASKED.
“Yup,” I said. “Only in my family. Apparently, everybody had been joking about it earlier in front of him. Myles has great comic timing, so he waited until he was supposed to hand Andrew’s ring to Amy, then he gulped it down and toddled away.”
“What were his parents doing?”
“I don’t know about Mike, but Tulia was probably doing her nails. She’s a bit of a train wreck.”
The Georgia International Convention Center was back out by the airport. We’d taken 85 South from midtown in another Prius, this time a gray one with Georgia plates.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Don’t you at least want to drive a gas guzzler once in a while, just for the sake of variety? It’s kind of creepy that you’d rent the same kind of car that you own.”
Sean Ryan smiled. “How do you know I rented it?”
“Well, if you bought it for the weekend, then that’s really creepy.”
The GICC was huge and ultramodern. It was plopped in the middle of what seemed like a pretty seedy area to me, but the building itself looked safe enough, and it had plenty of parking. We found the exhibit hall right away and got our table set up in half the time it took us in Rhode Island.
“So, then what happened?” Sean Ryan asked as soon as he came back with two cups of coffee. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”
“No, I can wait.” He handed me my coffee, and I ignored the little jolt when our fingers brushed. “Thanks. Okay, Mack and Maggie, their other kids, went out to dinner with everybody else, and Tulia and Mike took Myles to the emergency room to get his stomach x-rayed.”
He sat down in his chair and took a sip of his coffee. “Did they have to operate?”
“Nah. The emergency room doctor just looked at the X-ray and asked what time the wedding was. Then he said, ‘Well, I expect we’ll be fixin’ to see that ring just in the nick of time then.’”
Sean Ryan let out a big laugh. “That’s great. And how’s your other nephew feeling about wearing that ring?”
“Andrew? He thinks it’s hilarious. He told Tulia to tell Myles not to feel any pressure, that he could always borrow someone else’s ring just for the ceremony.”
“Good attitude.”
“Yeah, he’s a good kid. Anyway, when I left, they were all fighting about who got to do the hair and makeup for the bridal party.”
“Must be great to have such a big family,” Sean Ryan said.
“Most of the time.” I took a sip of my coffee. “So, what’s your family like?”
“Small. Both parents gone. One sister, a brother-in-law, two nephews. Think Leave It to Beaver. My ex and I used to call them the Connecticut Cleavers, though looking back, I think that was jealousy talking.”
I took another sip of my coffee. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “We tried for a long time to have kids of our own, but it just never happened. Anyway, we’d started the adoption conversation, and suddenly we realized we couldn’t stand each other. I think our house of cards just collapsed.”
“That’s too bad.” I crossed one leg over the other, then uncrossed them again. “Do you still want kids?” popped out of my mouth before I thought it through.
He smiled. “Who knows? Probably, but I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about it these days.”
“Do you see them a lot?” I asked. “The Cleavers, I mean.”
“
Not as much as I used to when I was married. We get together for Thanksgiving, maybe a couple more times during the year.”
Sean Ryan stood up and walked to the front of our table. He opened a box and started unloading his kits. This college fair was so much like the one in Rhode Island, it was giving me a major case of déjà vu. College banners were draped in front of rows and rows of tablecloth-covered booths. Tweedy people were setting up piles of brochures and applications and arranging displays of bottled water with the college names printed on them. There was a massage station, a manicure station, an ultracaffeinated drinks station, a safe sumo wrestling ring with bright yellow ropes.
I looked around. “You know, it’s almost like a traveling circus. Everybody must just pack up their tents and head to the next college fair.”
“It’s big business,” Sean Ryan said.
“Speaking of which,” I said, “let me show you my new and revised kit.”
I gave him the whole tour, piece by piece, explaining the changes I’d made and why I’d made them. “So, essentially,” I said, “now it can work either with or without me actually being there.”
He kept nodding his head the whole time I was talking. “It’s brilliant,” he said when I finished. “You put your finger on exactly what wasn’t working, and refined it until it did. Most people can’t do that, you know.”
I tucked everything back into the kit I had disassembled and zipped it up again. “Well, I hope you haven’t been under the illusion that I’m anything like most people,” I said.
“Not for a minute,” he said. We looked at each other, then he looked away. We both reached for our coffee. “Okay, what’s next?” he asked.
“Well,” I said. “My Web site’s up, and I’ve submitted it to a bunch of search engines. I’ve made up ten percent–off coupons to give to our salon clients. And I was wondering about trying to get on one of the local television shows. Maybe Beantown? I’ve done hair and makeup for some of those guests.”
“Do you know the name of the guest booker?”
“Yeah. Karen something or other.”
“I’ll give her a call on Monday,” Sean Ryan said casually.
“You know how to book a show?” I asked.
He grinned. “If I already knew how to do it, it wouldn’t be half as much fun. I’ll let you know what happens.”
I decided to go for it, but first I needed ammunition. I unscrewed a pot of a blood-red Nars lip lacquer called Bewitched and slowly rubbed some on my lips. I could feel Sean Ryan watching my every stroke. I looked up and into his eyes. Maybe being in the South was starting to rub off on me, because I even batted my eyelashes a little. “I don’t get it,” I said. “You’ll try to get me on a TV show, but you won’t even come to one itsy-bitsy wedding with me? Come on, someone has to help me keep an eye out for okra.”
Sean Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve already had this conversation, Bella. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m not interested in taking things further.”
The doors opened, and everyone poured in all at once. I slid as far as I could to the opposite end of the table. I angled my body so that I was facing away from Sean Ryan and got to work.
We both had huge lines right away, even though he was giving the guidance counselor’s kits away for free, and I was making sure I collected every cent. Some people only had credit cards, so I held their kits hostage while they found an ATM.
I smiled. I flattered. I mixed their custom foundation. I wrote down product suggestions for them. I tucked everything into a Bella’s Bag of Beauty Basics kit and handed it over. I went on to the next person in line. And the whole time I fumed. I’m not interested in taking things further. It wasn’t like I was even looking for a real date, just someone to hang out with at a wedding. What a pompous ass.
Finally, I sold my last kit. I stretched. I looked over at the table next to ours. I smiled at the bored-looking guy standing there in front of a pile of college applications.
“Having fun yet?” he asked.
I laughed like he’d said something witty.
He held a custom-printed water bottle out to me. “Here you go,” he said. “Hot in here.”
I batted my eyelashes. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” I said in what I hoped passed for a Southern accent.
Sean Ryan made a disgusted sound behind me.
I looked down at the insignia on the label. “Wow, Emory. Great school. How long have you been working there?”
As the guy took a deep breath and got ready to tell me the story of his life, a sumo wrestler in big white diapers walked by, heading for the wrestling ring. “Now that looks like fun,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to try safe sumo wrestling.”
“Let’s go,” the guy said.
“Sure,” I said.
Sean Ryan stood up. “Excuse me,” he said. “But the lady’s wrestling card is full.”
The guy shrugged.
I stood up. “Excuse me,” I said. “But where do you get off telling me who I can and cannot wrestle with?”
Sean Ryan raised an eyebrow. “How many times have I tried to get you to try that? I thought you said you didn’t want to.”
I put both hands on my hips. “I thought you said you weren’t interested in taking things further.”
Sean Ryan rolled up the cloth banner and tablecloth he’d brought and tucked them into a cardboard box, along with the e-mail list he’d collected for follow-up. He grabbed my shoulder bag.
“Hey,” I said. “Where do you think you’re going with that?”
“Come on,” he said. “Unless you’re chicken.”
“I am so not chicken,” I said.
I don’t know how much Sean Ryan paid the guy in the diapers to get us front cuts, but he pulled us right between the ropes and into the wrestling ring. Since we were in the South, everybody was too polite to start screaming at us like they would have in Boston.
I was totally going to kick Sean Ryan’s butt. I glared at him while a father and son stepped out of their gigantic sumo wrestling suits. I glared at him some more while they took off helmets shaped like traditional sumo hairstyles, complete with little black vinyl topknots.
Sean Ryan held up the two enormous vinyl suits. “Red or blue?” he asked.
“Whatever,” I said.
He held out the blue suit.
“Red,” I said.
The suits were truly massive. They were vaguely flesh-colored, maybe a MAC NC30 or so, and filled with so much air and foam they pretty much stood up on their own. The colored wrestling belts were attached to them, and they had attached neck pads, too.
We held on to the bright yellow ropes of the sumo wrestling ring while we stepped into our suits. The guy in diapers helped us pull them up over our shoulders. As soon as I let go of the rope, I started to tip over.
“Whoa,” I said. I grabbed the rope again.
“Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down,” Sean Ryan said. “Remember that?”
“Oh, grow up,” I said.
The guy in diapers pointed at the red mat, which took up most of the ring. It had a large blue circle in the center. “Stand in blue. Bell ring. Push each other out. Step on red, other guy win.”
Belatedly, I remembered I’d never liked organized sports. Before I had time to say anything, like how do you get out of this suit, the bell rang. Sean Ryan pushed himself off the ropes and staggered into the middle. I held on tight. Sean Ryan flapped his arms like a giant sumo chicken and yelled something at me that I couldn’t hear. I let go. I grabbed the rope again. The diaper guy walked over to me.
“Wait,” I said.
He didn’t. He gave me a big push. I staggered until my sumo stomach collided with Sean Ryan’s. We bounced off each other and both wobbled a few steps backward. He caught his balance and staggered in my direction until we made contact again. This time I fell back, all the way to the mat, and he landed on top of me.
Our padded vinyl stomachs worked just like
a giant seesaw. His feet went up in the air, and his mouth tilted down to mine. We were like two beached whales, and then somehow we were kissing.
He was a great kisser, even in a full-body vinyl suit. He tasted like coffee. I caught the faint scent of coconut, which was either his Paul Mitchell Extra-Body Sculpting Foam, or someone in the audience was drinking a piña colada.
We both leaned in the same direction at once, and we started to roll. We rolled over and over, picking up momentum until we crashed into the ropes on the side of the ring.
“Holy cannoli,” Sean Ryan said, his lips still inches from mine.
“Awkward,” I said. “But oddly hot.”
The crowd began to clap and cheer. “Ohmigod,” I said. “I hope that’s not for us.”
“Come on,” Sean Ryan said. “Let’s get out of here.”
I LEANED BACK in the passenger seat of the Prius and fluffed up my hair. “Boyohboy,” I said. “It sure doesn’t take long to get helmet hair, does it?”
“Listen,” Sean Ryan said. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”
I stopped fluffing. “Gee, thanks.”
“Can I finish?”
I nodded.
“Okay, I’ve got two things to tell you. One, I was in love with a married woman once. She went back to her husband. I think I knew all along she was going to, but I put a lot of time and effort into trying to convince us both that she wouldn’t. I don’t ever want to go through that again. So, you want to hang out, work on your kit, whatever, I’m in. But, that’s it.”
Every bit of the hurt showed in Sean Ryan’s hazel eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever go back to Craig, but then again, until recently I didn’t think I’d ever sleep with him again either.
“Okay,” I said. I put my hand on top of Sean Ryan’s. “Geesh, who made life so complicated anyway?”
He pulled my hand toward him and kissed it lightly. We smiled at each other. “Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Okay, what’s the other thing?”
He closed his eyes. “You know the condo people who’ve been trying to get their hands on your father’s waterfront salon?”
I nodded.
He opened one eye. “Well, I’m one of the investors.”