by Zoey Castile
The song ends, and I realize we have an audience. They applaud and someone whistles between their fingers. We take a small bow, and the DJ announces dinner.
I take a seat beside Robyn. “I did not know you have moves like that.”
“You never asked. Plus, we never got to do the dancing part of our first date.”
“The first thing we’re doing when we get to Vegas is going dancing. I don’t care if I’m jet-lagged.”
“Vegas?” Lukas says, sitting down beside me. A couple of other groomsmen and bridesmaids take their seats. “So you’re the one who’s taking Robyn away.”
“He’s not taking me away,” Robyn says, stabbing her steak so hard her fork nearly cleaves the plate in half. “I want to leave.”
Lukas looks like he’s in his cups. He keeps drinking. Other groomsmen shake my hand and compliment my dancing.
“I’m a freelance choreographer,” I say, which isn’t a lie. I’ve worked for other crews here and there.
“My girl loves ballroom. She even had me sign up with her.”
“It’s easy,” I tell the guy. His hair is already receding, but his face looks younger than mine. “Practice, like, fifteen minutes at home. Tape your shoes if you have to. After a while, you need to stop thinking that there are people watching you and just enjoy the moment. Listen to the songs on your run.”
“Thanks, man,” the groomsman says. “You play sports? I heard you tell Mr. Flores you went to Boston.”
I shrug. “I played baseball when I was a kid, but I sucked.”
“Are you going to teach in Vegas?” a bridesmaid asks Robyn. “I just heard.”
“Cat’s out of the bag,” I whisper in her ear.
“I’m going to write, actually.”
“You’re giving up your career to become a writer?” Lukas asks her. He slurs the last word. Everyone at the table looks uncomfortable and keeps cutting their meat in silence. “What are you going to write about?”
“I haven’t decided. I’ve always had ideas, I just never took the time,” Robyn says, eating a bite of steak. She never loses her smile, not once, and I wonder how she does it. How she doesn’t just slam her knife down into his hand spread on the table.
“My cousin’s a writer,” one of the bridesmaids says. “She writes kids’ books. She goes on all these tours. I keep telling her to write the story of our lives and we can split it fifty-fifty. We’d make a fortune.”
Robyn laughs amicably. “Thanks, Yenni. But I think I’m going to take time and figure it out. I’m excited. Fallon’s the one who’s been encouraging me to follow my dreams.”
“The Stripper and the Writer,” Lukas says, and that brings a snicker and a series of whispers around the table.
Robyn holds my hand as I get up. “What do you want to drink?”
“Whiskey, one ice cube,” she says.
I look around the table, tugging at my tux jacket to smooth it out. “Anyone else?”
“I’ll take a Manhattan,” Yennifer says, smiling.
I walk over to the bar on the other side of the room. Lily and David dance at the center of the room.
Try as I might, Lukas is getting under my skin. I’ve never been insecure. Not the way he makes me feel. I can’t believe I went on and on about choreography. Who am I? I tug my tie loose and come up to the bar.
“Woodford, one cube; Manhattan up; and the best, chillest tequila you can manage.” I might regret this tequila shot, but a twisted, dark part of my mind tells me I need it.
From here, I watch the wedding crowd. David’s in finance and Lily’s a teacher. Everyone here went to school, and they’re probably the kind of people who enjoy talking about what they majored in or how they still root for their school’s team. These are things that matter to some people, but it doesn’t make anyone special.
This is not my world. This is Robyn’s world. I know who I am. My world involves being offered to have a threesome and do a line of coke off someone’s abs. My world involves wrong choices and regret. My world involves someone perfectly kind like Ricky beating the shit out of a thief. How can I bring Robyn into that?
“You okay, buddy?” the bartender asks. He looks like my kind of guy with a full beard and arms covered in tats.
I put down a $20 on the counter. I know it’s an open bar, but leaving a heavy tip up front just means he’ll take my orders first when he sees me coming toward him.
“I’m five by five,” I say, and I down my shot of tequila and it goes down smooth. I bite down on the lime, and the only thing that could make it more bitter is seeing Lukas standing beside me.
“What?” I ask him.
Lukas is drunk and visibly ticked off, which doesn’t make for a good combination. I can’t make a scene at Lily’s wedding. Robyn won’t forgive me. I won’t forgive myself.
“Dude, just lay off,” I say, slightly defeated. “There are hundreds of girls you can get with. What is your obsession with Robyn?”
A cluster of men nearby glance at us. I catch them in my peripheral vision, but turn my back so I’m only facing Lukas. He’s wearing a charcoal-gray suit with cuffs that catch the light. I laugh in my mind because, in another world, he and Ricky would get along famously.
“Because she deserves better than you,” Lukas says, and turns to the bartender. “Vodka Red Bull. None of that house shit. Top shelf.”
The bartender doesn’t say anything, just busies himself making drinks. I always, always judge people on the way they treat staff.
“What was I saying?” Lukas asks. “Oh yeah, Robyn. I asked her out, you know, before you. She said no.”
“I figured that, what with her moving across the country with me. Take it easy, Luke.”
I grab the drinks from the counter and start to walk away, but Lukas tugs on my sleeve. I see the drinks fall in slow motion. One of them crashes at Robyn’s mother’s feet. The other falls next to Lily, amber liquid soaking into the train of her dress.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, bending down to pick up the glass. People speak around me, but I’m not listening.
“It’s okay,” Lily tells me. She rests her arm on my shoulder and smiles. “I saw what happened. I’ll get someone to make him leave.”
Lily whispers something into the ear of one of the groomsmen and he runs off to get someone else.
“I got you,” the bartender tells me and pats me on the back.
So I stand, with all eyes on me. People watch the mess on the floor, and there Lukas is leaning against the bar. In my mind, he’s sprouted devil horns and a tail. What an evil motherfucker.
“Let me ask you something, Fallon,” Lukas says, this time loud enough that the curious crowd has started to gather. All I see, though, is Robyn making her way toward us.
I turn to Lukas and face him. “I’m not stopping you.”
“You going to give us a show later on, or is that just for Robyn’s after hours?”
I clench my fists and then Robyn is there, wrapping her arms around me. Her scent fills my senses. Think of Robyn, the Epic Fool in my heart screams, and pushes against my chest as if he can force me to stand back.
People are watching now. Robyn’s parents. Everyone around the bar.
“There she is!” Lukas shouts.
“Hey, Lukas, calm down,” one of the groomsmen tells him. He tries to grab his arm but Lukas shrugs him off.
“Robyn Flores, who rejected me for a stripper! What kind of thong are you wearing under that getup, Zacky?”
Robyn screams my name. I can hear her. It’s like she’s miles away, because my eyes blur, overcome with rage. I land my fist square on Lukas’s jaw.
I’m aware that dozens of eyes are on me. Lukas is out like a light on the floor. The bartender has lined up a tequila shot for me and I drink it.
I set the empty glass on the table.
I’ve had it.
I leave and I don’t look back.
18
Locked Out of Heaven
ROBYN
It takes three groomsmen and David himself to carry Lukas out to the street. I follow them out. Lukas is a messy slump on the side of the building. One of guys is in charge of getting him into a cab.
I keep walking to the corner. My shoes click on the cement, and my heart thunders in my chest.
Fallon is gone.
He reached his breaking point.
And he doesn’t even realize that he didn’t do anything wrong. I try to call him but it goes to voice mail. I send him text after text, but nothing.
I walk back into the reception and show my face. I keep my chin up and walk through the throng of people to where my parents chat with Lily and David.
“Is Fallon okay?” Lily asks.
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” I say, trying to keep myself together. I don’t think it’s fine. I have a very, very bad feeling about this. “You guys enjoy your night. I’m sorry Lukas is such a tool.”
“Don’t apologize for him,” David says, as he takes my hands in his. “I think we’ve done that enough. I owe you an apology, Robyn. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, though my voice wavers. “Today is about you guys! You’re married. You’re going to be parents!”
There’s a series of gasps, followed by Lily folding in half with laughter. Their family and friends come over for a new wave of congratulations. Dave wraps his arms around Lily, keeping his palm over her belly. She isn’t showing, not by far, but they’ve never looked happier. They go back to their celebration, moving from table to table. Their happiness radiates through the halls.
I’m not sure what to do with myself, so I post myself at the scene of the crime. They’ve cleaned up all the glass, and when the bartender sees me, he pours me a whiskey on the rocks.
“Robyn Helena Flores,” my father says, his voice stern.
I face my parents. “Yes, Papi.” He’s always softer on me when I speak Spanish.
“Why didn’t you tell us that principal was such a pendejo?” Dad asks. “I’m surprised Fallon stayed so calm after everything Lukas said to him. I would’ve clocked him as soon as I saw him.”
“Benjamin,” my mom says. But she gives me a secret smile. “We don’t encourage our daughter to act out on violent impulses.”
“I guess you heard about the move,” I say. “I wanted to tell you, but Lily’s wedding didn’t seem like the right place.”
“Robyn, you’ve always been so uptight,” my mom says.
“Excuse me?”
“All of this pressure you put on yourself to be perfect. It was about time you broke. At least you’ve found yourself a—cómo se dice these days?—un super-fly honey?”
“No one says that, Mom. In English or Spanish.” Still, I hug her, because I need my mother. Now more than ever. Dad wraps his arms around us, and our little trinity is complete.
“I don’t know if I can fix things with Fallon. He kept telling me that he didn’t belong here. From the very beginning. I made him feel like this. I don’t know if I can fix it.”
“Well, like when I won over your father,” my mother says, “you have to make a big gesture.”
“Your big gesture was getting pregnant.”
My mother raises her hands up in defeat. “It’s about time I had some grandkids.”
“Gross,” I say. I don’t know what’s worse. Getting romantic advice, or my mother telling me to get knocked up as a grand gesture. “I’m sure there’s a middle ground. I just have to find it.”
The bartender smiles at me. “You’re Robyn, right?”
“That’d be me.” I raise my finger in the air. The bartender sets an envelope on the counter.
“The guy who punched the other guy dropped this.”
He slides it over to me, and my heart races. It’s a letter from Fallon.
FALLON
I walk into the club toward the end of the set. Hicks, the bouncer on Saturday nights, nods at me as I walk in.
“Lookin’ sharp, Fallon,” he says.
Right. Sharp. My tie is undone and my shirt is splashed with bourbon. I undo the suffocating buttons as I make my way toward the bar. The boys are doing their closing number. All twelve of them rush to the stage, shirtless and in nothing but thongs. They wind and thrust and pump and do all kinds of suggestive things to the air. Women get up from their seats. This is the set where the boys jump onto tables. Hands rise from below to reach for naked legs, ass cheeks, abs. There’s always the occasional hand that goes for the jewels.
I love this world. I love the rush of the stage. Yeah, there’s terrible things that go along with it. There’s an endless supply of drinks and laughter and a party that doesn’t end. But there’s also family. A family that sticks with you through good and bad.
I hate that a girl made me doubt myself.
Rachel sees me walk up to her bar. One of the waitresses comes up to my right, cutting me off. She’s sweet, blond, with winking brown eyes that tell me she hasn’t lived a full two decades. She’s here to make a buck. She’s here for the thrill of the nightlife.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I’m okay.”
I sit in front of Rachel and she examines the state of me before speaking. “I take it things went well?”
I sigh and take the cold shot of tequila she sets in front of me. I’ve got a cut on my palm from trying to pick up the glass I dropped, and another gash on my knuckles from when I punched Lukas.
“It’s as close to a red wedding as we’re getting outside the Game of Thrones universe.”
She rolls her eyes, but then smirks. “The North remembers, fuckin’ nerd. We can always send Hicks to go knock him out.”
“I can handle myself.”
And I can. In the end, it wasn’t Lukas. I mean, yes, it was everything that Lukas said to me. But it was also the way I let myself feel when I was there.
“Tell Ricky I’m going to be in the office.” I take my drink and head to the back of the house.
When I get there, someone’s already inside. Ricky never keeps it unlocked, and I have his key. I stand against the door and wait for whoever is in there to come out.
She walks out holding a bank bag, the kind we use to deposit money after every shift. Darla. When she sees me, her eyes widen into perfect circles.
“Hey, Darla,” I say, sadness seeping into my voice because today has been a day. And now, I know I’ve caught her. She doesn’t have a key to the office. “How’d you get in here? We don’t close the registers until after the show.”
She brushes her blond hair out of her face. Her voice trembles. “Ricky sent me.”
I look down at my feet because the betrayal runs deep. “So, if I ask him after the show, he’s going to say he gave you his key to come here?”
“Fallon, I’m sorry.”
“You’re the one,” I say, yanking my arm away as she tries to touch me. “This whole time I thought it was Vinny. Why, Darla?”
“I’m in trouble, Fallon. I owe people money.”
“You could’ve asked!”
Out in the club, there’s the final booming cheer from the crowd. Soon enough, Ricky will make his way down this hallway. “It’s the perfect time, isn’t it? When Ricky and everyone is focused on finishing the set.”
I hold my hand out and wait for her to hand the money back.
“I was going to pay it back.”
“When?”
She looks down at her feet. “Are you going to tell Ricky?”
“Yes,” I say. “If he wants to find you, he will. Get out of here.”
“Fallon—”
“Give me the key.”
She has the audacity to look pissed as she slaps the key on my palm. “I never meant to hurt you boys.”
“Tell that to Ricky.”
Darla’s been there before. She’s seen what Ricky does to men who’ve stolen from him. But it’s never been a woman, and it’s never been someone we’ve trusted for so long.
Once she’s gone, I
lock up the safe and the door, then I head back out to the club where the crowds are leaving.
Ricky catches my eye. He’s smiling the same brilliant smile he has after a good show. But I can’t return it. He knows something is wrong, and he wades through the mass of bodies and comes to me.
In the loud club, I watch the incredulity cross his face as I press the key on his palm and say, “Darla.”
He excuses himself, and heads back.
And I take no pleasure in knowing I’m not the only one with a broken spirit tonight.
19
Happy Now?
ROBYN
“Do you have a trunk full of them dresses?” the bouncer asks me as I get to the club’s door. His large ringed finger points to my bridesmaid dress.
“Why?” I ask. “You want to borrow one?”
He chuckles, then looks me up and down with a small smile. He glances inside the club then back at me. “You’re here for Fallon, right?”
I nod.
“I don’t think you want to go in there tonight, sweetheart.”
I steel myself. What would I do if I felt defeated and punched someone at a wedding? I’d probably get drunk and feel like the world was against me. I’d surround myself with people who made me forget mistakes. I’d make mistakes. But the letter he wrote to me feels like it’s burning a hole through my purse. I think about our conversation in the park. How I told him about my parents writing letters. How no one does that anymore.
I opened it the minute the bartender gave it to me.
Dear Robyn,
I’ve never written a real letter to someone, but you make me do a lot of things I never thought I’d do. Being with you makes me a better person. I don’t believe in a lot of things, but I believe in you and me. I know you’re scared of what the future will bring us. I just want you to know, I want to make sure that you know, that you aren’t alone in any of it. I want to make all of your dreams come true. You’re my dream. And I love you.