by Jody Wallace
“You know he’s not gay.” He was especially not gay in her fantasies. Which, dammit, she couldn’t have anymore.
Jhi glanced briefly at Caroline, then back at the jewelry. “How about Taggart? I always wondered about those two bozos.”
“Get off it,” Caroline fussed. Tag wasn’t gay; he was a dancer. And charming and extremely good-looking, but Jhi disliked him on principle. Jhi disliked most males on principle. “What difference would it make? You aren’t interested in either one of them.”
“You got that right. I only come to Tallwood for you, Sal, Shonda, and the gang. The men here can bite me.” Jhi angled the mirrored lid of the jewelry box and admired herself. “Herman especially.”
“I don’t know why you pick on Heck.”
“What can I say? I’m evil, and he’s an easy target.” She laughed. “I still can’t believe you asked someone named Herman to be your maid of honor instead of me.”
“Maybe I didn’t want an evil maid of honor,” Caroline teased as she draped a pink sweater over her chest. She’d have to change out of the strapless black bra, but the pastel color was sweet. Virginal. Bride-like.
Jhi pretended to cry. “I’m wounded.”
“Seriously, I’ve known him forever. I couldn’t not ask.” Caro and Jhi had become friends when Caro had moved back to Tallwood after Heck’s divorce, but Heck was her first friend, the one she’d assumed she could count on for anything.
“What does Dan think of Herman’s role in the proceedings?” Her choice made, Jhi closed the jewelry box with a snick. “I bet he gave you no end of grief.”
“Those look good with your outfit.”
Jhi hooked the second dangly bobble into her ear. “Don’t avoid my question.”
“Dan’s fine with it,” Caro lied, unwilling to give Jhi another reason to dislike him. He’d made it clear—in a spurt of unforeseen stubbornness—that after the wedding, she couldn’t hang out with Heck.
While one part of Caroline bucked anyone telling her what to do, another part knew it would be healthier. She’d be living in Atlanta with Dan after tomorrow, so the distance might solve the Heck conundrum anyway. It hurt her to contemplate life without him, but she had to concede that she’d stagnated. When Dan had proposed, she’d… Well, she hadn’t jumped at the opportunity, but she’d decided it was for the best.
Heck, despite going into booby shock, was never going to step up. He was never going to graduate from the friend zone, and it wasn’t because she’d locked him there.
So here she was, on the eve of her big day, on the eve of saying good-bye to Heck, contemplating a fuzzy pink sweater that looked more like a baby shower than a bachelorette party.
“I wouldn’t be fine if my fiancé hung out with a chick all the time.” Jhi waggled her head so the earrings danced. “Don’t wear that top. It’s frumpy.”
“Dan trusts me,” Caro said, or so he’d claimed when they’d last argued about Heck. It was Heck he didn’t trust. She patted the soft and, yes, frumpy sweater Dan had given her last Christmas. Maybe she could make a cat bed out of it. “He wouldn’t be marrying me if he didn’t.”
A corporate accountant she’d met at a consulting site in Georgia, Dan Armitage was ambitious, philosophical, and fiscally cautious. He was a fan of black-and-white movies—which weren’t her favorite but which she tolerated for his sake, as he tolerated horror movies for hers. Heck sure didn’t, so score one for Dan. He enjoyed college basketball, lectures about man’s place in the universe, and making love with her on top—also not her favorite. But infrequent, sitting-up sex with a man who gave great foot massages was better than the dry spell she’d had in her twenties.
She cared for Dan in a comfortable way. With him, she’d have a relaxed existence. Kids. Less commotion, fewer highs and lows. Atlanta wasn’t far from her parents. She’d cut back on travel and political rallies. She and Dan could participate in letter-writing campaigns and local activism. Marriage would settle her the hell down.
Yet instead of feeling as if she was on the brink of getting what she wanted, she felt like a can of cola about to explode. It didn’t help that she and Dan hadn’t slept together in months. “Considering this is Herman we’re talking about,” Jhi said, “I can see why Dan trusts you.”
Caro stuffed the sweater back in the dresser. “I’m not trustworthy on my own?”
“No, but Herman is. Which doesn’t mean you should have picked him to be maid of honor,” Jhi added in a singsong voice before sprawling on the bed.
“It would have hurt his feelings to be left out.” And, she had to admit, she felt a little nuts, a little desolate, at the prospect of losing him. She’d included him in as many aspects of the wedding as she could. Spent as much time with him as she could. Dan had kept his mouth mostly shut, since he was getting what he wanted soon enough.
Jhi stuck one toned leg into the air, admiring her spike-heeled boot. “Herman has all the feelings of a block of wood.”
Caro, standing by the closet, balled up her silk robe and lobbed it at Jhi. “Heck’s more sensitive than you realize.” And generous, honorable, playful, and sweet, and if Jhi had ever seen the man without a shirt, she wouldn’t have been joking about him playacting as a stripper. She’d have been begging him to do it.
“We’d have more fun without him tonight. Since he won’t be taking us to a club like a legitimate maid of honor, I can’t imagine what he thinks is appropriate.”
Caroline had some idea of what Heck might have in mind and pulled out her last new dress anyway. This one was tighter. Lower cut. Like the red dress, it had been purchased in an orgy of spending after the incident at the bridal salon. She wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to wear it, but she wanted to look sexy. Feel sexy. Be sexy.
“We’ll probably go somewhere local.” She fondled the silky purple fabric and imagined how the people of Tallwood would stare if she came waltzing into the Piggly Wiggly wearing it. Imagined how Heck would stare.
“Oh, Lord,” Jhi muttered. “All-you-can-eat Country Buffet, here we come.”
Caroline unhooked her bra, which didn’t work with the neckline, and struggled into the dress. Her voice muffled by fabric, she said, “Be nice to him, no matter what he arranged. No mocking his party.”
“Not even if he—”
“Not even.” Her head popped free of the garment, coiffure miraculously intact, and she shimmied the fabric down her body.
Jhi tossed the robe into the floor. “That’s a great color on you. Brings out red highlights in your hair. Is it new?”
“Yeah.” Caro self-consciously lifted her boobs into the tight bodice. Unlike the wedding gown, this dress had straps. Barely. They hung on the curve of her shoulders like decorations instead of anything designed to keep the garment in place. The deep plum shade made her tanned, freckled skin seem almost pale. The midsection had corset boning, which kept her sags from sagging and her pooches from pooching. The skirt, also snug, skimmed the top of her knees.
Once Caro had her breasts fine-tuned, Jhi whistled. “Wowza. Where have you been packing all that, girlfriend?”
“In a steamer trunk,” she joked. She was blessed in the bosom department, but in this dress, with her brown hair done up in curls, courtesy of Jhi, and her makeup smoky, also courtesy of Jhi, she looked like she’d stepped off the cover of a girlie magazine.
“It’s R-rated.” Jhi hopped off the bed and circled Caroline, inspecting the dress from all angles. “You’re an inch from a nip slip.”
“Do you think it’s too much?” Caroline stared at the neckline. The low, low neckline. Was that areola or freckles? She inhaled as deeply as the dress would allow and nothing popped free.
“It’s definitely too much,” Jhi said with a snigger. “I wish I had one in my size.”
“Then this is what I’ll wear.” She had little occasion as an environmental consultant to wear clothing this swanky, and when she visited Dan, they rarely went out anymore. Hell, they rarely did anything anymore
besides have deep conversations about global economics and cook gourmet food. They might as well be married. She slipped into heels tall enough that they wobbled and wicked enough that her toes were going to hate her in the morning.
In the morning, when she’d be putting on a different dress and different shoes.
To walk beside a different man.
“You do realize,” Jhi said, “that Herman’s going to stare at your chest all night.”
“So?” She did a salsa move in her wiggle dress, testing the new shoes. Would there be dancing tonight? Or would they shoot pool at the Paradise Bar while she wore a cheap bridal veil and drank beer?
“Oh, Caroline. You’re pitiful.” Jhi grabbed her in a quick, unexpected hug. “That’s what the dress is for, isn’t it? For Herman to stare at your chest.”
“It’s for me, and I’m not pitiful.” She raised her chin. “I want to feel pretty. Sexy.”
“That comes from attitude, not clothes.” Jhi glanced at the dainty gold watch on her wrist and sighed. “He’ll be here soon. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“No worries. I won’t drink so much I get stupid.” She slipped on her black cardigan and peeked over her shoulder at Jhi, who was watching her with an expression that was almost alien on her angular face. It looked sort of like compassion.
“I guess it depends on how you define stupid,” Jhi said. “Some people might say getting married is stupid.”
“There are lots of happily married couples in the world. My parents, for example.”
“Not mine.” Jhi pulled a face. “The least you could do is have Dan move to Tallwood. Better yet, since he loves the urban lifestyle, you could move to Memphis.”
Caro relocated her cell phone, her wallet, a lipstick, and a few essentials into a vintage sequined clutch that had been Gran’s. “You’re starting to sound like Heck.”
“Ouch!” Jhi laughed. “Can you blame me for wanting you to stick around? If there’s one thing Herman gets right, it’s that. Have you considered telling him?”
“Telling him that he gets anything right? I’m not the one constantly insulting him, Jhi. Maybe you should tell him.”
Jhi’s dark eyes sparkled. “You think I should tell him before you do something you regret? Interesting. I’ll take that under consideration.”
“You’re a nutcase.” Once Caroline was in Atlanta, would Jhi and Heck have anything to do with each other? Probably not. “My life may not be perfect, but whose is? I’m not going to regret getting married.”
But what she suspected she’d regret, for the rest of her life, was something she’d never been brave enough to do. She, who was brave enough to march on city hall and get arrested for it, brave enough to testify against polluting factories about their lack of compliance with environmental policy, had never been brave enough to tell Heck her secret.
“You’re going to play dumb. Fine. But you can’t blame me if I do the right thing.” Jhi heaved a huge mock sigh. “I hate playing hero. I make a better villain.”
“I tell you what,” Caro said. “If I try to dance on a table tonight, you can be my hero and stop me.”
“Anything for you, cupcake. Whenever you decide it’s time for the shit to hit the fan, all you have to do is this.” Jhi curled her fingers into a T in American Sign Language. “I’ll make it happen. Trouble is my Caucasian name.”
“I’m not planning on trouble. This is a party with our friends. We won’t be able to do this a lot after I’m married.” Who knew how much her mild feelings for Dan had been inhibited by the giant crush she had on Heck? Dan was the one who’d asked her out, not Heck. Never Heck. Dan was the one who wanted to marry her. It wasn’t that she felt incomplete without a ring on her finger, but her friendship with Heck was incomplete, too.
“Just leave it to me.” Jhi wiggled the T sign suggestively. “Your timing sucks ass, but hey. It’ll benefit me, too.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her mind on how her life was about to change. She loved her friends, her business, and her family, but it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough.
“I think you do.” Before Jhi elaborated, a syncopated knock rapped on the front door. Shave and a haircut. She’d been hearing that beat for thirty-four years.
Her stomach lurched.
He was here.
Jhi shoved the whiskey bottle into her suddenly trembling hand. “One for the road.”
Caro swallowed a gulp of amber liquid and let the burn propel her forward. Tonight would be the last time Caroline Ann Oakenfield and Herman Edward Heckley III spent the night as friends. As if Dan’s ultimatum weren’t enough, their interactions the past few weeks had cinched it. The way she felt about Heck, he couldn’t be part of her life once she was married to another man.
It was time to stop expecting miracles. It was time to grow up.
Chapter Four
Heck had never known women were so dirty-minded.
Caro’s friend Lisa, who turned into a hussy once she got a couple drinks in her, left no details untouched as she described how the star quarterback at her alma mater liked to have his balls sucked.
“Oh, come on.” Heck’s face burned hot as a welding torch. Crushed in a limo with eleven women, there was no getting away from the trash talk. Or Lisa’s hand, which kept creeping up his leg. “Can’t we change the subject?”
Caro threw back her head and laughed. Stars twinkled in her ears, reflecting the lights around the ceiling. “This is a bachelorette party, Heck. This is what we do.”
“It didn’t mention this in the maid of honor handbook,” he complained to Sally, who giggled and took another picture with one of the disposable cameras he’d provided.
Lisa took advantage of his conversation with Sally to walk her fingers across his thigh, going for his…
“Whoa.” He shoved her hand into her own lap and caught Caro watching them from the other bench.
Again.
She quit smiling. Jhi whispered something in her ear.
The night hadn’t started out like this. He’d worn his tux, which was a tight fit but didn’t constrict him where it counted, and tamed his hair with waxy goo. He’d practiced a couple speeches in the mirror where he explained to Caro why she shouldn’t marry Dan. Then he’d fetched her, Jhi, and their crazy-ass friends in the limo. He knew a guy who knew a guy, so he’d gotten a really good deal on the car and driver.
After pretending they were going to dinner at the Country Buffet, he’d taken them to the Astaria Hotel. Chicken salad sandwiches—he knew how much women loved salad—fruit cups, and the best french fries in Tallwood, along with a white zinfandel Jhi’s uncle Ralph had recommended.
The ladies were dressed to the nines, Caro in some kind of purplish dress that might as well have been topless. The other women rhapsodized over her boobs, but he kept his rhapsody to himself. Thank God she’d added a black cardigan when they’d switched to the limo. He didn’t need the constant reminder that he’d developed an ill-timed hankering for his best friend’s feminine assets.
He wasn’t sure if his change of heart was because she’d practically flashed him the other day or because she was getting married, but it was probably both. Like the combination of wet weather and poorly placed vents leading to dry rot in a crawl space. Could be one, could be the other, but when you had both, you were screwed.
Right now, molds and fungi were not Heck’s problem. More like overheating.
Each time one of the ladies started in with another dirty story, he squirmed with embarrassment. Then he got hotter, wondering if Caro would go next and what she’d say. If she did pipe up, he might have to stuff his dress sock in her mouth. Caro’s sex life, or lack thereof, was a topic he needed to sandblast from his brain. It needed to be stripped off like peeling paint on a picnic table until his thoughts about her were as pure as virgin boards.
She was his friend. If he couldn’t change her mind, she was getting married tomorrow. And he couldn’t
quit fantasizing about her, even as the bachelorette party cruised to its next destination.
Thinking about how impressed the ladies were going to be by that destination helped Heck focus on the here and now. Unfortunately, in the here and now, Lisa was in the process of telling a tale about three guys, a bathtub, and a jar of Vaseline.
She was a slick one, all right. As she ran her mouth, her arm slipped behind him like she was greased, and her fingers tickled the waistband of his slacks.
Somebody snapped a picture. And squealed.
He pushed his spine against the padded seat—he, Lisa, and this other gal, Shonda, were on the rear bench—and trapped Lisa’s hand before she raided his pants.
Did Caroline realize that Lisa was as invasive as termites? He kept catching Caro’s glare, as though Lisa’s behavior were his fault. What the hell did Caroline care if he hooked up with her friend? Lisa was single—unlike Caro.
Still, he wasn’t interested in Lisa. He just wished he could tell Caroline so she’d quit sending him hate mail with her eyeballs. If she was pissed at him, it would make it harder to persuade her not to go through with the wedding. Once the ladies exhausted their supply of Vaseline jokes, Sally scooped up the tall tale baton. “Remember my bachelorette party? And the boathouse?”
Apparently they did, because most of them started cackling. More pictures were taken. Shonda laughed so hard she was nearly bawling. Sally babbled something that was half gasp and half shriek. Heck couldn’t decipher a word of it.
“He never ran so fast before,” Jhi said, barely catching her breath. “Not even on the field.”
“That football player I used to do was fast, too.” Lisa rubbed her bosom against Heck’s arm like she was trying to polish him to a shine. “At least my jaws never got tired.”
The women slapped their legs and howled. Heck tried to edge away from Lisa the octopus, but Shonda was a big lady, and there wasn’t much space. At least Shonda didn’t think he was trying to hit on her when he scooched closer. He didn’t think he could have dealt with lady paws coming at him from both sides.