by Xavier Neal
The second half of my plan seems…insane.
Very…unlike me.
Very impractical considering we’ve never even been on an official date.
But that’s the thing.
We don’t need to do some textbook bullshit.
We’ve already done it!
The lean on you during hard times. The make you laugh until you can’t breathe. The long talks about absolutely fucking nothing, yet they contain the answers to everything. In retrospect. we’ve been dating for most of our friendship and only recently taken it to the next level. A level that I’d rather die on than ever leave. Lenny’s letting me into much more than her abundance of boy shorts panties. She’s finally opened up in ways that may make her feel vulnerable but make me feel like I’m the strongest motherfucker on Earth. I realized in our time together, she’s always been the better listener, the better helper, the better…partner. It’s always been my needs over hers. She has this habit of taking care of others that’s hard to spot because her behavior appears so erratic, but after some reflection, I came to the conclusion that it’s less random than it looks. Her goal is always to help others find, achieve, or maintain their happiness.
Sometimes that means ditching expensive steaks to slurp wing sauce off their fingers.
Sometimes that means subjecting yourself to an unwanted makeover.
And sometimes that means tricking your best friend into getting out of his own way to see how much you really love him.
“You okay?” Lenny questions, lifting her glass to her lips.
I blink away the clumps of thoughts to offer her a nod of reassurance. “I was just thinking.”
She lifts her eyebrows for me to continue.
“People change, Lennox.” My hand reaches over to take hers. “They grow up.”
“He tried to drink from the champagne tower as she was pouring it.”
“They wise up.”
“He’s had too many hits to the head for that to be true.”
“They learn to focus on what brings them the most joy.”
This time she bites on her index finger in response.
A sweet smile is accompanied by my removing of her appendage from her mouth. I lift it up to my lips to deliver a soft kiss. “Be good to your fingers, baby. My balls don’t enjoy being groped by ones that feel like baby shark teeth.”
Lenny rolls her eyes on a loud laugh.
“Want me to get you another drink?” I nod towards her nearly empty glass. “Probably gonna get myself a refill.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she brushes off and stands. “I’m actually gonna go figure out how hard it is to pee in this thing and will swing by the bar afterwards.”
I admire the tight, emerald green cocktail dress that is slightly off one shoulder yet down to mid bicep on the other side. It has a tight fit on her full chest and wide hips, along with a high slit that has me loving the fact I know she’s not wearing anything underneath but hating that I have to wait hours before I can act upon it.
Lenny wiggles around uncomfortably forcing me to recall how much difficulty she had getting into her attire. “Why would you have a wedding on the beach but still require us to wear evening dresses?”
Leaning back in my seat, I merely offer her a shoulder shrug.
“It’s horseshit,” she grumbles, “and in protest, they’ll be lucky if they see me in heels by the time they finally get around to our table.”
Another smirk slides onto my face as I watch her stomp away in her black heels.
Once she’s out of sight, I decide to do a lap of the star-studded event.
The issue I have with attending this wedding isn’t the same one she voiced. What should be a beautiful, blessed, personal day has been made into a media circus spectacle that requires me to behave like a highly sought-after sports agent rather than just an old pal. I stroll through the venue, greeting players signed with our company, players who someday wish to be signed with us, and people who think my career is a joke in comparison to what they do. Never mind the time in law school I endured or the fact I helped build a lucrative company from the ground up. “Babysitting athletes’ millions” should be considered an embarrassment.
Gotta love soirees like this…
My trek around the room eventually leads me to Christian, who has stopped making his tour to share a drink with what appears to be his groomsmen and Mick.
As soon as he sets eyes on me, he throws his massive linebacker arms in the air, splashing his drink on the man next to him. “Yeah! Lucas is in the house!” He gives me a solid pat to the shoulder. “So glad you could make it man!”
I give him a warm nod. “Me too. Never thought I’d see the day Christian ‘Make ‘Em Cry’ Cole decided to let one woman lock him down for life.”
“That’s what I said!” His best man laughs.
My smile remains kind. “Congrats, again.”
“Thanks, man!” Christian chuckles and proceeds to introduce me to the semi-circle of men gathered with him. “Tank, Newman, and Peters, this is Gideon Lucas, another old college bro and my agent who owns A+ Athletes with Mick.”
We exchange handshakes along with polite greetings.
“Unlike Mick who just liked to enjoy the easy pussy that our parties always brought out back in the day, Lucas was on the team. Fullback.” He looks upon me fondly. “Fucking good one, too.”
Tank, the best man, promptly questions. “Why didn’t you go pro?”
“Injured.”
“Couldn’t walk it off?” Peters pokes.
“Could barely walk at all,” I inform, hands finding their way to my suit pockets.
“That when you decided to become an agent?” Newman inquires. “That whole can’t do teach bullshit?”
“That’d be coaching.” My correction is met with slightly drunken chuckles of agreement.
Mick unnecessarily comes to my defense. “Football wasn’t the only sport Lucas loved, so coaching wouldn’t have been the right call, anyway. A man who can spout out facts and figures of athletes in every major sports league in America shouldn’t be tied down to one sport.”
“Just like Cole shouldn’t be tied to any one piece of pussy,” Tank loudly mocks on another round of laughs.
Christian shrugs it off though his stare locks onto someone in the distance. “Holy shit. Speaking of pussy, is that Long Legs Lennox?!”
Fuck, I forgot how much I hated that nickname.
Everyone’s attention redirects to where my date is badly disco dancing with an elderly woman to “Love Shack” by the B52s.
“That’s her,” Mick quietly confirms.
He didn’t care for it much either. While he wasn’t ever interested in her the way I was, she was and is like having a younger sister he feels the need to protect.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” He rushes the sentence out. “You know, besides making a man wish he had seen her a few hours ago before he said yes so he could make her say yes all night.”
My tone is tighter than my fists are curled. “It is part of my responsibility to remind you, Christian, that you are a public figure at a very public event with media eyes and ears everywhere.” I lean slightly closer and drop my volume. “And as the man who is fortunate enough to have her in his bed every night, I suggest you watch your goddamn mouth before I end both of our careers.”
Christian’s expression transforms to one of shock while his groomsmen collectively decide it’s necessary for another drink. Tank throws an arm around Christian to lead him away, however, before he’s completely out of my vision, he offers me an unforeseen nod of admiration.
Can’t make him stay true to his wife, but I can insure he doesn’t disrespect mine.
And she is my wife.
With or without rings.
A ring will come soon.
Very soon.
I met with the jeweler yesterday morning for a consultation while Lenny was at the shelter for a morning shift. She thought I had a work meeting
, which made her feel less guilty for not taking the entire day off to come out to South Haven Island for the wedding festivities. It was work in a way. There’s so much shit to learn about picking the perfect ring. Cut. Clarity. Stone. Carrot. Vintage. Modern. Fuck, it was like having to learn stats on a brand-new fucking player you know nothing about other than you’re required to sign him.
Mick clears his throat to grab my attention, but I leave my eyes on Lenny, not sure I trust Christian to keep his distance. “Did you just risk throwing away one of your top clients over a pass at our best friend?”
“No.” Lenny’s entire body starts to bobble back and forth like she’s found the Holy Ghost in a southern Baptist church. “I risked throwing away one of my top clients for the love of my life.”
The elderly female is soon joined by her husband who laughs at Lenny’s wild movements yet tries to join in on them.
“Does she know?” Mick quietly questions.
“How ridiculous she looks? Probably not.” A small shrug escapes me at the same time I chuckle at her antics. “Then again, there’s a good chance she does and doesn’t care…That’s Lenny.”
“I meant the being the love of your life part.” Mick’s comment causes me to grant him my attention. “Does she know that?”
Unsure of how to answer, I don’t.
“Are you ever gonna fucking tell her?” He pushes. “You’re already fucking sleeping with her, which by the way, thanks for letting me in on that little fact, congratulations.”
My sneer is immediate. “It’s not like that, Mick. Fucking her wasn’t on my goddamn bucket list. I don’t need praise for it.”
“Was praising you getting your head out of your ass and finally making some progress with the only person you wanna be with on this entire planet.”
Yet again uncertain of what to say, I remain silent.
“Tell her,” he forcefully encourages. “Stop pussyfooting around like you’re some asshole waiting on a better deal to knock on your door instead of signing the perfect one you were given. Stop wasting time. Close that deal. It is literally the most important one in your life.”
“Mick!” Minnie squeaks, appearing out of nowhere. “Come on! I wanna go dance.”
“Sweetheart, you know I hate dancing.”
“But look at how much fun Lennox is having.” She motions her head towards my date who is now doing the sprinkler with a group of children.
Mick offers jovial commentary. “Is she having a seizure?”
I helplessly chuckle at both her movements and his response.
“She’s having fun!” Minnie takes his hand and slowly leads him towards the dance floor. “Besides, it’s a wedding! There’s always dancing at weddings.”
Mick grumbles at her prior to throwing me a look over his shoulder. “Your ass better be coming with us.”
After only a small hesitation I follow behind them, destination set on joining my better half. As soon as she spots me, she starts voguing, a clear throwback to our college dancing days. The small children gathered around her feet strike poses of dramatic fashions while I freeze in GQ worthy positions. We’re eventually joined by the bride, Maisie, and her bridesmaids, who follow Lenny’s anarchy by ditching their heels to dance more freely. Christian, along with the groomsmen, soon come over to partake in the fun. There’s lots of laughter exchanged and lyrics shouted as opposed to sung.
The music transitions from the popular country song, “Shake My Boots Off” by Cooper Copeland to a classic that has both me and Lenny wildly smiling.
Everyone we’re dancing beside sings the infamous lines to the opening while my date does what she always does when there’s enough room.
She breaks into the infamous moves.
However, instead of waiting until much later in the song to join in, I immediately start on the first line of “Can’t Touch This”. Her eyes widen in surprise and delight alike. She continues to move around the space growing verbal praise for the moves she’s busting in her cocktail dress.
When we reach the chorus again, Lenny hits me with a devilish grin. “Can’t match this.”
I laugh loudly at the parody of words and break out into the dance at her side. Parts of the wedding party try to figure out the fancy footwork while others just rap along. At the point the most infamous breakdown appears we all give our best Hammer impressions, most looking like drunken vacationers stumbling off a cruise ship.
Once the D.J. moves onto a slow song, many of the wedding party members disperse to grab refreshments.
“Should we get a drink?” Lenny inquires, hands planted on her hips as she blows damp curls out of her face. “Rest up for another round of showing Mick yet again who is ultimately the best dancer in our shared friendship?”
Despite the dull ache in my lower back, I extend my hand towards her and shake my head. “One more dance.”
Lenny gives me a dramatically bashful look at the same time she drops her hand into mine. “Oh, my. To canción de boyband?” I pull her body against mine. “Does this one count? Technically, it’s a country music song featuring a boyband.”
“God, Your Mama, and Me” by Florida Georgia Line featuring The Backstreet Boys shamelessly pumps out of the speakers like its daring me to take the bait to engage in the pointless discussion.
My arms tightly wind around her waist. “Just shut up and dance.”
She giggles and presses her cheek to my chest, arms matching my tangled position. I lower my face to rest my head against hers and let Mick’s words mix with the message of the romantic melody.
Getting Lenny to agree to spend forever with me is the most important deal I will ever strike in my life. I’m prepared to negotiate until my dying days to get the “yes” I’ve always wanted. Just praying it doesn’t take nearly that long.
Chapter Ten
Lennox
Why am I so nervous? Why do I feel as if I’m fourteen again trying to convince myself to tell Dave Carter that I think he’s hot instead of a grown-ass woman who has simply chosen a cute, creative way to confess that she’s in love with her best friend? He probably is already well aware of the fact. I mean…at this point how could he not be? We’re inseparable. Sure, we were stuck together like glue before, but now we’re also sexually plastered like two virgins who just stopped being virgins together. Our days used to frequently start and end with one another, yet after the wedding it seems we’re on next level shit. Monday, he delivered me breakfast in bed followed by morning sex then shared it with me on Tuesday morning between conference calls, which he took in the kitchen via his Bluetooth rather than rushing into the office before catching his flight. He video chatted the following one, claiming he loves starting our days together and enjoys the laid-back nature I occasionally force him to take thanks to me rarely having to be at either job before ten. He promised we would start more of them at my pace if my new job allows for it. Ever since we started sleeping together a few weeks ago our days have passed with consistent texts, courtesy to my new habit of keeping my phone charged, while our nights are just as they’ve always been, except now we make out in the middle of a movie or bone on the couch during sports highlights. There’s nothing left to do but make it all official, which is what he did on his end when he confessed after the wedding that he was canceling our previous deal because I was the only woman he wanted to spend his time with. I pushed hard for him to at least keep date number six. Told him, we could be exclusive after he went out with her, after he made sure she wasn’t a good fit…He bitched. Griped. Moaned. Argued. Refused. And then, as he usually does when I pout for too long, he caved. Said he’d meet her, tell her he was crazy about someone else, and sorry for the inconvenience. He also made me deactivate the email account associated with the agreement to further reiterate the point he’s completely done. It’s been hard maintaining the secrecy that I am date number six. However, I will say I have put in quite a lot of pre-planning effort to make our first official date incredible.
Kristen gree
ts me with a warm grin as I head towards Gideon’s closed door. “Evening, Lennox!”
“Evening,” I warmly state back.
“You look fantastic,” she compliments, casually pointing to the neon yellow, halter top, summer dress I forced myself into.
Yeah. I put on real clothes for this thing. Not just basketball shorts and a tank top. His ass better appreciate it.
“Thanks.”
“It’s also fun to see lipstick on your lips instead of just pieces of paper.” The tease is proceeded by a playful wink. “You can go on in. He’s just making a video message.”
“Yelling at his future self because he knows he’s gonna be a stubborn dick about something?”