by Alexa Land
We grabbed bottles of water and headed to the patio, and I paused at the top of the stairs and surveyed all the activity out on the massive lawn. About twenty feet in front of me, a wide, trellised arch had been set up, which would be covered in flowers on Sunday. Beyond it, workers were arranging dozens of white, wooden chairs in precise rows, and at the far end of the lawn, maybe thirty feet behind the last row of chairs, an enormous, white tent was going up for the reception dinner. What a production.
Cole and Darwin dropped into chairs on the patio and put their feet up on the low brick wall. The teen tipped down the brim of his black baseball cap and pressed the water bottle to his flushed cheek to try to cool down a bit after the heat of the kitchen. Meanwhile, I jogged down the stairs, stretched out on the grass, and told my companions, “I’m just going to pass out for a few minutes. You may need to administer CPR to get me up again.”
“I think River has the right idea,” Darwin said. He and Cole joined me on the lawn and stretched out on either side of me.
“I shouldn’t have kept you out so late,” Cole told me as he tucked his hands behind his head. “You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?”
“Sure I did.” I’d dosed off briefly around dawn. The wood floor of the band shell hadn’t exactly been comfortable, but I wouldn’t have changed a thing about that night.
Darwin said, “So, your moonlit picnic turned into an all-nighter?”
“Something like that.”
Cole and I both grinned, and the teen smiled and let his eyes close as he said, “I see.”
The three of us got to our feet a few minutes later, when the wedding party began to filter out the back door of the inn. They’d just returned from wine tasting at several of the local vineyards. Jamie and Dmitri’s daughter Lily ran on ahead, as pink ribbons trailed from her short, dark pigtails. The three-year-old laughed with a couple of her young cousins as they darted through the arch and down the aisle between the chairs. Dmitri’s youngest sister Ani was right on their heels, and all smiles. She’d volunteered to act as kid wrangler that weekend so the parents could relax a bit and enjoy themselves, but the kids and their self-appointed nanny seemed to be the only members of Cat’s family who were having a good time.
Dmitri’s sisters were a glamorous bunch, with big hair, lots of jewelry, and designer outfits. The way they were clustered around the bride reminded me of Secret Service agents. Inside their protective circle, Cat was flanked by Jessica, who held her hand, and Marley, a tall, gorgeous, African-American woman with lots of makeup and very short hair. Marley was married to Lena, one of the Secret Service sisters. Fernando, Dmitri, and Jamie followed the women closely. Everyone was trying to appear cheerful, but it felt forced somehow.
There was a clear divide between Cat’s friends and family and Conrad’s. The groomsmen and their wives breezed out of the inn with wine glasses in hand, followed by the groom, his parents, and his uncle. They were all talking and laughing loudly, and I couldn’t tell if they were oblivious or indifferent to the fact that there was tension in the air.
I studied the bride carefully when she came up to us. Cat wore a plain, black, sleeveless dress that skimmed the top of her knees, along with a pair of matching pumps, and her blonde hair was coiled in a tidy bun. She smiled at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We’re about to pulverize some grapes,” she said. “Come with us.”
As Cole, Darwin and I fell into step with Cat and her family, I asked her how she was doing, and she muttered, “I don’t know.” Just then, one of the frat boys punctuated a joke he was telling by whooping and jumping around like a gorilla, and the contingent of groomsmen and their wives shrieked with laughter. A frown line appeared between Cat’s brows, and she whispered, “I’ll tell you this, though. If I get through this weekend without killing any of my fiancé’s friends, it’ll be a goddamn miracle.”
Marley overheard Cat and whispered, “If you do become homicidal, I suggest taking down that perky redhead in the yellow dress first, the one who laughs like a hyena. Is her name Muffy?”
When Cat nodded, I said, “There are really people in the world named Muffy?’
“They all have adorable little nicknames,” Cat muttered. “Muffy and Binky and Bunny, like fucking cartoon characters.” I knew better than to mention the fact that her fiancé called her Kitty.
Cole kept his voice down as he asked, “What did they do to piss you off?”
“There wasn’t one specific thing. It’s just all these little digs and catty comments,” Marley said. “Like a couple minutes ago, Muffy told Cat it was nice to see her in something so ladylike, then asked if someone had bought that dress for her. What the fuck kind of bullshit is that?” Marley dressed a lot like Cat. At the moment, she was wearing a short red dress and very high heels, so she’d probably found that just as offensive as Cat did.
“Did you actually let that comment go?” I asked Cat. “You’ve never been shy about speaking up for yourself.”
“I’m trying to play nice for Conrad’s sake,” she told me. “Those bitches are married to his best friends. Never mind that the men are just as annoying as their wives.”
“What’s Conrad been doing while all of this has been going on?” Cole asked.
“He’s clueless,” Jessica said, peering at me around Cat. The petite brunette pushed a long strand of hair behind her shoulder and added, “He seems to think he’s at a college reunion. He’s totally focused on his buddies and is too busy swilling wine and laughing at every dumb joke to notice any of it.”
I glanced at Cat and asked, “Did you ever talk to Conrad?”
“Kind of. I told him I was feeling anxious, and he said everyone gets nervous before their wedding. I couldn’t find the words to tell him it’s more than that.”
“You need to try again.”
“I know, but I haven’t even had five minutes alone with him today. First it was the wine tasting, now the stupid grape stomping, and after this we’re all getting cleaned up and going to some famous restaurant in town. His parents made reservations for the whole wedding party, and the frat brats are so excited.” The frown line between Cat’s eyebrows deepened, and she added, “Oh yay, looks like we’re all ready to flatten the shit out of some grapes. Good times.”
Three wide, low barrels were lined up on canvas tarps along the edge of the pool. Each was half-filled with red grapes. A bartender was waiting for us, dressed in a vaguely Italian period costume. The bar was flanked by two big tables full of appetizers, which Conrad’s uncle had ordered from a well-known local restaurant. I was just glad it hadn’t been my job to make them.
Cat went straight to the bar, pushed aside the glasses of wine, and asked for a beer. Meanwhile, the groomsmen took off their shoes and jumped into the barrels. They started singing loudly in mock Italian as they stomped around, and their wives and Conrad’s parents howled with laughter. Conrad hung back at the edge of the crowd, staring at the preparations on the lawn and not really paying attention to what was happening on the pool deck.
Cole and I traded our empty water bottles for glasses of wine, and as the bartender handed Darwin a soda, the teen asked, “Why are you dressed like Leonardo Da Vinci?”
The bartender looked down at his costume and said, “So that’s who I’m supposed to be.”
We leaned against the bar and watched the crowd for a while. Eventually, I turned to Cole and said, “Want to give it a go when they’re done?”
He frowned a little and muttered, “It doesn’t seem all that fun anymore.”
He was right. The frat boy brigade had totally taken over and made it all about them, clowning and mugging for photos while their wives snapped pictures with their phones and rooted them on like a bunch of cheerleaders. They seemed oblivious to the idea that anyone else might want to participate. It went on and on for several more minutes, and finally Cole murmured, “We should just go.”
“No, wait.” I crossed the pool deck and called to Conrad’s friends, “H
ow about giving someone else a turn?” They totally ignored me. I yelled, “Hey, can some other people try it?” It was like I hadn’t even spoken.
The groomsmen started singing again, and a couple of them tied cloth napkins around their heads and started dancing the waltz in one of the barrels. Their wives shrieked with laughter, and the redhead exclaimed as she held up her phone, “Oh my gawd, you look so gay! Just wait until I show this video to the guys at the club, you’ll never live it down!”
The two men dancing with each other laughed, and Kip exclaimed in a falsetto, “Oh Chet, be my boyfriend!”
Anger flared in me. I muttered, “Oh hell no,” as I scooped up a big handful of grape pulp, and then I chucked it at the back of Kip’s head. Some of it ricocheted off and hit Chet, too. Two-for-one.
It was like dragging a needle across a record player. Everyone fell silent and turned to stare at me. I was too pissed off to care, and I yelled, “First of all, gay is not a punchline! Repeat that to yourselves a few times until it sinks in. Second, you aren’t the only people here! The rest of us don’t just exist to bask in the glory of your rich, hetero, frat boy awesomeness! So how about dragging your privileged, self-entitled asses out of those damn barrels and giving someone else a turn?”
The redhead in the yellow dress was livid. She turned to Conrad and snapped, “Are you going to let the help talk to my husband that way? I don’t even know what the kitchen staff thinks they’re doing out here with the rest of us!”
Cat growled, “They’re here because they’re my friends and my invited guests, and you owe them an apology!”
Muffy put her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so. Your Mexican friend is the one who needs to apologize for throwing things at my husband!”
Cat thrust her bottle at Darwin and said, “Hold my beer.” Then she strode forward, grabbed a huge handful of grape pulp, and hurled it at the redhead’s smug face. Cat had perfect form, delivering the payload like a major league pitcher. Direct hit!
Muffy looked stunned as the pulp dripped off her red curls and ran down the front of her sundress. Everyone remained frozen for a full second, stunned by what had just happened. The redhead blinked at Cat, and then she narrowed her eyes.
In the next instant, a huge food fight broke out. Cole, Darwin, and I exchanged looks, and then we rushed over to the nearest barrel, grabbed the side, and tried to dump out the two frat boys inside it. The thing weighed a ton and we could barely budge it, but then Dmitri and Jamie joined us, and the five of us dumped the groomsmen into the pool.
Half the grapes went with them, but there were still plenty in the barrel when Cole and I jumped inside. “You’re right,” I yelled over the ruckus, grabbing Cole around the waist to keep us both upright as we found our footing, “this is fun!” He beamed at me, then swung me around to dodge a huge grape comet, which streaked past us.
Dmitri’s sisters and the frat wives went after each other like rival gangs, using the appetizers as ammunition. Meanwhile, all the groomsmen turned on Cole and me. Jamie, Dmitri, and Fernando fought back with us, but the real surprise was Darwin. He grabbed a couple plastic cups and jumped into our barrel, then used them to scoop up and fling so much pulp so quickly that Chet and Kip leapt out of their barrel and retreated from the rapid-fire grape onslaught. It was glorious.
Cat and Muffy lunged at each other and fell into the recently vacated barrel. My friend grabbed the redhead, spun her around, and face-planted her in the mash. Muffy shrieked and tried to reach around to pull Cat’s hair, but Cat just kept dunking her again and again. Suddenly, Conrad grabbed Cat, lifted her out of the barrel, and exclaimed, “Stop it, Kitty!”
She whirled on him and yelled, “My name is Catherine or Cat. It is not now, nor will it ever be, Kitty! And why the fuck should I stop it? Why don’t you tell your douchey frat buddies or their horrible Stepford wives to stop it? In fact, as my future husband, why didn’t you get in that fucking barrel and dunk that skank with me? Have you really been so caught up with your buddies that you haven’t noticed the way their bitch wives have been treating me all weekend? Did you not hear that redheaded asshole when she joked that I must have gotten into Yale by sleeping with an administrator, or when her girlfriend asked if I was going to stop wearing such revealing clothes now that they’d done their job and snagged me a rich husband? You were two fucking feet away, Conrad!”
Everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at the couple. Conrad looked stunned, and he stammered, “No, I didn’t hear that. Otherwise I would have said something!”
“You were too fucking oblivious!”
“Maybe I was, but since when do you need me to speak up for you? Just last week, you threatened to shove a weed-whacker up our neighbor’s ass because he was doing yard work before nine in the morning!”
Cat’s long hair had come loose from the bun, and she pushed it back with a fruit-smeared hand and said, “I don’t expect you to fight my battles for me. I’ve been taking care of myself all my life, and you’re right that I’m perfectly capable of that. But I did need you this weekend, Conrad, because I was feeling so lost. I needed to know you were on my side, and that you loved me, and I needed you to show me you thought I was good enough for you, even if your stuck-up friends think I’m nothing but a gold-digging tramp. Instead, you didn’t even notice how much I was struggling, and you let our wedding weekend turn into a frat party. So, you know what? Go right ahead and keep partying with your friends. The wedding’s off. Maybe you and your buddies can throw a kegger instead.”
Catherine turned and ran toward the inn, and Conrad stared after her for a long moment. Finally he said, “What just happened?”
I climbed out of the barrel and rushed to Conrad’s side as I exclaimed, “Don’t just let her walk away! Go after her and tell her how much she means to you!”
“She just called off our wedding,” he murmured in a daze. “How could she do that?”
“She’s been feeling insecure all weekend,” I said. “She needs you to go after her and show her you care!”
“How could she not know I care? Why would I ask her to marry me if I didn’t care?” He still looked stunned.
Kip came up to us and said, “Let her go, Rad. Look, we didn’t say anything because we didn’t want to offend you, but none of us could figure out why you were marrying that bleached blonde slut in the first place. Cat Sokolov is the kind of girl you fuck, not the kind you marry! Think about your career, and imagine taking her to social functions. The senior partners at your law firm would think you brought a prostitute to meet them! No one would take you seriously with a tramp like that on your arm!”
Conrad punched Kip right in the jaw, dropping him like a bag of rocks, and then he growled, “How the fuck could you say that about the woman I love?”
His father stepped forward. Conrad’s parents and uncle had hidden behind the bar during the food fight, and now the senior Mr. Ballantine exclaimed, “What’s come over you, boy? Kip only wants what’s best for you! How dare you assault him and use that kind of language in front of your mother?”
Conrad stared at his father and exclaimed, “You heard what he just said about my bride-to-be!”
“He’s not wrong about any of it,” Mr. Ballantine said. “I tried to talk you out of marrying that gold-digging hussy when you first told me you planned to propose, but you wouldn’t listen to reason!”
“You know what, Dad? Fuck you, too,” Conrad growled.
His father looked stunned, and he huffed, “We did not raise you to behave this way, young man!”
“No, you didn’t. Instead, you tried to raise me to be a douchebag like you. I’d thought you failed, but now that I realize how self-absorbed I’ve been all weekend, shit, maybe you actually succeeded!” His father started to protest, and Conrad interrupted him. “Go home, Dad, and take my so-called friends with you. I’m going after the woman I love and begging her forgiveness. If I’m lucky enough to convince her to marry me, I don’t want to see any
of you at our wedding.” He turned and ran after Cat, who’d disappeared around the far side of the inn by that point.
“Well, I’m certainly not going to stay where I’m not wanted,” Kip said as he got up and rubbed his jaw. “Come on everyone, let’s grab our things and get out of here. I’m sure as hell not leaving behind the wedding present I brought, either. I suggest you do the same.” Conrad’s parents held their heads high and led the grape-smeared groomsmen and their wives to the inn.
“Shit,” I murmured as I watched Conrad running across the lawn. “I really hope they work it out.”
Cole slid his hand into mine and said, “Me too. She really loves him, and Conrad’s not a bad guy. His friends, on the other hand, are dicks.”
“They really are, and you’re right about Conrad. I don’t know what he thought he was doing all weekend, or why he kept distancing himself from Cat.”
“Maybe they both were overwhelmed by the giant wedding and everything leading up to it, so he withdrew from her and shifted his focus to his friends when it all became too much.”
I thought about that as Conrad disappeared around the edge of the building, then said, “That makes sense, actually. He could have been scared just like she was, but maybe he had a different way of dealing with it. Conrad didn’t just become an insensitive jerk overnight, despite the questionable company he’s been keeping.”
I looked around at Cat’s friends and family. Apparently two of her cousins wanted to chase after Cat, and the rest were trying to convince them to give the couple some space. Then I noticed the trashed pool deck and turned to Conrad’s uncle, who was making himself a drink. The bartender had apparently run off during the chaos. I said, “I’m sorry about the mess, Mr. Ballantine. It’s my fault, I started it. I’ll go find your groundskeeper and ask him for a hose and some scrub brushes, and I’ll get this all cleaned up.”
“Call me Ethan, and don’t worry about the mess.”
“Oh. Um, okay. Well, I’m not sure what to do about all the food in your kitchen. If the wedding really is being called off, then….”