Another Mazzy Monday (15 page)

As we make our way into the bridal shop the cameramen follow us snapping shots. Margaret stops right in front of the entrance and poses exactly as she described. She’s definitely got the publicity photo shoot down to a science.

I try to follow her lead, but I just feel awkward. It doesn’t seem to deter the paparazzi from taking their shots of me though.

Once we’re inside the shop Margaret’s fake smile completely fades and she barks orders to an older gentleman, who I assume is Larry. He and his staff scramble about collecting dresses.

“I called ahead and made an appointment,” Margaret snaps. “You’d think they’d have at least one dress ready to show you.”

After Larry apologies profusely he takes me and Margaret to a private showing room, where we’re seated in high backed velvet chairs and served chocolate covered strawberries and champagne, neither of which Margaret acknowledges or even touches.

Then several models appear wearing dresses and give us a small, private fashion show of what Larry identifies as the latest styles.

It’s all overwhelming and I start to feel a bit dizzy. Everything seems to be getting a little too real for a fake engagement.

Of course Margaret has no idea it’s fake. At least I don’t think she does. With her it’s difficult to tell what’s real or what’s a façade. I’m starting to think that everything in her life is in some way enhanced or modified for the sake of the media.

It’s becoming clearer why Austin took off and decided to have as little contact with them as possible.

“Do you see anything you like?” Her sneer and the condescending tone in her voice lead me to believe that I should say no.

So I shake my head.

“I didn’t think so.”

Margaret abruptly stands and I hop from my chair as well. As soon as Larry sees we’re standing he hurries over to us and says, “Is there anything you’d like to try on?”

Margaret shakes her head. “Not today. But we thank you for your time.”

“Of course,” Larry replies. “And I’ll let you know as soon as we get more of the new line in.”

Without another word Margaret marches out and I follow as quickly as I can. She may have called my shoes sensible, but they’re already killing my feet. I’m used to wearing sneakers or flats when I bartend.

I’m glad to see that all of the photographers have already left by the time we head out of the shop.

“I have appointments at two other upscale bridal shops,” Margaret announces as we head towards the car.

The ritual is nearly identical at each of the bridal shops and after a while all the dresses start to look the same. Not that I’m really paying that much attention to them because I’m not actually getting married.

By the time we’re finished at the third bridal shop my stomach is growling and I’m starting to get a hunger headache. I could kick myself for not eating breakfast. I was very close to grabbing one of the chocolate covered strawberries and gobbling it down if Margaret hadn’t given me the evil eye when she saw my hand hovering close to the serving plate.

“Time for lunch,” Margaret proclaims as we head for her car. “I made a reservation at Fendie.” All I want to hear her say is that we won’t be visiting any more bridal shops this afternoon. I’ve had about all I can take of wedding gowns, maybe for the rest of my life.

“I assume your sister will be your maid of honor,” she says as we head toward the restaurant.

“Oh, yes,” I agree.

“Yellow,” she declares. I quickly look around to see what she could possibly be talking about, but I’m not able to gain any clarity from her one-word declaration.

“Your bridesmaids’ dresses should be yellow,” she clarifies.

I’ve never been a fan of the color, but I just smile and nod. No sense in getting into a debate when there isn’t actually going to be a wedding.

Guilt is beginning to weigh on me every time I think those words:
there isn’t actually going to be a wedding
. I’m starting to feel a little like a con artist, but one with a massive guilt-ridden conscience.    

The restaurant looks as expensive and fancy as I imagined. Every car in the parking lot is a luxury vehicle. And when we go inside the place has an air of wealth and sophistication.

“Table for two,” Margaret snaps. “I’m sure you have our reservation.”

“Yes, Mrs. Graham.” The poor host looks like he wants to just crawl into a hole somewhere instead of dealing with Margaret. Not that I can blame him. As hungry as I am I’d rather join him in that hole than have to spend a meal talking to her.

My only saving grace is that she likes to talk more than she likes to listen. So far she hasn’t asked me any questions, but I have a feeling that’s about to change as we make our way to a prime table in the back of the restaurant with a stunning fountain view.

As soon as we’re seated, and before I even have a chance to look at the menu, Margaret says, “I would recommend the salmon, with a small house salad. And a glass of Chardonnay.”

She’s just like Drew, telling people what to order. Now I know where he got it from.

“Okay,” I agree as I put my menu down. I’m not a huge fan of fish, but I get the impression she would be quite displeased if I ordered anything else. I definitely don’t want to see her
displeased
with me.

To my surprise after I’ve placed my order exactly to her specifications, she orders something completely different for herself. A shrimp salad and red wine.

She certainly gives new meaning to the word
overbearing
. 

When the waiter brings a basket of bread I wait to see if she’ll take a slice. I’m so hungry my stomach feels like it’s starting to digest itself. The bread smells delicious, but I don’t dare touch it until she gives me some kind of sign that it’s okay.

As I inch my hand toward to bread I glance in her direction and I can see she’s clearly not happy. She’s actually scowling. When she gives me a slow, slight shake of her head I quickly place my hand on my lap and try to ignore the bread that’s now taunting me to eat it.

Once the wine is served Margaret puts up her glass and calls for a toast. “To new love.”

As we clink glasses all I can think about is Austin and how sexy he looked parading around the house this morning in his boxers and bare chest.

We both take a small sip of wine and then Margaret says, “Tell me what you love about my son.”

Without even thinking about it, I reply, “His smile. I love that he understands me. I love the way he can make me laugh, even at the most ridiculous things. And I love that I can make him laugh as well. I love how he makes me feel when I’m with him. Like I’m the most special person in the world. And I love that he isn’t afraid to say what he feels and he allows me to do the same.”

Then I nearly gasp when I realize what I’ve done. I’ve told her all the things I love about Austin without even thinking. And she had asked me about Drew.

When I glance up at her she’s smiling. I’m stunned that she believes I was talking about Drew. He’s none of those things. At least not that I can tell from the time we’ve spent together. But in her mind her precious Drew can do no wrong.

Once our meals are served I do my best not to wolf my food down, but it’s hard because I’m starving. When I notice Margaret is barely even eating, just kind of moving her food around her plate with her fork, I try to leave a few bites on the plate that I can move around too.

When it comes time to order desert I nearly choke when I see Drew hurry over to greet us. Margaret doesn’t seem at all surprised to see him and I get the sinking feeling that his appearance at the restaurant is not a coincidence but something that was well planned and staged. And I’m sure when we leave the restaurant there will be a line of photographers waiting to take pictures of the three of us following our lunch.

Drew makes a point of giving me a kiss on the cheek before he takes a seat at our table.

“You look lovely, Mazzy.” He gives me his politician grin then turns to Margaret. “As do you, Mother.”

“Thank you, Darling,” Margaret gives Drew the same puppy-dog pat on the arm that she gave me earlier. “What brings you to Fendie?”

“I was having lunch with the Mayor when I saw you arrive.”

“What a coincidence.” Margaret gives a fake laugh.
Coincidence my ass.
 

I know I probably shouldn’t be, but I’m a little surprised when no bill comes for the food and we just get up and walk out of the place without paying. No one even bothers to leave the waiter a tip.

And as someone who has waited tables her whole adult life this really rubs me the wrong way.

“Excuse me for a moment,” I say just as we’re about ready to head out the door. I pretend like I’m heading towards the bathroom, but when I see Margaret and Drew have turned their attention to each other I hurry back to the table, remove the only money I have in my wallet, twelve dollars, and leave it on the table.

As I pass by the waiter he gives me a nod and a quick smile and I can see he appreciates the gesture, even if it’s barely fifteen percent of the tab.

“Make sure you stand to Mazzy’s left,” Margaret urges Drew. “She’ll be positioned to the left.”

“Got it,” Drew assures her.

And then we head out the door and into a sea of photographers.

***

The lake house is eerily quiet when Margaret drops me off. I held by breathe hoping she didn’t want to be invited inside. Luckily she said she had to get back to the city to meet her husband for dinner.

Drew was not able to give me a ride back because he had a lineup of meetings scheduled for the afternoon and evening and told me not to expect him home until late tonight.

What else is new? Since we’ve been engaged we haven’t spent one entire evening together. Not that I’m too upset. Truth be told he makes me a little uncomfortable. We don’t seem to have anything in common. And it’s not like he’s actually there in any real way even when you’re in the same room with him. Talking to him is like talking to someone who is constantly playing a role.

I noticed Austin’s motorcycle was parked in the driveway, so he’s got to be around somewhere. I just need to figure out where. I quietly make my way upstairs in case he’s taking a nap, but when I knock on his door, and then slowly open in, the room is empty and his bed is made.

Against my own better judgment I don’t immediately leave. I glance around his room instead. I realize it’s not really his room, it’s just a room he’s using while he’s in town for the election, but I can still faintly smell his masculine scent.

When I move over to his balcony and glance out at the lake I catch sight of him in the distance, sitting at the edge of the lake in a folding chair, holding a fishing pole.

I hurry into my own room, quickly change into some jeans, a sweater and sneakers and then make my way downstairs and out onto the main balcony. I take the stairs down to the lake and then make my way to where Austin is seated.

As I get closer to him I notice that he’s wearing earbuds and his eyes are closed. I’ve never seen someone completely asleep and still holding a fishing pole in an upright position.

I don’t want to scare him, so I say his name in a soft, calm voice. I’m not sure how loud he has his music playing, but it’s obvious he can’t hear me.

So I move closer and ever-so-gently touch his arm.

He nearly jumps out of the chair and the fishing pole goes flying in the process.

“Sorry,” I utter.

He puts his hand to his chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I tried saying your name, but you couldn’t hear me.”

He pulls the buds out of his ears. “Jane’s Addiction. It was pretty loud.”

“Jane Says is one of my favorite songs,” we both say in unison then laugh.

“You have good taste in music,” I say.

He eyes me. “You have good taste in men.”

“Did you catch anything?” I pick up his fishing pole and hand it to him.

He shakes his head. “I never catch anything. Maybe it would help if I actually used some bait.”

I laugh. “You don’t use bait?”

“I don’t like sticking the worms on a hook. It kind of freaks me out.”

“You could use fake ones.”

“That sounds like too much work. I just like coming out here and sitting in the sun. It’s not too cold yet to still enjoy the lake.”

I look out over the pristine water. “It is peaceful.”

“How was lunch with my mother?” he asks.

“Exactly how you predicted it would be. And then Drew joined us for dessert, which we never actually ordered.”

“Drew joined you for a photo op,” he states.

“I know.” I move in closer to Austin and look into his sexy green eyes. “He’s going to be gone until late tonight.”

He gives me a sexy half grin. “Are you propositioning me?”

I kick a little bit of sand nervously. I’ve never actually propositioned anyone before. I’m not even sure that’s exactly what I’m doing. I just know that I’ve been thinking about him all day.

“Maybe,” I say finally.