Pink Slips and Glass Slippers (15 page)

“Oh.”

“You know I’m on the board and bought two tables at five grand a pop. I need you there.”

“Why do you need
me
there?”

“Because if you bag on me, I’ll write, ‘BOA’ all over your name tags.”

“C’mon, seriously? I don’t wanna go to a freakin’ charity event.”

“This is no ordinary charity event—this is Charity for Children. Do you know how many babes are gonna be there? Last year was insane. Of course, I’m on the invitations committee.”

“I promised Parker—”

“Take Parker Sunday. He can go to a sleepover Saturday. Problem solved. Besides, I’m letting you off the hook tonight, so it’s a fair trade-off.”

Chase’s eyes swam circles, the final effects of the beer setting in. With shoulders slouched, he said, “Do you always think with your pants?”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“What time?”

“Cocktails at six sharp. And, you gotta rent a tux.”

“I own more tuxes than you have ties.”

“Oh, excuse me, mister CEO. I wear pajamas to work so I have to rent one.”

“Oh, you poor doctor…”

“Orthopedic surgeon. Especially tomorrow. Hey, and no Dixie-dawg please.”

Chase shook his head, thinking why do I like this guy so much? The seven beers didn’t help him solve the mystery. Maybe he’s my alter-ego? Though not easily led, Chase felt like a sheep being herded by Dixon.

Standing beside his BMW—more like swaying—Chase called a cab, by far the wisest thing he ever did with his smart phone. Chase said, “I’m not drinking tomorrow.”

Chapter 12

Question: what’s the worst way to cram diametrically opposed families into one room? Answer: The Racer – Brenner Rehearsal Dinner.

At last, Melissa Brenner’s long term relationship with Eddie Racer headed toward the finish line. Before the checkered flag, there were plenty of red and yellow ones. Amid the scenic backdrop of Raleigh’s Pine Shadows Country Club, the love in the air felt like a Hatfield-McCoy reunion—only with shoes.

Clifton Brenner, Melissa’s father, had thrown Eddie out of his house three years ago when Eddie asked for Clifton’s daughter’s hand.
No-good scumbag
was the nicest term said during the ensuing exchange from Eddie’s souped-up car that looked like it missed the cut in
Joe Dirt.
Someone would have called 911, but they figured Eddie would outrun the cops. It took Melissa two and a half years just to be able to say “Eddie” in front of her father without causing a tantrum. When the EPT displayed positive, she pressed Eddie Racer for a speedy wedding. Even withholding the pregnancy news, Melissa faced a wrath from her father—not helping her nerves on their special night.

Clifton had been warned to behave so many times. He still called Eddie his
son-out-law,
but it was an improvement from the porch. Thanks to the invention of elastic, Melissa wasn’t showing—or the night would have rivaled the real Hatfield’s and McCoy’s.

Eddie’s parents wanted to have the rehearsal dinner in their backyard. Clifton drove by once and said, “No chance. I’m not going to make my relatives eat white trash.” Melissa threatened to elope and run away. He told his daughter either it’s at a nice place or he wouldn’t pay for the wedding. Melissa used this as leverage to force her father to pay for half of the rehearsal—she agreed to cover the other half. Not exactly a great kickoff for two families to join in marital bliss.

Eddie’s parents pulled into the stodgy country club looking like they were attending a NASCAR event. You didn’t need to draw a dividing line, there were three:

1) Brenners: Jewish, sophisticated, rich, educated.

2) Racers: Atheist, Klan, trailer-park, schooled at Boy’s Town.

3) The Wedding Party (except for Eddie’s brother, all Melissa’s friends): attractive, thirty-something, North Carolina alums, Generation STBR (Soon-To-Be-Rich).

Fortunately, no lines crossed, and dinner eventually ended.

Pacing to her car, Brooke thought the Jewish-Atheist ceremony would rival the millennium fireworks show.

Brooke did as well as anyone to keep Melissa calm, and ignored Eddie whenever she could. It helped her through the Tanner baby anxiety. Arriving home as thunder and lightning alternated with the darkened sky, she collapsed on her bed, thinking, tomorrow should be interesting.

***

“Whenever I see your smiling face…” boomed from Brooke’s bedside. Usually, the upbeat song made her smile—as she guessed James Taylor had intended—but, today, her first thought was Tanner. The memory of their first date together hung in the air like the ominous clouds visible through her window. Even with constant lightning flashes last night, she slept with the shades open.

Guessing it was round one of Melissa’s Wedding Day meltdown, she lunged for the phone and missed, spilling her purified water all over her dusty end table.
Oh shit.

There are plenty of great ways to start a weekend morning— a nice smile, a deep invigorating breath, watching the sunrise, even ignoring the sunrise with an exaggerated turn in the opposite direction.
Oh shit
wasn’t how Brooke wanted to open an emotional rollercoaster day. She grabbed her phone and ignored the spilling water.

“Hi, daddy.”
Oh shit.
Saturday. She completely forgot.

“I called you last night. Are you okay?”

“I’ve never been better.” A lie, but it held some truth.

“Have you left yet?” Brooke hated when Weston Ingram, Esq. did this; she swore he could secure a book deal for The Book of Rhetorical Questions.

“Didn’t I tell you? It’s Melissa’s wedding today. She’s finally getting married—can you believe it? I’m in the wedding party.”

“Oh. So, I guess that means you’re not coming for lunch?” There he goes again.

“No, they’re getting married in Raleigh at four o’clock.”

“Oh.”

Before he could say,
you can still make an early lunch,
Brooke went on the offensive, “I’ll come next Saturday—I promise.”

“I hope so. How’s work?”

“Actually, I’m glad you asked. I’m really starting to love it. I finally have a full staff and I handpicked each of them.” “That’s great, congratulations.”

“I’ve had a chance to spend time with our CEO Chase Allman. He’s actually a great guy. He’s sort of taken me under his wing.” Brooke blushed as the pun hit her—how would Freud interpret that one?

“Well, I probably saw a different side back then. It was a couple of years since that case and maybe he’s matured with the new job and all.”

“Anyway, I better go. Love you. See you next Saturday.”

Brooke laid down while gazing at Tanner’s picture, the bottom of the frame still moist from her water spill. And the memories began flooding in. Her tender ankle was the least of her worries. She said, “I hope I hold up today.”

Brooke closed her eyes and allowed the silence to quell her nerves. Brooke propped up on her elbows, and glanced away from Tanner’s smile. Spotting the pink dress and slip, dangling from her closet, she wondered if she needed a shoehorn. Brooke pondered a brisk run—a nice sweat wouldn’t hurt. She slid out of bed, and her voice of reason stopped her before she made it to her running shoes. The threat of Melissa killing her if she re-injured wasn’t worth the risk. Plus, it looked like rain.

Brooke did an about face and headed to the dress. Holding it up to her frame, she frowned, then eyed her Nikes, deciding on a compromise—a power walk. She remembered Shane’s live-in-the-now advice, and for the next thirty minutes, Brooke marched pain-free and carefree—as close to the elusive
now
as she could get.

Back inside her apartment, Brooke’s voicemail alert beeped—three missed calls. All Melissa. Uh oh.

“The wedding’s off!”

Brooke half-expected this. “What? Why?”

“Eddie’s an ass. I can’t possibly marry an ass.”

Bachelor party?
Brooke suppressed her natural instinct to throw Eddie under the bus. Today, her role was to hold the net under the rooftop. Being Melissa’s friend meant loosening her strings at times. This was one of those times—but, she had to assess it fast. Rather than ask
what happened?
and invite a four hour diatribe, Brooke asked the rifle shot question, “What did he do?”

“Where do I begin?”

“I know Eddie’s past. What bugs you the most?”

“He’s pigging out at some brunch right now.”

“So?”

“He’s not following any Jewish customs. We agreed to fast today.”

“How do you know?”

“His dumbass brother just texted me.”

“How do you know he’s eating and not just being social?”

“Hello—he, like, emailed a picture of bacon hanging out of Eddie’s mouth. He thinks it’s funny.”

Brooke, raised Catholic, considered the issue. She recalled those Lenten days as a girl, and remembered how religious Melissa’s parents were, just like her own father had been. At eleven, he caught her eating meat on Friday during Lent—pepperoni pizza—and she thought he was going to perform an exorcism. No mention of bachelor party, no DUI or even drunk and disorderly, no fleeing the country; Eddie surpassed her expectations. “He’s just acting out. Plus, he’s not Jewish.”

“If my father knew, he’d have a conniption.”

“He won’t find out, and if he does, so what? He’ll love Eddie
less
? Look at the bright side. Imagine how your dad would be if he knew you were knocked up?”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not being funny, but I know you. You love Eddie. I think he loves you so much it scares him and he acts out. You’ve been wanting to get married for the last ten years. Relax. Take a deep breath. Everything’s going to be fine. I almost called off my wedding like three times.” In hindsight, marrying Tanner fulfilled Brooke’s dream; though she had some doubts, most moments felt magical, especially their wedding day. Brooke liked her answer—Shane would be proud.

Brooke heard sniffles on the other end and, after a few seconds, said, “You there?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Do I sound crazy?”

The question stopped Brooke cold. After a deep breath, she said, “We’re both crazy.”

Melissa’s amusement had a nervous twitch, much more subdued than normal. She said, “Okay, I get it. I’ll calm down now. I think I’m just hungry.”

“You and I both know how short life can be. And today’s going to be the greatest day of your life—I can feel it. Settle down and enjoy some of it. I’ll see you in two hours. You’re going to look amazing. I’ll be so jealous.”

“I seriously doubt that. But, thanks—you know how to lift me up. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Ditto, girl.” As Brooke hung up, she heaved a sigh of relief, then considered a trip to Waffle House. Discussing fasting made her hungry, and blueberry waffles sure sounded good. Her mouth watered, then she noticed it again—that damn pink dress. As a compromise, she enjoyed a bowl of berries—including blueberries, but without the waffle. Then, she thought she’d kill two birds with one stone.

Brooke packed her make-up essentials into an overnight bag on top of her pajamas and Sunday’s sundress. The intimidating pink dress would remain wrinkle-free on its hanger. She checked her email one last time. Aside from the company email announcements she’d ignored yesterday, two new ones caught her eye. Late Friday, David Greenberg scheduled a meeting for eight o’clock, Monday morning—ouch. So much for ever catching Chase at Starbucks. The other one: “Brooke, Congrats on hitting your goal. I’m so proud of you. Enjoy the wedding and the weekend—you’ve earned it. I’ll have my cell if you need me. Kind Regards, Dr. Shane Gallagher, PhD.”

As she reread her life coach’s email, warmth spread inside. Still feeling hungry, Brooke craved coffee. She smiled. Starbucks—the infamous one—was on the way from her apartment to the wedding. Brooke carefully lifted her dress and headed out.

During the fifteen minute drive, Brooke pressed speed dial one. “Good morning.”

“That was such a nice email.”

“The one from yesterday? Oh, yeah, congrats again, I really am proud of you and your accomplishment.”

“You’d be proud of me again today.”

“Why’s that?”

“I sounded like you with Melissa.”

“Your friend Melissa? The one who’s getting married today?”

“Yep. She’s either going to have a massive stroke or get married today.”

“And, I’m guessing you managed to keep her out of the ER?”

“I did. I sounded like you today and even threw in the
now
stuff, but in my own words.”

“Congrats again. So, you do listen to me sometimes?”

“I always listen; I just don’t always hear you.”

“Touché.”

They both laughed, then Shane asked the question he’d been holding back, “How are
you
doing today?”

“I’m holding up so far,” Brooke bit her lip, “all I have to do is keep it together during the ceremony. Listening to their vows at the rehearsal, I almost lost it.”

“That’s perfectly normal. Most of the church loses it during the vows and
Ave Maria
.”

“Well, they won’t be in a church or singing any
Ave Maria’s
—Melissa’s Jewish.”

Shane laughed even louder and Brooke cut him off, “And, it’s a blessing for me. Their ceremony’s quite a bit different from mine so it won’t bring back the memories. Plus, they’re having it in the hotel. If I ever walk down that aisle again, I’m converting to Judaism.”

“Well,
mazel tav
and try not to drink too much
l’chaim to life
then.”

“Not bad, even with your Boston Irish accent,” Brooke laughed, thinking he sounded like the Lucky Charms leprechaun trying out for
Fiddler on the Roof
.

“You are making such great progress. Keep it up.”

You are making such great progress.
Brooke allowed the words to reverberate after hanging up. She felt another warmth. Whenever someone offered praise that resonated inside, Brooke lit up. When Shane praised her, it felt heaven sent.

The Starbucks sign pulled Brooke back from her dreamy state like an air bag. A rush of panic hit—what if he’s here? This’ll look really weird. He’ll think I’m a freak. No, I can just say I was stopping in the office. But, it’s Saturday. I hope he’s not a workaholic—the type who works all weekend. Why would an
eligible bachelor
wear a ring?

Brooke sped past the storefront. No sign of that red car, that’s good. She glanced around, then parked in her original hiding spot with the motor running. She raised her eyebrow as
Every Breath You Take
rang out—isn’t this song about a stalker? She drew a deep breath.

Inside Starbucks, a whole new set of faces came into view. Besides that enticing aroma, the only thing similar was the line. No Marcus, no Tonya, no Yankee chick—and no Chase. Brooke sighed, then stood in line.

“What would ya like?”

“Has Chase been in yet?” Brooke fidgeted.

“Who?” Two unfamiliar faces behind the counter glared.

“Chase? Mr. Allman? A-Man?”

“Does he work here?”

Perfect. Brooke had her answer—one of them, at least. Holding the hot cup, she inhaled the Quad Espresso, unable to stifle her giddy grin.

***

The drive up to Raleigh lasted longer than normal due to road construction and a steady rainfall. Well, they work on Saturdays, rain or shine I guess. Brooke hoped her pink dress didn’t slide too much in the trunk. And, she wondered for the umpteenth time if it would fit.
I sound like Melissa now.
And, just as the thought hit, so did Brooke’s ringtone—Melissa.