Zadie got home by four and had time to take a one-hour nap before she had to get ready for the rehearsal. Given that she’d gone to bed at four-thirty in the morning and woken up at eleven, the nap was not an indulgence. It was a necessity. In fact, it was crucial to her very existence.
But tired as she was, she could only lie there feeling the weight of her knowledge. If she’d only gotten into the elevator with Trevor and gone home without checking on Helen, she would never have known about Jimbo. She would be peaceful in the belief that Helen was merely a liar and former slut. She could live with that.
When her alarm went off, Zadie had yet to close her eyes. She got up, reshowered to remove the stink of hangover sweat, and put on a black cocktail dress, as per the instructions on the invitation. God forbid she disobey the world’s worst bride.
When she got to the Beverly Hills Hotel she left her car with the same valet who had called her a cab at three in the morning. He gave her a friendly nod and a grin, realizing that she probably wasn’t feeling tip-top, and took her Camry into the garage to park it as far away from the Bentleys as possible.
The rehearsal was in the garden, where the wedding was to be
held. Little white lights were strung everywhere. Perfect Beverly Hills flowers were blooming in abundance. There was surely a swan somewhere nearby.
When Zadie walked out, Gilda squealed and gave her a hug. “How was it?”
At first, Zadie was confused. Consumed with guilt as she was, she’d forgotten that the last time she’d seen Gilda she was on her way up to a hotel room with Trevor.
Zadie smiled and blushed, relieved to be able to tell someone. “It was exactly what I needed.” A waiter passed by with a tray, offering them flutes of champagne. Hair of the dog. They took them and sipped greedily.
Jane scurried over and immediately began quizzing her. “Was he as yummy as he looked?” Jane asked.
“He was, indeed, severely yummy,” Zadie said. She felt somewhat guilty for describing sweet Trevor in such ridiculously demeaning terms, but since she was half afraid that he was sitting on a surfboard somewhere telling his buddies about her “killer rack,” she let it go.
She looked around at the crowd, spotting Betsy over in the corner, chatting up Helen’s parents. Denise and her husband were trying to convince Grandma Davis that she didn’t need to wear a gardenia in her cleavage.
“Has anyone seen Helen?” Zadie asked.
“She’s talking to the minister,” Jane said.
If there was anyone in the world who should be talking to a minister right now, it was Helen, so Zadie felt somewhat appeased by this. Perhaps he could exorcise her.
She spotted Grey over by the gazebo. Eloise had pulled him aside for a hushed conversation. Was she telling him about Deep? And the mechanical bull? And Mr. Lovepants? If Grey found out about all the other sordid events of the evening, then perhaps he would dump Helen based on that information alone and wouldn’t ever have to know that Helen had cheated on him! Brilliant!
As Zadie got closer to Grey and Eloise, she could hear their conversation.
“Wait until you see what Helen bought for your wedding night,” Eloise said. “You’re going to die.”
Eloise wasn’t telling him jackshit.
Zadie walked up to join them. “Hi. What’s going on?”
Eloise gave her a meaningful look. “I was just telling Grey about Helen’s lingerie trousseau.”
“Yep.” Zadie nodded. “It’s a doozy” She looked at Eloise. “Can you come to the ladies’ room with me? I think my bra strap broke and I might need some help.”
Eloise was the last of all possible women in the current tenmile radius that Zadie would ever ask to help with a bra strap situation, but she knew Grey wouldn’t question their powwow if she couched it as a girly problem.
“Sure,” Eloise said. “Let’s go.”
Once they were in the ladies’ room and sure that no one else was present, Zadie quizzed her. “Did you tell him anything about last night?”
“Nothing. I had a long talk with Helen this morning and she assured me it was all one big drunken blur and that it would never happen again. What happened at the bachelorette party stays at the bachelorette party.”
Zadie frowned. This was not the answer she wanted to hear. For once, she thought Eloise’s tendency to gossip and overexaggerate would come in handy.
“You realize this is your brother’s future happiness we’re discussing? You’re really going to jeopardize that for some misguided sense of female bonding?”
“I don’t see you telling him.”
“I was hoping
you
would. You’re his sister.”
“You’re his ‘best friend.’”
Goddamn her. Zadie briefly considered telling her about Jimbo’s late-night visit to Helen’s room. Would she become irate and
instantly march over to tell Grey? Or would she somehow find a way to blame it on Zadie? Either way, Zadie still couldn’t stand the thought of Grey having to hear those words.
“Besides,” Eloise said, “she didn’t actually do anything all
that
bad.”
Sure. Except for having anal sex with a stranger.
Back in the garden, Zadie was ambushed by her parents. “How was girls’ night?” her mom asked.
“It was—great.”
“You look beautiful, kiddo.” Her dad kissed her on the cheek.
“Thanks, Dad.” They stood there staring at each other, the inevitable uncomfortable silence looming over them.
“I bet it felt good to get out of the house,” Mavis said. “Maybe you should be looking for some single friends to go out with so you can do it more often.” Zadie knew her mother was encouraging this not because she wanted her to forge new friendships, but because she wanted Zadie to take part in weekly organized manhunts.
“Zadie, this is Mike.”
Zadie turned around to find Grey and Mike standing behind her. Mike was cute. More than cute. He had cheekbones. Good ones. And brown-gold eyes with thick Italian-looking lashes. For some reason, he looked vaguely familiar. As he held out his hand, Zadie realized he was the broad-shouldered guy in the green shirt from the engagement party. The one she’d been too agitated to check out.
“Grey tells me I get to walk up the aisle with you at the end of the ceremony. I’ll try not to trip you.”
“I’ll try not to fall over anything.” Okay, not her best attempt at humor, but it was a stab. She was preoccupied, dammit.
“Zadie teaches English,” Grey told him. “Maybe she can finally teach you how to pronounce ‘affidavit.’” He looked at Zadie. “He says it ‘affadavid’ every time.”
Mike smiled at her. “Have you ever noticed how annoying Grey is?”
“More than once,” Zadie answered, smiling back at him.
“We’ll let you kids talk,” Mavis said, winking at Zadie as she steered Sam away.
Eloise, realizing that an attractive man was completely ignoring her presence, walked up and made herself known. “Hi, I’m Eloise. Remember? We met at Grey’s graduation party?”
Mike squinted, trying to remember, then got a stricken look as the memory of Eloise washed over him. “Right … I definitely remember you.”
The minister waved everyone over to find their places and line up for the rehearsal.
“Here we go—” Grey said, looking nervous.
Mike looked at Zadie. “I’ll see you over there.”
As the men walked away, Eloise leaned in close to Zadie. “Don’t even bother. He’s gay. I tried to have sex with him at Grey’s graduation and he wanted nothing to do with me.”
And at that exact point, Mike became the perfect man.
As they lined up to do their practice run down the aisle, Zadie was placed in sixth position. In front of her were Eloise, Jane, Gilda, Marci, and Kim. Betsy was behind her. Denise was matron of honor, so she went last. Thankfully, Snotty and Skinny were not in the wedding party. They’d merely been along on the bachelorette festivities because they were coworkers.
Betsy leaned forward and whispered to Zadie. “I feel like crap. How about you?”
“Crappier,” Zadie told her.
“How is it possible that Helen looks beautiful after a night like that?”
“She’s a genetic mutant.”
“I should thank you,” Betsy said. “I know I was opposed to the whole drinking thing at first, but honestly? Last night was a blast.”
Zadie gave a halfhearted high five to Betsy over her shoulder, and bent down to adjust the strap on her Payless sling-backs as Pachelbel’s Canon in E started.
Eloise started down the aisle, doing the one step, pause, one step, pause. Grey was standing at the altar made of pink roses and eucalyptus leaves. Beaming at all of them. Having no idea that his bride-to-be was walking a little funnier than usual.
Once they got to the rehearsal dinner on the outside patio of the Polo Lounge, the very same Polo Lounge where Skinny had been indoctrinated into her new profession, Helen finally approached Zadie.
“I know you must think I’m a terrible person for everything that happened last night, but I really appreciate your not mentioning any of it to Grey.”
Helen had no idea that Zadie had heard what she’d heard outside the bridal suite at three in the morning. She was merely speaking of the other unsavory details.
“I told you, Helen, it’s up to you to tell him.” Could she possibly guilt Helen into confessing?
“Maybe someday I will. But now is definitely not the time.” She grabbed both of Zadie’s hands and looked at her with big, imploring eyes. “You know how much I love Grey. And I swear to you I will never do anything to hurt him. What happened in Cancún isn’t important. And what happened last night isn’t important. All that’s important is that I would die for Grey. I would seriously lie down and die for him. And I need you to know that.”
Days of Our Lives
should hire Helen immediately, Zadie thought. That was quite a performance. Cheeseball and heartfelt at the same time. She could outact Jack any day.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Zadie told her. “If you hurt him, I might have to kill you. I don’t care if we’re related.”
“And I respect you for that. You’re a good friend to him.”
Yes, she was such a good friend that she was letting Grey marry a woman who potentially had the semen of another man still lurking in her body. Zadie was the best friend ever.
As everyone sat down to enjoy their salmon or New York strip, Zadie plopped herself down next to Mike, hoping that a little
harmless flirtation could take her mind off the fact that she was a wretched, wretched person.
He turned and smiled at her. “Did I do okay with the whole sticking-my-elbow-out-for-you-to-hold-on-to thing? I know that’s a tricky maneuver, and I don’t have a lot of practice at it.”
“You mean you haven’t had the pleasure of being in a wedding party before?”
“Only six or seven times, but honestly, it’s not enough to get that move down right. It takes some finesse.”
“I’d give you a seven point five.”
“Excellent. I’ll take it.”
“So, how was the bachelor party? I hear there were women with low morals involved.” She could’ve been talking about half of the girls at the bachelorette party, herself included, but she left that detail out.
“There were a few ladies who weren’t shy about their nudity, this is true.”
“Did you get a lap dance?”
Mike blushed. “I cannot lie. I got two. And now you find me repulsive, so I’ll just move down and sit with the other degenerates.”
“I think I can handle it. You can stay.” Zadie smiled at him. He smiled back. His curly brown hair had little ringlets that she wanted to touch. “How was your dinner at Mastro’s? Isn’t that where you guys went first?”
“You mean the place where the shrimp is as big as your hand? It was obscene. Gastronomical decadence. Far more perverted than anything we did at Crazy Girls. How about you? What did you all get up to at the bachelorette party?”
“Just good, clean, innocent fun. You know us girls.”
He looked at her, clearly thinking she didn’t look like the good, clean, innocent type. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
Zadie wasn’t sure if it was her newfound confidence after her post-Trevor experience, or the fact that she was desperate to distract herself from the marital disaster that was about to happen and
her own culpability in the matter, but she accepted his implication that she might be a naughty girl and she took it up a notch.
“Maybe you’ll have to give
me
a lap dance later to make up for it.”
“I’ve been known to injure people that way, but if you’re game, I do a mean grind to ‘Purple Rain.’”
Zadie smiled. This was a healthy flirtation with a viable prospect. Something she hadn’t done in years. He was age-appropriate, he was gainfully employed, he used proper grammar, and there was no inference at all on his part that she was defective in any way simply due to her availability. And he was Grey-approved. They could double-date. It made it easier for Zadie to forget about the fact that Helen was the devil when she could picture the four of them at the Hollywood Bowl, listening to a jazz concert and sharing a picnic basket, Mike feeding her hummus on little triangles of pita bread.
“I’ll take my chances,” Zadie said.
The waiter set their entrees down in front of them. They both got salmon. Destiny? Zadie was disgusted with herself for letting the word “destiny” pop into her head two nights in a row. She was definitely not a “destiny” type of girl. Destiny was merely an excuse to misbehave last night. What would Mike think if he knew that she’d had sex with a nineteen-year-old last night? He would surely be horrified.
Zadie blotted the corners of her mouth with her pink cloth napkin. “Can I ask you something, Mike?”
“Sure.”
“What’s the most disgustingly heinous thing you’ve ever done?”
“Do you have all night?” he asked.
“Possibly”
“Well …” He thought for a minute. “There was the whole eating seventeen hard-boiled eggs in a row when I was pledging, but I’d have to say it was that I had sex with my sister’s best friend.”
“That’s not so bad,” Zadie said.
“On their prom night.”
“Were you her date?” she asked.
“No, I was their driver. I dropped her date off first, and then I nailed her. She wanted to and all, don’t get me wrong—”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-five.”
And at that moment, Zadie knew what destiny truly meant.