This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad (15 page)

“
Alright! Beesly has introduced me to this cleansing ritual; much better than the one we do after drinking. We’ve been drinking it three times a day for the past three weeks. It just flushes toxins.”

“
You’re dieting?” Noor looks so disgusted, it’s funny. “This is not a laughing matter. We’re Riddell; we don’t diet; we don’t need to. We lose it by dancing.”

We keep walking and enter another store.

“I eat as bad as always. Hence the need for cleansing myself.” I take a necklace from the shelf. “Not bad with your dress?” Noor takes it and tries. “About yoga; Beesly has this famous instructor who comes every other day –”

“
You’re cheating on me with that Beesly! Have you been dancing behind my back too?” She puts the necklace back and reaches for another one. “Can I have the recipe?”

“
Ask Beesly. I have no idea what’s in there. We have it delivered to my place each week. And I’m not dieting! Stop spreading rumors.”

She
’s trying another one with matching earrings. “But you’re dancing again?”

“
I never really stopped. But yes, I seriously started again two weeks ago when Greg was here. I have been going to the studio everyday ever since. No big deal!” But we both know that it is a big deal. I’m the only one who hasn’t made a living off dancing in our entire Riddell Clan at some point in our lives. “But enough about me. How are you?”

Noor sights loudly.
“Tired, anxious, stressed; you name it, I feel it. Would you believe that, in twelve weeks, I won’t be an Mpobo-Riddell anymore?”

“
Uh da…yes I could. You legally changed it to Mpobo only ten years ago.”

She takes the receipt of her purchase from the cahier and we head to the next store.
Time for shoes. I don’t want to try anything before checking my closet. Noor sits with a few dozen choices in from of her. “I don’t know about this anymore?”

What is she talking about?
The shoes? The name? The wedding?

“
This marriage thing,” she tells me. She’s not looking at me but her feet in very slivery Manalo Blonick.

“
Are you and Andrew okay?” I sit next to her.

“
We’re good. But his family is a little too excited about the wedding for my comfort. This makes me think about what comes next. My new life as a wife and we’re not agreeing on it all.”

“
What are you talking about?”

She doesn
’t answer but tries a couple more shoes on until she finds the perfect pair. We pay for them and that’s another six hundred spent. We’re the Rockefellers today. Axelle is going to die! I check my phone, it’s already 3.00 p.m. I’m famished. I see that we’re done with shopping; I would really like a sandwich, so we find a table in a burger place nearby.

“
I’ll get us something to eat. What do you want?” Noor asks.

I look at the menu.
“A double angus with avocado, blue cheese and extra pickles, BBQ sauce or salsa. Apple juice please.” Noor is staring at me, shocked. “What? I’m not on a diet! I’m dancing again. Marcus says that I’m on a whole new level when I do.” Oh boy! Why did I mention the M word?

She chuckles.
“Does he know? A burger got it.” She walks away.

I miss Beesly; she would have liked that Saturday afternoon shopping trip. She left on Tuesday for New York and won
’t be back until next Friday. A reality singing competition has invited her to be a guest judge and mentor. It’s great publicity for the band and even better expose for Beesly. My phone buzzes. Talk of the devil; Axelle sent me a message.

Wedding status meeting.
Five pm at Eldora. Tell Noor. She’s not picking up her mobile.

Noor hands me my burger and sits.

“I didn’t see you coming back. Thanks. Axelle sent me a message.”

“
I spoke to her. We’ll be there,” she says.

We eat in silence for ten minutes then Noor breaks her s
ilence. “He wants to sell his condo, get a house and have babies,” she finally says, wiping her mouth. “Right away! I’m not ready for that. I’m not Lelly.”

“
Isn’t it what married people are supposed to do?” I wipe my hands. This was a great burger. “You guys have been together for four years; this hasn’t come up until now?”

“
I’ve always avoided the conversation…with sex.” She leans in and whispers, “But he cut me off.”

“
He what?” I burst out laughing.

“
He cut me the fuck off! Alright!” she admits, louder this time.

And hell has no fury like a sexually frustrated Noor.
“Now I know why you sucked at yoga today. Mama needs some TLC. Join the club Sister.” I reach out for her hand and take it. “How long has it been for you?”

“
I don’t want to say,” she mopes.

“
Two weeks?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Three?” shakes it again. “Four?” More shaking, now with a horrified face. “Well?”

“
Five okay. Five…days. Weeks, are you crazy?”

“
No, that job has already taken by you. Five days! That’s not a dry spell at all. Talk to me in eight weeks, okay.”

“
Ouch! Luce, what’s wrong with you? Greg was here, more than willing and he’s the hottest man I have ever seen.”

“
Noor –”

“
And Marcus has been here all that time. I don’t think he would have minded. You guys made up, right?” she continues, not letting me speak.

“
It’s more –”

“
Please, you need to get laid. You have two handsome specimens in line for the job. Shut up!
My fiancé
is playing hard to get.”

“
Can I say something now?”

She rolls her eyes.
“Whatever.”

I smile.
“Noor, you do need to get laid. And fast.”

“
That’s what I’m talking about! Stupid Andrew.” She looks at her big engagement ring. “He knew what he was getting himself into.”

I laugh. He sure did.
“He won’t last long.” I clean up our table, gathering all our leftovers. “I value my friendship with Greg too much to just hop into bed with him. Marcus… Well, half of the time I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking about, which is annoying. Then he says or does confusing things that…confuse me.”

We both get up.
“Sounds like a man to me. He’s on the right track then,” Noor teases. We walk toward the exit and back to my car. “Do we have time to drop our things before joining Axelle?”

“
Sure.” I start the engine. “I’m closer; we’ll start with me.”

“
So…on a whole new level? Tell me more,” She teasingly says.

“
Shut up!”

“
Never! Dish now, woman!” she adds, laughing.

A quick glance.
An air kiss. Next time I’ll keep my mouth shut.

We’re late. Someone had the grand idea to change, like it was even needed. That would be me. I wanted to wear my “I’m-not-bloated”, skinny jeans; Axelle bought them last year in Madrid for almost nothing and they’ve never fitted until now. Yeah me! A nice white, tight top, silver opened-toe wedges, their matching bag and a light jacket. It’s Saturday night and I’m neither married nor engaged. Noor of course just had to outshine me with Daisy Duke denim shorts, to Andrew’s total dismay.

Axelle is sitting with what looks to be a pitcher of margarita, almost half-empty. Somebody started the party without us. Her face brightens as soon as she sees us and she gets up. She looks stunning in white, tight capri pants, a simple, black tank top and red, peekaboo, pump shoes
– so vintage, so sexy, so classy.

“
Well about time!” she says, hugging us one at the time. “I thought I would have to finish this on my own,” she continues. She pours us a glass. “Oh, my darlings, you’re looking especially dashing tonight.”

“
And you as always,” Noor tells her and starts drinking her Margarita.

“
Well, let’s get started then we’ll freely be able to get sloshed,” Axelle says with a full-on smile. She lightly knocks her glass on the table three times. “Burton-Mpobo-Riddell wedding status meeting is officially in session.” She takes out the file and turns to Noor. “So, how are we doing on the groomsmen’s tuxes?”

Andrew is having six groomsmen: all dancers, except his younger brother, and all gay. I can
’t wait for that chorus line. Andrew is paying for his tux.

“
We had the measurements taken last week; they should be ready in two to three weeks,” Noor nervously answers.

Axelle writes something on her file.
“So how much was this?”

“
Three thousand now, the rest after delivery,” she answers, biting her lip. I don’t want to be in her shoes right now, even though they belong to me. “But we’re getting a twenty percent discount.”

“
Wicked,” Axelle says, not even raising her head from the file and still writing. “Why?”

“
The bridesmaids’ outfits; I ordered them there as well,” Noor gloats. She is having eleven – yes,
eleven
– bridesmaids. This includes all of our Riddell and Mpobo first cousins, all dancers for the Riddells and all are straight. Can you spell hag?

“
We finally found a fabric. The one you chose actually,” Noor says. She goes for some liquid courage. “The sexy grey; I had all their measurements. Those skinny bitches!” She laughs nervously. “I ordered thirteen; they should be ready in four weeks. Just in time for my departure to London.”

“
Why two extra?” Axelle asks.

“
For you and Luce of course. Keep sake. So it was supposed to be three hundreds each. But I’ve got your dresses for free so we’re only paying for eleven.”

“
Impressive,” Axelle tells her. She raises her head for a smile. “Did you put a deposit down too?”

“
Nope, I paid in full. So only eighteen hundred to go, for the tux.”

Axelle keeps reading her file.
“So eighty-one hundred for the bridal party. My target was ten thousands. Well done, Noor.” She serves herself a drink.

Noor nudges me. My turn I see.
“Lelly, I bought my tux too,” I say carefully. “To walk Noor down the aisle.” I’m waiting for the disapproving glare.

“
Oh my gosh! Really? That sounds fantastic. I want to see it,” Axelle says all excited. Wow! How much tequila has she been drinking?

“
We dropped it off. Lelly?”

“
Yes, Love.”

“
It was twenty-five hundred.” I can feel myself sweating a little. “But I can cover the cost if it wasn’t in the budget.”

“
It’s fine. Granddaddy has given fifteen thousand pounds; so about thirty-two thousand for Canadian expenses; so far we’re still under fifteen. I want to make sure we have ten left for our plane tickets, otherwise we will have to pay for them.” She closes the file and knocks on the table again. “The meeting is now adjourned. We’ll meet again in two weeks’ time to discuss and finalize the hen party.” She pours herself another glass. “To D-Day minus one hundred and five!” she tells us, raising her glass. “Luce, be a dear and order another pitcher or two.”

I order the pitchers as well as a dirty martini for the bride-to-be.

Axelle turns to me, her glass in her hand. “So…what’s new? And you look fantastic, honey!”

“
Hey, I look good too!” Noor scowls.

Axelle laughs and turns to Noor.
“Oh my God! Did I just compliment the wrong sister? You’re Nooradine?”

“
Jealousy is not a good color on you, Noor,” I sneer back, filling myself another drink.

“
Please, you’re dieting,” she tells me. “She’s dieting, Axelle!” she says even louder and finishes her drink.

“
I’m so not. I’m doing a cleanse and some yoga”

“
The one with Beesly,” Axelle says, serving Noor another glass. “I’ve heard of it. You have to do a lot of stretching with it.” She blows me a kiss. “Good for you, Luce, and shame on you, Noor.”

Nice try, Noor.
My turn now. I pour myself another margarita. How many have I had so far? Three or four glasses? Do I even care? I feel warm and tickly. “Andrew is holding out on Noor…sexually?” Bam!

“
You don’t say,” Axelle giggles. She finishes her drink and pours another. “What did you do to shift the balance of power?”

“
I don’t want to have the suburban house and baby talk right now. It has only been a week.” She empties her drink. “Thanks, big mouth.”

Liar, liar, shorts on fire!
“You told me five days,” I tell Noor. I turn to Axelle, “Anyway, did I tell you I was dancing again. Just for fun of course. Not like you or Noor.”