When Stars Collide

by Sara Furlong-Burr

  Despite looking like hot garbage thrown into a sea of wealthy and beautiful people milling about the lobby, nothing could erase the smile from my face. I’d never made a walk of shame with such contentment before, and I was so oblivious to what was going on around me in favor of the flashbacks in my head from the night before that I completely missed Clarence, until I just about ran him down. Surprised, he looked at me, taking in my disheveled appearance, a smile erupting across his face.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “It’s not that big,” Phineas assured me.

  “You forget I’ve seen it, and it is. It’s very much that big.”

  “I’ve seen bigger.”

  “I bet you have.”

  I heard his sigh from the other end of the line, certain it was accompanied by an eye roll. “Please tell me we’re still talking about the magazine.”

  The magazine in question was none other than Hollywood Now; one of the most popular publications following the entertainment world. A fact of which I hadn’t cared to know until photographs from the Soldiers of Atlantis premiere graced its pages, including a rather sizable—in my opinion—photograph of Phineas and I together, looking more like a couple than colleagues. And I wasn’t the only one who had arrived at that conclusion. Someone from the office had thoughtfully placed a copy of the magazine on my chair with a note stuck to it that read simply:

  Page 62

  Aren’t you two cute?

  For the rest of the day, I felt like all eyes in the office were on me. Every single person either suspecting or outright knowing that Phineas and I were doing the deed. It made me uncomfortable, and I purposely avoided making eye contact with everyone for fear I would catch a hint of the judgment that was surely in their eyes. By the grace of God, the magazine came out on a Friday, and, coincidentally, I’d already made plans to get the hell out of dodge to join Elle and company for her bachelorette party in Roanoke.

  “Of course, I’m still talking about the magazine. Although …”

  “Mena …” I could almost see him blushing with the way he said my name.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll keep my observations to myself.” I laid back on the bed in the suite I’d booked at one of the nicer hotels in Roanoke, a pre-wedding present to Elle, who along with Kirsten, Violet, and Alex, would be joining me tomorrow.

  “Elle and Luke’s wedding, it must be coming up pretty quickly, then?”

  “In four weeks.”

  “Have you put any thought into who your plus one is going to be?”

  “Yeah, actually. I thought I’d just pluck some hapless soul off the street, doll him up like a reverse She’s All That, and make him the most popular man the Roanoke wedding scene has ever seen before.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”

  “I mean, I am a proper lady and all, and … Seriously, it wasn’t that funny, Phin.”

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, still snickering.

  “Fine. Phin, would you like to be my plus one at the wedding?”

  “I would be honored.”

  “You’d better be.” I yawned, the hustle and bustle of the day catching up to me.

  “I’ll let you go before you fall asleep with the phone in your hand. Text me when you’re back in New York so I know you made it in okay?”

  “Christ you’re needy.”

  “Goodnight, Mena.”

  “Night, Phin.”

  Up until today when the magazine came out, Phineas and I had managed to keep a low profile at the office, purposely avoiding small talk with each other to keep our interactions as professional as possible. But, in hindsight, if anyone had truly been paying attention, they probably would have figured it out. Between a purposeful brush of the hand, a lingering glance here and there, and a slight spring in both of our steps, the signs were subtle, yet they were there to be seen by anyone paying attention. What wasn’t evident was exactly what Phineas and I even were. Friends with benefits? Lovers? Dating? We hadn’t had that conversation yet, allowing our bodies to do the talking for us, instead. Maybe it was because neither of us truly knew the answer to that question. We’d both been hurt and, at least as far as I was concerned, it was nice to be able to just feel something again.

  *****

  My hair repelled curls, and I wasn’t surprised that even after a full-on assault with my curling iron, I still wasn’t able to generate much more than a slight wave, which I aggressively assailed with hairspray to keep in place. It would have to do. Such was the life of a girl with straight, stringy hair.

  A series of knocks startled me as I curled my eyelashes, and I nearly yanked them out with an involuntary jerk of my arm. Inspecting my eye in the mirror, I dabbed away the mascara that had been smeared at the corner. Apparently, the twenty seconds this act took to perform was fifteen seconds too long. More aggressive than before, what I guessed were three pairs of hands battered the door in a frenzy. If this was a prelude to the rest of the night, I would seriously have to consider rescinding my offer to Elle and let someone else be the sober, responsible friend at the bachelorette party.

  “It’s too early for this,” I groaned, opening the door to reveal Elle, Violet, and Kirsten standing before me. Behind them, away from their antics, Alex stood looking just as uncomfortable as I felt.

  “It’s three in the afternoon,” Elle responded, entering the room with the others.

  “Right, it’s too early.”

  Elle sighed, setting her bag down on my bed. Violet and Kirsten followed suit. Alex hung back, preferring to stand next to the bathroom door. She reminded me a lot of the way Elle was when I first met her—meek, mild, and unassuming. Must be Mark’s genes.

  “You can come over here,” I offered, attempting to make her feel included. “We don’t bite. Well, I don’t bite, anyway. I can’t speak for Kirsten over here.”

  “So, I did a thing,” Violet announced.

  “You changed your named to Daffodil?” I guessed, knowing from her tone of voice that the thing she’d really done was probably going to affect us, too.

  “Not yet, but that’s certainly a possibility in the future.” Violet reached inside of her overnight bag and pulled out four tank tops. “I took the liberty of having custom tops made for Elle and the rest of us,” she squealed, sounding far too giddy.

  “Of course you did.” I caught my tank top—the same shade of yellow as my dress—after Violet tossed it to me. Turning it over, I noticed there was something inscribed on the front of it.

  “Maid of Dishonor.” I peered up at Violet, my eyebrow raised. “All right, Daylilly, I thought we called a truce, but if this is the way it’s going to be, then so be it.”

  Violet giggled. “They all have tongue-in-cheek expressions written on them” She turned her orange tank top around so that I could read the front. Extra AF.

  “Now, that one I agree with.”

  “This side up?” Kirsten asked, puzzled. “With an arrow pointing upwards?”

  “It’s telling people to pick you up when you pass out drunk on the floor,” I cleared up her confusion.

  “Oh,” she responded with a laugh. “Yes, this seems appropriate for me.”

  Elle held her tank top up. Drunk on Love … and Moscato.

  “It’s actually usually a tossup between that and rum, but still true, nonetheless,” I mused.

  Alex snickered softly, appearing far too pleased to not be included in the whole ordeal.

  Below everyone’s individual inscription, Sloan/Hutchins Wedding 2020 was printed, along with our individual roles in the wedding, further tying us together to ensure none of us would be able to ditch our group tonight.

  “So, since no one else is going to address the elephant in the room,” Kirsten announced, reaching inside her overnight bag, “I will.” Eager to the point of excitement, she pulled out a copy of Hollywood Now—the very one I had hoped I’d left behind in New York. “M
ena, do you have something you want to share?”

  “Nothing I want to share, but I guess I have to now. Page sixty-two. I’m there.”

  “What?” Elle asked, disappointed that she was just now finding this out for the first time. She snatched the magazine from Kirsten’s hands and turned to the page. “Look at you, flashing some major boob action, all hot and stuff. And would you look at Phineas?”

  Kirsten sighed at the mention of Phineas’s name. Even Alex showed some interest, having made her way over to the bed.

  “Whoa,” Violet added.

  “You two look rather cozy next to each other.” Elle peered up at me, a knowing look on her face. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say maybe there’s more going on there than meets the eye?”

  All eyes were on me, waiting for me to either confirm or deny Elle’s suspicions. “That’s some mighty fine conjecture you’re throwing out there, Ms. Bride-To-Be.”

  “It’s not conjecture if you have enough facts to back it up.”

  It was my turn to let out a comically loud sigh, but for a completely different reason. “We may have gotten cozy a time or nineteen. Who’s counting, really?”

  “You, apparently.” Elle shook her head. “Are you guys dating?”

  “No? Yes? I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

  “Huh,” Elle muttered.

  “Huh, what?”

  “I’ve never known you to be a fan of complicated.”

  “I’d let him complicate the hell out of me,” Kirsten added, breaking the tension between us.

  “So, ladies,” Alex spoke, much to the surprise of everyone, “the party bus should be arriving right about now, and I seemed to recall being promised copious amounts of alcohol tonight, so why don’t you say you throw those tank tops on and let’s get this show on the road.”

  I turned to Elle. “Damn, maybe she’s my long-lost sister and not yours.”

  *****

  Candy greeted Elle with an overstated Candy-sized hug the moment our party bus arrived at its first stop. Nearby, three other women I didn’t recognize stood by. Kirsten must have known them, as she sauntered over to them while they appeared to wait for Candy to loosen her grip on Elle. One of them propped up an inflatable man dressed as a cowboy, while another one held a sash and tiara that could only be meant for Elle.

  “Mena,” Candy greeted me, wrapping her arms around me before I could take any evasive measures.

  “You are certainly full of hugs today.”

  “You’re my future daughter-in-law’s best friend, which means you’re part of our family, too, so you’d better get used to the hugs.”

  “In that case, have you met Elle’s sister, Alex, yet?”

  I looked behind my shoulder to see Alex standing there, eyes wide, shaking her head. I’d probably just royally screwed our chances of becoming friends, but if it got me out of an uncomfortable social interaction, I was willing to make sacrifices.

  “Alex, yes.” Candy let me go and made her way over to deer-in-the-headlights Alex.

  “You’re terrible,” a newly sashed and tiaraed Elle muttered. “Poor girl is out of her element here and you sic the most extroverted person on her.”

  “She’s scrappy. She’ll manage, just like you did.”

  “Oh, and by the way, go ahead and enjoy yourself tonight. I appreciate your offer, but Candy doesn’t drink. She can be the responsible one.”

  Confused, I watched Elle walk into the bar. She’d seemed grateful when I told her I would take care of making sure no one ended up passed out in a ditch tonight. What had changed her mind? Whether she felt like I wouldn’t be able to handle the task or whether it was just her way of making sure we all had fun, I didn’t know. All I knew was, if I hadn’t intended to keep my alcohol intake to a minimum before, I certainly was intending to now.

  One thing could be said about the bar scene in Roanoke, it was nothing like the bar scene in New York. Sure, it was packed, but the crowd still had that small-town vibe to them. I didn’t feel like I was going to be chewed up and spat back out on the street by the natives like I did whenever I went out in the City. Here, I would at least be given a blanket and provided with a bucket when I found myself hunched over in a back alley puking my guts out. It was the kind of hospitality one should be able to expect, really.

  Still early in the evening, we were able to find a table large enough to accommodate us all. I was seated next to Kirsten, directly across from Elle and Candy. She seemed anxious, Elle. It wasn’t like her at all. Elle whispered something into Candy’s ear, and she nodded her head in acknowledgment.

  “Okay, listen up,” Candy announced. “Drinks are on me tonight. Don’t hold back. Given the size of you ladies, I ought to be able to get out of this pretty cheaply tonight.”

  “I may be small, but my liver be mighty,” I said, accepting a straw shaped like a penis as they were passed around the table by a curly-haired, young woman with glasses. Between Elle’s peculiar behavior and being expected to drink from a plastic dick all evening, I was going to have no problem staying on the wagon tonight.

  “Oh,” Elle addressed all of us but Kirsten, “Mena, Alex, Violet, and Candy, these ladies are a few more of my coworkers, Lydia, Colleen, and Vera.”

  “And don’t forget Walter,” Colleen, the curly-haired woman who’d handed out the dick straws, announced.

  “Oh, yes, and Walter the inflatable cowboy.” Elle snickered when Colleen appeared to try to make Walter tip his hat in our respective directions.

  “We have a tight schedule tonight,” Candy informed the table. “Lots of establishments to visit, lots of shenanigans on the party bus. So, let’s get to drinking, ladies.”

  Not needing to be told any further, Alex chugged her draft beer, earning an appreciative nod from both myself and Kirsten, whose own mixed drink was already half gone—or half-full, if you’re one of those optimistic people. Shortly thereafter, shots arrived, which Candy distributed.

  “As the maid of honor, I’d like to propose a toast,” I announced, raising my glass along with everyone else. “To the most selfless, loyal, beautiful, and talented woman I’m proud to call my best friend. Elle, I hope you enjoy your last few weeks of freedom before Luke locks it down.”

  “It’s not a prison sentence,” Violet quipped.

  “Isn’t it though, Bluebell?”

  As everyone downed their shots and plunked their empty glasses on the table, I lifted my rum and Coke to my mouth, pretending to use it as a chaser, and discreetly spat out my shot without anyone noticing.

  “Oh, my gosh! This is my jam,” Lydia announced. “Come on, ladies. Let’s hit the dance floor.” She grabbed Walter, much to Colleen’s consternation, and proceeded to dance to the beat of the song with him at her side.

  The table cleared, leaving Alex and I trailing behind. “I’m not drunk enough for all this,” Alex said.

  “That makes two of us, except you will be soon enough, while I will unfortunately not be at all.”

  More shots were passed around as the evening wore on, but I found it easier to hide the fact that I wasn’t imbibing right along with the rest of the party when everyone else’s level of inebriation began to rise. Kirsten dropped first, bumping into me on the dance floor, causing me to almost lose my footing a time or two.

  “I’m sssssoooo schlorry,” she said, grabbing onto my arm as she spoke.

  “Nothing to be schlorry about.”

  “You’re really drunk. You’re slurring your words.” She giggled, stumbling over her own two feet.

  “Yes, I am totally wasted.”

  By the time we reached the last bar of the evening, Alex was smiling, dancing alongside Elle on the dance floor with a drink in hand. Seeing the two of them next to each other, their resemblance was astounding, like I was looking at two Elle’s with only subtle differences between them. One of those differences was highlighted when the strobe light hit Elle’s face. At this point in the evening, she should at least look like she w
as trying to have a good time, but her expression was stoic. The corners of her lips tugged upward by only millimeters when Vera brought Walter over to dance with her. With her forced smile, she took the inflatable cowboy and proceeded to slow dance with him. Every once in a while, especially when she thought the others were paying attention, she would take a drink from her glass and sway to the music, laughing along with whomever was next to her.

  “Here,” Violet handed me a shot of something green in color from a tray in her hand. “Some dude at the bar bought us all one.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and take mine. I’ve had plenty to drink tonight already.”

  Violet’s eyes widened, and she quickly downed two shots from the tray, instead of the one in my hand. “You know, I thought you’d be a crazy drunk,” she said, swaying back and forth a bit. “But you’re really calm. Zen-like, you know.”

  “Yeah, that’s me. The picture of serenity. Such is the magic of alcohol.”

  “What’s going on over here with you girls?” Elle asked, a slur to her speech.

  Not to be outdone, I feigned stumbling forward a couple steps when Elle rested her arm on my shoulder, deliberately taking a drink from my own glass once I regained my footing. “Primrose and I were just discussing what an amazing drunk I am.”

  “She’s so great, Elle,” Violet said, her face contorting as she began laughing for absolutely no reason. “The three of us need to hang out more often. Oh …” She moved forward, catching the tray of drinks balancing precariously in her hand right as they were on the verge of toppling over. “We should do a girls’ trip to New York sometime.”

  “Sounds wonderful. What do you say, Elle?” I plucked one of the green shots from the tray and handed it to her. “Drink to that?”

  Elle took a whiff of the shot, her face turning its own shade of green. “Here,” she said, placing the glass back on the tray while shoving the other drink she was holding into my free hand. Confused, Violet and I watched her run impressively fast and steady in heels to the back of the bar.