Wedding Bells and Wall Street Bros

by Alina Jacobs

  Ida returned his credit card, and he looked down at it with a pained expression.

  “Yep! There’s a great sushi place nearby,” Harris continued. “They serve it off of naked people.”

  “Naked mannequins,” Ida clarified. “You two work too dang hard! All work and no play is no fun. Let’s go go go!”

  Mark and I looked at each other. Beowulf shook the dildo in his mouth, and it burst into song. The dog dropped it, yelped, and ran to hide behind Mark and growl at the dildo.

  “I need a drink,” Mark muttered.

  “That’s the spirit!” Ida exclaimed, shoving his jacket at him.

  29

  Mark

  I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  I must have lost my mind. I’m going on a double date with my grandfather.

  “Honestly,” Brea remarked as we were seated at the table and a dismembered mannequin arm was placed in front of us, “I think I would almost rather eat off of live people.”

  A shared drink, served in a mannequin head that had been cut in half, had been placed in the middle of the table.

  “There’s your drink,” Ida said, shoving a straw at Mark.

  “I need something stronger than fruit juice mixed with wine,” I replied.

  Brea took a sip of the concoction in the plastic head then coughed. “This is pretty strong. I don’t think there’s any juice in here,” she said as her eyes watered and her nose ran.

  A waitress wearing a mannequin mask came by to take our order.

  “One of everything!” my grandfather shouted. “My grandson is paying.” He patted me on the shoulder. I wanted to sink into my seat.

  “We’re on a double date,” he said to the waitress.

  Behind her mask, the waitress blinked.

  “They don’t talk here,” Ida explained. “It’s called the Dollhouse. This is the hottest new restaurant in town.” Ida snapped a few selfies. “All the girls on the ’gram come here.”

  The server brought more alcohol then set out little bowls of dips and a large tray of sushi.

  “I can see if they have ice cream sushi for you,” I whispered to Brea.

  “Har har. And they say Wall Street bros have a terrible sense of humor.”

  Despite the fact that the sushi was served on a severed plastic leg, it was delicious.

  I looked to Brea. She seemed slightly in shock at Ida and my grandfather. I grimaced. They were a lot. My whole family was a lot. That was why I had held off on telling them about Brea.

  Ida turned to Brea, waving a piece of sushi around as she talked.

  “I’ve seen your Instagram,” she said. “You definitely have the goods. That’s probably why your grandson is so besotted with her, Harris. I wish I had tatas like yours. I could do some real damage with those things!”

  Never again, I silently chanted. Never again will I let any of my family members talk me into a double date or have any minute influence on my dating life.

  “I especially like that latest corset you made,” Ida continued, scrolling through her phone. “The one that makes you look like an Amazonian priestess. Did you see that, Mark? Pretty spicy, eh!”

  She showed me an image of Brea in a black-and-bronze corset that dipped deep almost at nipple level. I shifted in my seat.

  Brea patted me on the shoulder. “Mark’s already seen all of that. That’s how we met! I flashed him!”

  Ida fist bumped Brea. “Girl after my own heart.”

  “In fact,” Brea said, lifting her shirt, “I have one on right now!”

  She giggled, and I had to fight off the urge to cut the dinner short and take her back to my condo and fuck her into the bed.

  “I bet I know what Mark wants for dessert!” Ida said with a laugh.

  30

  Brea

  My cocktail arrived in a Victorian dollhouse bathtub. I wasn’t sure how to drink it, so I just picked it up and went for it. While Harris grilled Mark on what his company was doing and Mark tried to deflect the questions as much as possible, I looked out over the restaurant. The Dollhouse sure lived up to its name. Various doll parts were stapled to the walls, dollhouses had been nailed to the ceiling to form lamps, and the whole place was packed with pretty doll-like Instagrammers taking shots of the hot new restaurant.

  One woman in particular seemed sickeningly familiar. My bathtub cocktail sloshed over my chin as I realized who it was. My twin sister met my eyes then smiled and blew me a kiss.

  Stay away. Stay away.

  But Memphis Eve sauntered up, the tall Svensson on her arm.

  “Well well well, if it isn’t my favorite—”

  “Did you like the shrimp roll?” I squawked desperately. Crap, I thought she was in Boston. I couldn’t let Mark find out that I had, well, not lied but withheld the truth from him. It would devastate him. And I should have broken it off. And I will after this.

  “Hey, you’re that other gal Mark brought to the fundraiser,” Mark’s grandfather slurred, half leaning over the table.

  I stuffed a California roll into my mouth, hoping I didn’t look guilty.

  “I was going to see if you would pimp out some of my sex toys, since you’re dating one of the Svensson brothers now,” Ida said, taking her phone out of her purse. She had probably drunk twice as much as the rest of us and still seemed only slightly tipsy, whereas I really needed a nap and something fried to soak up the alcohol.

  Memphis Eve smiled toothily at Ida. “I’d be delighted to! Especially now that I have someone to test them out with.”

  Ida handed her a business card. “Call me,” she said.

  Harris patted Mark on the back after Memphis Eve left. I was still sweating and anxious.

  “Don’t worry Mark,” his grandfather said. “You have Brea. The girl in your bed is better than the girl on Instagram.”

  Mark choked again, and Ida handed him her drink. When he took a sip, his eyes started watering, and he grasped for his water glass.

  “What is that?” he rasped.

  “The house Long Island tea,” Ida said. She sniffed the drink. “I think it’s a little weak though.”

  Mark kissed me sloppily as the town car pulled up in front of my apartment.

  “I think I’m too drunk for this,” I told him. “I’ll probably fall asleep halfway through.”

  “You don’t want to model your latest corset creation for me?”

  Cut him off! the last scrap of the ethical, rational Brea screamed internally. Cut him off before you hurt him.

  Tonight had been too close a call with Memphis Eve. For Mark’s sake, I couldn’t keep this fake relationship going.

  “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked. His blue eyes were warm in the light from the streetlamp.

  I wanted to see him again. I wanted to spend time with him. But…I couldn’t. I shook my head.

  Mark gave me a questioning look. “Are you working? I could just come hang out with you.”

  In the hoarder apartment? Dump him. You have to, now, before he gets even more attached.

  “Mark,” I rasped.

  He leaned over to kiss me, but I pushed him away.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “What, going out on double dates with my insane grandfather? I agree.”

  “No,” I said in a small voice. “I mean us. It’s not really professional.” I was trying to come up with good excuses. “I just don’t think that we’re going to actually work out.”

  “I thought we were going to give it a shot.” Mark’s body was still in the low light.

  I took a deep breath. “We did give it a shot, and it’s not going to work.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” he asked. The hurt on his face made me feel like a raging bitch—no, lower than that: like chewed gum on the bottom of the shoe of the raging bitch.

  “We should just limit our time together for the wedding planning.”

  “I thought we were pretty good together,” Mark said, brow furrowed, mouth downturned.


  Just put this—whatever this is—out of its misery already.

  “We weren’t,” I said bluntly. “Sorry, Mark.”

  I opened the door and rushed to the front door of the building. I didn’t look back. I knew Mark was watching to make sure I got in safely.

  “It’s your own fault for letting this spiral out of control,” I told myself as I stomped up the stairs.

  My parents were in the living room watching Golden Age Hollywood movies. They were delighted to see me.

  “We made popcorn, Brea!” Todd said.

  “I already had a lot to eat,” I told them, feeling woozy and sick from the alcohol and from dumping Mark.

  You weren’t in a relationship. There was no dumping. You just kept it from going further than it should. Mark will meet some nice woman from his own social class, and you will continue to live here, surrounded by a prison of fabric.

  I wanted to go to sleep for the next week, but I had wedding dresses to finish. One of my other brides had asked me to embroider several quotes from her great grandmother onto her veil at the last minute to surprise her mother. I turned on a romance audiobook and started to sew.

  “The billionaire took me in his arms and kissed me. I had never felt so, loved so—”

  “Blah!” I yelled and turned it off. Instead, I played some upbeat dance music as I embroidered the final quote around the hem on the veil.

  I arrived at the wedding venue out in the Hudson River Valley at an upscale vineyard early the next morning.

  The blushing bride squealed when she saw the veil and hugged me. Her whole family told me how beautiful it was. The bride’s mother dabbed her eyes.

  “Thank you so much for making this a special day. I always dreamed of the day my daughter would get married. You’ve just made my dreams come true!”

  After double-checking the wedding dress, an ethereal ball gown with a cascade of silk flowers, to ensure that there wasn’t a thread out of place, I went down to the ceremony in a small outdoor amphitheater in the gardens on the vineyard grounds. Amy was bustling around, stringing up garlands of flowers.

  “I have the chiffon you wanted,” I told her.

  “Did you bring your needle and thread?” she asked, harried.

  “What kind of seamstress would I be if I didn’t?”

  Amy stuffed a bucket of white roses into my arms.

  “Loop the chiffon along the aisles and fasten these roses on.”

  Ivy’s voice squawked periodically out of Amy’s Bluetooth walkie-talkie. She was ticking off various items on her to-do list then asked Amy if there was extra ribbon, as the ring bearer, a Jack Russell terrier, had chewed up part of his tux.

  “Brea’s here,” Amy told Ivy.

  My friend came outside a few minutes later with the half-chewed vest.

  “Oof,” I said, inspecting it.

  “Can you save it?” Ivy begged. “The bride is upset and crying. She refuses to have the wedding if the dog isn’t properly attired.”

  I whipped out my sewing basket. “One fixed tux coming right up.”

  Amy was putting the finishing touches on the cascade of flowers on the awning, foregrounded against the rolling vineyard hills with a view of the Hudson River beyond. She asked me slyly, “So you’re going to be partnering with Ida’s sex company now, I hear?”

  “Uh no. No way.”

  Amy tittered. “She has you all over her company Instagram account. You were out drinking with her last night?”

  “I don’t see why you’re following her sex toy company.”

  “Hey, not all of us have a billionaire at their beck and call.”

  “I don’t anymore,” I said, ripping out the seams on the dog vest.

  Amy made a shocked noise. “Did he dump you?”

  “I dumped him.”

  “Why? Memphis Eve is in Boston.”

  “Yes. That was the whole plan. I was just leading him on until I could get rid of her. Now she’s gone,” I said, stabbing the fabric with my needle. “So I’m not going to be with Mark anymore.”

  “But you like him!” Amy cried. “And if the rumors are correct, he likes you very much.”

  I blushed. “Ivy needs to keep her big mouth shut.” I looked back out to the garden. “There’s no way he and I would have worked out. I lied about my sister.”

  “I mean it’s not like Memphis Eve is really your sister,” Amy said. “You didn’t grow up together, you legally aren’t sisters. You share DNA—that’s it.”

  “It’s still a lie by omission.”

  “I’m sure he’d be fine with it,” she told me.

  I thought about what Liz had said, about how after Mark had been betrayed and heartbroken by Rhonda, he became sad and withdrawn. I didn’t want to be the cause of that kind of hurt.

  “At least give him a chance to hear the truth from you,” Amy said. “Don’t throw a good thing away because of Memphis Eve.”

  She looked at me critically. “Also, find a way to soften the blow.”

  “So I should bring cookies?” I asked, confused.

  “So you should wear one of your skimpiest, sexiest little corset creations, tell him about Memphis Eve, say you were jealous and horny and wanted his big D all to yourself, and then whip off your clothes and be like, ‘Am I forgiven?’ With tits like those, there’s no way he can refuse!”

  I thought about it later that evening after the wedding. Normally I didn’t stay through the whole wedding unless a bride needed to be sewn into and carefully removed from her wedding or reception dress. But tonight there had been emergency after emergency, and I had to remove grape juice from a white silk flower girl’s outfit and redo the dog vest again after the Jack Russell terrier managed to gnaw it off. Then the mother of the bride insisted that I stay for food and drinks at the reception because, as she put it, I was basically family now.

  “I’m going to find you a nice man!” she told me over the music. “My girlfriend from college has a son who works on Wall Street at an investment firm. Let me set you up!”

  After eating way too many snacks and taking a large box of leftovers home, I wandered back into the apartment late at night. As soon as I was inside, I reached for the amaretto-chocolate-raspberry layer cake that Sophie had made and that I was absolutely addicted to. I took a huge bite as I kicked off my shoes in my bedroom.

  I checked my phone. I’d been so frazzled the whole night that I hadn’t checked it. When I put in my passcode, there was a text message from Mark.

  Mark: I’m sorry my family is crazy. I’ll do anything to have you back in my life.

  That made me feel even more shitty. This whole terrible situation was my own fault, and now Mark was apologizing.

  A picture came in with a note.

  Mark: What’s your favorite dinosaur?

  I peered at the photo. There was what looked like a misshapen stuffed animal. “Is that supposed to be a dinosaur?”

  Mark: So sewing is harder than it looks.

  Mark: Maybe you want to come give me some pointers?

  Fuck. He was sewing. It was so adorable I couldn’t handle it.

  Don’t respond. Just ignore it.

  But I couldn’t.

  The thought of not having Mark in my life made my stomach clench. I thought about what Amy had said then browsed through the packed closet for the perfect outfit. I needed to take this chance. I just didn’t know how he would take the news.

  31

  Mark

  After Brea dumped me—that was indeed what she had done, just unceremoniously kicked me to the curb—I drove home in a daze. When I walked into my condo, I slumped down on the floor in front of the door. Beowulf trotted over to nuzzle my hand.

  “She didn’t want to be with me,” I told the dog. I was crushed. I sat with my back against the door for several moments, replaying the breakup over and over again in my head until there was furious knocking on the door.

  “Mark! Mark!” Carter yelled on the other side. “Granddad sai
d you had a girlfriend. What the hell, man? You didn’t tell me you were dating one of the wedding planners.”

  I jumped up, furious, and flung the front door open. It banged against the opposite wall, and Beowulf yelped.

  “How come you didn’t tell your only brother?” Carter demanded.

  “Why would I tell you? Why would I tell any of you?” I snarled. “So you can jump in, act horribly, and scare her off?”

  Grant and Wes peered around the door frame. I looked away from them.

  “I haven’t said three words to her,” Grant protested.

  “Trust me, that was by design,” I spat.

  “We can act like normal people,” Carter insisted.

  “No, you can’t,” I snapped at him. “As soon as Granddad even had an inkling Brea existed, he forced his way in here, freaked her out, and now she’s dumped me.”

  “Brea dumped you because of Granddad?” Carter exclaimed. “I mean, dude, you shouldn’t have let her near him.”

  “For some reason, he has a key to my condo.”

  “Mom was worried that you might, you know…” Carter mimed hanging himself. “After everything.”

  Wes looked guilty. “I’m sorry, Mark…”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I said coldly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”

  “What are you going to do?” Grant asked in apprehension.

  “Move,” I said grimly. “Away from here.”

  “You’re not going to live with us anymore?” Carter cried.

  “Nope.”

  Carter pretended to faint. Beowulf pounced on him, thinking he was playing, but I ignored him.

  “I’m sure Brea will take you back if you explain things,” Grant said.

  “It wasn’t just Granddad. It was all of you,” I told him. “She said she didn’t belong in our family.”

  “Maybe if we gave her a true Holbrook welcome?” Carter suggested from his spot on the floor.