The World According to Vince - A romantic comedy (Gym or Chocolate Book 2)

by Stuart Reardon

  Then I sat at the breakfast bar sipping a coffee, with Tap draped over my knees, her eyes closing as I stroked her slowly. I wasn’t needed for a couple of hours because Rick was having breakfast with his parents while Ben and Leon were out for their helicopter ride across the city.

  I’d texted Gracie an hour ago and she was already with Cady and Rachel, the ladies getting their hair, nails and makeup done. I was looking forward to seeing her all tarted up even though she looked hottest with her hair mussed, wearing my briefs and t-shirt.

  Tap sighed in contentment, and I smiled to myself. These moments were precious: Tap on my knee, Tyson snuffling around the garden, and Zeus snoring in his bed. But I wanted to share them with Gracie. For the first time in my life, I wanted intimacy with a woman that came from trust, from love, from being myself and not disappointing anyone.

  And maybe I’d get lucky tonight. Weddings made women horny, and wasn’t there some sort of rule that the maid of honor had to sleep with the best man? I grinned at the thought. Lucky, lucky Gracie.

  Glancing at my watch, I realized that I’d zoned out for nearly an hour and only had a couple of minutes before Erik arrived. I checked my list for my best man’s emergency kit: two pints of Jack Daniels, mouthwash and mint-flavored chewing gum, Imodium and spare underwear, Aspirin, dental floss, deodorant, glue (in case my tooth dropped out again), tweezers for nasal hair (I’m not saying Rick had a badger’s arse growing out of his nose, but it was wise to think of these things). Oh yeah, and eye drops that hid any redness and signs of overdoing it the night before—a tip I’d picked up during my modeling days.

  My doorbell buzzed, and the dogs started barking as I welcomed Erik inside. He’d arrived with a pocket full of Milk-Bones. I knew that my pack of hairy hounds would have conned him out of the whole lot by the end of the first hour, but it was a nice gesture.

  “You give my regards to Miss Cooper and the happy couple,” he said. He sniffed a couple of times. “I love weddings. My wedding, best day of my life. And fashion show—also best day of my life.”

  I slapped him on the shoulder, gave him instructions for the kids’ lunch and supper, and left a hundred bucks so he could order himself take-out during the day.

  “What have I forgotten?” I asked out loud, the three dogs staring at me with forlorn eyes when they realized I was leaving them.

  “You have wallet?” asked Erik.

  “Yep.”

  “You have condom?”

  “Yep,” a new packet.

  “Phone?”

  “Yep,” I said, patting my pocket.

  “You have rings? You have suit?”

  “Rick has them.” For some reason he didn’t trust me to remember them. No fookin’ idea why.

  “Then I think you’re good to go, my friend,” said Erik.

  I kissed the kids goodbye, picked up my sports bag packed with the emergency kit and strode out to the waiting taxi.

  Aw, Erik was standing at the door waving his handkerchief goodbye.

  The taxi pulled away when I suddenly realized what Erik was really waving. “Stop!” I yelled.

  The driver slammed on the brakes, then swore as I jumped out of the car and ran back to my house.

  “You forget best man’s speech!” Erik screeched, waving the sheets of paper that I’d so carefully typed with two fingers.

  “Mate! You’ve saved my arse again! I owe you, buddy.”

  “Two cravats!” Erik bellowed as I ran back to the taxi.

  I stuffed the pages in my jeans’ pocket as the driver scowled at me in the mirror. I’d broken into a cold sweat at the thought of forgetting the best man’s speech.

  I’d never been a best man before; I’d never been best anything, unless you counted the time I was voted Rear of the Year in the Gay Times—Mum had been so proud.

  But the point was, even I knew that the best man’s speech was a big deal. I wanted to do right by Rick for trusting me with this job, and I wanted to impress Gracie as well. Losing the speech before I arrived at the hotel would not be a good start.

  The wedding party had rooms reserved at a dope place named ‘The Jewel’ opposite Rockerfeller Plaza where Rick and Cady were having their wedding in the famous Rainbow Room. Probably famous if you were a New Yorker, but I’d only lived here a couple of months so I’d never heard of it before.

  I found Rick in his hotel room, drinking coffee from an espresso cup.

  I leaned forward, staring him in the face and checked his eyeballs.

  “What are you doing?” he grumbled, pushing me away.

  “Making sure you’re not high. All that strong will you have most of the time and it suddenly snaps under stress—I’ve seen it happen.”

  “Don’t be an idiot if you can possibly help it,” he said in irritation. “You know I don’t take anything stronger than caffeine. And I’m not stressed.”

  “Really? I would be. You know, about to stand up in front of 150 people and declare undying love to one woman for the rest of your life, even knowing she’ll get wrinkled and old and saggy in a few years. And Cady is…”

  “Finish that sentence and I’ll toss you out of the window,” he said, his eyes glinting in a way that made me think he was serious.

  “Right,” I grinned quickly so he’d think I was joking.

  I wasn’t. But he didn’t need to know that. Rick’s temper was almost non-existent but I’d noticed that he got rather shirty if it was anything to do with Cady, going all caveman, without the wooden club or the pet Saber Tooth.

  I dumped my sports bag on the table, narrowly missing the florist’s box containing the boutonnières, and pulled out a bottle of Jack, then looked around for Rick’s dad.

  “Where’s your old man?”

  “He just left. I think he’s a bit jet lagged and he wanted to take a nap before Mum gets back. She’s with Cady, Rachel and Grace.

  “Fair enough,” I said, brandishing the Jack. “One for the road, buddy?”

  Rick grabbed the bottle and took a long pull, looking significantly more relaxed as Tennessee whiskey hit the spot.

  “Thanks,” he said, passing the bottle back to me. “I needed that,” and he sighed.

  “Everything alright?” I asked carefully, not wanting to be dangled from the 35th floor, even if the view was fantastic.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s just … I want to marry Cady, but all of this,” and he waved his arms around at the very nice hotel suite with kitchenette and balcony, the wedding suits hanging in Armani garment bags, and the Tiffany boxes containing the wedding rings. “I don’t like crowds,” he finished lamely.

  I finally realized what the real duty of the best man was: help the groom find his balls.

  “Mate, what’s the biggest crowd you ever played in front of when you were playing professional rugby?”

  He squinted at me as I took a long slug before handing over the bottle of Jack again.

  “Um, 16,500 at Gloucester, I think. Why?”

  “And you’re worried about standing in front of a poxy 150 people? Honestly, mate, when Cady is in the room, you never notice anyone else anyway. I can be standing there talking to you, certain my lips are moving, but you’re just staring at her like you’ve been zombified. Without the peeling skin, but definitely with the drool.”

  Rick blinked then gave a faint smile. “Zombified?”

  I shoved the bottle of Jack toward him again, nodding as I watched him swallow a third of the bottle in one long gulp.

  He handed it back to me, his eyes slightly crossed and a soppy smile on his face.

  My job was done.

  “Right, let’s get the suits on and show the women of New York what they’ll have to go on missing now we’re both off the market,” I said.

  “You’re really into Grace?” he asked, frowning slightly.

  “Hook, line and sinker. She’s the woman for me.”

  His eyebrows inched upward. “Are you … dating?”

  “I haven’t shagged her
yet, if that’s what you mean by dating, but it’s inevitable at some point. She can’t resist my charms forever.”

  “Sure about that?” he grimaced.

  “Mate! You wound me!” I chuckled.

  “And then what?” Rick asked, folding his arms across his chest as his gaze narrowed.

  “Then we get hitched, and ride off into the sunset with Tap, Tyson and Zeus.”

  His mouth dropped open and he gave me a weird look. “You want to marry her?”

  “Yep,” I grinned.

  “Um, not wanting to rain on your parade, but does Grace know this?”

  I nodded. “She’s been fairly warned.”

  Rick scratched his head. “Eh, that’s not quite the same as getting down on one knee and promising to love her forever.”

  “Is that what you did?” I asked, eyeing him curiously while I pulled out my phone and opened the Notes app.

  He sighed. “Vin, mate, you don’t tell a woman to marry you; you have to ask them. Beg if you have to.”

  I nodded, tapping his advice into my phone.

  “Right, gotcha. Ask her first … one knee … then shag her. Yeah?”

  He pulled a face and reached for the bottle of Jack. “Close enough.”

  Then he weaved his way to the bedroom with the garment bag draped over his arm. He’d taken the bottle with him. Good thing I’d brought two. I glanced at my watch. T-minus-30 minutes and counting.

  I peeled off my shirt, dropped my keks on the floor, then used the large mirror to flex. I stood there in my navy blue briefs (the ones I’d designed with gold paw prints), plus matching socks, and grinned. Yup. Fookin’ irresistible. Gracie didn’t stand a chance.

  Unzipping the bag with my bespoke Armani suit, I stared in awe. That wasn’t a suit, it was a piece of art with over 120 man hours to make it. Uncle Sal had played a blinder. I’d have to think of something very special to thank him for all his team’s hard work.

  Everything was a perfect fit, and I’d expected nothing less. Fook me! I looked great!

  I fastened the navy blue cummerbund but left the bow tie hanging around my collar. Plenty of time to be trussed up like a turkey. Poor turkey.

  Then I peered down at the one item of clothing that I’d never worn before: a navy blue yarmulke. Rick and I were wearing them out of respect for Cady’s religion and Rabbi Lisa who was officiating the marriage service.

  I plopped it on my head, then frowned as it slid off. I tried again, but after taking one quick stride, it was back on the floor. I stared at it, puzzled, wondering how other blokes kept it on. My hair was short and spiky, and the bloomin’ thing kept springing off no matter how much I tried to squash it down.

  I nipped into Rick’s bathroom, making him jump while he was shaving, but luckily he didn’t cut himself. He was so cack-handed, poor sod.

  Squirting a blob of his hair gel onto my hands, I tried to tame my hair, but it was like badger bristles and wouldn’t lie flat.

  In desperation, I grabbed the tube of glue from my emergency kit and squirted a line around the edge of the yarmulke, then slapped it on my head.

  Sorted!

  Pleased with my improvisation, I checked myself in the mirror. I was ready to make Gracie beg. Then I frowned and checked the notes on my phone. Oh right, it was me who had to beg. I’d better get that the right way around or I’d be in the dog house, and it wouldn’t be as comfortable as where my mutts slept.

  I glanced over to where the two Tiffany boxes with the wedding rings waited on the coffee table. I couldn’t help opening them up to have a look. Both were plain gold bands, simple but beautiful, Rick’s larger and a little heavier. My best mate, the man I respected more than any other in the world, was about to make this awesome lifelong commitment. A year ago, that would have horrified me. But seeing him with Cady, any fool could tell they were great together, that they loved each other.

  I was happy for him, but maybe a little sad for me. Things were changing: time to finally grow up.

  I was ready.

  Grace

  We’d spent the last couple of hours being painted, primped and polished by a lovely hairdresser named Nancy, makeup artist Nerissa, and nail technician Naomi from the 3 Hens Makeup Services.

  We’d laughed, we’d cried, we’d shared stories, and I’d been sipping champagne throughout and was slightly tipsy. Rick’s mom, Sheila, had left ten minutes ago to change into her mother-of-the-groom outfit and collect her husband. She hadn’t seemed entirely sober either as she’d headed back to her room.

  Hmm, time to slow the alcohol consumption. I didn’t want to faceplant in front of the chuppah. And I didn’t want Cady to dehydrate either, so I handed her a bottle of water with a straw; that way she wouldn’t smudge her lip gloss.

  “I’ll be peeing all afternoon if I drink this,” Cady objected. “We’ll be halfway through the vows and I’ll be yelling bathroom break!”

  Rachel giggled then hiccupped loudly, apologized profusely and excused herself. Side-eyeing the mother-of-the-bride, I watched her weave her way to the bathroom, then discreetly left her a bottle of water plus straw by her purse.

  “I’ll make sure you go potty before the ceremony,” I assured Cady.

  “Did you factor it into your schedule?” she teased.

  “As a matter of fact I did, except I wrote it down as Powder Room and makeup check, because I’m classy like that.”

  Cady grinned. “You are an epic wedding planner! I’m going to hire you for all my weddings.” Then she winced when she realized what she’d said. “Oh fart! Don’t tell Rick I said that—he’s sensitive.”

  “My lips are sealed. What happens in the bride’s dressing room, stays in the bride’s dressing room.”

  Cady closed her eyes and blew out a long breath. “I didn’t think I’d be nervous, but my hands are shaking.”

  I’d rarely seen Cady so vulnerable, but I knew my friend was making the right decision in marrying Rick. I took hold of her hands, smiling at our matching navy blue nails, the gloss bright and shiny.

  “Cady, you’re marrying the man you love today—the sweetest, kindest, most loyal guy you’ve ever dated who happens to be head-over-heels in love with you, too. I’m so darned happy for you both. You’re in love; truly and deeply in love. This wedding will last just a few hours—your marriage will last a lifetime.”

  “Bitch!” Cady sniffed. “You’ve made me cry! Ugh, pass me a tissue, quick!”

  We both had to touch up our makeup after the almost-crying catastrophe.

  “Do you think the guys are doing shots?” she asked, still sniffing slightly.

  “Rick chose Vince as his best man. What do you think?”

  “Good point. Please tell me you have a bottle of tequila with you for Mom?” she asked hopefully.

  “Would you at least get her to finish a bottle of water first?”

  She pouted at me and fluttered her eyelashes.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “Mini bottles are in the fridge, but just one and don’t let your mom see the rest. She’s definitely had enough to drink.”

  Cady winked at me. In the past, I was staggered how she managed to stay upright after all the champagne she could drink in one evening. The woman was an Amazon. I was in awe. But then again, I always had been, and I loved her to bits.

  “Come on, time to get ready.”

  We both turned to look at the gorgeous Sophia Tolli wedding dress hanging at the front of the closet. It wasn’t an ordinary white wedding dress, of course, because there was nothing ordinary about Cady. My friend was larger than life, with the biggest heart.

  The Australian designer specialized in dressing voluptuous women like Cady and we’d both fallen in love with her incredible creation.

  It was made from a column of delicate navy blue lace over a contrasting French ivory base of misty tulle bodice, a flared gown with seed pearls lightly scattered throughout, a plunging sweetheart neckline that showcased Cady’s awesome boobs, a semi-sheer low cut back, with a tu
lle and lace accented chapel train that would froth out behind her. It was also detachable, because Cady planned to do a lot of dancing at her wedding.

  As I helped her into the gown and fastened the tiny pearl buttons at her back, I could feel myself welling up again.

  “Don’t,” Cady whispered hoarsely.

  “I’m trying not to,” I whispered back.

  But then Rachel returned from the bathroom, and we both heard her gasp.

  She rushed forward and hugged Cady tightly.

  “You are so beautiful,” she cried, her voice breaking. “My beautiful, beautiful daughter. I’m so proud of you: not just today but every day. Every day of my life I thank God for giving me you. You’re the best daughter a mother could want. Rick is a very, very lucky man.”

  I stepped away to give them a moment, and honestly, I needed one, too. I was feeling incredibly emotional at the thought of my best friend getting married.

  I slipped into the bathroom and carefully dabbed cold water onto my neck. Today was a good day and I was happy for her, and maybe just a little sad for me. Just a little.

  My maid of honor dress had color accents that matched Cady’s dress. It was a gorgeous, knee-length, one-shoulder gown with the navy silk chiffon draping softly, and it was accessorized by a wide belt in ivory with a rose-shaped bow. It was simple and elegant, and I couldn’t wait for Vince to see me in it.

  Yes, I’d tripped over to the dark side: I wanted Vincent ‘the Canine Crusader’ Azzo to find me attractive. I prayed he wouldn’t let me down. There were going to be several celebrities at Cady and Rick’s wedding—young and attractive. In my heart of hearts, I knew that I’d be devastated if he flirted with one of them.

  I took a deep breath: in this dress, I felt beautiful.

  I stepped out of the bathroom to find Cady’s mom drinking a mini bottle of tequila and Cady laughing. I snapped a photo on my phone.

  “One for Instagram!” I laughed.

  Fascinating factoid: Happily Ever Hashtagged is a company that invents hashtags for weddings—$40 for one or $85 for three.

  Then I made sure that Rachel had her boutonnière in place, and Cady pinned mine to my dress and we all looked at each other.