by Adrianne Lee
I gave myself a shake. This was a disaster. I had to break the spell these two seemed caught up in. “You want security to toss us out?”
I was being elbowed aside; the hem of Troy’s shirt rose higher.
“Troy, you’re breaking the law.”
He froze, his eyes widened, and he glanced around, nodding reluctantly. He tugged his shirt down over his bare skin, but before I could shoo him away, he grabbed Meg and pulled her onto the dance floor, just as a slow song began playing. A favorite song of theirs. Had Troy asked the band to play this tune? Or was karma messing with me?
“Aren’t they the cutest couple,” Tanya said, a dreamy smile on her face.
I couldn’t deny it. The chemistry they’d shared as teenagers flared anew, sizzling the air around them. If they were testing for the role of lovers in a film, they’d be hired on the spot. My stomach did a sickening flip. “Meg is marrying Peter.”
“She could do better.”
Better than a famous actor making half a million a week? I would bet Tanya would snap up a marriage proposal from someone like Peter. I blinked. Were Meg and Troy snuggling? Oh my God, they were. And Tanya had her cell phone out, snapping photos of their shenanigans. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve been taking photos all day.” She kept the phone trained on Troy and Meg dancing, grinning at each other. “I want to put together an album for Meg, and I admit it, for myself.”
Of Meg with her ex-boyfriend’s hand on her ass? I made a grab for Tanya’s phone, intending to delete all the images, but she anticipated me. “Oh no, you don’t.”
She shoved the phone into her bra and scowled at me. “You’re a real party poop, you know that?”
“And you’re a real bitch!” I shouted as the music stopped. And now shocked faces were gaping at me. But the most shocking thing was Meg’s reaction.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two days before the wedding
As I shuffled into the kitchen, tugging my bathrobe around me, Billie handed me a cup of coffee, hot and steaming, as black as my mood.
“You look like something the dog dragged in, chewed up, pissed on, and tossed back out, Daryl Anne,” she said.
Yep, that was exactly how I felt, but all I said was, “Hmm.”
“Must have been some bachelorette party,” Mom said, opening the blinds on the third-floor loft apartment where she and Billie and I had moved after losing Dad. On this side of the building, the combined living room and kitchen windows overlooked Puget Sound, while the three bedroom windows all faced Front Street. “We didn’t have bachelorette parties when I married your father. Just a bridal shower with silly gifts.”
“And sillier games,” Billie added, huffing. “Nowadays they get drunk and have strippers. You did have a stripper, didn’t you?”
“No,” I said, trying not to recall the flash of enticing male abs both Troy and Seth had momentarily exposed. I really need to get a boyfriend.
“I bet it was a lot of fun,” Mom said.
Fun was not how I’d describe what occurred the previous evening. I went in search of some Extra Strength Tylenol to go with my coffee and hangover. Actually, I wasn’t hung over. I’d had a total of one and a half glasses of champagne before Seth drove me home. He’d insisted on stopping for something to eat, and we’d shared a carafe of coffee, which probably contributed to my sleeplessness. Living in Hollywood, I saw too many coworkers and friends throw their careers—and often their lives—away to the lure of alcohol and drugs, prescription or street. So far, my vices included only the occasional glass or two of wine.
“Don’t you have a lot of things to do before the rehearsal dinner tonight?” Billie said.
“Hmm.” I knew my responses might seem odd, but what else could I say? After last night, I wasn’t sure about anything on today’s schedule. Did Tanya Reilly Jones and Kramer intend to keep their appointment this morning? Was Big Finn coming to the rehearsal dinner? Would Meg and I make up? I couldn’t discuss any of it just now as it was bound to stir up questions I hadn’t even thought of yet. Besides, I was pretty sure I couldn’t speak more than three consecutive words without my head cracking wide open.
“Well,” Mom said, easing onto the kitchen barstool beside me while I swallowed the pain medicine, “Seth phoned. He wants to stop by in about an hour if you can spare him some time. Something about photos for the dinner tonight.”
I groaned, and both Billie and Mom eyed me with concern. Billie said, “Hardly the reaction we expected.”
Yes. They both knew about my teenage crush. But surely I didn’t need to explain that I wasn’t going to pursue a romance with a man in Weddingville when I would be heading back to Los Angeles next week? Or, for that matter, that he still didn’t see me as more than one of the boys. Just a friend. A pal. The kind you took pity on when the limo that had brought you to the party left without you.
I felt my mother’s warm hand land on my shoulder. “What’s going on, Daryl Anne?”
I jerked, guilt darting through me. There was no hiding my feelings from this woman. She knew me too well. My incoherent mutterings had only proven to her that I was upset. I took a sip of coffee, set it down, and slowly met her gaze. “I called Meg’s mom a bitch last night, right to her face, and Meg might not be speaking to me any longer.”
Mom’s eyes grew as round as cupcakes. “Tanya was invited to the bachelorette party?”
“Well, not exactly. She sort of crashed it… at the casino.”
“Well, I hope you didn’t call her that for Susan’s sake,” Billie said, as if I knew why I would need to verbally beat up Tanya for whatever she had done to my mother. I looked from one to the other, hoping for enlightenment, but none was offered.
“Why did you call her the B word?” Mom asked, feigning a mild interest despite leaning toward me with the teeniest glint in her eye.
I considered being as closed mouth to them as they’d been to me, but I knew they’d worm it out of me. “She was taking a bunch of photos of Meg and Troy dancing. She said she was going to make a photo album for Meg.”
“Troy O’Malley was at the party too?” Mom’s eyebrows twitched.
“Tanya came with him and some of his buddies,” I said.
“I told you, Susan. An alley cat doesn’t change its spots,” Billie said, then turned confused eyes on me. “I thought Meg was marrying Peter the actor.”
“She is, Gram. That’s the point. Why would Tanya make an album with photos of Meg and Troy dancing?”
“Probably plans on giving it as a wedding present,” Billie said.
“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Mom muttered, something akin to hellfire burning through her words. I had the sense that, if Tanya were standing in our kitchen right now, she’d be ashes. Mom sighed loudly, then went for more coffee.
“Gonna be a five-pot day,” Billie grumbled.
But Mom gave herself a shake and offered me a tender smile like the one she’d given me whenever I came to her as a child with scraped knees. “You and Meg have been friends a long time, sweetheart. Sometimes friends have spats, especially good friends, but true friends can work through anything. You’ll see. I’m sure she’s not mad. Not really.”
Well, I’m mad at her. She left me at the casino with no way to get home. I stopped short of saying it out loud. As much as I wanted them to be Team Daryl Anne, I also didn’t want there to be Meg on one side and me on the other of any controversy. If she didn’t call or text in the next hour, I’d hunt her down, and we’d duke it out. Verbally.
After all, the paramount duty of the maid of honor was to keep the bride-to-be emotionally calm. A sickening thought occurred to me. Was I still the maid of honor? Or had Meg decided she’d rather Tanya take over that prize role? No. She wouldn’t do that to me… would she? I swallowed coffee, considering. If I knew Meg, and I did, she was in hyper-chaotic mode about now, unable to think straight with all the unplanned, unprepared-for drama and nostalgia coming at her.
Another awful tho
ught hit me. What had gone on at the bachelorette party after they left the casino? Had Troy spent the whole evening with Meg? Perhaps the night? Oh, God, no, not that. I groaned again.
“Maybe you should go back to bed. You really don’t look well, Daryl Anne,” Mom said.
“Maybe somebody slipped her one of those roo-fees last night,” Billie said. “Did you black out any time during the evening or later?”
I frowned at Billie, but that sent a sharp jab of pain straight to my temples. I shuffled off to my bedroom. No one had drugged me. I wasn’t hung over. I was stressed. My plans and sense of calm were as shattered as a glass slipper. As I showered, dressed, applied lipstick and mascara, the same thought kept whirling through my head. Whatever Meg was thinking, whatever she was doing, I had to try to help her make it through.
* * *
I knocked on Meg’s motel cabin, praying that wasn’t Troy’s pickup parked in front of the cabin next door. Had it only been yesterday that I’d been standing on this same stoop, my heart full of excitement for my best friend in all this world? How could I now—a mere twenty-four hours later—feel my knees knocking harder than my hand hitting the door? As if that weren’t bad enough, my stomach churned, and my pulse skipped. Weirdly, some little part of me clung to the absurd notion that Meg hadn’t really meant to leave me at the casino. That this was a bad dream brought on by my own pre-wedding jitters. Could the maid of honor have pre-wedding jitters?
Yeah, probably not. I hit the door again. Come on Meg. Fling open the door. Be glad to see me so we can exchange apologies. Yes, I should be furious that she’d abandoned me at the casino, but she’d been under the influence. Of champagne. Of her mother. Of her former lover.
Then why hasn’t she texted or phoned?
And why wasn’t she answering the door? I glanced at the pickup again, and the churning in my stomach turned to a sick sensation. I rapped harder. “Meg? It’s me, Daryl Anne.”
I stood there, listening for sounds on the other side of the door, shuffling feet, muffled voices, the shower running. Something. Nothing. Still, I knocked a couple of more times before giving up.
With an ache settling in my chest right beside the anger I’d banked, I started back toward Front Street, walking numbly past shop windows gaily displaying essential wedding accessories. Everywhere I looked seemed to mock me. The ousted maid of honor.
I didn’t want to go back to the bridal shop, couldn’t face Mom and Billie. Or Seth. I glanced around and realized I was standing outside Cold Feet Café. It appeared that the morning rush had come and gone, but there were still diners enjoying breakfast. I shoved inside, immediately inhaling the mouthwatering aromas of coffee, bacon, and toast. My stomach growled. Maybe the churning was partially hunger.
“Good morning, Daryl Anne,” several of the folks I’ve known since childhood said in unison, and some of my anxiety dissolved like sugar in hot tea, easing my tummy ache. I had to admit that there was something wonderful about not being anonymous in a public eatery. I couldn’t go anywhere alone in Los Angeles and feel this sense of belonging.
I slipped onto a stool at the counter, accepted a cup of coffee, and ordered an egg with toast and bacon. I glanced around. I didn’t know what I was looking for, or who I might be hoping to find here, but I noticed a flash of color flapping in one of the booths. I blinked and focused. Zelda Love, Meg’s wedding planner, was waving at me, signaling me to join her.
Ah, what the heck? Maybe she could tell me what was going on with Big Finn, at least. I told the waitress I was moving and carried my coffee to the booth.
“Just the person I was hoping to track down today,” Zelda said as I sat opposite her. She brought to mind a brilliant parrot with her spiky yellow hair, and wild blue, red, and green billowing top. Her stuffed notebook sat to one side of a large mug of coffee.
“I was hoping to speak with you today too.” But now that that opportunity was leaning eagerly toward me across the table, I wasn’t sure just how to broach the subject of Meg and Big Finn’s argument yesterday. It wasn’t as if Zelda didn’t know about it. But somehow, it seemed like none of my business, despite it being totally my business if I were still the maid of honor. That was the crux of it. Was I or wasn’t I? Maybe I should just hand over what I did have planned to Zelda and let her and my ex-best friend work it out.
Zelda’s phone beeped. “It’s a text. I need to answer right away. Do you mind?”
“No. Take it.” I checked my phone, hoping to also find a text. Nope. Nothing. Okay, I admit it. The longer I went without any response from Meg, the more pissed I was getting. Who could blame me? I’d been trying to justify Meg’s actions, damning myself the worst kind of friend for calling out her mother, but by now she should have made some effort to contact me. This silent wall was too much.
The waitress delivered my breakfast. I waited until she’d left us alone before asking in a lowered voice, “What’s the deal with Big Finn and the rehearsal dinner?”
Zelda rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’ve been trying to reason with him, but that big Irish temper isn’t coming around very fast.”
I nibbled on a piece of bacon, glancing at the wall clock, calculating. Less than eight hours before the wedding rehearsal and the dinner immediately after. “Do you know if he’s going to be at the chapel, at least? He is still planning on giving Meg away, isn’t he?”
I heard a little edge in my voice and took a sip of coffee, and then dug into my egg.
“I’m not sure about the dinner, but he won’t let that woman keep him from walking his daughter down the aisle. He’s telling Meg that right now.” She crooked an elbow toward the back of the diner.
My gaze followed suit, my vision locking on the closed office door. Meg was with her dad? Not with Troy? I ought to be relieved; instead a knot filled my stomach, and I shoved my half-eaten food aside. “I’m glad. She would be devastated if he didn’t.”
“Well, there is a caveat. He won’t do it if Meg even suggests that Tanya also walk her down the aisle.”
“Meg wouldn’t—” I broke off. Considering the things Meg had been doing the past twenty-four hours, I was no longer certain what she might or might not do. “Why did you want to speak to me, Zelda?”
“At the dinner tonight, if Finn does attend… I’ll be with him… as his date.”
And this was my business, why? Did she think I was in charge of who sat next to who at the dinner? I thought that was her job. “Er, are you two dating?”
“Five months now.” A telltale blush of pink spread across her cheeks. My heart warmed at the thought of Big Finn finding romance after so many years alone and, although I never would have matched Zelda with him, it didn’t seem so odd-couple now that I thought about it. He was like a grizzly on the surface, gruff, loud, opinionated, but with a teddy bear center. She was like a kitten who would go where danger lived and never suspect she should be afraid. If anyone could bring Big Finn’s softer side to the surface more often, I suspected it might be Zelda.
I smiled. “I wonder why Meg didn’t mention this…”
Zelda winced. “I’m not sure Finn has told her yet.”
Why not? “Well, congratulations. He’s a really great guy.” I bit into another piece of bacon.
“He is, isn’t he?” She pressed her lips together and leaned toward me. “I was wary at first, given my history with that ex of his, about even getting to know him.”
I choked on the bacon. “History? You know Tanya?”
Her nose wrinkled as if I’d shoved her face into a pile of garbage. “We went to school together in Tacoma. Lincoln High. I’d lost touch with her when I married and moved to Anaheim. I wish I’d never heard from her again.”
“What did she do to you?”
“Shortly after losing my husband, I opened a small wedding planning business. Tanya e-mailed me out of the blue. She said she was producing an online magazine and wondered if I’d be interested in doing an interview. I jumped at the opportunity to boost my
visibility and to reconnect with my former classmate.” She tugged on her hair as she spoke. “We met for lunch, caught up on each other’s lives, and then settled in to the business at hand.”
“I take it the article didn’t go well?”
Pink scored Zelda’s cheeks. “I thought we were doing an interview about the benefits of hiring a wedding planner, but the end result was a business killer. My words were taken out of context, cut and pasted into a humorous clip that made me look like an incompetent twit. I lost potential clients and the first celebrity wedding I’d snagged.”
“Oh my God, that’s awful.”
“That’s why I need your help, Daryl Anne. Keep that witch away from Finn and me, or I can’t be held accountable for what I might do to her.”
I think my mouth fell open. Was she suggesting violence? Sweet little Zelda? Apparently the kitten had tiger claws. Before I could respond, I spied two redheads at the far end of the diner.
Meg and her father. They weren’t shouting, but Big Finn wasn’t smiling either. He seemed to be telling his daughter something similar to what Zelda had just said. I stood as Meg walked toward me, head bent, gaze riveted to her cell phone, nibbling on her lower lip, a sure sign of stress. When she reached me, she glanced up and froze.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Daryl Anne,” Meg’s face flashed guilt, her eyes a mix of dread and something I couldn’t read. “I…”
“No.” I caught her arm, aware of curious stares and a sudden lull in conversation. I lowered my voice until only she could hear and spoke through clenched teeth, “We’re not having this conversation here.”
But we weren’t having the conversation at all, it seemed. The moment we were alone on the sidewalk, her phone announced a text message. Then another. And another. Meg’s complexion was suddenly so pale even her freckles looked white.
Her voice shook when she said, “They’re from Peter. Someone Instagrammed photos to him of Troy and me dancing last night.” She swallowed hard, dread swimming in her eyes. “He wants to talk. He’s picking me up—” The roar of the Jaguar coming up the street cut her off. Meg squawked, “Now.”
