Everything We Are

by Janci Patterson

  Though I really could do without the ex-boyfriend living in the closet.

  Jenna runs a mic check, and through a window I see Gabby crossing the lawn in her blue maid-of-honor dress, flanked by two girls in the exact same outfit. One of them is black and the other’s Hispanic, and I assume they must be Josh’s sisters-in-law. They’re followed by three men in suits—two dark-haired Puerto Ricans who I presume to be Josh’s brothers, and a white guy (his friend Ben, I think?) who’s wearing a bright green t-shirt under his suit coat instead of a white shirt and tie.

  I can only hope Anna Marie already knows about that.

  “All right, guys,” I say, closing the blinds so no one sees us set up. “We’ve got forty-five minutes. Tops.”

  From behind the drum set, Roxie swears. “Get over here and help me with this thing,” she says to Leo, and they both squat behind the drum set, followed by crashing and groaning noises.

  Jenna shoots me a look, and I smile.

  “So,” Alec says to me. “Do you know who’s going to be here?”

  “My sister.” And then I realize he means who from the industry. “Oh, I don’t know. After we play you could talk to Josh. I bet he could point people out to you.”

  “You know the guy,” he says. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

  “Right.” What I actually do is text Gabby and ask her to ask him—now, before the wedding, before he’s surrounded by guests. If he’s annoyed, I text, tell him it’s the price for the look on his fiancée’s face when she sees AJ is playing her wedding.

  On it, Gabby texts back.

  “Damn it, Leo,” Roxie shouts. “You stepped on my foot. These boots aren’t steel-toed, you know.”

  “Guys,” Jenna says, peeking out through the blinds. “Shut up. It’s the bride.” We all crowd around the windows and peer through the cracks in the vinyl slats. I’ve only met Anna-Marie a couple of times, and most of those I was high, but I expected her to be the type to pick a sleek, tight wedding dress. The dress she’s wearing is actually more of a princess thing, with lots of fluffy gauze in rosy colors that complement the off-white of the rest of the skirts.

  She looks gorgeous, which Anna-Marie always does, and also nervous as hell.

  I smile. She’s got my sister waiting for her, and her bridesmaids, and then ultimately Josh. I can’t help but think about what it would be like to be out there waiting for Jenna. I wonder if I’d be nervous about getting married, about seeing her in her dress, about all the people watching us take this huge step.

  The thought doesn’t make me nervous now. I want it—that promise of forever with her. I know it’s crazy, but a lot of things are crazy about us.

  “Okay,” Alec says. “Crunch time.”

  We get our instruments set up and tuned, and then get out of the way of the caterers, who are bringing in what look like foil-wrapped ballpark hot dogs by the dozens.

  Is Anna-Marie seriously serving HOT DOGS at her wedding? I text to Gabby.

  She doesn’t answer, no doubt because the wedding is underway. She has, however, texted me a list of people in film and music who will be attending, and I pass that Alec’s way.

  We all hide in the kitchen, where the caterers indeed hand us some hot dogs and condiments. Leo makes a series of dick jokes that Roxie alternately giggles and glares at, while Jenna and I lean against the counter and try not to look like we’re together. Alec sits next to the stainless-steel sink and Googles my list of professionals on his phone, finding pictures so he can casually recognize them between our sets.

  As the reception begins, Gabby ducks into the kitchen with a stack of t-shirts with the hashtag #teamjoshamarie emblazoned across the front.

  “Seriously?” Alec says.

  “Seriously,” Gabby says, and she hands the shirts out to each of us. “Wear them.”

  Leo sifts through the shirts and pulls one out for himself.

  “That’s too small for you,” Roxie says.

  “Says you,” he returns.

  We decide to hide the shirts when we go out on stage. Gabby uses Alec’s mic to announce that she has a surprise for Anna-Marie, and then announces the band. There are some screams and cheers from the crowd, loudest of all from Anna-Marie, who clings to Josh and jumps up and down as Alec and Jenna stride out on stage.

  The rest of us follow while Gabby gives us a look of exaggerated annoyance. “Um, guys?” she says. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Leo busts off his jacket to reveal the Joshamarie shirt, and the rest of us tug ours on over our clothes. The cheers are even louder this time, and we all do a quick tune check and then start to play “Forever for You,” which is Anna-Marie’s favorite ballad from the new album. Jenna and Alec are both playing their instruments, which means they have to do less staring into each other’s eyes, but they still manage to pull off some loving glances that make me at once proud of what a good actress my girlfriend is and annoyed Alec can’t use any of his acting skills off-stage to be less of an asshole.

  Apparently these shirts are the wedding favors, because guests begin to grab them off the tables and pull them on over their wedding clothes. Josh’s friend Ben pulls off his tux coat and his green shirt to replace it with #teamjoshamarie, and kisses a guy with spiky dark hair wearing sneakers with his suit that I assume must be Ben’s husband, Wyatt.

  Anna-Marie grabs Josh and pulls him to the center of the floor. People gather around the tables circling the room, giving them space to dance. Josh kisses Anna-Marie and guides her around the floor, and I’m glad this song is easy to play, because I’m at once watching them and thinking about what it would be like to dance with Jenna with everybody watching.

  I wonder if we’d look as happy as these two do. I’m almost positive we would.

  After the ballad we play a set of Anna-Marie’s favorite songs, which Josh somehow got out of her without ruining the surprise. Alec takes a few requests from the audience, and a dark-haired girl wearing what looks like a crocheted tube-dress requests Shane Beckstrom’s “I’ll Take You Back,” which Alec wisely ignores. Between songs, Anna-Marie hugs Gabby, and I see her thanking my sister for getting us to play.

  At least today I’ve been a decent brother. I could use a few more of those days.

  Between sets, we get a chance to mingle. Anna-Marie and Josh are greeting their guests, of which there are literally hundreds, ranging from young Hollywood types, to old rich couples, to actors I recognize from the times I’ve watched Anna-Marie’s strangely addictive soap, to a cluster of people with clothing twenty years out of date that I can only assume came in from Wyoming, and a group I gather from my limited high school Spanish flew in from Puerto Rico.

  Gabby comes over and grabs me by the arm, and she and Will find me something to drink that doesn’t have alcohol in it. We’re standing in the corner talking about the ceremony when I notice Alec has Jenna on his arm and has cornered one of the Hollywood types who’s wearing the suit equivalent of skinny jeans and a man bun.

  “We’ve been looking for some soundtrack work,” Alec says. “We’re really good at writing to story, and can work around themes and plot lines if the money’s right.”

  Damn right, they write to story. Jenna looks a little uncomfortable at this pronouncement, but she covers it with a sip of her champagne.

  “Actually,” Man Bun says. “Are you available next Saturday? I got a phone call this morning that Randall Wex is in rehab again, and he was supposed to play the VMAs, but his people say he won’t be out in time.”

  The words rehab again get my heart going, and I take a drink of my punch and almost wish it was alcoholic.

  Alec is probably about to shit his pants, but he covers well. “Hmm,” he says, looking to Jenna. “It’s right before we leave for tour. Could we do that?”

  She smiles. “I think we could squeeze it in.”

  Man Bun nods
and pulls out his phone. He actually says, “I’ll have my people call your people,” and Alec gives him Phil’s phone number.

  I should be excited about the prospect of playing the VMAs, but I find myself thinking it’s just another chance for Alec to wave the engagement in my face. I wonder if I’m going to feel this way every stop on the tour, or if it’s just the prospect of watching Jenna and Alec kiss for national TV.

  When they finish with Man Bun, Alec sweeps Jenna over to us. “Did you hear that?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I say. “The VMAs. You really think they’ll call?”

  “We can hope.” He grabs a new glass of champagne from a passing tray. Then he turns his brilliant, performer-Alec smile on my sister and Will, as if Gabby hasn’t already met the all-too-real Alec at practice. “Thanks for giving us this opportunity.”

  “Sure,” Gabby says. “Thanks for playing for me.” But she eyes Alec’s arm around Jenna’s waist, and sounds significantly less excited about it than she used to be. She leans into Will, who kisses her on the top of her head. I have to admit, I haven’t taken the time to get to know Will overly well, which is mostly my own selfish embarrassment. I know he can’t be fond of me after what I did to Gabby during the two years they’ve been together, but I need to get over myself and make an effort.

  Keeping this huge secret from him hasn’t helped—but I can tell he’s a good guy, and really great for Gabby. And though neither of them are the type for PDA, it’s pretty clear every time the two of them are together how much he loves her.

  I’m glad she’s had him by her side the last couple years, while I was off campaigning for World’s Shittiest Brother. For Will’s part, he doesn’t seem to hate me for all the pain I’ve caused her, and in fact has been nothing but cool to me. Even though now he thinks I’m some perv who calls phone sex hotlines when I crash in his living room.

  Thanks again for that, Gabby.

  “Must be pretty cool to see your brother play with a pop band, huh?” Alec says. I’m not sure if he means this because orchestra is boring, or because he’s so famous she should be grateful to be associated with us, but Gabby waves a hand dismissively.

  “I’m used to it,” she says. “Our sister Dana breathes and she gets a professional award. Felix farts and he gets a part in a symphony.”

  I laugh at that image, and Will grins, but Alec hardly seems to hear her.

  “Hey, babe,” Alec says to Jenna. “Did you get a chance to show Felix’s sister your ring?”

  I reach into my pocket and wrap my hand around my sixty-day chip.

  Jenna’s smile wavers, and she looks at Gabby, who stares back. I’m pretty sure they’re communicating one of those endless apology loops with only their eyes.

  If Alec notices, he keeps up the act, still smiling at Gabby. “Sorry we didn’t get a chance to see you after the show. Felix told us you were there, but it was a hell of a night.”

  Will looks from Gabby to me, and then to Alec. “Yeah, congratulations,” Will says, and he sounds like he means it, but I know he can tell something is off about all this. I already regret making Gabby promise not to tell him. It’s not like Will is going to talk to the press, and I don’t see him blurting it out over cauliflower pizza at guys’ night with Josh and Ben.

  “Thanks, man,” Alec says, and nudges Jenna.

  “Oh, yeah,” she finally says. She shifts her champagne to her other hand and holds out her ring.

  Alec looks me right in the eyes, and he smiles. I down the rest of my punch, now wishing it was a glass of goddamn vodka.

  “It’s beautiful,” Gabby says, though with how morose her voice sounds, she might as well be complimenting Jenna on her fine choice of burial plots.

  “Thanks,” Jenna says, no more enthusiastically.

  Alec looks around at the exposed beams of the arched ceiling. “What do you think of this place, babe? Maybe we should look into it for our wedding.”

  Jenna takes her hand off Alec’s arm and forces a smile, but she looks ill. “Excuse me,” she says. Then she stalks across the room and out the back exit.

  I take one step toward her, but Gabby puts a hand on my arm.

  Right. I can’t follow her. Everyone would see, and Jenna’s made enough of a scene that even if I’m casual about it, people might suspect. Alec gives me one more smile and then goes off to work the crowd some more. No doubt he’ll have a wedding venue nailed down by the end of the night.

  I catch Leo’s eyes across the room, from where he’s talking to Macy Mayfield, an actress I’m pretty sure is one of Josh’s clients. Macy has her hand on Leo’s bicep, and Roxie is standing behind them glaring daggers, but Leo is looking right at me. He cocks his head toward the door where Jenna left, and I nod.

  Leo extracts himself from Macy, and I appreciate what a damn good friend he is, even though probably he was just using Macy to make Roxie jealous. “I’ll be right back,” I say to Gabby and Will, and I make a casual round of the room—accepting compliments from several family members on the music, and dodging the girl in the tube-dress, which is so short it rides up her butt cheeks. She actually licks her lips when she looks at me.

  No, thanks.

  As I approach the kitchen, I see Jenna and Leo standing down the hall from one of the staging rooms. Jenna is still wearing her #teamjoshamarie t-shirt over her dress, and she’s hugging her arms to her chest. She gives me a weak smile, which I return.

  “What’s Alec’s deal?” Leo says as I approach. “Why can’t people just admit what they’re feeling instead of being douches about it?”

  Jenna raises an eyebrow. “Seriously, Leo?”

  “What?” Leo is the picture of innocence.

  “You and Roxie?”

  Leo squirms a bit, and stares at his glass of champagne. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Dude,” Jenna says. “It’s obvious to everyone that you want each other.”

  I lean against the wall next to them and nod.

  “No way,” Leo says. “Roxie is just like that.” He finishes his glass, and then hesitates. “Do you really think she wants me?”

  That answers the question of whether they’re together and trying to hide it. “Obviously,” I say.

  Jenna nods.

  Leo shrugs. “Whatever. Even if she did, she’d just sleep with me once and drop me. That’s how Roxie is.”

  Jenna shakes her head at him. “Leo, that’s how you are.”

  He nods into his empty glass. “Yeah, okay. Good point.”

  I’m about to say something about him being far less douchey than Alec when the devil himself sticks his head into the hall. “Guys!” he shouts, “we’re up for our second set!”

  We all exchange weary glances, and head back to the stage to finish the show.

  Twenty-eight

  Felix

  The next morning, Jenna and I are lounging in bed. Alec has left the house, and Ty spent the night at his grandparents’ place, so we have a rare morning to ourselves. There’s a strip of sunlight from between the curtains falling across the bed and for some reason it makes me think of Garfunkel, this fat old cat my grandma used to have when I was a kid. He was mean as hell normally, and didn’t like people—especially little boys who tried to ride their Power Rangers action figures on him—but he loved lying in this block of sunlight that came in from the narrow window by the front door. He’d lie there, soaking up the light, his tail twitching occasionally, purring away like an arthritic motorbike.

  I kind of feel like Garfunkel right now, lazily content, only instead of the sunlight, I’m basking in the feel of Jenna pressed up against me, her skin warm against mine. Jenna seems content enough too, despite the current topic of conversation—Alec.

  When we left the wedding yesterday, I stayed to help Gabby clean up, and then hit a meeting, so I missed Jenna chewing out Alec f
or being a dick. I run my hand through her hair as she tells me about it.

  “So then he’s like, ‘Be smart, Jenna. Don’t throw everything away, Jenna.’ God. He makes me hate my own name.”

  “Jenna,” I say, trailing my fingers along her bare shoulder.

  She leans close and kisses me, soft at first and then deeper. “Well, when you say it—” Her phone rings, and she sighs, reaching to get it off the nightstand. “It’s my parents,” she says. “Hello?”

  I can hear Ty’s voice on the other end of the phone, though I can’t make out what he’s saying.

  Jenna looks confused, and then she holds the phone out to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

  I take the phone, and climb out of bed, stretching and reaching for my boxers and a t-shirt. “Hey, kid.”

  “Felix!” Ty says. “Nana says that it’s the fifteenth.”

  “Great. Did you call just to tell me that?”

  “No,” he says, like this is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “But mom’s birthday is the twenty-fifth, and twenty-five minus fifteen is ten, which means I only have ten days to finish—” his voice hushes “—my secret surprise. You said you would help me work on it, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, and I hear Jenna groan. I turn toward her. “You’re not listening to this, are you?”

  “No,” she says, tugging a white cotton tank top on above her underwear. “I just remembered I’m supposed to meet Allison about costuming in like fifteen minutes. I’m not going to make it.”

  I point toward my pants, discarded on the floor. “You can use my phone. I have her number.”

  “Felix?” Ty says. “Are you listening? This is an emergency.”

  “Because you need to finish,” I say, turning around as Jenna picks up my pants.

  “Yes. And I can’t get Donald Trump’s hair right.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, okay, kid. We can work on it tonight. How’s that? And I’ll find a picture for reference, okay?” I prop the phone up with my shoulder while I pull my boxers on.