Rumors: Angela & Tyler

by Rachael Brownell

  "Food then drinks," Megan chimes in. It's the first thing she's said to me. She skipped the pleasantries and moved into party girl mode. "I need to change first."

  Allison nods in agreement and they take off up the stairs. Both were wearing jeans and a nice top. Nothing they couldn't have gone out in. I'm not changing, and I have jeans and a blouse on.

  The one thing I always heard about New Orleans, aside from the infamous Mardi Gras celebration, is that the food is amazing. It's no lie. We pass at least three restaurants before we all agree on one, and the heavenly scents surrounding me as we walked was only making my stomach talk louder.

  After stuffing my face with an oversized sandwich and a side of jambalaya, I contemplate ordering dessert but there's no room left. The bananas foster the table next to us shared had my mouth watering. It smelled sinful and sweet, just the way I like my desserts to be.

  That was before I ordered food. Before I ate every bite in front of me and filled my stomach to the brim. I should have saved a little room because as we make our way toward Bourbon Street for drinks, the bananas foster is the only thing on my mind.

  Music floats around us, getting louder the closer we get. By the time Bourbon Street is in our sights, the party already in full swing. It's getting hard to carry a conversation.

  Pulling me to a stop, Emerson hollers at the other girls and we all form a circle around her.

  From her purse, Em produces a hot pink sash. "They didn't have one in your colors, but I know how much you love pink," she says, placing the sash over my head and straightening it across my chest.

  Bride

  If the color of the sash didn't make me stand out, the white letting across my chest would. This is going to draw attention to me. Attention I don't want.

  Shots.

  Mixed drinks.

  More shots.

  Dancing.

  Singing.

  Beads.

  By the time we stumble into the house, Megan is half carrying Allison. Jill and Justine are giggling uncontrollably. I'm tipsy and about to fall asleep. The only one of us that's completely in control of her actions is Emerson.

  She took care of us. Made sure the weirdos kept their distance and we didn't drink anything that could have been spiked. She kept Megan from earning more beads than would fit around her neck. Made sure Allison didn't go home with the first guy that showed her attention.

  Me?

  She kept me company. Jill and Justine have paired up, Justine feeding Jill drink after drink. Megan and Allison have been glued at the hip, except when there was a guy’s attention they wanted to get. They both struck out tonight, but I don't think that will stop them from trying again tomorrow.

  Allison took it harder than Megan if her lack of ability to walk on her own is any indication.

  Megan trips on the first step, sending Allison flying face first into the stairs. Rolling my eyes, I bend down and help her up. She's almost passed out, her eyes fluttering when I call her name.

  I'm not sure I can make it all weekend with the two of them if things are going to be like this. I don't want to, and I shouldn't have to deal with this shit.

  It's my frickin’ weekend.

  Come on, Allison. Let's get you to bed," I say, sliding my arm under her elbow and pulling her to her feet.

  "Careful, Ang-la. Don't wanna hurt da baby." Allison's ramblings continue as I basically drag her up the stairs and deposit her on the bed she's sharing with Megan.

  Where the hell did she go?

  "I'm going to find Megan. Get some sleep. We still have two more days ahead of us," I say as I pull the covers up over her.

  "You're gonna make a great mom, you know dat?"

  "Thanks," I mumble, rolling my eyes as I close the door behind me.

  Megan's headed up the stairs on my way down. We share a look and nothing more. She invited herself along, she can take care of Allison. I'm done.

  Emerson is in the kitchen on her phone, a look of panic on her face.

  "What's wrong?" I ask, reaching into the fridge for a bottled water.

  "You okay? I'm sorry about what Allison said. You know she likes to run her mouth."

  What Allison said? What's she talking about?

  Don't wanna hurt da baby.

  You're gonna make a great mom, you know dat.

  Why would Emerson be worried about Allison's rambling unless...

  "Em, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

  A forced smile crosses her lips but before she can say anything, Justine's voice cuts through the silence.

  "I’m not sure who started it but I heard it from Kimmie."

  "Seriously? I don't even work there. She doesn’t even know me. Why is she spreading rumors about me?" My anger grows with each passing second. At Allison. At her need to be the center of attention.

  "Ang, you know it's not true. We know it's not true. Just let it go. No one believes it."

  So people have heard. More than just the girls. What about Ty? Has he heard? Does he think I'm pregnant and keeping it from him?

  "Someone obviously does, or no one would be talking about it. Allison believes it, or she wouldn't have said anything to me. Do you know if it’s gotten back to Ty? You know how he feels about secrets. If he thinks I’m keeping this from him…"

  Letting my voice trail off, Emerson and I share a look, and she shakes her head.

  "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you when I first heard, but I didn't want there to be drama this weekend. I wanted it to be fun for you."

  Fun. She wanted this weekend to be fun.

  Well, guess what? It's going to be. And the only way to make sure that happens, without the drama, is to lay the facts on the table and confront this rumor head on.

  As soon as Allison wakes up tomorrow morning we're going to have a talk. All six of us. No gossip. No one will be left wondering about anything.

  I'm not pregnant and there will be no doubt in anyone’s mind after I speak my peace.

  To ensure the remainder of the employees at Dixon Advertising hear the news, Allison is going to have to spread a new rumor. One that's true for a change. If she doesn't do as I say, she won't be invited to the wedding. That'll break her spirit, but I don't want someone at my wedding, or in my life, who has nothing but lies to spread about me.

  She has one chance to make it right. If she fails, she'll have to accept her fate.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I knew it.

  Well, sort of.

  It wasn't much of a stretch to assume we were going golfing this weekend. Even before Ryder told me to bring my clubs, I knew we'd be hitting the course. Anytime my brothers and I have gone on vacation together, we've made time to play at least eighteen holes.

  I'd never have guessed we'd be playing at Augusta, though.

  It's been a dream of mine ever since I first started playing. I think it's probably on every golfer’s bucket list, to play the major courses. To putt on the same greens as the greatest in the game.

  So when Ryder tossed my plane ticket and our itinerary for the weekend, something only Ryder would put together to keep everyone on task, in my lap as we drove to pick up Hunter and Devon, I did the best I could not to scream like a little girl.

  I'll never admit it, but I failed miserably.

  No screaming or screeching but a few “oh my gods” slipped past my lips, and my legs began to bounce on their own accord. That was followed by “seriously, dude, seriously” a few times.

  There was no way I could hide my excitement. I wanted to play it cool, you know, since I was in front of my little brother and all, but it didn't happen. I'm sure it was a moment that will come back to bite me in the ass later on.

  This will turn into another story they'll tell to embarrass me. Just like the rest of my childhood. Most of them are funny now, but at the time they happened, nothing was funny about them.

  Nothing is funny about this moment of pure joy.

  Yet.

  "You should have seen
him," Ryder starts as I step up to the first tee.

  445 yards. Par 4. Short dogleg right. Uphill to the green.

  Hitting the green in two, doable. Making birdie, possible. Par, guaranteed.

  As long as I can focus.

  We split into two groups. Mainly to make the game go quicker but mostly because my dad wanted to talk to Hunter alone. I'm stuck with Ryder, Devon, and Vinnie. Hunter and my dad teed off ahead of us.

  "I wish I could have been there to see the look on his face. I can almost picture it now," Vinnie starts, making a picture-frame box with his fingers and looking through it at me. "Come on, Ty. That's not what you looked like. Give me a smile."

  Smile? No. Middle finger? Two of them.

  Ryder and Vinnie break out in laughter at my expense. Devon rolls his eyes and swings his driver. He's as excited as I am to be playing this course. He has respect for the game, for the place we're standing where so many greats have stood before us.

  Blocking them out, I take a few practice swings before stepping up to the tee.

  Don't blow this, Tyler. This may be your only chance to ever play here. They know it. You know it. Don't let them get to you.

  Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, I pull back and smack the ball.

  Perfect.

  Center of the fairway. I'll have a longer second shot than I would have liked, but I'd like to see them do better. My father ended up close to the trees on the far left of the fairway and Hunter hit straight into the bunker on the right.

  Ten holes later and I'm still flying high. This is far from my best game, but I'm still playing well. Even though Ryder is kicking my ass on the scorecard and Devon is making me work to stay in second place, I'm having a great time. Even Vinnie who's never been that great at golf is having a fairly good run today.

  "You do realize that Dad and Hunter are talking business," I say to Ryder when my father drives by on the cart path, a scowl on his face. "Something’s going on. I can feel it."

  "Yeah, I kind of figured. He spent most of this week in his office and didn't look pleased about it."

  "What do you think it is?"

  "Not sure, but I'm guessing we'll find out soon enough. Not this weekend, though. No work until Monday. I don't care what they do, but I don't wanna talk about it or hear about it."

  "Fine by me. That's the last thing I feel like talking about anyway," I reply, the tone of my voice shifting as Allison's words replay through my mind.

  I've pushed them away all week.

  Ignored the feeling in my gut that there may be truth to them.

  My heart tells me one thing but my gut, the uneasiness that settles there, keeps reminding me that I don't know anything.

  Ryder nods, waiting for me to continue. Avoiding eye contact, I turn to watch Devon strike the ball perfectly, landing on the green close enough to the pin that I don't have to wonder if he'll make his putt.

  "So you heard," Ryder finally says once Vinnie and Devon start walking toward the green.

  His words stop me in my tracks.

  "You heard?" I ask.

  "Allison works for me. I hear everything, not that I want to. She talks really fucking loud sometimes and her desk is right outside my office."

  "Fuck my life."

  "Don't worry man. I put a stop to it. Told her she needed to get her facts straight before she spread anymore gossip around the office."

  "So you don't believe it?"

  "Do you?" he inquires, shock in his voice.

  "I don't want to. I don't think Ang would keep something like that from me. That big, ya know. Huge—"

  "Stop talking about my dick and get your ass up here, Ty Ty," Vinnie yells loud enough that the two old ladies walking the cart path hurry off in a huff.

  Did he hear what we were talking about? Or was that just a coincidence? Vinnie does know everything about everything, even when you think he doesn't.

  "Dude, you're going to get us kicked out and then I'm going to kick your ass," I say when I join him on the green.

  "What'd I say?" he asks, faking astonishment.

  "Just keep your voice down and stop talking about your dick," I reply, rolling my eyes at the innocent look on his face.

  "Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?"

  Vinnie's not going to drop it. He can always tell when something is wrong, and he's never one to let things go easily. I might as well share my concerns with the guys. It'll save me a headache for the rest of the day.

  Sharing a look with Ryder, he shrugs his shoulders, a clear sign that he's indifferent to me telling them my issues. Letting out a sigh, I bend down, line up my putt and as I take my stance, drop the bomb that's about to explode inside me.

  "Rumor has it Ang is pregnant."

  Tapping my ball, it rolls to the right of the stick before turning back toward the hole and stopping just short. Walking to mark my ball, I wait for Devon or Vinnie to say something. Judging by the fact that neither has said anything, they’re just as shocked as I was when I heard.

  When I turn, both of them are staring at me. Devon's mouth is slightly ajar while Vinnie is grinning at me.

  "What?" I ask, my irritation at his reaction clearly evident.

  "Nothing. It's just surprising that you would believe anything you didn't hear from her. My guess is that you don't, but instead of asking her about it, you're letting it eat at you."

  Asshole.

  "I didn't say I believed it, I said it's the current rumor floating around the office."

  "So you don't believe it?" he challenges.

  Staring at my friends, all three of them watching my reaction closely, it becomes clear where they stand on the issue. Ryder and Vinnie don't believe it. Devon, on the other hand, seems to be holding back.

  "Devon," I start when he breaks eye contact and starts fucking with his golf club, twisting it back and forth against the green. "Dude. You know something. Just say it."

  "Hey, man. I don't know shit. Justine was telling me about the rumor, and I figured it wasn't true. She's told me all about Allison's ways and after being the center of the last rumor, I've decided not to listen to that shit."

  "But you heard it."

  "Yeah. She said something about it a couple days ago. I guess Kimmie asked her about it."

  Nodding, I let the conversation fade away.

  Ryder lines up to putt, his ball falling in the hole with ease.

  The next few holes are played in silence. There's a lot on my mind, more than I care to share with them. I'm weighing my options. Do I call and talk to Ang? Do I ask her about it?

  The last thing I want to do is give her the impression I think she's lying to me. Does she even know? Has anyone mentioned the rumor to her? If not, why open that can of worms?

  "Last hole," Vinnie announces as we approach the tee box on the eighteenth.

  My game has gone to shit. My head’s not in it right now. I wish it was. This is supposed to be one of the best days of my life. An opportunity that won't come along again for a while, I'm sure, and I'm sulking. I'm letting the damn rumors that hold no merit get under my skin and ruin my day.

  Well, fuck that. I'm done.

  "Wait," I say as Devon steps up to the tee. "I have to get this off my chest."

  Once I have their attention, I let it all out. Everything that's on my mind. The fears I've been holding onto. The doubt. Most importantly, my realization.

  "If she were pregnant, Ang would be excited and scared, and she'd need me right now. I would have been the first person to know. I certainly wouldn't have found out by overhearing Allison tell another employee. It wouldn't change the fact that we're getting married in a week or how much I love it. There's no reason for her to keep something like this from me. So, no, I don't believe it. I don't think Ang is pregnant and hiding it from me.

  "And, if she hasn't heard the rumor, there's no reason to tell her. So you assholes have to promise me you’ll never bring it up again. I don't want to hear about it. I don't want to
think about it, and I certainly don't want her to have to worry people are talking about her. It's pointless and she's under enough stress. Got it?"

  They all nod, and I motion for Devon to take his shot.

  I'm the last one to tee off, and while I wait my turn, I let it all go. The uncertainty. The fear. The anger. There will still be a conversation with Allison, but I'm going to wait until after the wedding. Talking to her now will only spark more rumors. I can almost hear them now...

  He's having second thoughts about the wedding.

  Tyler's covering for Angela.

  They had an abortion.

  Rumors run the spectrum in the office. From Ryder's divorce, Justine's inappropriate relationship with a client, and now to Ang being pregnant. I can only imagine whose head is next on the chopping block.

  One missed step, that's all it takes.

  No one is safe from the gossip.

  Not even Allison. Her turn will come. She may be the epicenter of information now, but once she gives people something to talk about, that's exactly what they'll do. Then she'll know how it feels to be under the microscope with all eyes on you all the time.

  True or false, her rumor will break her.

  "Drink," Vinnie suggests as we walk back to the clubhouse.

  "Definitely," I concur, bumping his fist with my own.

  "I'll figure out where Hunter and dad disappeared to and meet up with you," Ryder says, pulling his phone from his pocket.

  "So," Devon starts as I take a sip of whiskey. "What if she really was pregnant?"

  What part of 'never bring it up again' didn't he understand?

  "Really? I thought we weren’t talking about this shit anymore."

  "I'm just wondering what your plan was before you realized it wasn't true."

  "My plan was to get married next weekend. To go to Greece with my wife and have lots of sex. Then, if she was pregnant, we'd come home and figure shit out. One day, we'll have kids, that's not even a question. If she gets pregnant tomorrow, I'm fine with it. I want to hear it from her, that's all."