Room Service

by Poppy Dunne

  Maybe I’m not good to be around right now, no matter who you are. The word overload has come up way too many times. Maybe it never would have worked out anyway. But now I’ll never know. Because I’ve royally screwed things up, and I’m flying back to LA tomorrow, and my chances of ever seeing Ben Williams again are basically nil. My mother was right. I’m going to die alone. Or mostly alone, surrounded by cats—and that’s even worse.

  And then, just as I’m at my lowest pity point, I catch a blond, attractive flash of motion at the back of the room. It’s Ben, sneaking in through the doors, settling back against the wall with his arms folded over his chest as he watches the ceremony.

  He purposefully avoids looking at me, so I return the favor. I have to, even though I’m desperate to catch glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye. I have to restrain myself from abandoning my position in the line of bridesmaids and going after him. No time to tear down the carpet and throw myself against him. That…that would be something to save for the reception. After a few glasses of wine. If he even shows up. And why would he? After some of the things I said to him today, that would practically be masochism.

  Finally, we’re past the point of vows. Leonard gives everyone a thumbs up to prove how well he’s done at officiating this. There are a couple of celebratory ‘woos’ from Katie’s family members in the back. Someone else tells Katie she’s a fox. Nothing like some family support for a new couple.

  “So now, man and wife. Yeah. I pronounce you,” he says with a sweeping wave of his hand, Yoda-ing this baby to the max. Rollie grabs Katie, dips her, and kisses her while everyone cheers and the cameras flash. It’s a picture perfect moment. It’s the kind of moment you show your kids in the family photo albums, telling them about Mom and Dad’s perfect day, filled with love.

  Hopefully none of those photos contain images of me glancing across the room, a long face on, mentally scrolling through all the mistakes I’ve ever made and trying to catch a glimpse of what’s probably my biggest mistake to date.

  19

  There’s nothing like a newly married couple’s first dance. It’s the moment during the ceremony and the reception that’s truly perfect, that shows two people now truly uniting as one. That Rollie and Katie chose a Beastie Boys song only adds to my much-depleted supply of personal enjoyment. That Katie took off her shoes and chucked them across the room so she could dance is another beautiful thing to witness. And the fact that one of those chucked shoes knocked over a wine glass on my mother’s table? Perfection.

  As the two of them bump and grind up against each other while a panoply of conservatives watch in bland amusement, I search the corners of the room for Ben. But there’s no sign of him. Of course there’s not.

  I do manage to find Mom, though, a fresh glass of wine in her hand as she socializes with a gaggle of her closest frenemies. These are the women Mom has drink dates and bridge nights with, even though they can’t stand each other. They’re all yanking on their ropes of pearls and probably discussing which parts of the ceremony worked and which didn’t. Those with unmarried children are probably thinking about what they can copy from this wedding, and what they can leave out. Taking the opportunity, I slide in between the women. They peer down at me, like I’m a poorer relation. One of them even puts on a pair of gold rimmed spectacles, just so she can glance at me over them in a condescending manner.

  “Mind if I speak with the woman who spawned me? Won’t take a minute,” I tell them, knocking back another champagne cocktail. I should probably be watching my intake right now, but screw it. I’m an adult, motherfucker. And this cocktail won’t drink itself.

  The women hush and tut as they disperse, and Mom takes out a handkerchief and dabs at the corners of her eyes. She nods to Rollie, who’s now picked Katie up by her waist and is whirling her around the room.

  “It’s so odd. Katie’s not what I imagined as a daughter in law,” Mom says conversationally. “But I don’t know why, I suddenly feel…”

  “Happy?” I finish for her. Mom’s facial-peeled brow creases. Clearly she’s not sure about that particular emotion, and is flipping through her internal rolodex to identify it. Screw this. I grab her shoulders, and she jolts like I electrocuted her.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaks, like I’m about to manhandle her across the Courtyard’s rose ballroom. Instead, I hug her.

  “This is a beautiful wedding,” I tell her, hanging on like I’m going to either love her always or strangle her here and now. Let’s pray for the former. “You did a great job with it. But the reason it worked is because Rollie and Katie love each other. No, it’s more than that. They like each other.” I pull back and hold her at arm’s length again. Mom looks as if the L words are actually F bombs. “That kind of thing has nothing to do with how much money either of them has. You can’t keep insulting me, Mom. You can’t keep telling me all my plans are shit, my boyfriends are shit—”

  “But Ben is a fine choice,” she coos. Christ in a Ferrari.

  “Ben and I are done. We broke up after he lied to me.” Watching her look of horror is kind of priceless, I have to admit. Then I shake it off, because that’s not what this is supposed to be about. No more petty bullshit. “But I should’ve asked him more questions, paid better attention. I’ve been so focused on my own fuck ups, I haven’t noticed what’s going on with the people around me. Well, that stops now. And part of that is saying I love you, Mom, but I’m not going to let you run me ragged anymore. Okay?”

  Mom stammers for a minute, but I grab a passing flute of champagne off a tray and hand it to her.

  “Take a drink, process what I said. You’ll feel better.” Then I pat her on the arm and move away, trying not to weave and trip over my own strappy heels. Damn, if only we could’ve worn sneakers.

  “Knock knock,” Todd says, swinging around in front of me with Vass draped over his arm. She gives me that Colgate smile of hers, but he’s scowling. “Did I just overhear that you’ve broken up with Ben?” He sounds annoyed, and loosens his probably very expensive tie. Vass adjusts it. “And here I thought you’d finally found some sense.”

  “And here I thought you’d finally progressed past the pond scum stage of human development, but we’re both destined to be disappointed.”

  I easily step around him, while Vass cheerily waves at me. No, not at me. At some guy who’s coming right for me, then swerves to give her a hug. He’s a huge, towering man, with a ponytail of pale red hair tumbling down his back and a beard a mile long. He looks like a mountain man, or the Yeti who would eat said mountain man.

  There’s something super familiar about him, but I can’t be bothered with that right now. Maybe I can find Ben hanging out in the hallway. Maybe he hasn’t left yet. Maybe he’ll finally return my texts. Maybe…

  “Hey, where are you going?” Abernathy yelps, dodging in front of me like the small, hairless guard dog he is. He waves his hands in my face, as if I’m in danger of not noticing him. “You have to give a toast!”

  Right. I did agree to that last night. Like a moron. A moron who drinks.

  Well, I’m nothing if not a loving older sister who keeps her word to give a toast at her favorite (and only) brother’s wedding.

  One moment later, I’m sweating under the lights by the bandstand, a microphone in front of me. I may talk a big game on the phone with record labels and what not, but in real life I’m kind of terrified of public speaking. Rollie and Katie are looking up at me expectantly, but with support. Katie even offers a thumbs up. And an air kiss. And what looks like dry humping Rollie’s leg. I’m not great with any of this right now, as the sudden flash sweat might tell you. But again, it’s not about me at this moment.

  “When Rollie and Katie first got together, it was a warm night in May in Albuquerque, New Mexico,” I start off. “We’d come into the bar to meet Todd’s cousin, the bartender, who he’d said was really fun to be around, if a little aggressive.” Small bubble of laughter there. Huzzah. “Rollie came over
to me after Katie had served us a few pickleback shots, and asked if I knew who the hot blonde chick was.” I smile at both of them. Katie slips her arm through Rollie’s and leans her head on his shoulder, fondly reminiscing. “It was a lumberjack bar, which meant that she was also completely covered in flannel, and wearing cutoff jean short shorts. That was a plus. Then Katie got into an argument with one of the hairier, more aggressive bar patrons. Rollie’s sense of chivalry immediately kicked into gear, and he was all prepared to go assist the fair damsel. When Rollie went to the rescue, though, Katie karate chopped the douchebag right in front of them. Then she kneed him in the groin to make sure he got the point. Rollie looked like he’d been hit with Cupid’s arrow on the spot. I knew then that I wanted Katie Beauman in my family.”

  Some scattered laughter. They think it’s a joke. They don’t know Katie had to pay the poor asshole’s hospital bill. Or that she had to buy him a drink to replace the one he lost. Still, it was worth it.

  “When I see Rollie and Katie together, I see mutual acceptance and adoration. You can’t find that everywhere. You can’t buy that from a catalog, or order it online. You can only hope you get lucky. But you also have to be the type of person that makes luck happen.” The faces around me blur a little, but I keep going. The sweat’s stopping as I get more into my speech. I’m really shaking this one off the cuff, as it were. Even I’m not sure where it’s going. “You have to be open to new things and experiences. You need to stop blaming the world for the problems you make yourself. Sure, you live in a family where people think talking about yellow wallpaper for two hours solid is acceptable Thanksgiving conversation. But you smile. You make the most of it.”

  I nod to my brother. “That’s why Rollie is the way he is. Cheerful, happy, successful, in love with the person he wants. I used to think luck made him that way, but he made him that way. It’s something I always wish I learned from him. Maybe I still can.

  “So everyone, please raise your glasses to the bride and groom. People who are bold and honest and trusting deserve every happiness in this world.”

  And those of us who thrive on bitterness and despair end up drinking in the broom closet, but I feel like that’s a downer note to end on. Worthwhile lesson, sure, but still a downer. Everyone toasts, applauds, and drinks.

  Huh. That didn’t go nearly as catastrophically terrible as I thought. Katie even high fives me as I walk back to my seat. I find myself grinning.

  And then, I feel it. He’s like a heat-seeking missile, locking onto me. Ben’s waiting by the doorway, again, cagey as a freaking…caged thing. He’s watching me—in fact, I’d say he’s not able to tear his eyes from me. Whether with anger or lust, I can’t yet tell. I start cutting toward him at once, my heart pounding. Did he hear what I said? What does he think?

  And then Todd smugs right into my line of sight, and it’s all I can do not to sweep the leg and keep moving.

  “That wasn’t a terrible speech, Alex,” Todd says, like it’s a compliment. Vass grins at me, with the tall, shaggy man at her side. “Gunther here wanted to congratulate you, in fact.”

  “You are a small and angry woman,” Gunther says, taking my hand. “It would be a privilege to have sex with you against a wall, but I can always tell when a woman’s heart has been given away. It is like being able to tell when a yak is in heat.”

  Strangely, that is the most charming thing I’ve heard since this wedding started. Then again, I’m surrounded by Harringtons.

  “Have we met before?” I ask Gunther. There’s no reason we should have. I don’t know many Vikings, and that accent is not American. But I can’t help but feel I’m missing something. Because there’s something super familiar about that beard that I can’t place…

  “Vasilissa is my cousin,” he says, putting a friendly hand on the hot model’s shoulder. “I have taken time off my tour of Iceland to be here tonight. Instead of resting in hot mud baths, I am drinking with white people I do not know. It is the only chance I have to see her, since we are so often traveling, she with her modeling job and I with—”

  Vass interrupts him, talking about something animatedly, waving her hands about. Todd cups her ass, and she pokes Gunther in the side. They both laugh heartily, and he replies to her in Scandinavian or whatever. They both seem to be doing an impression of some smug, smiling prick, and that makes them laugh even harder.

  “What’s she saying? I can never tell. Not that it really matters,” Todd smarms. So he shuts up his smile real quick when Gunther says,

  “Vasilissa tells me you are a grabby creep with big talk and a very small penis, but now that the wedding’s over and she doesn’t have to make nice for the benefit of your family, she can finally tell you how vast her dislike for you is. It is like a giant ball of pudding, dense and impenetrable.”

  Todd’s face freezes. Vass picks his hand up off her ass, making a sneering face as she stalks away to the bar table. I always knew I liked her. As Todd stands there, still dumbfounded, Gunther turns back to me.

  “Please excuse my frankness. I find it is best to support family. If my bandmates were here, they would do the same.” He nods sagely. “Yes, they would also have taken off their clothing and danced in a circle while peeing into Mason jars. That would perhaps be less appreciated by the collected people here.”

  “You’re a musician?” Well, that explains the over-bearded aesthetic. And the peeing in public. “Have I heard of you?”

  “Perhaps. Of Fire and Llamas has become more popular in your country over these last few years.”

  I would, of course, be taking a sip of champagne right as he lets that detail drop. Gunther is very nice about wiping all the spit alcohol off his jacket and beard. I clamp a hand over my mouth.

  “I’m so sorry. It’s just…I got turned down by your manager, Grace Goodwin. I’ve been trying to reach her for ages. I wanted to book you guys.”

  “That is so very unfortunate.” Gunther sounds mildly apologetic. “But we do not play many venues these days. Too much work. Too many goats and catapults on stage each night.”

  Hell, why not swing for the bleachers?

  “It was just for one night, when you’d already be in Los Angeles. I work for the House of Jazz,” I tell him. And bingo. The man’s eyes light up like Norwegian Christmas lights.

  “House of Jazz? If you had told me this…Grace did not even tell me!” He puts a huge, beefy hand over his heart. “She knows that Of Fire and Llamas has always dreamed of two things: to eat perfect, life-sized gelatin models of ourselves, and to play at the legendary House of Jazz.”

  “I can get you Jell-O versions of yourselves, I promise,” I say, my pulse skyrocketing. Gunther grabs his phone out of his pocket and starts texting rapidly.

  “Let me ask Lars and Rolf right now. Hopefully they have left that potato farm and are back in cellular reception territory. When they are visiting potatoes, it is very difficult to take them away to reality.” While Gunther turns away from me, the microphone squeals. The music stops, and the dancing on the floor slows.

  “Excuse me,” a familiar, sexy, and very studly-sounding voice says. I turn to find Ben standing next to the stage, holding the microphone. Everyone is watching him now. And he’s watching me. “Excuse me,” he repeats. “But I have something to say.”

  20

  Holy shit. Ben quickly exchanges a glance with…yep, Katie. I should have guessed she had a hand in this. She and Rollie are the only ones who don’t look weirded out by Ben’s appearance on stage. She even sticks her tongue out at me. Aw, like a loving sister.

  Then she wriggles it in a more sexual thing, so…yeah, still like a loving sister.

  “I won’t take up too much of your time tonight. But I was thinking about a toast I heard a little earlier. It came from a member of the bridal party.” Then his gaze locks on mine again, and I feel myself rooted to the floor, my pulse hammering in my chest.

  “I was thinking about what it takes to make luck happen. Is it hard work?
Well, that’s part of it.” Everyone around us looks a little confused as to why a seriously hot blond man that no one knows is now rambling on about luck. At least a few of the older women are appreciating the view. “There’s also an important part about knowing when you’ve been a colossal jackass.”

  Right, probably talking about me. But instead, he says,

  “Maybe something you were doing, a lie you were telling, started out because it was kind of a game. You wanted to see how far you could push it. You tell yourself you had your reasons, but the truth is you were having fun. And then, when you realized something mattered beyond the game, you got scared.”

  The DJ leans down to whisper in Ben’s ear, probably asking what the hell he’s doing and when can we go back to playing Kool & the Gang’s greatest hits. Ben doesn’t respond.

  “So you keep up the lie. Not because you want to, but because you can’t think of a way out. Then when you get caught, you hope someone will realize how much you care. How much you need to forgive, and be forgiven. So if there’s one piece of advice I can offer to the bride and groom, it’s this: be quick to forgive. Forgive yourself. Forgive your partner. And forgive others. But only if they’re willing to own up to their own mistakes.” He swallows, eyes finding mine again. He forgives me for not giving him a chance, for storming off without a rational discussion. Do I forgive him for lying to me?

  When a man makes a sweeping public apology, yes. Yeah. I can do that.

  “Everybody make out right now!” Katie shouts. “That is, like, if you have someone to make out with.” She grabs Rollie by his lapels and gets right to it. Ben strides down the floor toward me. He opens his mouth to start explaining, apologizing, trying to help me understand. He looks a little surprised when I launch myself onto him and kiss him, no warning involved. But he gets into the rhythm of what’s happening pretty damn fast.