“He’s Ricky’s agent. And my boss. And we wanted him here. Please don’t hit him.”
“I’m not going to hit him. I’m hoping Claire’s plus one does it for me. I’ll be the one cheering him on, and not holding him back. I’m offering a reward for the first person to throw the slimy git from the tower.”
Hazel grimaced at Paige’s unsavoury jokes. “Don’t Paige. He’s our guest. And who’s Claire’s plus one? She had more than just one plus one at Ibiza. She could have had a plus twenty-one to be honest.”
Paige hummed. “No idea who she is bringing. Although Jack quizzed me about our trip abroad when I got back,” she moaned.
Hazel tensed. “Did he? What did he say?”
“Nuttin’ much. Claire made it into a gossip column but Jack wanted to know what went on.”
“So did Ricky,” Hazel admitted. “He was worried about it too. Asked if I’d been naughty. I promised him I hadn’t but he asked lots and lots.”
Paige tutted, pondering to herself about the insecurity of the men in their lives. Why did it matter that they had a bit of a party in Ibiza for Hazel’s hen weekend? She never asked what Jack did when he was away and her sister had not voiced any concerns about Ricky’s five-day trip to Amsterdam.
“When are you going to put that dress on?” Hazel snapped, exasperated at her sister’s pondering. “You do need make-up too.”
“Do I bollocks,” Paige quipped. “It’s the bride’s day. If anything the bridesmaids should be pig ugly so the bride benefits from the contrast. First rule of the wedding. Dress up bridesmaids with filthy rags and put facepaint on, to make them look like trolls then the bride would benefit so much!”
“Hello’ll be there. Ricky’s people signed them up.”
“So … if I was really worried about keeping up my appearances and boosting my reputation I’d refuse to wear that dress. Full stop.”
Hazel glared at her; the sounds of her other bridesmaids clambering up the stone staircase echoed in their room. “You are refusing to wear that dress,” she added as the door was opened. “Get it on! It’s my day and this is one day when I get to tell you what to do and you have to do it.”
“When did you get confident enough to order me about?” Paige teased. “Someone’s had their Weetabix today!”
“When I got a stable job, a stable relationship and I had to organise my crazy sister’s band hopping from one country to another and making a shed-load of cash.”
Paige laughed. “Ahhh … so it’s Nasty Andre and Ricky that’s made my sister find her lady balls?”
“Yes. And today, my balls are bigger than yours. Bride outranks Maid of Honour. Maid of Honour to get dressed. End of discussion.”
Chapter XIII
Paige
Paige fidgeted in the ruby-coloured silk dress. “What's wrong with you?” Her father snarled as Paige swore under her breath. “Stop it. You look like you've got fleas.”
“It's itchy,” she wailed, smoothing the elegant garment with her hands.
“It's lovely,” the bridesmaid to Paige’s left cooed. Hazel's school friend ran her fingernails over the intricate stitching on the silk garment and across her body. “It's …”
Hazel interrupted. “It's just that my sister is used to running around without anything on and she doesn't like it.” Paige's scowl deepened, and was only broken when the classical music from the brass band filled the building and the bridal party, consisting of Hazel, her father, her sister and her two friends, walked slowly into the castle's chapel.
The church was steeped in history and was made from the same imposing grey stone that their wedding venue was constructed from. Now a hotel, the imposing building was once a stronghold that was less welcoming to guests, and possessed a rich, colourful history. Candles gave a flickering backdrop and a warm ambience to the ceremony, while hundreds of bouquets of white and dark red flowers were positioned throughout the hall to match the bridal party.
Paige's eyes met Jack, sitting in the front row of the chapel as they strode into the medieval room, crammed with celebrities and musicians. Two photographers captured the scene, snapping the elegant bride in her flowing white bridal gown and the three ruby-coloured bridesmaids.
Ricky winked at his fiancée: the black suit garnished by a red wine waistcoast and red rose in his button-hole. He kissed the bride as she reached him and Paige glided into the front row to be next to her mother and partner, watching the ceremony unfold.
Paige gave a reading: striding onto the podium to read a piece adapted from Bob Marley. Her voice quivered as she looked across at the chapel at the dozens of rows; she never experienced nerves or a tinge of anxiety in her performances. She never felt nervous when singing to tens of thousands of people, but the tight fit of her dress made her voice shiver and shudder. She gulped, taking a deep breath as her clammy fingers touched the lectern.
“She’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if she can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if she admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She isn’t going to quote poetry, she’s not thinking about you every moment, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you could break. Don’t hurt her, don’t change her, and don’t expect for more than she can give. Don’t analyse. Smile when she makes you happy, yell when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect girls don’t exist, but there’s always one girl that is perfect for you.”
The applause was short; the glaring look from Paige into the wandering eyes of Ricky was sincere. It had taken her weeks of continued deliberation to choose a reading she was happy with. Jack had vetoed her first dozen choices, especially the monologue from a Tarantino film, as being fundamentally unsuitable for a wedding. She had practised for hours, standing in their recording studio or media room, reciting the 138 words until she knew them off by heart. It came as second nature, and the reading was perfectly delivered to the hall. The trembling woman traded places with Ricky's best man at the lectern.
The ceremony passed quickly; Paige's mother wiped the tears from her eyes as her youngest daughter kissed her new husband. Hazel and Ricky posed for pictures with the staged signing of the wedding register before the hundreds of guests were placed into an array of photographic configurations for the demanding photographers from the gossip magazine.
The Maid of Honour approached Claire, holding the hand of her date, as she chatted to Jack. “You going to introduce me?”
Emit startled them as he exclaimed loudly. “Oh my God, it's Paige.”
Paige looked at herself and licked her lips. “Sssh! I'm undercover among textiles. I'm only wearing this so I blend. Don’t tell them who I am.”
“Fuck! It's really Paige,” Emit cried.
Paige sighed. “Red Squirrel. I just told you I'm a secret agent. I go by Red Squirrel amongst textiles.
“Sorry. It's really Red Squirrel,” Emit laughed. “Wow!”
“I was asking who the hell you are?”
“Grey Rabbit?” Emit suggested.
“Emit,” Claire replied for him.
“Yeah, I stepped in at the last moment,” he added. “Really cool do. Your sister looks really nice.” Paige hummed as she eyed the excitable man. Her mind churned with uncharitable thoughts: Claire had already admitted that she wasn't really interested in the guy, so why had she brought him to her sister's wedding? A glance towards Andre and his beautifully-dressed young escort answered her ponderous musing and she shook her head in disapproval.
It was a pointless battle of showmanship; if Claire disliked Andre so much then why had she gone to the effort of bringing Emit? And what was Andre hoping to achieve by flaunting himself with the lithe prostitute?
Paige's place at the top table of the wedding breakfast afforded her an excellent view of the guests; she saw Claire's repeated glances at Andre's table as well as Andre's gazes in
his former partner's direction. She saw Ricky bantering with his friends and former bandmates, and his parents' undisguised disapproval when two young children chased each other around the outsides of the banqueting room. She thought about joining the hyperactive children but knew Hazel would disapprove and it was Hazel’s day.
Hazel's father gave the first speech; his voice dripping with pride and admiration for his youngest daughter. He spoke of her kindness and of her gentle approach to life, as well as her finding her inner strength to battle deep demons from within her. Paige watched the expression on her sister's face, wiping away emotions from her cheeks as their father's effusive words moved her to tears.
Ricky's speech was far longer; he spoke of his happiness at being married and of the wonderful times he had had in his boy-band. He spoke passionately of his first love, a German Shepherd called Lollibob and a girl called Daisy. He spoke of his first car, and his first single. Paige shook her head as she bit her lip: there was barely a word said about his bride or his bride's family and his best man offered even less: focusing on a dozen anecdotes about their time together in their tours through foreign lands, with many of the tales unsuitable for the handful of children in attendance.
“I wish you'd let me do a speech,” Paige muttered to her sister. “I can't have fucked up any more than Ricky and Ben, could I?”
Hazel chortled. “Really? You think you can give a five minute speech without swearing.”
“I only have anecdotes about you that aren't lewd, crude or inappropriate.” Hazel shook her head. “OK, if I don't count your wild nights in the Caribbean, Mediterranean, London, and so on. But I have you singing naked in the High Street after we got our first number one, and of the beautiful times we spent together. And …”
“And you threatening my first boyfriend. And my teacher. And …”
“See, I’ll focus only on the positives,” Paige replied.
“You got a chapel reading. And you are singing the first song. Let someone else be centre of attention.”
“But …”
“But Bride outranks Maid of Honour.”
“I'll be so glad when it's midnight,” Paige barked and, as the rest of the room filed out of the dining room towards the bar and reception room, Paige rose from her chair.
Paige downed shots of vodka in the bar with her brother after the wedding breakfast, chatting with his new boyfriend. They laughed loudly, causing Ricky's family to slide glances in disgust. “They don't like me,” Paige moaned.
“I don't think they like us,” Jeremy replied, and catching the eye of Ricky's parents leant into kiss his gay partner.
Paige giggled. “I hate homophobes so much,” she mused. “Sometimes I want a lesbian fling just to piss off the bigots.”
“Her son sings about 'converting lesbos' and 'hating the fucking faggots' all the time so I can see where he got his prejudice from.”
Paige smiled at her brother's partner. “I see we have similar beliefs,” she said with a smile. “Paige, we've not met. But my brother's spoken about you loads on Facebook.”
She eyed him. He looked older than her brother; Jeremy was four months away from eighteen and she guessed his partner was a year or two older than that. Her brother had lost a lot of his “puppy fat” from his early teenage years, but this gentleman was taller and thinner than Jeremy, towering over them both.
He looked smart in his tuxedo; akin to the stereotypical spy with smooth gestures and a warm smile. His dark brown hair, stylishly disorganised, looked like it had come from a boy-band.
“Mark,” he said, speaking in a soft Irish lilt. “Yeah, I'm over from the Ireland for the wedding.”
“How did you two meet?” Paige asked, sitting on the spare stool at the bar. “Jeremy didn't say.”
“Internet. We met on a dating site. I came over to the UK for the week on business and we hit it off.”
“So what do you do?” She asked.
“I …” He hesitated and looked at his boyfriend. “I am a personal trainer by day.”
“What's a personal trainer doing in London on business?” Paige joked and Mark glanced at Jeremy again.
“I sort of model too. I came over for that. I'm looking to move over here 'cause there ain't much call for my line of work in Cork. It's about London, really. And I've been looking at flats but …”
“But it's so expensive,” Jeremy moaned. “We've been looking to rent one but even in Zone 6 it's too much. And we can't commute to London from Mum and Dad's in Southend every day.”
Paige shook her head. “If money is a problem, you only need to ask. I've told you that before.” She loosened her dress. “It's so tight,” she moaned.
“You looked nice in it,” Mark complimented her.
“I don't. I hate clothes.”
“We know,” Jack replied, coming up behind his girlfriend and encircling his arms around her. “Just wait until later. But we have a small problem.”
“What? I'm interrogating Mark and Jeremy. It could be their wedding next.”
Jeremy blushed. “I don't think so.”
“Look over there,” Jack muttered. They looked across the bar at Claire, staggering as she walked. “Someone's had too much champagne!”
“P-laige,” she drunkenly slurred, holding onto Emit's arm as she slouched in the large, leather chair. “Come join us!” Her loud voice boomed across the bar and caused several heads to turn.
Paige groaned in frustration as she rubbed her eyes. “I'll kill 'er,” she snapped and strode across the bar to her ex-bandmate. “Stop it,” Paige warned, glaring at her, and then Emit. “I'm holding you both responsible if you fuck up my sister's wedding.” Claire shook her head and laid back on the lounger. “Don’t drink again until after the first dance.”
Paige's tone was forceful; it was the aggressive commanding voice that she was known for: unrelenting, uncompromising and inflexible. But so very effective. Claire's drink was taken from her and Emit escorted his date to get some fresh air.
Paige waited until they returned and then quizzed her friend's date. Emit was overawed by the personality and presence of his favourite band's lead singer. He confessed to having bought all of the band's merchandise with big posters of the three band members lining his “music room” while he had memorised every lyric Paige had ever sung.
She laughed and joked with him; he came across as a genuine guy in his incredibly well-dressed suit and overly enthusiastic personality, but he was obsessed with the band, and it put her on edge. Especially when his memory of their last tour was better than her recollection and Paige's attempt to “I'll show you who's right” by looking at their Wikipedia article left her with a large slice of humble pie to devour.
Her sister returned to the banqueting room for the wedding reception, and Paige stripped to sing live the first dance. She took a deep breath as the silk dress hit the stone floor, breathing dramatically as she waited in the wings of the stage with Claire and Jack. Relief flooded back inside of Paige; her skin exposed to the air as she waited, feeling the cool caresses on her flesh once more. Free again, unshackled by clothing. Her natural state, unburdened.
She strode onto the raised platform, picking the microphone from the stand and focusing on her sister. “For Hazel, and Ricky,” she said and launched into their version of “Your Song:” made popular by Elton John and Ellie Goulding.
Her sweet voice carried the understated the piano notes from Jack into the room as she watched her sister be led onto the dance floor by her new husband. The venue stopped to watch as the couple swayed to Paige's sensational voice, before other couples stepped onto the dance floor.
Paige sung for an hour and a half; she encouraged Emit onto the stage to play Claire's guitar, once he was suitably attired, and expected him to carry the guitarist's difficult solo from one of the tracks she had written.
After their performance, he thanked her profusely; he was delighted that he had played with the band and was still buzzing with raging elation, aft
er the naked singer and her supporting musicians, were replaced by a DJ.
But it was the hug from her sister that meant more to her; she held Hazel tightly as she wished her well on her holiday. The married couple waved goodbye to the guests to walk the four floors to the Honeymoon Suite, before a private jet would take them to the Caribbean the following afternoon.
“You OK?” Jack asked as Paige sat alone and in thought.
“Yeah,” she laughed. “Just that my little sister has grown up.”
“Excellent,” he said with a smile. “Are you planning to any time soon?”
“Don’t be bloody ridiculous,” she giggled, smiling at the foul glances Ricky’s parents were giving the naked woman slouched on a leather seat and sitting on her red dress. “Where would be the fun in that?”
She made eye contact with the scowling adults, and with a wry smile, got up from the chair to start chasing the hyperactive children with ceaseless energy around the room.
Chapter XIV
Claire
Claire ran from the wedding venue; Emit followed in her footsteps. They laughed loudly, Claire teased her friend about his obvious admiration for Paige.
“She let me play the guitar for you! That's awesome!” He shouted as they sprinted across the car park of the castle. Her dress rode up as she ran and she fumbled in her handbag for her car keys. “Where are we going?”
“Too dwunk to dwive,” she admitted, slurring her words as she unlocked and opened the car boot. Claire picked up a hessian bag that clunked as she grabbed the handles. “Let's have shome fun!”
Emit grinned as she closed the car boot and stumbled back towards the castle grounds. It had been a warm evening; the sky had blazed a fierce array of colours as the Sun sunk towards the horizon but now the medieval building was becoming a silhouette against the moonlit sky. She fell on the soft grass and pulled a couple of bottles of spirit from the bag.
Bare Necessities 2 (The Bare Necessities) Page 7
