The bride and groom were announced and entered the room to an exuberant round of applause. Tess said a prayer of thanks for the distraction, slugging the remaining liquid from her glass.
"Maybe we should cut Aunt Lillian off?" Bristol suggested, her tone annoyed. Her tight platinum chignon made her features look even more severe than usual. Would it kill her to wear her hair down? When Bristol was little, she would run barefoot through their yard, a wild mane of golden locks flowing in the wind behind her. "Catch me if you can, slow poke," she'd call. Tess following close behind. Tess sighed, she missed the Bri from her memories.
Tess crossed her arms. "Why? She's having a good time." Sure, Aunt Lillian was grinding on a bus boy right by the shrimp tower, but hey, at her age she had to get her freak on whenever she could. The poor guy did look like a small animal with his leg in a trap—his eyes darting around for someone, anyone, to come to his rescue.
Bristol snorted delicately. "Tess...you can almost see her underwear. I'm sure she's embarrassing Mom."
"Mom, or you?"
"Both! You should be, too. It's mortifying." Bristol's eyes bugged as she spoke.
"Bri, relax. She's not hurting anyone...ooh, well, maybe that hurt a little." They both sprung into action as their Aunt's legs started to slide apart into a hovering split. The bus boy was kind enough to lend a hand, even though it was evident that escape was his fondest Christmas wish. Tess made a mental note to slip him a twenty for mental duress.
"We got it...go, run, dude." Tess nodded to the no doubt emotionally scarred youth as he sprinted for the kitchen. "We gotcha, Auntie Lil, we gotcha." Tess and Bristol flanked their aunt on both sides—the Warner sisters working in tandem for a brief moment in time. It felt nice.
"Oh, girls. Thank you. I think I may have popped the threading on my girdle." They eased her into a seat. "That young man was such a lovely dancer, wasn't he?" Both sisters gave each other a look. If their great aunt considered the wide eyed corpse pose dancing, then who where they to correct her.
"Sure, Aunt Lil...why don't you take five for a few minutes and I can get you some coffee?" Bristol suggested.
"And I see some cake left," Tess threw out to sweeten the deal.
"I guess I am a little tuckered out at the moment. My word, he was handsome, wasn't he? His hips reminded me of my Virgil, God rest him. Did I ever tell you the story of how we met?" She had, dozens of times, but they let her tell it again. It was a great story. "I was eighteen and my friends and I wanted to attend a dance at the local USO. My parents said no, that men about to be shipped off to war only wanted one thing...they were probably right." She snickered. "But I didn't care. I snuck out as soon as they went to sleep. It was the first time I ever defied my folks. Oh girls, it was worth it. It was simply magic. Handsome men in uniform, Glenn Miller playing under soft lights...and then that's when I saw him..." The sisters smiled at each other as they listened to Aunt Lilian She continued her tale of love at first sight, and of stolen kisses under a streetlight. Tess's chest felt warm with longing. Love like theirs happened to some people she supposed, but she had never been struck in such a way. Sure she'd had lust at first sight, but nothing that took up permanent residence in her heart...yet. But she wasn't counting herself out of the game, despite what some people thought. And she certainly wasn't going to lower her standards, as her mother suggested. She still had plenty of time. She wasn't a spinster by any stretch...besides, she was allergic to cats.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Vodka martini with a twist," Tess ordered.
"Damn girl, martini?"
"Yes, a martini." The defeated sigh on the tail end of her order brought a look of concern from her friend Rebel's face.
"Was the wedding that bad?"
"My mother was there, at my table. What do you think?" Her friend gave Tess a knowing nod and gripped her hand in hers.
"Martini it is." That's why Tess loved this woman. Regina Rinaldi, Rebel to those who knew her best, was the type of friend who just got it, no long explanation was needed. They communicated with only a look at times. They'd rushed together in college and had been soul sisters ever since.
"She bust your boobs the whole time?" Rebel's dark green eyes narrowed.
"Not the whole time." There'd been times when her mom had food in her mouth, or when she was working the room. You'd have thought it was her party, but that was how her mom was. She commanded attention, as if she were daring you not to take notice. And with her striking looks, 5'8" with honey colored hair and hazel eyes, it was hard not to. Tess had imagined that was how her mom had snagged a big fish like William Warner III, and though she nagged him at times, it was plain to see he worshipped the ground Tiffani's designer shoes walked on, and she him. It also did not escape Tess's attention when her parents danced cheek to cheek during every slow song, excluding the first dance of the bride and groom. She thought she even saw her dads hands drift down to cup her mom's butt during the final song, but she was hoping she was seeing things, or she'd developed champagne induced glaucoma.
"You know how she is, she just wants to see me settled. And to her, settled means house, husband, rug rats." Tess believed that deep down her mom loved her. She also knew her mother only wanted the best for her in her own way, even if it was smothering.
"Tell me about it. My mom's the same way on the grand baby topic. Apparently, I'm the reproductive degenerate of my family," Rebel said without self-pity. "She just doesn't get that I don't want kids, but try telling that to an Italian mother, who is only slightly less aggressive than my little Nonna. She goes on a tirade about it." Rebel was 5'3", small waist, full C's, and a tight, curvy rear end. If her pin-up looks didn't real them in, her feisty personality sealed the deal. Men loved Rebel Rinaldi, who was happy to date them for as long as it pleased her, and then move on to the next. She didn't toss men aside callously. She wasn't cruel about it. She simply knew when to hold on, and knew when to let go. She'd currently been holding on to the same guy for just under a year. Tess knew an engagement was on the horizon for her friend. Seeing the ring last week may have tipped her off.
"What if you marry Cameron?...Um, strictly hypothetically speaking." Damn it, keep the cat in bag...she was switching to water.
Rebel's face softened at his name—she was one smitten kitten. Tess couldn't blame her, the man was fine, and a complete doll. "I guess we'll cross that bridge, ya know?"
"Hmm. Interesting. Doesn't sound like babies are totally off the table after all." Tess raised a brow.
Rebel sipped her wine and smiled. "I guess when you love someone you can't rule anything out."
"I agree. Never say never, and all that...plus, you would have the cutest, most non-asshole kids on the planet." They clinked glasses and laughed. Tess did agree. She might be chronically single, but she wasn't cynical. She was relieved to be unattached, truth be told. She was very independent and was getting to know who she really was in recent years, embracing and cherishing the skin she was in. Tess was certain that in order to have a healthy relationship with someone else, you had to have one with yourself first. Self-help book hoopla? Maybe. But still true.
"So, on another completely unrelated topic. I know you hate set ups, buuut..."
"Ugh, really, Rebel? Please, just no. After the night I've had, please have mercy on me."
"Even if he's a friend of Cam's who recently moved to town? Even if he's good looking and financially stable? Even if he..."
"Okay, okay, he sounds great. What's the catch?"
"Catch?"
"Yeah, so why is Mr. Wonderful still on the market?"
"You're wonderful and you're on the market."
"Please. You know there's a double standard when it comes to single men and single women. Plus, there are at least four women for every single guy, so by pure statistical probability, he should be taken...or gay."
"Widowed."
"Oh, there's that." Tess got busy looking inside her glass. "Poor guy."
"So, are you inter
ested?"
"A widower? I don't know, Reb."
"Oh come on, he can't help that his wife died anymore than you can help being smoking hot." She was laying it on thick, but Tess smiled.
"You're right. I shouldn't hold it against him, that would't be fair."
"Nope...sooooo?"
"So, what the hell." Tess shrugged her shoulders and tossed back the last sip of tini she had in her glass.
"Yay! I'll have Cam text him your digits."
"Digits? Will he hit up my pager?" Tess teased. Rebel flipped her off and they laughed some more.
Tess didn't switch to water, but she did switch to beer, which was close enough.
Several rounds later...
"Oh my god, what does this song remind you of?" Rebel asked, her words a little slurred. Tess laughed, recognized the song. A heavy set guy in cargo shorts giving his sweaty rendition of Sweet Emotions by Aerosmith. "Woohoo!" she hollered through her cupped hands. The guy grabbed the mic with one hand and fist pumped with the other. He was really going for it. That made them crack up even harder.
"Oh, lord, you made me watch that movie a million effing times."
"Classic, and still holds up." Rebel had been going through an obsessive McConaughey phase during their second semester of college. They went through his entire movie collection, but their favorite was Dazed and Confused. (This was well before his abs in Magic Mike, which had now taken the top spot in Rebel's rankings.) One reason they loved it, besides the awesome soundtrack, was the hilarious pot heads. Another was that Rebel's older brother Anthony had been an extra. You could totally see his arm in the moon tower scene. They cheered every time—"There's his elbow!"
"I just don't understand why we had to smoke out every time we watched it. I almost flunked out that semester," Tess said, with a laugh, remembering what they came to refer to as "their ganja period."
"Like I held you down and taped the joint to your mouth," Rebel pointed out with a smirk, as she pulled her dark curtain of hair into a knot on top of her head.
"I was weak and impressionable, and also you were a little intimidating." Rebel had been unlike anyone Tess had ever met—so fiery and in your face, saying whatever came to her mind. It was refreshing. Most of the girls she'd known had been stiff and often times duplicitous. Tess never really knew any of them, never getting the whole story or real insight to who they were. It made for a lonely adolescence. She craved someone real, and she got more than she ever dreamed in Rebel.
Rebel was loyal, would give her friends the shirt of her back, or dole out the bitch slaps if anyone messed with them. Being around Rebel made Tess feel more authentic herself, just being in her presence. For once, it felt as if different was at last attainable, that there was more to life than her crusty white bread up bringing, there was bawdy color in the world and she could be a part of it. She always felt like she didn't fit in, and she didn't. But it wasn't until college, and Rebel, she was for once grateful to be an odd ball. She started to realize she wasn't the odd one after all.
"I ate a lot of Pringles that semester," Tess remembered.
"Oh my god, I forgot about your chip obsession. I always wanted bean burritos from Taco Bueno...what a couple of stoned fatties," Rebel teased, even though she was a size four now and a size four back then. Tess, on the other hand, had been on the chubby side. She was well-aquainted with the so called "freshman fifteen," which didn't help her self image issues. Eighteen was a rough age for any girl, without the added pounds. Tess would stand in front of the mirror before parties, cursing her shape and claiming that nothing looked good enough. Rebel would get mad, saying things like, "Damn it, Tess, you're curvy, not fat. I only wish I had your tits. I'm sporting an A minus over here. I might as well end the charade and throw away my bra...use band aids instead." A plastic surgeon later helped her ditch her A minuses. It was her graduation present to herself.
"How clueless were the sisters on our floor? They had to have smelled it."
"Hell, half of them where doing illegal shit, too. Tanya and her crew, with their never ending flow of daddy's money, were complete coke heads. Who where they to narc? Plus, you invented the fabric dryer sheet method, remember?" Rebel asked.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot. That was pretty genius."
They'd been paranoid about getting busted since they were living in the sorority house. The smell of pot is one of the most distinctive odors on the planet—anyone who's been to a concert knows the smell, even if they'd never touched the stuff. So one night, marginally high, Tess came up with a plan. Instead of blowing their smoke out of the window, where the wind was sure to whisk it back into the room, Tess had the idea of rubber banding a fabric dryer sheet onto the end of an empty toilet paper roll. They'd take a hit and blow the smoke into the roll. The smoke would filter through the dryer sheet, emerging from the other end Downy fresh. That invention, coupled with the copious amounts of air freshener, kept them in the clear.
They reminisced a bit longer, then decided to called it a night. Cameron came to pick up his toasty soon-to-be fiancé. He kissed Rebel on the mouth, then rested his forehead on hers. "Ready to go, baby?"
Rebel's goofy grin was her only response. "Can I give you a ride, Tess?"
"Nah, I'm good. It's a short drive."
"Have you had as much to drink as this little one?"
More, truth be told, if you counted the bubbly she'd had during the reception. She was no light weight, but when she didn't answer right away, he said, "You're riding with us, no exceptions. I'll come pick you up tomorrow and we can pick up your car, okay?"
He put one arm over each of their shoulders and walked them out. Yep, he was one of the good ones.
Rebel was a very lucky lady.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tess hadn't given a second thought to Cam's widowed friend. She should have known that when her phone chimed with a text at eight a.m. the next morning, that Ms. Regina Rinaldi never forgot a thing, especially when it came to things like setting her up. She wished she could say this was the first time Rebel had played matchmaker, with varying results. They weren't all horrible, but one was bad enough to make her gun-shy for a lifetime. Rebel's cousin Anthony with the unibrow, who talked about his car like it was his life partner. Rebel said he'd always been hairy, and it wasn't his fault, but that he had a heart of gold. Tess delicately informed her that hairy was not on her "traits I'm looking for in a man" list for future reference, no matter how golden his heart was. She wasn't down with French braiding back hair.
Reb: I gave Donovan your digits :)
It took Tess a second to process who this Donovan might be, then she remembered their conversation the night before. She typed her response with jabby fingers and a pout.
I don't wanna!
Reb: Stop being a baby. You'll love him.
Doubtful.
Reb: Be a little more enthusiastic when he calls please!
Fine, whatever.
Reb: Biatch.
You.
Reb: No, you.
YOU!
Reb: Don't use caps at me, missy.
You have to have kids, cuz you be bossy as hell.
Reb: You love me.
Not at the moment. :(
Tess smiled despite her frustration with her pushy friend. She could call it a set up, but a set up was a blind date pure and simple. And she hated blind dates. The very name should evoke trepidation. Who wants to go blind into anything, let alone dating? It was rough enough out there without all your senses on the ready. So, Facebook stalking seemed like the logical way for the blind to see. She scrolled through Cameron's friends and found the name Donovan Green. Fit, blond, green eyed, tanned skin, Donovan Green.
"Aye, Chihuahua!"
Okay you're forgiven. He's hot!!!
Reb: I take payment in shoes and/or booze.
Tess sent the wine glass and high heel emoji and tossed her phone to the side. Okay, hotness did not a good date make, but it sure as hell helped. Cue residual shudders from her
date with Cousin It.
Now, to continue her recognizance. She didn't see any pictures of kids, which one might think is a good thing. But Tess had learned over the years that if a man already had kids, he wouldn't be as apt to bark up her uterus.
"Oh, shit." Her hand hovered above the screen. What she did see were pictures of his wife, many pictures of his gorgeous wife. Every other post in fact. Just how long ago did his wife pass? She scrolled. And scrolled. And scrolled. Finally, in a post made two years prior, she saw a post with an obituary link. Sick fascination gripped her and she clicked. A tightness gripped her chest. Rebecca Green: Beloved wife, beloved daughter, beloved sister, cherished friend.
"Poor girl." She'd been twenty-eight. Her heart broke for all of them. She'd never lost anyone she was close to, but could imagine the pain and the loss. She closed the screen, no longer wanting to spy. Looking into his past hadn't had the affect she was hoping for—she felt more unsure than ever.
Donovan did call later, as promised. He seemed kind, his deep voice smooth and gentle. She wanted to cry and tell him how sorry she was for his loss, but she thought that might set the wrong tone. She agreed to go to dinner with him the following week. They had casual conversation for around ten minutes, she hung up the phone with a smile on her face, but it fell as quickly as it appeared. This guy had every right to move on, but Tess wasn't sure she was the person to help him.
Hours later she was still in her pajamas back in the social media vortex. She saw she had a message on her LinkedIn icon. It was a message from Lindsay Adams. It didn't ring a bell at first, but when she saw the woman's picture it triggered her memory. They'd attended the same private school, but Tess didn't know her that well—they hadn't been in the same graduating class. Curious what Lindsay would want with her, she clicked on the message. As she read, her brow tightened. Lindsay had left her number and asked Tess to call her. She had something she would like to discuss with her. She hadn't the foggiest idea what Lindsay might need to discuss. She hesitated before she punched in the number, but curiosity won in the end. She sighed with relief when she got Lindsay's voicemail. It was nearing two in the afternoon. She decided she would feel more equipped to handle a conversation with the former class president if she was showered and wasn't wearing Avengers pajama pants— a gift from her nephews.
Spinster? Page 2
