The Only Rule: The Casual Rule 3

by AC Netzel

  Velvet Velour struts over to Stuart’s chair and eggs him on too. Wide-eyed, I look at Ben and we laugh. I peek at Elizabeth, figuring she has to be ten seconds away from blowing a gasket and sucking away all his fun. But she’s not. She’s sitting, mostly slouching, with her eyes closed. I shake my head when I realize she’s passed out cold.

  That explains why the nagging stopped.

  The rest of the audience stands and sings along. It’s a big party. Disco balls are throwing countless spots of light rotating around the walls and ceiling of the room. It feels like we’re trapped in the middle of a giant disco seizure. Purple glittery confetti falls from the ceiling over the performers and audience.

  It’s freaking awesome.

  As the song comes to a close, everyone, including the Queens on stage, clap in Stuart’s direction. Even the performers can’t be angry at his attention stealing. There’s just something so damn endearing about him. The best part about Stuart is his Stuart-ness. And I’m elated that my secret friend had his moment to shine.

  Stuart bows and grins like he just won the gay lottery.

  “Lover, you can come back anytime. Drinks on me,” Satin tells him.

  ~o0o~

  My sisters and their husbands say their goodbyes in record time. Empty hotel room and sex are clearly next on the activities list.

  I peek back at the bar. Vivian and Jim are gone. Or they’re on the floor getting it on. Who knows? Either way, I don’t see them.

  Peter kisses my cheek and says goodnight.

  Marcello hugs me. “Stewy is all kinds of fabulous. Does he know he’s gay?” he whispers in my ear.

  “Not a clue,” I tell him. “Thanks for coming out.”

  “I purposely sat across from Ben. He had the opportunity to admire me all night. I think I’m finally turning him.”

  “I’m really worried,” I say sarcastically.

  Allie joins us. “Did you have fun?”

  I nod. “It was unbelievable. We had a great time.”

  “Bathroom fun too?” She wiggles her brows. Damn, she doesn’t miss a thing. “We’re grabbing a cab and heading back to Vince’s.”

  “Ah yes, jealous sex time,” I tell her.

  “It will be—when I flirt with the cab driver.” She winks. “Come on baby, let’s get out of here,” she yells over to Vince.

  Stuart nudges Elizabeth. She blinks a few times as she awakens. Frowning and obviously confused, she looks around the room until she zeroes in at Stuart.

  “What is that thing around your neck?” She scowls as she brushes purple confetti off her shoulders.

  “A boa.”

  “It looks ridiculous,” she scoffs. “Take it off.”

  Elizabitch has arisen.

  “Relax, Mistress. He was holding it for me,” Marcello tells her, grabbing the boa off Stuart and wrapping it around his own neck. Stuart looks at him gratefully. Marcello just saved him from the dog house.

  “Why does everybody keep calling me Mistress? I’m a Mrs.,” she asks.

  She just doesn’t get it.

  “It’s a term of endearment,” Marcello lies. “We gays love that shit. Isn’t that right, Pumpkin?” He turns to Peter.

  “That’s right, Sugar Lips,” Peter answers, holding back a grin.

  They are so bad. I love my friends.

  She nods, satisfied with their answer and turns to Stuart. “It’s too late to go back to Connecticut. Book a room somewhere in the city.”

  “I already took care of it,” Ben tells her. “Neither of you looked like you were up to a long trip home. I sent a text with the confirmation info to your phone.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” She faces Stuart, placing a hand on her forehead. “I’m developing a terrible headache.” That’ll be thanks to the copious amounts of dry martinis you guzzled. “Let’s leave.”

  “Yes, dear,” he says. He strolls over to me, hugs me, and whispers, “Thank you for inviting us. This was the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time.” His already glassy eyes well-up and my insides warm, touched by his sincerity.

  “We’ll do it again. Soon.”

  He leans back, still holding on to me, and smiles. “I’d like that.”

  “So would I.” And I mean it.

  “Stuart!” Elizabitch snaps.

  I liked her better when she was passed out.

  “Coming.” He lets me go and shakes Ben’s hand. “You did well,” he tells him, glancing at me.

  Ben smiles. “Yes, I did.”

  Stuart smiles back at Ben, shrugs, then catches up to Elizabeth who is already halfway out the door.

  Ben turns to me, peeking down my shirt. “Looking forward to that lap dance later.”

  “You’re not giving that up, are you?”

  He shakes his head slowly. “Not a chance.” Leaning in close to my ear, he murmurs, “I can’t wait to get my mouth on your tits.”

  “Is that all you’ve been thinking about since the bathroom?”

  He nods. “That and more.”

  “I didn’t think lap dances had oral stipulations.”

  “I’ll leave you a good tip. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 10

  The monotone voice on the overhead paging system followed by a few beeps and an overpowering scent of disinfectant brings me back to a sad day. The day Ben’s grandmother, Kitty, passed away. I hate this place. And even though I’m in a different hospital, the same ominous feelings flood back.

  Taking a deep breath and then exhaling it quickly, I press the door to my mother’s hospital room open. Sophie is sitting on a hideous, throwback to the seventies orange vinyl cushioned chair next to the bed where my mother is sleeping.

  “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here today,” she says, looking up from her magazine with a tight smile.

  “I left work at noon. Ben drove us in. He’s parking the car,” I tell her. “Still no flowers?”

  “No, she still doesn’t want any. She said to save the flowers for her funeral.”

  “A little overdramatic,” I scoff.

  “You know the way she is.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

  “How is she today?”

  “Groggy, but good. She’s driving Dad crazy. She gave him half a dozen of those hospital booties to bring back to the house. Mom told him they were complimentary.” She chuckles. “He went home to shower, sleep a little bit, and grab more of her stuff.”

  “Does she still have a fever?”

  “One hundred and one. It’s better than it was.”

  “Good. The antibiotics are working.”

  “Yup. So, the big day is just about here.”

  I glance down at my mother resting peacefully in her hospital bed, a ray of sun beaming on her from the window. “I guess.”

  “Don’t sound so enthused.”

  “No, I am. It’s just…” I point my chin toward the bed.

  “Julia, Mom will be fine. Yeah, her appendix ruptured, but Dad got her here quickly. The surgeon said once she finishes two weeks of IV antibiotics, she’ll be good as new. They just have to watch her and make sure she doesn’t get another infection.”

  “I know. But I want her there.”

  “She doesn’t want you to postpone it. She’s probably afraid Ben will back out if you don’t get down the aisle as soon as possible. Then she’ll be stuck with you and the thousands of cats you’re bound to own,” she teases.

  “You’re hysterical,” I answer sarcastically.

  Standing from her chair, she walks over to me. Gently gliding her hand up and down my arm, she smiles sympathetically. “It’s okay to get married without Mom. Everyone’s sending her pictures and videos from their phones. It’ll be like she’s there.”

  “But she won’t be.”

  “Knowing her, even from her hospital bed, we’ll all feel her presence.” She looks at the bed and smiles. “Mom’s an unstoppable force.”

  “This stopped her.”

  “You know what I mean. I know it sucks.”
/>   “Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “Sucks.”

  “Would you feel better if we got a life-sized cardboard cutout of her and sat it in the church pew? Or we could put it on the altar with Father Donovan. She’d probably like that better anyway,” she jokes.

  I purse my lips, rolling my eyes.

  She chuckles. “Don’t let this ruin anything. You’ll be a beautiful bride marrying a handsome groom, and you’ll have a perfect wedding. You and Ben are the only two who have to be there. I guess Father Donovan and some random witness have to be there too. Everyone—including Mom—wants you to enjoy your day. She’d never forgive herself if you didn’t.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “Good. It’s settled. That’s enough of that.” She pulls me close and whispers in my ear. “While we’re on the topic of Mom, I’m going to find her nurse. They have to adjust her morphine or something. She was hallucinating. She’s convinced that two birds are stalking her.”

  I turn and face Sophie, frowning. “Stalking her how?”

  “She says they perch themselves outside the window and watch her.”

  “Seagulls couldn’t fit on that tiny window ledge. Not the massively sized seagulls I’ve seen around here.”

  “Pigeons. She said two pigeons are spying on her. She must be high as a kite.” She glances down at her watch. “I have to get going. I’ll talk to the nurse on the way out. I’ll see you at the wedding rehearsal on Friday night.”

  She gives me a quick hug and leaves the room, heading toward the nurses’ station. I sit down in the vacated orange vinyl chair next to my mother. Gently, I take hold of her hand. She turns her head slightly and smiles at me.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. How are you feeling today?”

  “Tired.” She stares toward the windows.

  “I brought some gossip magazines. You can keep up with the Hollywood crowd while you’re stuck here.”

  “At least one of my children shares in my celebrity worshipping. I’ll read them in a little bit but first, do me a favor. Close the blinds.”

  “Is the sun bothering you?”

  She grabs my arm and pulls me down, close to her. “Everyone thinks I’m confused, but I know what I see. Two pigeons have been staring at me through that window since I was admitted. They’re making me uncomfortable. Birds are bad luck if they fly into your house. I could die if they get in.”

  “First, that’s a stupid superstition. Second, this is not your house. And third, the windows don’t open. Unless they can transport themselves through the glass, they’re not coming in.”

  She sighs. “Just do it.”

  “Sure, Mom.” I stand and walk over to the window, taking a quick minute to admire the handmade ‘Get Well Soon’ cards drawn by my nieces and nephew. I grab the hanging silver beaded chain and pull it, slowly lowering the blinds. The room darkens with only the fluorescent lights in the ceiling illuminating the room, making it feel like the impersonal, sterile place it is.

  “Better?”

  “Yes. Thank you. Evil birds. Come, sit next to me. It’s just a few more days. How are the wedding plans coming along?”

  “Fine.”

  She raises a brow. “Fine?”

  My chin quivers as my brave facade fades and the waterworks start. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, what’s this all about? You and Ben aren’t arguing, are you?”

  Shaking my head, I answer, “No. We’re good. He’s parking the car now. He should be here any minute.”

  “I know there’s a lot of pressure so close to the wedding, but don’t worry. It all comes together in the end.”

  “I’m not worried about that. I want you there.”

  “I wish I could, but …” She holds out her arm with an intravenous drip attached and shrugs. “Look at me. The doctors say I’ll be here for at least a week and a half, probably two. Besides, it’s already paid for. You’d lose thousands of dollars. The wheels are already turning.”

  “It won’t feel right without you there.”

  “Your brothers and sisters have it all figured out. I’ll have videos and pictures sent to me all night. Your brother Mark dropped off a computer tablet thingamajig to stream it to me—whatever that means. All I know is I’ll see it. It’ll be like I’m there.”

  “It’s not the same. You know it isn’t. This isn’t what I planned. “

  “Oh Juju, plans don’t always work out. Sometimes you have to adjust them. Few things in life stay in a straight line. It’s like the scrub pines in the Pinelands. You remind me of them.”

  “Scrub pines? I hate those ugly trees.”

  “They may not be the most beautiful, but they have shallow roots.”

  “Did you just call me ugly and shallow?”

  She laughs, then winces in pain. “Far from it. But like the pines, you don’t snap in half when a gust of wind blows. You sway back and forth. You bend. You’re resilient. Don’t you see?”

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “My absence is a gust of wind. Be a pine tree, Julia. Bend.”

  “But…”

  “You love him?”

  “So much. I wish I had the words to define how I feel.”

  “Define? We don’t need to define what love is, what it isn’t. How it looks, how it feels. I’ve never believed there’s one definition of love. It’s different for you. It’s different for me. What matters is you find your fairy tale, whatever that is, and you live it.”

  “I think I found it with him.”

  “I think you’re right. So go. Start your life. Live your fairy tale.” She smiles through her misty eyes. I’ve seen my mother’s smile a million times. I know when it’s genuine. This isn’t. She’s masking her sorrow as best she can. “I don’t have to be there. You should know by now that I’m always with you.”

  I place my hand over my mouth and nod, swallowing back a sob. She says what she’s supposed to say. And she means it. Sorta.

  I respond the way I’m supposed to. And I mean it. Sorta.

  Sacrifice. It’s always been our way.

  My mother would do anything for her children.

  Even break her own heart.

  “It’s all right. Start your life with Ben. Get married. Have babies. Be in love. This is the beginning of everything,” she says.

  “We are.”

  “I know. I’m so proud of you.”

  “For what?”

  “Your bravery. You did the most courageous thing anyone who had their heart broken could ever do. You took a chance, opened up your heart again, and let love find you. You found a good man, Juju. This is your time. Grab it.”

  “Is this my mother/daughter wedding day talk?”

  She looks at me thoughtfully, her eyes welling up again. “I suppose it is.”

  “You’re not going to give me a sex talk too. Are you?” I joke, trying to cut the sadness between us.

  “Judging by the answers in that Fiancé Quiz and the Wishing Well gadgets at your bridal shower, I think you and Ben have that covered.” She winks with a sly smile.

  “God, Mom.” I place my hands over my face, now heated from my blush.

  “I’m not as old fashioned as you think. I have six children. You kids didn’t come from high fives and handshakes. Your father and I…”

  “Stop.” I hold up a hand. “Please don’t tell me about you and Dad. I really, really, really don’t want to know. Keep me in the dark on that one. Please.”

  “Have it your way,” she teases, lifting a brow. “Good times.”

  I think I just threw up in my mouth.

  She smiles coyly.

  “What’s that smile about?” I ask, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. “Not sex again.”

  “No. I was thinking about you and Ben.”

  “What about us?”

  “Before you met him, all you cared about was work. Work, work, work. Your life was still, like the water in the bay when the breeze dies down.”

  Amaz
ing. Even sick, sad, and hopped up on pain meds in a hospital bed, she manages to go into one of her water analogies.

  “But…” She raises her brow. “When you two met, that still water didn’t get the tiny ripple you expected. Did it?”

  I grin, shaking my head.

  “You got a wave.” She winks slyly.

  I chuckle and nod.

  “More like a tsunami.” Ben startles us. I look up and see him standing in the doorway with his arms folded in front of his chest.

  “How long have you been there?” I ask.

  “Not long. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.” He walks next to my chair. “How are you feeling, Rose?”

  “As long as the pain meds are working, I feel good.”

  “You look well,” he says.

  “Liar. You don’t have to butter up your future Mother-in-law. I’m already sold. I look like crap.”

  “Nonsense. You’re beautiful as always,” Ben says, as he stands behind me, gently massaging my shoulders.

  “My future son-in-law is a smooth talker. It’s no wonder you charmed your way into my daughter’s heart.”

  “I plan to keep it that way,” he says, squeezing my shoulders a little tighter. I look up at him and smile.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I was just giving the bride-to-be some marital advice. Since I won’t see you—in person, anyway— on the wedding day, I have some advice to share with you too.”

  “Share away,” he says.

  “Marriage isn’t always easy. It takes a lot of work. But most worthwhile things do. Don’t they?” she asks him.

  “Yes,” he answers, raising my hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. “Definitely worthwhile.”

  Satisfied with his answer, she smiles contently. “You don’t have to win every argument. Sometimes it’s okay to be wrong.” She cups her hand, blocking her lips from my view and whispers. “Even when you’re right.”