by Misty Simon
He tapped his glass again. “Excuse me, everyone.” The whole table ignored him. I saw Jerry out of the corner of my eye holding the mouth-watering cheesecake on china plates. I hoped my dad wasn’t going to talk forever. I needed that dessert.
“Quiet,” I said really loud over the noise of the Bouquet, husbands, and kids. And, surprisingly, everyone shut up. Wow. That had never happened before. Interesting. “Go ahead, Dad.” Like I had any say in what would happen. As if.
“Thanks, Ivy.” His eyes were a little wild, and his hand automatically went to his hair, where he made sure the comb-over was still lying down. “I wanted to thank everyone for coming out here, for those of you who’ve flown”—he nodded to the Bouquet and their families—“for those of you who live down the street”—I got a special wink that made me feel really good—“and for the woman who has completely stolen my heart and made me a whole man again.”
I hoped he meant that in a non-Viagra way.
****
I’d like to tell you that the night after the cheesecake from heaven was perfect, that Ben and I made wonderful love and woke sleepy and replete in each other’s arms. Haven’t I learned yet that is not the way my life ever works?
I did go home with Ben, but by the time we got to his house, he had two messages from his boss about a new story he had to cover. The third message was my dad asking where the toilet paper was and could I please come home now to help him locate it, since he couldn’t find the house phone amongst all of the luggage and the battery on his cell was dying. Oy!
I thought I was over the toilet paper trauma after last time, but that’s a different story.
“I know, I know,” I said, tugging my hand from Ben’s. We stood inside his living room with its horrible couch and single lamp. “You have to go.”
“Why does it always happen like this for us?”
It was a legitimate question, but I only had my standard answer. “This is the way my life works. I finally get to a point where things should work for me, and then everything else gets blown to hell. I’m really sorry.” I saw the light go out of his eyes. He knew what I was talking about. I was going to have to go home and figure out the whole toilet paper thing along with whatever else had managed to fail, break, or destruct in the short time I’d been here.
Life was never fair.
“We could ignore everyone for a little while and have some time alone anyway. At this point, I’d be happy to get demoted back to food critic at the Martha’s Herald if I could get some time with you. Come on, Ivy.” His green eyes begged as he thrust his long, strong fingers through his gold-tipped hair. I wanted those fingers on me.
“Can we be quick?” I asked, pulling my sweater over my head.
“I guess I can if you—” He yelped the last of his sentence because I launched myself at him and drove him back onto the ugly couch. We were going to get it on and get it done. No, it wasn’t a long night of slow, perfect love, but believe me it worked. For both of us.
When I pulled up at my house later that night—not too much later, but it was time well spent—light burst from every window in the place. Who was paying the electric bill here? Even the garage light was on.
I had to park at the curb since everyone had taken up my garage and small driveway. I pulled my brown Santa Fe up one house past mine. Yes, it was brown, and I had burned all the brown out of my life, but I certainly couldn’t burn my car, and neither could I afford a new one. So this was the only thing I was stuck with from the old brown life. I figured it wasn’t a bad last thing.
I tromped across the dead, crackling grass that had pretty much died in early December. Bella cautioned me not to use a blow dryer to melt the patches of snow on the front lawn, because that would show my true California-girl roots again. I guess I had really made an impression when I vacuumed my lawn this past fall.
At least I could look forward to spring, when the weather would warm up and Ben and I could get our hands dirty redoing the gardens. Thoughts of better days would have to wait, though. Right now I had to keep my electricity meter from paying for the entire department’s vacations for the next ten years.
I banged through the front door and was confronted with a vision I think I will die with on the back of my eyelids.
Kids were jumping on my beautiful furniture, no adult was in sight, and the wild-beast hollering gave me an insta-headache. Where the hell were their parents? This was completely inappropriate behavior in their own homes, and they wouldn’t be getting away with it in mine.
“Hey!” I yelled it, I stamped my feet, I even gave a feeble whistle. Nothing. Finally I put two fingers in my mouth and gave one of those piercing whistles that sets you back on your ass.
Nothing again. Damn. Watching my swearing was going to hell in a Longaberger basket. I barely resisted taking a fire poker and banging it against the wall like Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation or that guy in The Ref, but I was getting near the end of my tether.
For the moment, I ignored the chaos and went in search of the supposedly responsible adults. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, I found my sisters and their spouses giggling and talking over big glasses of wine, so I headed right back out into the living room.
I would do this myself. I had backbone; I was not going to be thwarted by six kids under the age of ten. Only fourteen years separated me from the oldest, but they were sadly mistaken if they thought I would let them get the best of me. Not happening, no way, no how.
Ten minutes later I had them all tied up on the couch with gags in their mouths and the house was blessedly quiet. How, you ask, did I manage this?
A little thing called “let’s make it a game.” I let the older kids tie up the younger ones, then I tied up the oldest by snagging him and wrestling him to the ground. Size does have its advantages, I’ll have you know.
I guess it got too quiet, though, because the adult portion of the family came rushing into the living room. I calmly painted my toenails while watching High Fidelity with my heartthrob John Cusack. “Better move your kids before Jack Black comes on,” I said, not paying attention to the dropped jaws or the noises being made in the backs of throats. “Have a good night, all.” I’d been kicked out of my room by Rose and her husband, so I had to sleep on the couch. But I got my revenge by making the Bouquet have their kids sleep on the floor in their rooms. If I wasn’t going to be comfortable or have sex, then neither would they. The wedding couldn’t come soon enough for me.
Sometimes I wonder why I have no precognition of really bad days. It would definitely come in handy.
Chapter Six
A Friday filled with shopping—yay. And it was the last day before the wedding on New Year’s Eve. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love shopping, for the most part. I love it for the thrill of finding something that actually fits nicely over my rounded stomach, or hides my flabby biceps but makes my chest more impressive than it really is. All very fun.
But today’s shopping trip included the Bouquet and Martha. They had become bosom buddies and were cooing at each other in the skinny women’s department of our one upscale clothing store. I fit in absolutely nothing here, and the sales girl currently helping my family and soon-to-be stepmother was making sure I didn’t forget it.
“Are you sure I can’t show you where the Curvy section is?” she said for the tenth time, flashing blindingly white teeth at me while holding her perfect, slender hands at her miniscule waist.
“I’m positive. I already know where it is anyway, but thanks.” The last word was ground out from between teeth that were seriously starting to hurt. “I’m only here trying to help my family pick some stuff out.”
“Okay,” she said, drawing the word out and lifting up one perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Well, you let me know if you need directions over. I’m happy to help all of our customers find exactly the right fit. We want you to look your best when you leave Cameron’s Class.”
Class, my ass. I didn’t know what we were
still doing in this section. Martha and the girls hadn’t found anything to their liking, and I never ever shopped here because the Barbie-doll sales girls had scared me the very first time I’d come in looking for something non-brown. In the Curvy section, they’d been all over me like mayo on chicken salad, giving me bigger sizes than I wore and promising I’d look ravishing for that special someone.
And speaking of that special someone, I felt a tickle on my neck a second before Ben whispered, “Ivy Morris, mistress of her domain and my heart, what are you doing in here? Causing trouble?”
My heart fluttered hard in my chest. Would I ever get used to his entrances? I certainly didn’t want to. I’d be happy if he gave me shivers at eighty-nine.
But I took umbrage at his assumptions. (Two good words, one sentence—I was on a roll.) “You know, it’s not as if I’m in trouble every single time you see me.” I crossed my arms over my chest and pivoted to look him in the eye.
“Hmmm, I think for the most part that’s not true.”
“And I think you need to get your memory checked. It’s been at least three or four weeks since I did anything even remotely troubling or bad.”
He pushed some hair back over my shoulder. “I know. Lord, do I know.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” But those flutters were on the move south, and my knees wobbled. Was I turning into a sex addict? I couldn’t go for a few weeks having to content myself with a little necking session here and there, but ultimately nothing more than a quickie with this very yummy man? Gah! Enough already. My mind had started conjuring up all kinds of scenes from our limited sexual past and throwing them up on my mental drive-in movie screen with shocking, erotic clarity.
Clearing my throat, I folded my hands at my waist. As I opened my mouth to say something, that something flew right out my ear when I saw a manicured pair of hands snake around Ben’s torso and burrow under his black leather jacket.
Um. Hello?
To his credit, Ben looked down at those hands like they were a live snake coiled around his gut. He tried to turn around to see who it was at the same time I moved around to see who on earth would touch my Ben so intimately.
“Crystal?”
“You do remember!” Her squeal hurt my ears. I was about to blister hers, but her next words threw me right off my stride. “Benny, I can’t believe you finally came in to see me. My mom said she saw you walking in, and I wanted to get to you before that hoochie Karen could.” She went on, completely oblivious to the death ray I shot at her with my burning eyes. “You’re all mine now that you’re in here. Need any underwear today? I could check the fit for you. We want all our customers to find the right fit, you know.” She giggled, making me nauseous.
I waited for Ben to follow through on his earlier disgust with those hands in his jacket, but he seemed momentarily distracted. I moved to do it myself—and not nearly as nicely as he might have—but Ben finally stepped out of her octopus grip. His withdrawal probably saved her from losing a limb.
“Nope, don’t need any underwear, but thanks for the invite.” Then he actually tapped her under the chin with his fist, like he was playing into her innuendo. Just not right now, babe. Wink, wink.
I think my normally brown hair actually turned flaming red, matching the fire shooting from my eyes. I started sputtering, which is never a good thing. “Buh, nuh, what, how...” Not very intelligent, either, if you want to get down to the nitty-gritty.
“See you later, Crystal.” He put his arm around my shoulders and gently closed my mouth. He almost lost a finger to my teeth.
Crystal walked away, swinging her tiny hips to and fro. Out of my peripheral vision, I could see Ben didn’t watch the hip action. He’d better be thankful he didn’t. To match the red of my vision, I was also getting a nice green flare in there. Very Christmassy in this season, but not what I wanted at the moment.
I reached under Ben’s arm and pinched the tender flesh right beneath his left armpit. His yelp was satisfying, but he removed his arm to rub the skin, which left me adrift.
“What was that for?” he asked, his face a complete study in ignorance and disbelief.
“What was that for? What was that for!” I had to lower my voice or risk embarrassing myself further. I took a deep breath and, despite the pain he must be feeling, Ben watched the way my cleavage moved up and out of my V-neck sweater. It made me want to hit him again.
“Yes, what was that for? Didn’t I just ask that question?”
I counted back from ten. “Yes, as a matter of fact you did, but I’m baffled as to why you need to ask.” I pulled off calm, cool, and collected, although I was steaming inside, more so than when that idiotic sales girl had tried repeatedly to get me to the Curvy section.
“I asked because I want to know.” His green eyes bore into mine, and I got the distinct urge to squirm. “Out of the blue you pinch me under my arm, and for no reason I can see. I want to know what your reasoning was.”
How had this all been turned around? “You were flirting with her. Flirting with her, and I’m standing right here. You don’t think that warrants a pinch?” I flapped my hands at my sides. Did we not just experience that whole episode together? Had I been in an alternate universe?
“Oh, please, Ivy, I wasn’t flirting with her. Green monster got you a little? She’s an old friend; I went to high school with her brother. Besides, she was only kidding. I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about.” He leaned back against the sales counter and crossed his ankles and arms, like he hadn’t a care in the world.
Was I making too much of it? It wasn’t as if they’d kissed. And he had removed her hands. Gah! “The green monster does not have me in its grip, you boob. I just think it is inappropriate to let another woman grope you while I’m standing right here.”
“Would you rather I let her grope me when you’re not here?”
I growled.
“Sorry, sorry. Okay, I get it. I haven’t seen her in a while, and I guess she shouldn’t have touched me. Won’t happen again.”
He uncrossed all his various parts and came toward me. I debated what to do while he took the two strides that put us toe to toe. He tapped one of my dangly earrings and bent to place a kiss behind my ear. He knew that drove me wild. Cheater! “So, am I forgiven?” he whispered into my neck. “I can’t stand for you to be mad at me.”
It took approximately two seconds for me to melt like putty in his hands, even as I was berating myself for giving in too easily. But then two more seconds brought all the women in my family out of the dressing rooms and swarming on me, effectively ruining the moment.
“Really, Ivy, in a store?” Rose.
“Why don’t you move that on into a dressing room?” Martha, snickering.
“I don’t think we can leave her alone for a moment.” Daisy.
Maggie just stared at me through slitted eyes. Had I said yesterday that it was nice to have them all here? Wrong, wrong, wrong.
But that would have to be put on the back burner, like everything else in my life at the moment, because Ben’s cell rang. His whole stance perked up as he checked the display screen and answered.
“Yes, sir, yes, I can be there in ten minutes. Thank you, sir.” He flipped the phone closed. “Gotta go, babe.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and dashed out the door, waving behind him.
I heard a chorus of sighs behind me and whipped around to find four sales girls leaning on the counter—mouths open, hands folded under their chins—longing clear in their eyes.
Sorry, ladies, he’s mine, I thought, but said, “Anyone want to show me where the Curvy section is? I have a hot date with the man who just left, and need exactly the right fit.”
Chapter Seven
Candlelight brushed the soaring arch of the small church vestibule with gold. Martha stood at the closed doors with her hand resting on the old polished wood. She looked so in control—until I noticed her trembling hand where the light refracted off her
big diamond. I was glad my dad had sprung for a stunner. Martha deserved the best.
I went up to this woman who was about to become my stepmother, but who I would always think of as a really good friend, and laid a hand on her bare shoulder. She jumped about a foot and landed with her hand over her heart.
“You nearly scared me to death, Ivy.”
“Sorry about that.” Another strike against me. “I only wanted to ask if you’re ready. Are you okay?”
She inhaled, pushing out the top of her beautiful dress. I wondered briefly if I should offer to grab a napkin or something to hide some of that incredible, gel bra-enhanced cleavage. I hoped the pastor wasn’t going to faint from all the exposed flesh. Then I figured it wasn’t my place. And, anyway, she looked fabulous.
My dad was going to be so incredibly stunned he might fall over. I giggled and got a look from my sisters huddled over in the corner. A burst of music sent everyone scrambling into position. Martha grabbed my hand, and I swear if I were a smaller woman she might have broken it.
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked her again, trying desperately to get her to loosen her death grip.
“I want this so badly,” she whispered. “But I don’t know if I can go through it by myself.” She tore a petal from her sumptuous bouquet. This did not feel like it was going to end well.
“Of course you can do it. And you aren’t alone, Martha. The Bouquet and I are going to be right in front of you.” I gave her my best “let’s all be Zen” look, not that I really knew what Zen was, but it sounded good.
“Will you...can you...I...” The doors opened with a flourish, and I knew time was running out. If Martha didn’t walk down that aisle, it would come out as my fault. Just what I needed. My sisters would get to go home after the wedding whether it happened or not. I, on the other hand, would be forced to deal with the fallout.
