The Run Around

by Bernadette Franklin

  “Surprisingly, no.”

  “Take pictures.” I even smiled for him, as bridesmaids were supposed to look happy for the bride at her wedding. I doubted I’d be able to look anything other than flustered and annoyed once Amy showed up. I’d try, but I’d never been good at dealing with people who created unnecessary trouble for me.

  Who had time for that crap?

  Ben shook his head and sighed. “You could try posing.”

  “No one told me I had to pose for this wedding.” I posed my middle finger in the upright position. To enhance my no fucks left to give image, I stuck out my tongue.

  Ben, being Ben, dutifully photographed my immaturity. “How classy, Hope.”

  I leaned against the trunk of the nearest tree and showed him both of my middle fingers. “Is this better?”

  “Attempt to look demur for once in your life. I’ll take pleasantly puzzled if you can’t handle the demur look.”

  “How about the total badass look?”

  “No. You’re not a badass. You’re usually tired and easily annoyed but hide it well. Badasses kick butt, take names, and go home a crowned queen. You go home more like a battered servant.”

  Damn. Ben didn’t pull his punches. “This game sucks.”

  “I can work with a pretty pout and dewy eyes.”

  “Gross. I’m not a broodmare up for auction.”

  “For today, you really are. Just remind yourself it’ll make your brother happy. If you can’t handle a dewy pout without help, remember you can’t smack the bride.”

  “That’s so stupid. Why not? After what she did this morning, she deserves it.” I targeted Ben with my most disappointed frown. “You’re enjoying my pain too much.”

  “If you’re good, I’ll take you out for milkshakes tomorrow night.”

  After frantically dieting to fit into a dress that Amy had deliberately purchased two sizes too small, I’d cut someone for a milkshake. A milkshake might turn the train wreck of my life around—and help me fit back into my real wardrobe, which was of a healthy size rather than designed for a skeleton barely wrapped in flesh.

  Ben snapped a few photos. “Damn, woman. You don’t have to actually cry.”

  “It’s been that long since I’ve had a milkshake. That’s worth crying over.”

  “I can tell. Give me a smile. Think about how you’re going to sucker me into paying for your extra large milkshake. I’ll even hold your hair if you make yourself sick after so long of trying to eat less than a bird. As an added bonus, you’ll get two cherries on top; I’ll let you steal mine. You know those damned cherries go straight to my hips.”

  A laugh escaped before I could stop it. “Why are all the good men gay?”

  “You just attract the good gay men because you’re too damned sweet, treat us like we’re human beings, and don’t mind when we go shopping with you. Who else is going to tolerate my taste in clothes and offer helpful advice on what looks best? You don’t even beg me to go full gay mode on annoying men to make them go away.”

  “I don’t need you to make annoying men go away. I just act like myself.”

  According to Ben’s expression, I was full of crap. “Cut yourself some slack, Hope. One day, you’ll find a man who knows your worth. The rest are just shitty sex fixes, and your battery-operated boyfriend does a better job.”

  “Remind me of that the next time I’m stood up on a date.”

  “You got it, babe. Strike some poses for me and show me that smile of yours. In ten minutes, your day goes straight back to hell.”

  As predicted, Amy’s arrival dumped my skinny ass straight into the bowels of hell. Since my detour dealing with Rick hadn’t unseated my throne of perfectionism, she decided she needed someone to photograph every square inch of the gardens to immortalize her wedding day.

  I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t remind her she hadn’t wanted a wedding in the first place.

  Unfortunately for Amy, I’d anticipated something of the sort, so I’d begged Ben to come extra prepared. I’d hear his complaints for months over his offended sensibilities, but he’d brought five spare, cheap cameras along just in case. I could find a few extra volunteers to help me take thousands of photographs Amy wouldn’t bother looking at.

  Amy began her evil work at the pond, but a few kids, a baseball bat, and their ball ensured her victory. I hadn’t even registered the crack of them hitting their ball before it’d bounced off my thick skull. I lost a few minutes thanks to their aim, and when I finally rejoined the rest of the world, I discovered I’d spent some time in the pond along with Ben’s camera.

  He might kill me for trashing even one of his cheap cameras.

  Water dripped into my eyes, but when I lifted my hand to wipe my face, someone stopped me. My eyes refused to focus properly, although I identified the person as a man. Men wore suits, women wore dresses. That had been the dress code for Amy’s wedding, and the person interfering with my attempts to get the water out of my eyes was definitely wearing a suit.

  “You were supposed to photograph the pond, not dive in,” Amy complained. “You’re a mess. You have weeds in your hair.”

  I couldn’t even tell if Amy was actually upset I’d interrupted her photography shoot. I thought her tone implied glee, but I decided I wouldn’t care. I’d threatened her with a ball and chain, so it was fair enough for her to view the incident as karma biting me in the rump. “It’s a rule. Someone at a wedding always ends up in the pond. No one told me I’d score a headache, though. I could live without that part.”

  My brother sighed, and I realized he was the jerk who kept stopping me from wiping my face. Then, since one sigh wasn’t good enough, he did it again. “You’re not supposed to catch baseballs with your head.”

  Fine. He wasn’t wrong, but did he have to say it? I came bundled with various forms of revenge, and I figured I’d delve into my love of amusing movies to exact my revenge. “’Tis but a scratch.”

  “Your clock’s been cleaned!” He shook his head, confirming he was, indeed, the helpful entity who refused to let me get the water out of my eyes.

  When my brother figured out I was yanking his chain, he might kill me. “No, it hasn’t. I’m talking to you. If my clock had been truly cleaned, I would not be speaking to you right now.”

  “You weren’t speaking to me thirty seconds ago.”

  “My clock has not been cleaned.”

  “If your clock hasn’t been cleaned, why is there blood in your hair?”

  My brother made it hard to keep from laughing. In my current state, laughing would be bad. Laughing would make my head hurt. “I’ve had worse,” I lied.

  “Have you, now?” My eyes focused on him enough to witness the narrowing of his eyes. He inspected the side of my head where I’d been smacked with a baseball. “I can’t remember any other time you almost lost your head to a baseball.”

  Finally, my moment had come. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  Behind me, Ben snickered.

  “You’re a force of unrelenting evil,” my brother complained.

  “Go back to taking pretty pictures with your bride and be happy I got my solo photos done early. I’ll be fine.” After my head stopped trying to split in half. “I’m just going to sit here for a few minutes and catch my breath.”

  “You almost drowned because you lost consciousness due to a baseball to the head. That is not fine.”

  Damn. I was afraid to ask if CPR had been involved. If it had been, I’d never live it down. I’d heard horror stories about CPR, and my chest didn’t feel like someone had beaten me with a baseball bat, so I would assume I’d escaped from that horror. I could think of only one way to distract my brother. I turned to Ben and asked, “Did you get any pictures of that? It’d be tragic if you hadn’t caught any pictures of me taking a baseball to the head.”

  My friend sighed and shook his head. “Maybe. I’ll check tonight.”

  “I demand copies if they exist. Mat, please go back to taking pretty pictu
res. I’ll be fine.”

  My ploy failed, and my brother glared at me. “I fail to see how my sister, who was hit in the head hard enough she fainted and almost drowned, can possibly be fine.”

  I checked the gardens for our adoptive parents and spotted them nearby, their arms crossed and glaring at me with matched expressions of disapproval. Unlike my brother, they wouldn’t say anything—yet. They’d wait for a moment of weakness and attempt to kill me with kindness.

  And they’d arrange it so I wouldn’t be able to escape. If they felt I was about to have a breakdown because my big brother had finally grown up, they might bring a puppy or kitten with them and make me care for it.

  I’d never had a puppy or kitten before.

  Or, worse. They’d finally listen to my childhood dream of owning a horse and make one appear to keep me broke, busy, and close to home.

  I’d even like it.

  “I’m fine!” I hollered in their general direction.

  Neither seemed to believe me.

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m just that amazing. That’s how I’m fine. I’m just that amazing. Go take your pictures. I’ll just sit here and wait for the busybody paramedics you probably insisted on calling to arrive. After they leave, I’ll get changed and prepare for the reception.” I pointed at my brother. “Are we clear?”

  “You’re a pain in my ass. You’re really going to attend the reception after taking a baseball to the head?”

  Duh. Stupid brother. “Today is your wedding day. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. A damned baseball isn’t stopping this woman, so get used to the idea.”

  My brother looked like he wanted to be sick. “Hope.”

  I wanted to tell him he was only going to get married once, but I knew better than to tempt fate, especially when Amy was the second half of their partnership. “Please go do the things handsome grooms do on their wedding day. I’ll be fine. Really. It’ll take a lot more than a baseball bat to make me miss any part of your wedding.”

  Except that bit where I’d fallen into a pond and almost drowned. I didn’t count that. It wasn’t my fault a bunch of kids thought it was a good idea to play baseball in a botanical gardens.

  Ben and my brother both heaved sighs but trudged off to do as told.

  Three

  Some risks were worth taking.

  To keep to the day’s frantic schedule, I dealt with the paramedics in record time. They couldn’t force me to go to the hospital, I politely turned down their repeated invitations, and I promised I would take myself to a doctor if I suffered from any of the symptoms they rattled off. I promptly forgot the list.

  There was no way in hell I was leaving my brother’s wedding, and I didn’t even care if there was some blood in my hair. The bleeding had stopped, my vision had cleared, and while I had a headache worth writing home about, it was nothing I couldn’t handle despite clenching my teeth to get through it. If I left my brother’s wedding, it would transform into a nightmare. Leaving Amy in charge of the reception would end the reception. The disaster would be talked about for years. Somehow, she would make it even worse than me taking a baseball to the head.

  Luckily for me, the blow had been a graze, it hadn’t hit anything important, and I figured the only reason I bled was thanks to one of the dumbass clips taming my hair.

  I wanted to keep the wedding disasters to the things I hadn’t planned for. A baseball to the head counted, but it wouldn’t kill me.

  I hoped.

  Some risks were worth taking, and I’d have to remind my brother later I loved him that much.

  A call to Wolfgang would fix my ruined dress and makeup problem, but I hesitated. Telling him what had happened would result in well-earned mockery. I retrieved my phone from its cleavage prison to discover it still had some life left in it. Dialing his number worsened my headache.

  The rest of the day would suck, but I would make it through somehow.

  “What went wrong?” Wolfgang answered.

  “I took a stray baseball to the head. I need your makeup skills and my reception dress. Help a woman out? Please? I’m not above begging at this point.”

  “A baseball? To the head? How did that happen? Are you all right? If you were hit with a baseball—”

  “Don’t you even dare suggest I go to the hospital.”

  Wolfgang sighed. “What happened?”

  “Fate, karma, the universe, or whatever you want to call it, wishes I would die already. I fell into the pond. I bet I’ll make the front page. Who knows? Maybe someone caught the whole thing on video. I might go viral.”

  The groan on the other end of line promised Wolfgang was at the end of his rope, too. “Your brother must be freaking out.”

  “Ben’s keeping him busy taking pretty pictures to immortalize the day I almost drowned in the botanical gardens pond.”

  “Where were you hit?”

  “It was a graze off the side of my head. My hair should hide any bumps. The bleeding stopped.”

  “Are you dizzy, have a headache, or feel ill?”

  I suspected once I tried to get up and walk around, I would be dizzy. I wasn’t a fan of my own head right now, and I could be honest about otherwise being all right. Unfortunately, if I lied, he would know it. He always knew. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty. I’ll bring the dress and your makeup, but you’re going to the hospital before the reception. If you go to the reception.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are, because I am taking you there.”

  “If you take me there, I’ll miss the reception,” I hissed.

  “My mother can handle the reception organization if we’re not done in time. She’ll have fun.”

  She would, too. The woman could probably organize a rally given ten minutes and a bullhorn. “I’m not going to the hospital.”

  Someone reached over my shoulder and stole my phone, and I recognized Rick’s chuckle. “I’ve no idea whom I’m speaking to, but I’ll contain the lady until her ride to the hospital. I’ve been recruited to make certain she goes. Yes, by Mat. Twenty minutes, you say? Excellent. I’ll see you then. I’ll bring her to the gate.”

  My damned traitor of a brother. “Hey. That’s my phone. I was using that.”

  “Now I’m using it to make certain you go to the hospital. The groom’s wishes trump yours in this case, princess.”

  A god-level adversary had crossed my path, and unless I did something about it, I would lose to him and his wicked ways and theft of my phone. “I will get revenge on you both if you make me go to the hospital.” Ignoring my brother would earn me a scolding later, but Rick would be the true challenge of the pair; I bet he’d ignore my fussing without any effort at all on his part. “I will begin with stealing your puppy’s love.”

  Rick laughed. “She loves everyone, but I will always be her favorite. I wish you the best of luck with that. Ah, pardon me, Wolfgang. Hope’s putting up a fight. Is she, perhaps, allergic to hospitals?”

  “Yes, I am. Can I have my phone back now? I need to schedule in a meeting with your puppy to steal her love and become her favorite. You’ll be reduced to begging for scraps of affection.”

  My newfound rival ignored me. “I’ll bring the lady to the gate and come with you. Also, Ben wanted me to tell you that Hope could really use a milkshake, and she needs all of the cherries, so we’ll have to sacrifice ours.”

  I was surrounded by traitors. “Ben, too?”

  My brother strolled to me, bent over, and dared to look down his nose at me. “You’re going to the hospital.”

  “But it’s your wedding day, Mat!”

  “And you took a baseball to the head. You’re going. Thank you for containing her, Rick. She’s slippery, so she will try to give you the run around if you let her. I’d recommend a leash, but I didn’t think I needed to bring one today.”

  My brother did not play fair. Before I could protest, Rick said, “Glad to help. I’ll bring her to the reception hall if we’re don
e in time.”

  “Take your time. I’d rather the hospital be thorough rather than have her try to rush through her examination stubbornly trying to attend the reception. I meant it, Rick. She’s slippery. Good luck. You’ll need it,” my brother announced before turning to leave.

  “I’m not dying, damn it.”

  Mat snorted. “We’ll let the hospital decide that. Thanks again, Rick.”

  Rick snapped my brother a salute, and the motion reminded me of a professional soldier standing at attention. “Glad to help. Try to enjoy the rest of your day, and I’ll text you with updates on how she’s doing.”

  “I didn’t even bleed much,” I complained. “And the paramedic already checked to see if I’d cracked my skull. And despite being unconscious in the pond, I didn’t drown. You’re being unreasonable.”

  “The only reason you didn’t drown is because I fished you out of the pond. At least I caught something this time. I usually don’t. I love to fish, but I’m terrible at it. This’ll go a lot faster if you don’t fight it. Anyway, head injuries can be nasty. Be grateful I told Mat you’d be unhappy if he skipped his reception to drag you to the hospital himself.”

  “But you’ll miss the reception.”

  “Going to the hospital with you is more interesting than attending a reception, even your brother’s. I hate watching a bunch of rich prudes get drunk before trying to pretend they’re not drunk. I deal with that too often during the week. I hate receptions, and I have to go if you skip your hospital trip. That would be a tragedy. Save me. I’m a defenseless gentleman about to be taken hostage at a reception.”

  My brows shot up at that. “Do I look like a hero to you?”

  “No, but you look like a heroine—possibly a princess in disguise. I’ll have to do a closer examination to determine the truth about your secret identity of heroine or princess.”

  Why did I always attract strange men? Worse, they were either gay, married, or happily in a relationship with someone else. The truth would likely send Rick running. “I’m an accountant.”