#SoBasic

by Sara Celi

  I stepped backward at the annoying sound, and James’s hand fell from the back of my neck.

  “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” I ripped my purse off my shoulder, unzipped the leather, and fumbled around for the phone, cursing a few times under my breath as I struggled to find it. All the while, the ringing grew louder. When I finally located it, I glanced back at James. “On my God. This is my dad. It’s probably an emergency.” I looked at the phone then at my car. “I’m sorry. I need to take this. I’ll … I’ll see you later.”

  “That’s fine. Take it. Don’t let me keep you.”

  I punched accept on the phone, but I did it too late. Whatever my father needed to tell me had just been sent straight to voicemail. I cursed again. “I’ll have to call him back once he’s finished leaving the message.” I gave James a weak smile. “Meanwhile, I had a great time today.”

  “I did too,” he said. “And I promise, I’ll see you later … at the apartment.”

  “At the apartment,” I repeated, feeling my soul deflate a little bit. Whatever moment we’d been about to share, it was gone. Does he want it to come back as much as I do? “I’ll see you there.”

  We said our goodbyes and I hopped in the car, threw it into drive, and headed out of the parking lot. Once I got to the street, I called my dad’s phone back through the car’s hands-free system.

  “Honey, is that you?” my mom asked after picking up on the second ring. “Did you get my message?”

  I frowned. She didn’t sound very upset, or very frantic. “What’s going on, Mom? Is Dad okay? No one ever calls me from this number. Did something happen?”

  “What do you mean, did something happen?” Mom laughed. “He’s fine. No problems at all. He’s downstairs watching golf.”

  “Golf? Are you kidding?” I threw up one hand. “Then why did you call me?”

  I should be kissing James. I should be kissing James …

  “You never answered any of my text messages. I sent you five of them today, and I need an answer back. I asked you to reply by seven with a yes or no.”

  I sighed. For once I hadn’t checked my texts for a few hours, and here it had come to bite me in the butt. I’d seen the messages come through while working the event, but since I’d been working, I’d disregarded them.

  “What did you need, Mom?” I asked as I turned the car on the ramp for I-71. As I asked the question, I kept thinking about James’s lips, his eyes, and the small cowlick of hair in the center of his hairline …

  “We need to know tonight if you’re bringing someone along for the wedding. We can’t wait, because we are just a little over two weeks out and Aunt Beck needs the final headcount.”

  I winced. Good God, not this again. “I’m bringing someone.”

  “That’s fine, but I need to know his name. Plus, I have the flight reservations pulled up on the computer and I need to know his name because the airline has all kinds of restrictions. I can’t just put ‘Joe Nobody’ in the box.” She paused. “What’s his name?”

  I took a deep breath. There was no getting out of this now. I had two choices: One, I could admit I was once again a romantic failure, and tell my mother that no, I didn’t have a date to my cousin’s wedding, and yes, put me at the singles table instead of at the table with all the other coupled guests. Two, I could …

  “James Newhouse,” I said before I could think about it any longer. “I’m coming to the wedding with James Newhouse.”

  There. I did it. I confirmed a man who’d almost kissed me as my date for my dreaded cousin’s wedding. Emphasis on “almost.” He might have seemed interested in the parking lot, and I’d certainly wanted him to do it, but nothing had happened. We hadn’t crossed the Rubicon from friendship to more. In reality, I didn’t know if he’d want to go, much less if he would be able to take the time off from his new business venture.

  But I said his name anyway.

  “James Newhouse,” my mother repeated back to me, drawing his name out so she was either writing it down or typing it on a screen. “Common spelling?”

  I thought of the crisp lettering I’d seen on the front door of the gallery the night of the opening. “Yes. Like it sounds.”

  “Let’s see … James …” She let out a small gasp. “He’s not any relation to the Newhouse family, is he? The ones in publishing and media? Because that would be—”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “No, Mom. It’s not like that. He’s a regular guy from Dayton, Ohio.”

  “Well, too bad. Because if he was …” She tsked. “Moving on. Is he a frequent flier?”

  “I don’t know.” I accelerated the car as I drove north on I-71. I’d be home in less than ten minutes, and I wanted this conversation to end before I drove into my apartment parking lot. “Probably. I can get his number the next time that I see him.”

  “Fine. What about his date of birth?”

  I hit the back of my steering wheel with my left palm. “I’m not sure, Mom.”

  “Can you find out? Like tonight? I don’t think I can hold these tickets, and they are a good deal.” Yes, my mom was really buying not only my plane ticket to Florida, but my plus-one’s too. My mom was that mom. And as much as I loved my independence, right now I couldn’t buy those tickets. So, I was now that daughter. The millennial who buried her twenty-something pride and accepted without blinking.

  “I’ll call you back later with that information. I promise.”

  She agreed, and then we said our goodbyes. I hung up the phone a few minutes before the exit I needed to take to my apartment. I was stuck. I had to ask James to the wedding.

  That night. Right away. And hope like hell he said yes.

  Once I parked my car in the lot, I banged out a quick text message to him on my phone.

  Me: Hey are you around tonight?

  He answered a few seconds later.

  James: Sure. What’s up?

  I studied the screen and chewed one of my fingernails as I considered a reply. A few different ones swirled in my head, before I typed out a response.

  Me: Nothing major, just need to stop by.

  James: Why don’t you come up after nine?

  After a last quick look in my bathroom mirror to confirm my lipstick was in place and my nose didn’t shine, I headed out of my apartment. James had come home about fifteen minutes before; since my own arrival at the complex I’d watched the parking lot through the blinds, hoping to see him arrive. When he did, I knew I didn’t have much more time to wait.

  I steeled my nerves, walked over to his apartment, and rapped twice on the door. He answered it about three seconds later.

  “So, um, hi,” I said, as I realized I didn’t have a good reason for randomly rapping on his apartment door. Scramble. I needed to scramble. “Er, um … I … uh … I—I thought you might have wondered if everything was okay with my family. It is. It’s fine.”

  “That’s good to hear. I was worried.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes.” He ran a hand though his hair. “So, thanks to you, I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. The idea of James anywhere near a bed made something twist inside my stomach, that kind of delicious feeling of being on the verge of something I wanted. And what I wanted was him.

  “It’s cold tonight.” James zipped his navy sweatshirt then glanced back inside his apartment. “Want to come in?”

  Yes, yes, I did, but I also didn’t want to sound too eager. This was still somewhat of a game, and I had to make perfect moves if I wanted to win. I knew better than to show my hand too much.

  “I can’t come in,” I said. “I need to do a few things, and I …” I broke off and took a deep breath. “I probably shouldn’t.”

  He lifted his right eyebrow. “Okay, well … then what are you doing here?”

  “Nothing,” I croaked.

  He chuckled. “Nothing? Sure looks like something.”

  Stupid move, Margot. Stupid move.

  “You
’re right. It is. The thing is …” I swallowed, willing my nerves to not leave me. I had one objective, and I needed to achieve it. “The call I look earlier was from my mother.” I shook my head. “She wanted to finalize plans for my cousin’s wedding in two weeks. Julie is getting married at the Colony Hotel in Palm Beach.”

  “That sounds like a fun wedding. I’ve heard Palm Beach is nice.”

  “I guess. Julie is very proud. The groom works on Wall Street.” I bugged my eyes. “One of those finance whizzes.”

  James laughed. “Aren’t they all?”

  “Exactly.” I leaned against the doorframe and studied him. The longer we spoke, the more I wanted him to say yes. He’d make this wedding bearable, even interesting. I couldn’t go to Palm Beach without him. “Julie and I have been in a … let’s just say, friendly competition for most of our lives. She’s fourteen months older than I am, and our moms don’t always get along.” I rolled my hands for emphasis. “The usual kind of stuff that upper middle-class white women always try to one-up each other about.”

  He grinned. “So, pretty much the Basic Bitch Olympics?”

  I laughed. “Something like that.”

  “Hmm, let me see how this would go down. I bet it’s a pretty intense fight. Lots of layers.” He knitted his eyebrows together and stroked his chin. “Like who has the best yoga pants and the better manicures, right? Who took the better selfie while on vacation in Turks and Caicos? Which person has the most followers on Instagram?”

  “You’re one hundred percent correct,” I said, feeling the request I needed to ask of him gaining steam. I could do this. Yep. No more delays. Here. We. Go. “Which is why I can’t very well show up to this wedding alone. That would be a disaster. Simply by being the bride, she’d win.”

  “Can’t have that.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to be my date to this wedding—this monstrosity.” I held up a hand, so he wouldn’t answer right away. If he needed some convincing, I had it ready. “We’re talking about three days. Fly into Palm Beach on a Friday, then we fly home on Sunday. You’d have to attend the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, and the reception with me. That’s it. And it’s basically a free vacation to Florida.” I added a carefree laugh that I hoped would help entice him to agree. “Who’d turn that down? Like, no one.”

  “Hmm. You’re right about that.” The corner of his mouth turned down, and he made a face that told me he was considering the idea. “Sounds interesting. What days?”

  “Not this coming Friday, but the next one. Two weeks from now, basically.” The sentences came out of my mouth at a fast, hard clip because I wanted him to go with me. A lot. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it.

  Needed it, even.

  “What do you think?” I asked, a little breathless. “Can you get away from the gallery? I know this is last-minute but—”

  “You sound like you need to know tonight.”

  “I sort of do.” I chewed on my bottom lip and reminded myself to not come across as desperate. “My parents are paying for the plane tickets, and they want to get them now before the prices get any higher.”

  God, I hope he says yes, because I don’t want to have to call back my mother and say he’s not coming.

  “I see.” He paused, and I sucked in another deep breath. I hung on every second that passed, and could almost smell the anticipation in the air.

  “Okay,” James said after a long moment. “I’ll go with you to the wedding. Can’t have you losing to your cousin, after all. Not in the Basic Bitch Olympics.” He studied me. “There’s just one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  He ran a hand through his messy hair. “This is a formal wedding, right?”

  “Yes. Black tie.”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t have a tuxedo.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem.” Relief swelled through my body. He was going with me. He was going with me. He. Was. Going. With. Me. “I can help you get one next week, if you want. Or whatever, we can … we can work it out later.”

  “Then you’re on, Margot Leesman. Palm Beach here we come.”

  I packed seven different outfits into my luggage for the wedding, about three times the amount I needed. After all, for most of the day on Saturday, I’d have to wear the cotton-candy-pink dress that came in the mail, the one Julie had said over and over I’d “totally” wear again. I wouldn’t wear it again, and we both knew that. It had a halter neckline, a large fake flower attached to the waist, a chenille overlay, and came just past my knees. One and done.

  No question.

  Still, I used up every cranny of my luggage. I tossed in a few black cocktail dresses, some fancy jeans, two lightweight sweaters, some Lilly Pulitzer separates, five pairs of different heels, two clutch handbags, my sexiest black underwear and bralettes, a robe, two different patterned bikini swimsuits, a white lace dress, a green knit jumpsuit, jewelry and accessories that matched each outfit, and more. I needed to be prepared. I needed options. I didn’t want to get caught wondering what I’d wear if things progressed between James Newhouse and me, did I?

  “Ready to go?” I asked when he answered the door that morning. We’d agreed I’d meet him at his apartment before riding in a car-for-hire together to the airport.

  “More than ready,” he said then laughed at the sight of my oversized luggage. “And, this is a three-day trip, Margot, not a vacation to Europe.”

  “So, what?” I jutted my bottom lip out in a playful pout. “You never know what’s going to happen there. This is Palm Beach, for God’s sake.”

  “I wouldn’t know. It’s my first time visiting, remember?”

  I slung my bag over my shoulder. “People down there still dress for dinner. It’s like the gilded age never ended.”

  “Fabulous.” He laughed, brought his luggage into the hallway, closed his apartment door, and locked it. Unlike me, all his clothing seemed to fit into a simple carry-on. “Since you packed enough for a trip to Europe, I guess we’re lucky these tickets come with a free checked bag.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I said and ordered the car through the app on my phone.

  We made small talk as we rode to the airport. We checked in for our flights and didn’t say much more to each other until we arrived at the terminal gate. As we waited for the flight to board, he turned to me.

  “So, I’ve been wondering, how do you want to introduce me to your family when we get there?”

  “Meaning?” I hoped that I sounded flip and casual, as if I didn’t care. But I did care, of course. In fact, I was starting to care very much.

  “Well, I’m guessing if I’m your plus-one, they think I’m your boyfriend of sorts, right?” He tapped the folder holding his airline tickets on his knee. “And so—”

  “So?” I felt my heartbeat race a little faster. I didn’t know what to say, so I just said anything. “Maybe we shouldn’t worry about. They probably won’t ask too many questions.”

  “But I’m your date, right?” He leaned a little closer to me. “I assume they’ll asked at least a few questions about us. How we met”—his gaze locked with mine—“how serious we are with each other, if you’ve met my family …”

  I gulped. He was right, but I hadn’t thought about any of this. At all. I’d been focused on looking for jobs, taking more PoshPooches clients so there was something to help pay my rent, and not exactly avoiding James, but our paths hadn’t crossed accidently. Added to the fact I felt a little awkward about asking him to bail me out in my embarrassment, I’d not popped into the gallery to see him either. I had been working on the Art Swept media following, which had been awesome, but apart from a few texts back and forth, we hadn’t spent any time together one on one. I’d … missed him if I was truthful with myself.

  But this, this wasn’t something I was entirely prepared for.

  “I guess we’re serious, if they ask.” I thought about it. “Not too serious, though. I mean, if that’s
okay with you.”

  James sized me up. “Maybe we’ve been dating for six months or so, but just recently got serious about each other. And we met at the gallery, of course. You attended one of the openings for … for a photography exhibit. You’re a big fan of photography.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “The funny thing is, we have plenty of mutual friends.” He spread his hand. “So, we should have met a long time ago, but I’ve been too busy with work.”

  I nodded. “Perfect.”

  “The wedding is our first chance to really get away as a couple.” He lowered his voice. “So, I’m really looking forward to it.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe don’t say that to my father.”

  “Okay,” he replied. “Point taken.”

  As we boarded the flight, I marveled at this man once again. Yes, this was a free trip to a sunny beach town, but he still didn’t have to do all this. I was lucky. Really lucky.

  We landed in Florida just after lunch, picked up my suitcase at baggage claim, and ordered another car when we stepped outside the small main building for the Palm Beach International Airport. The car took us through downtown, across the Intracoastal Waterway, and then toward Worth Avenue and the Colony Hotel.

  The entire ride, apprehension and anticipation built in my stomach, tossing and turning inside it until it seemed to form a large knot. By the time we got to the hotel, I wondered if I might throw up my last meal. The weekend I had dreaded for months had arrived.

  No turning back now.

  “Good afternoon,” said a reedy-looking man behind the large front desk of the Colony Hotel when we walked up to check-in. “Welcome to our hotel, and welcome to Palm Beach.”

  “Thanks.” I gave him a tight smile then glanced at James. He looked cool, collected, and smooth. “We’re here for the Hampton-Knowles wedding.”

  “Ah, yes, many in your party have already arrived. Wonderful. We are so happy to have you here to celebrate such a momentous occasion.”