Page 63 of A Night to Remember

“Who’s got a boyfriend?” Allison asks, coming to snatch up a stray croquette.

“Kayla’sgot a boyfriend,” Meg says like we’re all six years old.

“Did she say boyfriend?” Allison gasps, grasping Meg’s arm for support. “Not booty call? Not boy toy? Not bum chum?”

“I think that one’s more for guys,” Meg replies.

“Idon’t know what Kayla’s into, I didn’t even know she had aboyfriend.”

“Alli,look,” I say, too upset to respond to their ridiculousness.

Allison casts a token glance over her shoulder. “Okay, so, yes, the ex-fiancée is coming on to him, pretty hard, I’d say, but I really don’t think you have anything?—”

“Cover for me,” I say impulsively, staring urgently into Allison’s eyes. I have no rational thoughts as I watch Gretchen attempt to entwine herself around Gabe. The only actual words thundering through my skull areinterveneandthroat-punch. “Stand here and arrange prosciutto or whatever,” I tell her. “I’m going over there.”

“Kayla, no, you’re a server, you’re representing my company, you can’t just go bitch-slap a guest,” Meg protests.

“She’s whispering in his ear!” I practically shout. “He doesn’t even know—” I struggle to explain the problem to them while barely understanding it myself. “It’s just that… I’ve been so ambivalent, so wishy-washy all this time! He’s so great, and I never even told him—”What, exactly? I turn to my boss in frustration. “Meg,please.”

“I’ve got it,” Allison says, eyes shining in a way I definitely do not like. “You can borrow my dress. Then you’ll just be a private person, right? Not Meg’s employee. I’ll wear your uniform and man the prosciutto.”

I hear Meg mutter something aboutStan Hutchinsonas she covers her eyes with her hands. But now Allison is bustling me through the kitchen to the employee bathroom, singing “Makeover!” in a tone of barely suppressed glee.

Part of me seriously doubts that Gabe will give into Gretchen’s slinky slinkiness. But on the other hand, she agreed to marry him. They probably discussed the prospect of having amber-eyed kids. No one would blame him for choosing a woman who can commit over one who can’t. Have I offered him any hope for the future beyond “maybe I won’t move awaytoday”?

My brain has finally turned a somersault. Now, it seems like the worst thing that can happen to me is not getting stuck in a job I don’t like, but insteadlosing Gabe. I have to fix this right now. I have to put on a dress that doesn’t fit and march over to that sweet man and tell him exactly how I feel. Even though I have no idea what I’m going to say.

The dress, by the way, definitely doesn’t fit. Allison and I are about the same width around, but she’s bustier than me, and the halter top is gapping obscenely. She’s standing in my waitress uniform, long pants pooling around her feet, trying to tie the slippery fabric in a secure knot.

“Bend down,” she orders. “Dammit, I can tie it, but it just won’t stay.”

We need a Boy Scout, I think ruefully, wondering if Gretchen’s forcing Gabe to dance with her now.

“Just hurry up,” I fret impatiently. “It doesn’t matter what it looks like. What about my—” I start just as Allison shouts “Got it!” again and mercilessly yanks the rubber band out of my hair. She twists it around the straps of the halter top until it finally feels secure.

“Pretty,” she says, satisfied, smoothing the fabric over my hips. “Your hair will cover the knot. I was going to improvise an up-do, but?—”

“He likes it down anyway,” I interrupt, starting to push past her out of the bathroom.

“He’s got good taste,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Knock ‘em dead, babe.”

I rush back towards the party before I can change my mind.

“You have to smile at people,”Meg berates Tom, who was roped into pouring champagne while Allison and I swapped clothes.

“You told me to stop asking people about genealogy,” he says. “What is there to smile about now?”

He gets his answer as soon as Allison comes up next to him and wraps an arm around his waist. I scan the crowded dance floor and see that Gabe is in fact dancing with Gretchen. He looks unhappy, and seems to be touching her as little as possible, butstill.

I need something to pump me up. A shot of whiskey, a slap in the face, a?—

“—song,” I finish my thought out loud. “I need a song.”

Allison turns to me and nods slowly. “But what?” she asks. “Is there anything that means something to both of you?” I start to shake my head, then smile.

“No,” Jason says when I approach him at the DJ booth moments later. He shakes his head to emphasize his point. “No, that issucha stupid song. It’s about fractals and you can’t dance to it. Cindy Wilson would fire me on the spot. No, no,no.”

“Remember that time you were on a deadline?” I wheedle. “And Meg had to work, so I watched the kids? And Daisy puked in my hair?Remember?”

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