Page 42 of The End of Summer

Meanwhile, I choose to dance with the bride, who I figure is the safest bet in the whole place. Arrow shoots daggers at me from across the room, as if I myself tripped her employee and caused the scene on the stage, but we exchange no words. Miranda tries to turn me around so that I can pay attention to her, but all I am watching is the glow-in-the-dark clock on the wall, counting down the minutes until this particularly hellish nightmare can come to a close.

Finally, after hoisting the bride up into an aerial hoop with Max and pretending to worship her à la Cleopatra, our dance crew’s last song comes on, and with less than three minutes until my inevitable departure, I attempt to make my way backto Gretchen.

I’m steps away from her when Miranda pops up in front of me like a bad game of Peek-a-Boo. “Hey, lover,” she slurs. Despite being cut off from Jell-O shots, I’ve seen her take at least two more airplane bottles of alcohol out of the bras of her friends.

“Nope,” I say. “I’m just the entertainment.”

“Tell it to the girl-boner I’ve been nursing all night.”

Gross.I shake my head and try to circumvent her.

“Brady, will youpleasejust come outside and talk to me?” she pleads. “Two minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

“My God,” I say. “Miranda, what part ofnodon’t you understand? We have nothing to talk about. All conversations came to an abrupt halt when you cheated on me and disappeared. That was your doing, not mine,” I remind her.

“Jesus, Brady, I don’t want to do this here!” she says, exasperated but also definitely wasted. “It’s not what you thought it was.”

“So, you weren’t trying to sleep your way to the top?”

“No!” she cries. “I mean, yes, I wanted the job, but it all got blown out of proportion,” she says.

“See? And you got even more than you bargained for! You got yourself a whole new life on the west coast! But please don’t come back here and try to pick up where we left off.”

“Brady,” she begins, placing her hands on my wrists.

I pull away. “No,” I say, firmly. “It’s fine, like I said. I don’t care. Please, just let it go, sober up, and uh, you know. Have a good life.”

Her expression morphs, and now she's smiling. “It’s fine, Brady.Besides, I’m engaged.”

What?I wonder. She holds up her left hand, and sure enough, there’s a diamond. “Then why are you out here trying to hook up with me?”

Miranda shrugs, then tips sideways a little. I reach out to keep her from falling over. “Like I said, I just wanted to explain myself to you. I thought maybe if I reminded you how good we were together, you’d at least hear me out,” she says.

Howgoodwe were? Is this girl kidding?It doesn’t matter, because the song ends, and it’s time for us to go. “Not tonight, Miranda. I’ve got to run. Good luck to you,” I say. I turn towards the door, wishing I’d had the chance to talk to Gretchen, but when I turn back to see where she is, she’s busily helping the guys from Three Fools set up a buffet of what appears to be ballpark snacks on the catering table.

This time, I adhere to the standard protocol of not darting out into the parking lot in my skivvies. I follow the guys to the back, where Big Mike delivers us each a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and we head out as a pack into the parking lot. Arrow doesn’t follow us out right away. It takes her an extra 15 minutes to emerge into the lot, but when she does, she hands Mike a large yellow envelope and thanks us for our time. “Almost ten grand,” she says. “You guys should be proud; I think that’s a record.”

Mike and Max work together to split the money ten ways on the back of Mike’s tailgate, while the rest of us just hang around, checking our phones and generally staying quiet so as not to cause a disturbance in the neighborhood this late at night.The soundproofing on the converted warehouse is really incredible, I think. From out in the parking lot,you really can’t hear a thing, whereas inside the building, one’s eardrums are assaulted with a constant, heavy thump of bass.

When all is said and done, we each walk away $955 in cash, and by the time Big Mike gets me back to my apartment, I only have one thing left on my mind.

I make myself a bowl of ramen soup and wait to hear the jingle of late-night keys in the lock. When I finally hear Gretchen coming down the hall, I carefully open my door and cough three times so I won’t startle her.

She looks at me, pushing her own door open, lugging the same tote bag from last night. “Hey,” she says.

“What’s up?” I ask quietly, so as not to disrupt the precious slumber of the zoo creature down the hall.

“Nothing,” she replies.

“I'd really like to talk to you, if you’re not too tired,” I offer. The words sound borderline pathetic, but they’re genuine, and I think she can sense that.

She eyeballs me, pursing her lips in thought. Then, Gretchen tilts her head to the side and says, “Got any snacks?”

“Nothing great,” I respond honestly, “But I make the world’s best ramen soup, and I would be honored if you’d let me whip up a package for you.”

She nods, sets the bag inside her door, and follows me back to my place. I shut the door behind her, grab a package of ramen out of the pantry, and measure out two cups of water into my saucepan, which is still on the stove.

“Nothing gives off a summer vibe quite like a late night bowl of noodle soup,am I right?” I joke.

---