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David’s ceremonydragged the fuck on and was boring as hell. I’m sure that if I cared about him at all, I wouldn’t feel that way. Maybe I would have been touched by the love celebrated here, the union of two people coming together for a lifetime, blah, blah, blah. But I don’t care about him, so for me the ceremony was excruciating.
We take a few pictures at the front of the church, then pile into the extra-long limousine for the ride to the reception. The rest of the guests are transported to the hotel by bus. Over one hundred of them idling around the perimeter of the church grounds, pumping non-stop diesel fumes into the air.
David pops open a bottle of champagne and pours a glass for everyone.
“A toast.” He raises his in the air and waits for us all to follow. “To my beautiful bride, thank you for lighting my life with your love.”
The bridesmaids release a collective sigh as Laurel leans in and kisses David. But he’s not finished yet.
“And to my best man.” Glasses raise once again. “The lifetime of loyalty and friendship that we share is priceless to me. You may have a price for it, but I don’t.” He chuckles at his non-existent joke and winks at me.
Fucker winks.
Because if I’m not mistaken, he just offered me a bribe.
Is this so I won’t bring him in?
It’s too late for that. Even if I were the kind of guy to take a bribe, which he knows I’m not, he doesn’t have a way out through me anymore. If he ever did.
I drain my glass of champagne, tempted to chuck the flute against the wooden bar top alongside me just to watch it break. Instead, I watch as David opens another bottle and refills all our glasses, and then I toast along to more bullshit commendations and murmurs of devotion spilling out of David’s mouth. The only way I’m getting through this day is to tune everything out. Or to get drunk. Or both.
On duty or not.
* * *
Mack is waiting just inside the reception hall after I enter and wade through the pomp and circumstance of the wedding party introductions. Immediately followed by the first dance.
“How you doing?” he asks.
“Not nearly drunk enough,” I mumble.
“Ha. You and me both. I hate weddings.”
“Then why’d you bring Daria?”
“Cover. This way I don’t look like security. I can blend with the guests better, see if I can suss out any of Tremblay’s cronies.”
“You could have used another agent for that.”
“We don’t have a female agent attractive enough. No one would believe I was with a dog.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Takes one to know one.” He claps me on the back, then snags two glasses of champagne from a passing server and hands one to me. “This other one is for you too; I just don’t want to look like a chump standing here empty handed.”
I laugh and say, “Thanks, man,” then drain the champagne in my glass and trade him for the full one. “Now you’re a chump with a full hand of an empty glass.” I laugh some more. Mack raises one brow at me. I swear he learned to do that after people started comparing him to the actor, The Rock.
Daria joins us, taking the glass of champagne from me and drinking half of it before handing it back.
“Hey.”
“Sorry,” she says, not looking sorry at all. “I hate weddings.”
“Is there anyone here that doesn’t?” I ask.
