Page 24 of The Wedding Season
“Oh but you can mess with mine any time you wantto?”
“I’m not messing with it, I’m messing it up so you don’t look like adork.”
“Maybe I want to look like adork.”
Christ, even when they argue they’readorable.
“You look nice,” Sam says to me, while Maya undorkifies his hair. “I think Braddock’s about ready to head out. You have directions andeverything?”
“I got the Waze app, yo. Don’t worry, I won’t lose yourgirl.”
“Aww,” he says. “She’s our girl. I know you were herefirst.”
Sam Fletcher, ladies and gentlemen! A man who knows how important it is to keep the girlfriend’s best friendhappy.
I tell them I’ll see them downstairs in the lobby before we drive to the ranch, give them some alone-time. As I walk down the corridor towards the elevator, I see Braddock come out of his room. He’s wearing a beautiful slim-fit pale grey suit, with a light blue shirt, pale grey tie, and aviator glasses. He looks handsome to a degree that makes me feel off-kilter and I literally lose my balance and trip myself up. I catch myself, of course, but it’s humiliating and it just makes me angry. “Stupid heels,” Isay.
“You alright?” He seems genuinely concerned, as he removes hisaviators.
“Yes I’m alright. Are youalright?”
“You should change your shoes if you aren’t comfortable in them. If I know Shaun and Sher, and I do—dancing will be imperative.” He bites his lower lip and does a ridiculous Austin Powers-typemove.
I almost spit out the breath mint I’ve been sucking on. “I think I can handle it, thanks, I’m not aklutz.”
“I know, I just meant that you don’t need to wear high heels to make your legs lookgood.”
“Wow. You still haven’t learned how to give acompliment.”
“And you still haven’t learned how to takeone.”
“Oh I can take it, Braddock. I can take it just fine.” I say it with more innuendo than I had meantto.
“Good. You look good,” he says. “I like thatdress.”
“Thank you,” I say, picking up my pace a little. “Hey I was thinking we should beef up the parent characters a little more, to attract really awesomeactors.”
“Okay. Could we have a weekend off, boss? Let’s not talk about work today.Okay?”
“Um. Sure. And by that you mean let’s not talk to each other atall?”
“That is not what I meant. No. That’s cute,though.”
“I wasn’t beingcute.”
“You weren’ttryingto becute.”
“Are youtryingto be a dick rightnow?”
“Are you trying to convince yourself that I’m a dick rightnow?”
“You know what. Let’s not talk to each other. Atall.”
“Fine with me,” he says, his eyes traveling down my body. “We don’t have totalk.”
Despite suddenly feeling tingly all over my body, my eyeballs practically get stuck as they roll around in their sockets. When the elevator doors finally open, I tell him that just for that he is forbidden from riding in this elevator with me. I tell him to take the stairs. He acquiesces. In truth, I don’t want to be in such close quarters with him, even for ten seconds, because he smells amazing, and all I can think about is how clean his genitals must be. I am disgusting. I disappointmyself.
When I emergefrom the elevator (after spending the ride down reminding myself that my bank account is depending on me to finish this script with Braddock as soon as possible, at the highest caliber possible, and that means putting words on the page—not putting clean penises in starving vaginas), I step into the lobby and see someone that I truly did not expect to see here or anywhere, ever again. Brianna. My former dormmate. She is facing the elevators, and we both stare at each other for about five seconds before saying each other’s names outloud.
