Page 76 of A Very Bossy Christmas
“Shit,” I whisper into the phone. “They’re here. I gotta go.”
“Me too. I gotta pick your granny and grandad up at the airport.”
“Oh good. His foot’s better?”
“Enh. Good enough. Love you, Dec. Don’t screw up your life. But don’t let those boys screw up Brady’s wedding for him either. And I don’t want all you boys showing up for the rehearsal all banjaxed and unshowered!”
“On it. I’ll take care of all of it. Love you too. Bye.”
I check the text that I had started writing to Maddie and delete it without sending. I’ll try again when we’re in the party limo. I roll my eyes and gird my loins, because what the fuck are a bunch of grown men doing getting into a party limo at one in the afternoon anyway?
More banging on the door. “You in there, Dec?” It’s Brady, and he sounds mildly frightened.
“Yeah. Coming.” I grab my coat, slide my phone into an inside pocket.
As soon as I unlock the door, Billy O’Sullivan comes bursting through it. He gets me in a headlock and shouts out, “Eh, Manhattan! Look at this ugly mug. I missed this mug so hard all these years.” Billy has burst through every door he’s ever walked through, and he shouts in his sleep. I’m already exhausted. He looks around at the suite and lets go of me. “Whoa. Check out this wicked fuckin’ pissa hotel room!”
“Should we get going?” I ask as he bounds over to the windows.
My Irish cousin Nolan squeezes my shoulder and hands me a can of Guinness in a brown paper bag as he passes by while unzipping his jeans. “Drink up, cousin. I need to hit the jacks.”
I do appreciate that the can is unopened, because the last time I drank from an open container that he presented to me, here is what I’ve pieced together about how the next 48 hours played out: Nolan shaved the front part of my legs. We all ended up on stage at a Steve Miller Band concert singing "The Joker." We took over the drive-thru window at a Taco Bell. I sang that Chumbawamba song into the mic and bought tacos for everyone who came through—with my new credit card. The next morning, I tried to adopt all of the dogs at an animal shelter in Toledo and cried for half an hour when they wouldn't let me. No one really knows how we ended up in Michigan.
I pull my brother in for a hug. “Having fun yet?”
“I can’t wait to never go out without my wife again. Or just to never go out again.”
“Sounds good.”Sounds really good. I am not going to cry.
“Sorry, is it weird for you when I call your ex-girlfriend my wife?” he asks with a smirk.
“Naw. Is it weird foryouwhen she screams my name out during sex?”
“Oooh, touché.”
Touché.Brady is the only person in my entire family who would ever use that word, and I love him for it.
I catch Billy pulling snacks out of the minibar. “Hey. Don’t touch those.”
“Aww, come on. I’m starvin’!”
“There’s supposed to be food in the party bus—I Venmo’d Aiden money for it.”
“Naw, we spent it onlickahinstead. Tell you what—you finish that can of Guinness before we leave this room, and I won’t touch your mini bar.”
“Fuck off. You can pick one snack.” I hold up a finger for emphasis, like I’m talking to a child. “One.”
Brady lowers his voice and says, “So, Casey just texted me that Maddie isn’t coming, and she was just pretending to be your girlfriend? What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t even worry about me—this is your day to relax and have fun.”
“You sure? If you want to talk about it…”
I’m actually dying to talk about it. It is literally the only thing I want to talk about all of a sudden, because it’s all I want to think about. But my brother looks so concerned, and it’s his bachelor party day, and I’m notthatself-absorbed and miserable. Yet.
I crack open the can of Guinness. “I’m sure.” I raise the can to him. “May the best day of your past be the worst day of your future.”
After guzzling about half of it, I let him take it from me so he can toast me with: “May your heart be light and happy, may your smile be big and wide. May we survive this feckin’ shit so that I can claim my bride.”
