Page 139 of You're so Bad

I’m not happy for her, per se, but I’m glad that she can go on living her life, independently of mine, and be happy in it. I can be generous because I’m not the one who has to be married to Colter for one to sixty years, however long it lasts.

“Let’s get some booze,” Grandpa Frank tells me, patting me on the back.

“Hallelujah,” I say, then feel another pang because that reminds me of Leonard too.

Fantastic. The next thing I know, I’m going to start crying every time a cricket chirps.

We’re following the crowd to the area that’s reserved for the reception, a covered veranda next to the Education Center, when I see her. At first I think my eyes have deceived me, because surely Bianca wouldn’t have invitedher, but itisJosie the Great. No question about that. And she’s wearing a white dress.

Well, holy shit, Bianca won’t be happy about that if she’s noticed. “Hey,” I say, coming up to Josie. “Are you supposed to be here?”

“Areyou?” She’s looking at me warily, like I’m the crasher. “Your boyfriend’s going to mess up the cake. I was sure you’d be disinvited for the wellbeing of the wedding.” She lifts the charm on her necklace and stares into it the way she did on the flower field last weekend. “Then again, what’s seen is seen. There’s no preventing it.”

“He’s not here,” I say thickly.

“Oh.” She turns slightly, taking in Grandpa Frank. “Yes, I guess youarehere with someone else. That’ll be awkward, when your boyfriend shows up. Do they know about each other?”

“This is my grandfather,” I say through my teeth, “and Leonard’s not coming.” I feel unreasonably annoyed with her for making me acknowledge it out loud.

“We’ll see about that,” she says in a lofty tone that suggests she knows better. My heart pumps harder for half a second, because I want to believe it. But she’s no more psychic than I am.

“Who is this odd woman?” asks Grandpa Frank, never the soul of discretion.

“Her name’s Josie. She claims she can see the future.”

“Well, I’d better stay away from her then,” he says, grabbing my arm and steering me toward the bar. Yes, alcohol is a good idea.

We spend the next hour or so socially shunning people, although Idosay hello to Shelly. Grandpa Frank flirts with her, the rascal, and when I call him on it, he says that he and Phoenix have an open relationship, so I officially know more than I ever wanted to about my grandfather’s sex life.

We give the cake a wide berth. It’s a beautiful three-layer behemoth with a design of real, edible flowers and the hackneyed plastic couple on top. It sits on a small table to the side of the dance floor. There’s a little child gate spray-painted gold around the table, so apparently Josie’s threat has been taken somewhat seriously despite Leonard’s absence.

“They should have writtenhappy birthday, Shaunaon it,” Grandpa Frank quips.

“No thanks. I don’t want to share my cake with them.”

The DJ announces the salad course is about to be served, so my grandfather and I consult the seating arrangement and see that we’ve been seated at a table with Josie, Colt’s second cousin, Darrell, and Melly, who’s got the hots for Leonard. Perfect.

I’m not sure why Bianca felt so strongly about having me here but has stuck me at her reject table instead of upfront with the best man. Then again, I’m glad we don’t have to sit near Colt and Bianca and field questions about Leonard.

Of course, as soon as we get seated, Melly immediately asks where Leonard is.

She probably isn’t in the know about the doctor fakeout, so I say, “He couldn’t come. He had a pressing medical situation to deal with.”

“Oh,” she breathes out. “What happened?”

“Sorry, I can’t say. HIPAA.”

And suddenly my chest hurts. I can barely breathe as I try to eat the stupid dry salad while Top 40 hits are blasted at us.

“Is it supposed to taste like this?” my grandfather asks me in an undertone that’s probably heard by the three tables around us in addition to everyone at ours. Turning to Josie, he asks, “Can you see what they’re serving us for dinner? Is it going to be good or should I plan on bringing my granddaughter to Texas Roadhouse?”

“Honestly, Grandpa,” I say, rubbing my head against an oncoming headache that’s part hangover, part this wedding, and part Leonard.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Josie hedges as she plays with the lettuce with her fork. Glancing across the table at Melly, she asks, “Wereyouallowed to bring a date?”

“You’re pissed because Bianca didn’t give you a plus one?” I ask in disbelief. “She must have just invited you last week.”

“I wasn’t,” Melly says. “Did she say anything to you about your dress? She told me I couldn’t wear light yellow. I’d already bought the dress too.”

---