CHAPTER EIGHT


After begging and pleading, the tuxedo rental store finally found me a tux to rent on short notice. So, here I was, standing in line for some shrimp scampi during my favorite part of the wedding: the cocktail hour. There is always so much hope and promise outside the main dining hall while you are filling your mouth with delectable appetizers. You are free out here. Free to mingle with your friends, free to talk to anyone you please, and free from all the pitiful looks you get when you are sitting alone as the first slow song begins to play.

“I’ll have some shrimp,” I said.

I was safe here at the scampi station.

“I love shrimp,” a woman behind me in line said, “especially shrimp scampi.”

“Yeah, I love it too,” I said, as the chef put some on my plate. “But the thing about it is, it gives me garlic breath all day.”

“Who says that’s a bad thing?” She asked.

“Well, most people don’t want someone laying a big, fat smooch on them smelling like a pizza.”

“I love it. The more garlic, the better, I always say.”

“Well, one thing is for sure. You’re definitely not a vampire. I’m pretty happy about that.” I smiled.

“Don’t be so sure. Maybe I’m an enlightened vampire,” she said, with a wink. “Are you one of Sara’s friends?”

“Actually, I am a friend of Jon’s from college. My name is David,” I turned around to introduce myself.

“I’m Erica,” she said.

“Are you friends with Sara?” I asked.

“No, actually, I’m here with one of Sara’s friends from elementary school.”

“Really? Who?”

“Do you know Michael Kabe?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. He moved to Portland a few years ago. Sara still keeps in touch. I live here in New York, so Michael thought it would be easier for him if I could come to the wedding as his date.”

Erica was beautiful. She had on a slinky black dress, a killer body and a touch of make up. She was naturally pretty, so she didn’t need the typical cake-on job. She also wasn’t in sequins, so that was a definite plus, as well. So, immediately, I was drawn to her. Her voice had a very feminine, sing-song tone that almost hypnotised me.

“Actually, here comes Mike,” she pointed to Michael, who was walking over to the scampi station. Mike was dashing. He appeared to be everything that I was not. For starters, he had a full head of straight hair that was perfectly combed. He looked like a male model in his tux, where as I looked like his sidekick, Boo-Boo. He also looked successful. I didn’t stand a fucking chance.

We were introduced, and I excused myself to go eat my shrimp in misery. Erica was amazing. I wanted to get to know her better. She had a sense of humor and was very attractive - and I’m not going to lie, I needed to get laid as well. It has been a while. My parent’s house isn’t exactly a swinging bachelor pad. If only Mike wasn’t in the picture. Although, maybe they weren’t a couple. But who brings a friend to a wedding, especially if you are traveling such a long way to attend it? A lot of people. They are probably a couple. And a good looking one, too. Anyway, she was much too pretty for me. I’m broke, dateless and jobless. What the fuck would she want with me?

I was looking for Dan and Pete when I ran into the bride. I always feel awkward in these situations. You know it is the bride’s big day and she is ecstatic about everything, but, for me, it is just one more wedding in the endless parade of weddings that I have attended this year. At each wedding, I feel like I’m just another ingredient in the mix, ready to be shaped by the cookie-cutter festivities that are about to commence.

“Hi, Sara,” I hugged her.

“David, I am so happy you made it,” Sara said.

“Sara, you look beautiful. Everything was perfect. This is such a lovely party.” I had the script down pat.

“Thank you so much. You know, I have a little surprise for you at the table. I don’t want to tell you now, but you’ll thank me later.”

Sara loved surprises. The last surprise she sprung on me in college left me with half a sorority throwing dagger stares at me every time I walked into the campus center. Sara and I were at a party during college, and she introduced me to her friend, Kim. We were both very drunk and, well, one thing led to another and we hooked up. After that night, Kim was convinced we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Apparently, in Kim’s case, not calling and ignoring a person obviously translates to dating. Who knew getting a little tit could lead to such disaster? Here’s the tip that I gave Kim: Just because we hooked up doesn’t mean I’m your boyfriend. Oddly, that didn’t go over too well, and Sara’s entire sorority would stare me down for the next three months every time I had a cup of soup and half of a sandwich in the campus center.

Thank God, Kim’s not here.

“I can’t wait,” I mumbled.

“Anyway, David, I am so glad you are here. I have to go find Jon now. We have pictures to take before we head into the hall.” She gave me two air kisses and dashed off.

Hiding behind Sara, about ten paces away, were Dan and Pete. They came running up as soon as she left.

“I don’t know what to say to these brides after I see them, even if it’s Sara,” Dan said.

“I already gave her the prepared speech,” Pete followed up.

“Well, that’s the same speech I just gave her, and it’s the same one your fiancé is going to hear in a couple of weeks,” I said to Pete.

“At least change it up a little. She’s heard me use it at least five times,” Pete said.

“But, when you are the bride, you think it’s special,” I said.

As we were chatting, we were joined by Amy, Peter’s finance, and Dan’s new girlfriend, Tammy. I had become the fifth wheel.

“Hey, Amy and Tammy. How are you guys doing?” I asked.

“Good, thanks. So, did you bring someone? Peter said you might,” Amy said.

“I decided not to. I just wanted to have fun tonight hanging out with you guys, you know? Not spend the night entertaining someone,” I said, taking yet another sip of my gin and tonic. My hope was that I could drink myself into oblivion by the next question.

“Why didn’t you bring Lisa?” Dan asked.

“She doesn’t really know you guys, and I just wanted to hang out. She gets all weird at weddings,” I said.

What they did not need to know is that I was scared to bring her. I took her to a wedding about a year ago at a yacht club, where she proceeded to get downright sloppy. She was falling all over the place, slurring nonsense at people, until she capped the night off with a striptease act by the marina that concluded with some solo skinny-dipping in front of the entire wedding party. Needless to say, I didn’t need a repeat performance.

“How’s the job hunt?” Dan asked.

“Bad. Very bad. I’ve been fired twice.”

“Twice?”

“Yeah, once on the phone. I’m never going to get the fuck out of my parent’s house.”

“At least you can crash with us if you ever make it into the city for a weekend? Where have you been?”

“Dude, I’m broke. I can’t even buy myself a ticket into the city let alone go out.”

“You need a job,” Pete said.

“Fuck,” I sighed.

Just then, the lights started flickering and the doors to the banquet hall opened.

“Looks like it’s time to make our way in,” Tammy said.

Here’s where it gets scary.

“What table are we?” Dan asked.

“Fourteen,” I said, assuming I was sitting with the fortunate couples.

When we walked into the hall it was everything you would imagine a wedding would be if you bankrupted your father-in-law. There were three hundred people at this wedding. That means there were thirty tables each adorned with elaborate floral arrangements that must have cost $1,000 each. There was a purple hue to the room from mood lighting, I guess. I have no idea how they do this shit. There was a ten-piece band playing jazz as we walked in. At least, the music was amazing.

After about ten minutes of funneling through this hall, we made our way over to table 14. All the couples grabbed their chairs, leaving three seats free. These must be for the only three singles in the place, I thought. At least I was facing the dance floor. So, I would have a good view people-watching while I sat by myself. I sat down, and to my surprise, Erica and Mike joined us.

“Is this table 14?” Erica said.

“You’ve come to the right place,” I answered.

“Well, isn’t this funny?” she said, “I didn’t realize we would be at the same table.”

“Well, that’s the magic of weddings, I guess.”

“Nothing wrong with a little magic,” Erica said, then introduced herself around the table. She then proceeded to sit down right next to me.

“So, are you the surprise Sara was telling me about?” Erica asked.

“I thought you were,” I said.

“I’ll tell you what, I am surprised about one thing. How handsome you are,” Erica said.

“Thanks. You should have seen some of my former surprises,” I said, and we laughed for a second. Then I continued, “Before I get too excited, what about you and Mike?”

“You really don’t know Mike, do you? Mike’s gay,” she said, “He isn’t seeing anyone seriously right now, so he thought it was easier to just bring a girl instead of bringing a guy.”

“Well, I’ve never been happier to hear someone was gay,” I started, “I mean, I’m glad –”

“I’m glad, too,” she said, and patted my knee in a definite I-like-you sort of way.

Was this really happening? I hoped so. I liked her. I mean what was not to like. She was beautiful, fun and she appeared to be into me. Now, I’m not the most intuitive guy in the world, but if I didn’t know any better, I would say that Erica and I would make a great couple.

Erica told me about the trials and tribulations of being a single girl living in the City. The bad dates, the bad job (she was working at a fashion magazine as an assistant, which translated to: she got her boss a lot of coffee). Then we danced. Let me be clear. I don’t dance. But, with Erica leading, I felt like Ginger Rogers. No, I’m not interested in dating Mike. And having a woman lead does not make you gay. After all, a guy can be led sometimes, right? My penis usually does the leading, but, in this case, I let Erica take over, and it was fantastic. At least until I accidentally body checked Sara’s grandmother to the ground during one of those line dances. I told you I wasn’t a strong dancer.

The family came running and surrounded poor grandma. No one wants to get a broken hip at a wedding. Sara looked at me like I had committed mass murder, and the rest of the family was mortified. I tried to run, but Erica grabbed my arm and kept me on the dance floor.

Turns out, Sara’s grandmother has quite a tolerance for physical abuse. She jumped back up like it was nothing, and even gave me a quick shout out, “It’s going to take more than this twerp to kill me.”

That night I went to sleep happy for the first time in months. I couldn’t believe how lucky I had been in meeting Erica. For once, Sara had actually surprised me with something very special. Maybe it was a little wedding magic at work or maybe it was just dumb luck. It didn’t really matter. I had a feeling this one was forever.