James took their drinks—vodka tonic for him, chardonnay for Lily—with a trembling hand. He knew it was a bad idea, but there was no earthly way he was going to get through the reception without help, and if he left now, it would only fan the rumor flames. He had to tough it out, at least until after the entrée. The worst of it, the receiving line, was behind him, and he’d managed to dash past Jayla as she was being smothered with wet kisses by a big, burly cousin who’d once had a crush on her. James had given Michael’s hand a dutiful shake without looking him in the eye, and then ducked out of the church and down the street to call Isobel.
Lily had nattered at him nonstop on the short walk from the church to the reception, but he’d tuned her out. Not that it mattered. She was working through the experience of a Harlem wedding for herself, not him. He was replaying every awful moment of the last half hour, from his drastically misleading interruption of the service to his heated exchange with Isobel. He was furious at all three of them: Isobel, Lily, and Jayla. They were conspiring to make him ridiculous. He didn’t stand a chance.
At the Alhambra Ballroom, he’d made a beeline for the bar. Lily didn’t know anything about his struggles with alcoholism, and for that he was grateful. Jayla, who had been the one to get him to AA, was probably so angry with him right now that she would happily pour vodka down his throat in revenge. With that bizarre justification, he downed his drink and immediately demanded a refill. Lily was staring at him, a curious expression on her face.
“What?” he challenged.
“You know she’s still in love with you,” Lily said, as if she’d been waiting for an opening to make this observation.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not in love with her.”
“Because you’re in love with Isobel.”
“What the—are you fucking kidding me? After what just happened?”
“Her timing was unfortunate, but you don’t change your mind about somebody just because they called you.” Lily took a sip of wine. “You want to hear what I think?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“I think deep down you wanted to stand up at that moment. You wanted to object—not because you wish it were you—but because you know Jayla doesn’t really love Michael. I mean, your phone must vibrate in your pocket all the time, right? You don’t always jump to your feet. Oh, I don’t think you really intended to stop the wedding. You just wanted Jayla to know that you know, and for everyone else to put it together.”
James stared at her, fuming. “Are you finished?”
Lily tossed her long dark hair. “Not yet. I know why you invited me. It all makes sense now. You wanted to taunt Jayla, but you couldn’t bring Isobel. I’m the next best thing. I’m not really a threat, just a nuisance. I get it. It’s cool.” She grabbed a mini quiche off a passing tray and popped it into her mouth. “Food’s good, anyway.”
“Yeah, now you’re finished.” He stalked away toward Gerald and Dewayne, who were standing off to the side with two attractive women he didn’t know. Dewayne spotted him and nudged Gerald, who waved.
“You really should call her back and apologize.” Lily stumbled after James in her torturously high heels. “It wasn’t her fault. And don’t you want to know why she was calling you?”
“I told you, we’re finished with this topic,” he bellowed.
Two older women glared at him as he passed and broke into sharp whispers when they saw Lily tottering after him.
“Hey, man.” Gerald put his arm around the plump, pretty woman next to him. “This is Alice. And that’s Nina.”
Lily didn’t wait for James to respond. “I’m Lily,” she announced.
Nina, a slender ebony-skinned woman in a fuchsia sheath, wrinkled her nose in distaste, but Alice gave a chirpy hello.
James caught Gerald’s uncomfortable glance at his drink and lifted his half-empty glass in a toast. “When in Rome!”
“Yeah, man, okay.” Gerald gave a little laugh.
“Oh, look,” said Alice, examining Lily’s place card. “We’re all at the same table.”
“That’s good, because I don’t know a soul here except you guys,” Lily said, beaming around the group.
“You don’t know us,” Nina said coolly. “You just met us.”
“In the compressed time period of a formal event, that counts as intimate friendship,” Lily declared.
Nina slipped her arm through Dewayne’s. “I want to say hi to Tamika. I haven’t seen her in ages.”
As they walked away, James heard Dewayne say, “But you hate Tamika.”
Gerald tugged his arm. “Seriously, man, you sure you should be drinking?”
James looked down at his empty glass. “I’m sure I shouldn’t. But after what happened in there? Shit.”
“The look on your face!” Gerald laughed, then sobered. “The look on her face.”
James followed his friend’s gaze. Jayla and Michael were standing in a clump of people on the other side of the room. She had recovered her equilibrium—cool, collected Jayla was in the house. But James knew his reckoning would come, even if it wasn’t tonight.
“So what’s the deal with this one?” Gerald whispered, nodding toward Lily, who was gabbing happily with Alice.
“Just a friend. Didn’t have a date. Didn’t want to come alone.”
“She, uh….stands out.”
James took in the guests. “She’s not the only one. Some of Jayla’s work friends and stuff.”
Gerald elbowed him. “You’re such a fucking racist. I meant she’s, like, a kid.”
“Oh, yeah.” James winced at his mistake. “She goes to Barnard. I know her from the gym.”
“So this isn’t the chick you have a thing for?”
James thrust his glass out to the bartender for another refill. “Don’t you all have anything better to gossip about? I don’t have a thing for Isobel.”
“But you knew who I was talking about.”
“Shut up, Gerald.”
The rest of the night was downhill from there. Alice, having taken Lily’s pronouncement to heart, became her instant best friend, which got under Nina’s skin and prompted her to new heights of bitchiness. Moreover, this newfound alliance left Gerald free to needle James about his drinking. Seeking to prove his friend wrong, James drank more than he intended. By the time dinner was cleared and Dewayne rose to make his toast as best man, James was reeling.
He leaned over to Lily. “Gotta get outta here…”
She put a restraining arm on his. “The toasts are starting. After what happened before, you can’t leave now.”
Some small part of his brain recognized the wisdom of this advice. Survival depended on his ability to stay in his seat and keep his mouth shut until the band struck up again and he could leave safely. He was dimly aware of both Lily and Gerald keeping him in check, and as soon as the toasts were over he heard Gerald say, “You better get him home.”
“I don’t know where he lives. I really don’t know him all that well,” Lily admitted. “Besides, he’s three times my size. Can’t you help?”
Dewayne returned to the table, and James heard a brief but urgent exchange.
“You are not leaving me here alone,” Nina declared indignantly.
“You won’t be alone,” Gerald said. “Alice is here, and we’re coming right back.”
“I’ll stay, too,” Lily piped up.
“They don’ wan you. Stupid bitch…” James’s voice sounded far away even to him.
Lily’s face swam double in front of James’s eyes. The faces crumpled in tandem, then bravely reordered themselves into a rigid smile. “I had a very good time,” she said stoically. “It was nice to meet you all.”
“Come on, big guy.” Dewayne hauled James to his feet, and Gerald caught him under the other arm as the ballroom swayed.
James’s feet were not working the way he wanted them to, but somehow he found himself on the other side of the room. He was almost home free, and then—
Jayla was suddenly in front of him, her hands on her hips, her almond eyes blazing. He reached out to touch her cheek, but she slapped his hand away.
“Look at you. You’re a complete mess.” Her expression softened into something ineffably sad. “For a minute in the church I thought I’d made a mistake. But you’ll never change. So I have to thank you. This was a sign from the Lord that I picked the right man. Good-bye, James.”
And that was all he remembered until he woke up in his bed the next day at noon, with a headache the size of Manhattan and a strange, empty feeling in his heart.