Chapter One
“We need more glitz. More glam,” he pushed.
“No. We need more low-key things,” she demanded. Violet wouldn’t like all that. Violet wasn’t the type to go for glam, and she definitely wasn’t what Claire would describe as glitzy.
There wasn’t a lot that legitimately annoyed Claire. She was an easygoing person who meshed well with the people that she interacted with. Her personality just seemed to click with everyone around her, or at least it usually did, but this conversation was like talking to the roughest sandpaper, with nothing going smoothly. Talking to Desmond was testing her patience and the very core of the term ‘easygoing.’
They were two very different individuals, and Claire knew that going into this. He was a dragon for starters, and she wasn’t. That in itself was a big enough difference, one that would make most people turn their heads or freak out, but Claire had no issue with talking to dragons or being friends with them.
Desmond was the exception to this, and it wasn’t because he was a dragon. It was because he was annoying, self-centered, shallow, and everything she couldn’t stand in a person. Her annoyance wasn’t because Desmond was a dragon. Her annoyance was because he was a vexing individual.
And the worst part was that she had to talk to him. She couldn’t ignore him and pretend that she enjoyed talking to everyone she met. She had to acknowledge him and work with him.
While they were full of differences, they had one huge similarity: their best friends were getting married. Her best friend, Violet, was marrying Frank, Desmond’s best friend, and because of this, they were getting thrown together to do a lot of planning and helping with the ceremony and festivities leading up to it. It was like a nightmare that Claire didn’t even know she was supposed to be afraid of.
Why did her best friend have to have a joint bachelor/bachelorette party? It would be so much easier if it was split. Let Desmond handle the men, and she could deliver what she knew Violet would love.
Claire rubbed her forehead, trying to stay calm. She just needed to remind herself that after the wedding everything could go back to normal, and she could return to her little corner of the world. Desmond, and all his personality traits that grated on her nerves, could return to his. She wouldn’t have to see him or be horrified by the horrible traits he pulled out of her. She wouldn’t even have to pretend that he existed at all.
The worst trait about him was his extravagance and the need to have everything be the biggest and the best. That simply wasn’t the type of person Claire was, and it definitely wasn’t the type of person Violet was or wanted to be. His wants didn’t match with the bride’s. Hell, Claire didn’t think his wants even matched the groom’s, which is why Claire needed to bring him down a few notches so everything wasn’t completely over the top.
“We don’t need for this to be like some kind of circus,” Claire said into the phone, trying to hide her frustration. Desmond always seemed to get enjoyment out of her being flustered.
“And why not? Everyone loves the circus!” Desmond responded. She could hear the flair in his voice and was sure there were wild arm movements that went along with every word he said.
“It’s too much.”
“Money won’t be an issue,” Desmond said as if that was the only reason she could possibly have a problem with it.
“That’s not what I meant,” Claire started. “It’s not the money, but the idea.”
“There’s nothing wrong with nice things.”
Claire had a healthy appreciation for fine things. It was just that their definition of nice was completely different. “Yeah, and I’m sure your definition of nice involves naked women parading around,” she said.
“What’s wrong with that?”
Claire massaged her temples and reminded herself that stress caused premature aging. She couldn’t believe that she was having this conversation or that these were the things Desmond wanted for a joint bachelor/bachelorette party. He actually wanted a group of exotic dancers to entertain the crowd, and everything to shimmer and shine, and generally look like an eye sore.
That wasn’t what she wanted, and she knew Violet wouldn’t want it either. This wasn’t about what Desmond thought looked nice; this was about their friends, and he didn’t seem to understand that,
“Simple is going to be way better,” Claire said decisively. “Something tasteful and classic.”
“What do you want to do then? A pub crawl?” he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance and disdain.
That wasn’t exactly what she was thinking, but something along those lines would be good. “What’s wrong with ending with a pub crawl?”
“Did you forget a key part of that is the drinking?”
She had forgotten the one significant difference between dragons and humans that wouldn’t make a pub crawl as fun for half of the people there. Dragons didn’t get drunk from alcohol. They got a very tiny buzz when they drank, but alcohol didn’t do the trick for them. They needed cheese to get intoxicated, and there wasn’t a guarantee of cheese in a pub crawl, so only the humans were guaranteed to get drunk.
A pub crawl was a bad idea when Claire thought about it, but she wasn’t going to tell that to Desmond. She couldn’t admit that she was wrong since she was sure that he would rub it in her face.
“Well, there are some really interesting cultural things we could do,” she said, deflecting. “The museum downtown is doing this drumming workshop, and that could be really fun to do as a group.” She had to admit it sounded worse aloud than it had in her mind, but some people would like it. She knew for a fact Jackie would.
“Seriously?” Desmond asked.
“What?”
“You want to take a large group of people, who are looking to party, and bring them to a museum. That’s not a party, Claire. That is some kind of sick and unusual punishment.”
Claire stuck her tongue out at the phone. Sure, it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it was still a good idea. When he said it like that, she doubted her choices. It could have been fun, but she knew that Desmond wouldn’t like it, and some of Frank’s friends might feel the same way. She wanted to argue for the idea more, but she felt as though she had already lost.
“Okay, then what would you suggest, since you’ve shot down all of my ideas? And no matter what you say, we are not going to get those dancers,” Claire said.
She could hear Desmond sighing on the other end of the phone. He didn’t have a right to sigh at her. It was just another reason to add to her list of reasons she did not like Desmond Leroy. He sighed at her constantly, like just talking to her was draining, even though he was the one that required effort to talk to.
Everything was glitz and glam with him, and none of the seriousness required in certain situations. This was supposed to be a fun party, but he wanted to create something that would be unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. If anyone was supposed to be sighing, Claire was certain it should have been her.
“Well, I guess we could have the party at my summer home.” He guessed? This was something that could have been brought up sooner, but he was just now mentioning a location that could really work?
Claire wanted to say, “Of course you have a summer home,” but she kept her mouth shut. That would start up a whole new argument, and while she was willing to fight him more on what was really necessary in life, she was tired and wasn’t in the mood to talk to him at all, let alone to argue with him.
“What would we do at your summer home?” Claire asked, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice.
“We’ll have enough beer and cheese to make even you forget the words ‘pub crawl’ for starters. I’ll have casino tables set up so anyone can gamble without the need for a real casino. Trust me, nobody will want for anything.”
She could hear the victory in his voice. She hated that he had won, and he knew it. This would loom over them, especially Claire, until the party was over. There would be more battles leading up to it, and she had to make sure that she won the rest so she would be the true victor in the end.
“Well, it’s one of your better options, so let’s go with that,” she said, waiting to hear something back and was shocked to hear the dial tone.
He hung up!
“That mother…” she grumbled and put the phone down before she threw it across the room.
T-minus two weeks until they were done with planning and working together. She turned on her laptop and opened several tabs. One for a checklist of all the things they needed to do for the party to be a success, and the other an email to let Desmond know that just because the party was at his house didn’t mean he had free range to do whatever he wanted.
The exotic dancers were still vetoed, and he wouldn’t be getting all the credit because he signed the checks. The party being at his summer house didn’t mean she was out of his hair.
***
It had been difficult, and Claire was sure Desmond caused some premature gray hairs somewhere she couldn’t see, but looking around the party at all the smiling faces, she could see it had been worth the effort.
The party was going well, and while Claire was glad her friends were enjoying themselves, she felt a little bitter. Sure, she helped plan this party, and she had helped plan the wedding, but because of the location, it really felt like Desmond’s party. It was his house, his money being thrown around, and it would be him taking all the credit.
She did have to admit that the house was nice…well, more than nice. It was a certified mansion, and the way the lights flashed, fireworks went off in the air, and champagne poured endlessly, Claire cringed thinking of all the money Desmond voluntarily spent.
In this secluded area in upstate New York, there was green everywhere. Hills that turned into mountains. Forests that went on and on. Nature was everywhere around them, and it was stunning. She couldn’t imagine how much a place like this would cost. Just by face value, she’d guess somewhere near the high millions of dollars.
Instead of focusing on the bitterness, Claire turned her attention to Violet, the bride to be. Claire had to remember that all of this was for Violet and Frank. This wasn’t about Claire, or Desmond, or who was technically hosting this party. It was about her best friend marrying a man that was truly great. If she focused on that, she could forget about how aggravating Desmond could be and the smug look on his face every time he caught her eyes.
The party was really nice. Music was playing so people could dance whenever they wanted to, and some guests really wanted to, and if that was because of the cheese or alcohol, Claire couldn’t tell. There were blackjack tables all around with friends playing, and hopefully, not losing too hard. Desmond had hired some dealers, and it seemed to be a good idea. People were having a great time.
“Is that how you dress for a party?” Desmond asked, right behind Claire. She jumped slightly, not prepared to hear his voice. In all honesty, she had been hoping she could avoid him for the entire party and not have to talk to him at all. She had been lucky so far, but the night was still young. Apparently, her luck had run out.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Claire responded, whipping around to meet him face to face. He was in a nice suit that looked like something he usually wore. He looked nice, but it wasn’t anything to write home about. At least she wasn’t going to be the one doing any writing.
Claire, on the other hand, was in a black, slinky dress that looked like it belonged in a previous decade. While it wasn’t unusual for her, it still made her stand out from the crowd, and she enjoyed that. She wasn’t the center of attention, but she also wasn’t just a person in the background.
“Nothing,” Desmond started. “It’s just a little out there. A little old.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” She preferred old clothes. “And it’s not old. It’s called retro.” She huffed at the look on his face. “What would you know about fashion anyway?” He was a man. He didn’t know that fashion never went out of style. Things always had a way of coming back.
He sighed that stupid, frustrating, and condescending sigh. “Have you ever tried just fitting in?”
“Have you?” He had no room to talk. “Look at this house. Look at this party. Look at everything you own. How do you fit in? You can’t expect everyone to fit into some mold you created if you don’t fit in it yourself.”
Claire felt like pure fire, completely in her element. She could beat Desmond in a battle of words, and she knew it. They may be on his battleground, but she had the stronger weapons.
“How do you know what kind of mold I’d even create?” he asked, and Claire was surprised by the question.
“What?”
“You seem to know everything about me, Claire,” he said, leaning back with one hand in his pocket. “What’s my mold?”
“You want everything to be shiny and new. You can’t stand anything that has a little rust. Everything needs to meet your level of fun, and if it doesn’t, it’s worthless. Sure, everything here looks great, but do you know why? Because I was here to tone you down. You wanted to turn this into some kind of joke instead of a celebration for our friends. You’re an egotistical asshole.”
“As long as you have me all figured out,” Desmond said, smirking. He turned around and walked away, finding another group to terrorize.
Claire couldn’t get over the smirk. She couldn’t make any sense of it. She couldn’t figure out why he seemed amused by her comment, or why he didn’t have anything to add. As much as she knew what he was like, parts of Desmond were still a mystery to her.
Claire saw Violet getting a beer, so she walked over and pulled her away from any conversations that were about to happen. She wanted to talk to her best friend to get rid of the negative thoughts surrounding her.
“Are you excited to be getting married?” Claire asked. Things about Violet had changed in the last few weeks as the wedding approached. Violet seemed to shine more. There were more moments of little smiles for no reason. Violet was still the same person, but she seemed happier. Violet was the same, but new, and Claire was happy for her. No matter how annoyed she got at Desmond, this was all for Violet, who was happier than Claire could ever remember, and she wanted to make sure she stayed that way.
Claire didn’t want to admit it, but she was also a little jealous of her friend. Violet had found someone that she truly loved and someone that made her happy and shiny, and Claire wanted something similar. She wanted the small, random smiles and the happiness. She wanted something like what Violet had. If she was honest, a tiny piece of her was jealous because she had always assumed she would be first.
“It’s incredible,” Violet said, smiling. “I’m a little nervous, but Frank is great. He’s better than great. He’s perfect – everything that I could have hoped for. I just know the same kind of thing is on its way to you.”
And that’s why Violet got her happiness first because she was always looking out for everyone else, thinking and wishing the best for others.
“And to think, you only wanted an accountant!” Claire and Violet laughed. Ever since Frank and Violet began to date, Claire always made small jokes that Violet wasn’t looking for a man, only someone to do numbers. Claire had sent Violet to Frank, hoping that something might happen between the two, and sure enough, it did. Violet and Frank fell in love, and he wasn’t just an accountant, but also someone Violet could see herself spending the rest of her life with.
“I really don’t know how I got so lucky.”
“You deserve it, Violet,” Claire said, throwing her arms around her best friend. “You deserve all of this.”
“Thanks, Claire. And thank you for doing this party and helping with the planning.”
“It’s no problem,” Claire said, grateful that somebody acknowledged her work.
“Seriously, thank you. I know Desmond isn’t your favorite person,” Violet started. Claire wanted to tell her that was an understatement but held her tongue. “It really means a lot to me that you stuck through it, though. You guys really pulled through and made this something special.”
“You’re welcome. I would do anything for you,” Claire said. That was true. Claire would do whatever she could to help Violet, especially for her wedding, which would only happen once. It was important to get everything right, and if that meant speaking to Desmond, and planning things with Desmond, and tolerating Desmond, she would just have to do it. Dealing with him was more than worth it to make sure Violet was happy. “You’re worth it,” Claire said, and Violet sniffed.
“Don’t do that. You’re going to make me cry,” she said with a watery smile.
“Okay,” Claire said, wiping the corner of Violet’s eyes to make sure her makeup didn’t smudge. “No more. Off you go. I believe the toilet paper dress competition starts in a few minutes,” she said, pushing Violet in the direction of the main room.
***
When it was time to leave, Claire knew she would have to say goodbye to Desmond. She had to let him know that it was a success and that their time together wasn’t over, no matter how much neither of them wanted this to continue. The wedding wasn’t over, so their partnership wasn’t over yet.
“Hi, Desmond,” Claire said, walking toward him. With fewer people and lights dimmed, she could appreciate the way his tailored suit clung to his body.
“Did you come to insult me again?” he asked, a smirk finding its way to his face. It infuriated and intrigued Claire all at the same time.
“Not this time. I just wanted to say that this was a really good party.” She shrugged. She could admit having it here was a great idea.
“It was?”
“Yeah. Violet and Frank really enjoyed it, and that was the most important thing. Everyone else did, too.” She smiled. “So yeah. It was a huge success.” She slow clapped as she said, “Congratulations.”
“But did you enjoy it? I know it wasn’t a drum circle at the museum or anything,” he said.
Claire was surprised when a small laugh escaped her lips.
“There weren’t enough exotic dancers for my taste, but it was a great party, Desmond.”
A boisterous laugh came out of him, and Claire was glad she could surprise him, too.
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said.
She stopped herself from saying, “Me too.” Claire really was surprised by how much she enjoyed the day once she got over the anger she felt from planning it or the earlier conversation she had with him. The party was great, even though she hadn’t expected it to be.
“Who knows,” she said, turning to walk away, “maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”