Chapter 17 – Brent
As soon as I say it, I almost regret opening my mouth. What the hell are you doing? Why would you proposition the girl you banged last night and never expected to see again? Then again, maybe I have my answer right there. Maybe it’s fate. Or maybe I’m just an idiot. Either way, I hold out my hand.
The rest of the tour group moves now. Couples laugh and chatter, holding hands, touching arms, encircling waists, forgetting about how they were just fighting over the price of the venue or how many people are going to be in their wedding party. Pretty soon we’re going to be the only two left, and the jig’ll be up. Mystery Woman seems to realize this too, as her eyes flash with the realization.
“Look.” I keep my hand up. “No sob story, but I’m supposed to be here to cancel my reservation. On the other hand, some of the stuff they give you in wedding grab bags at these places are really unique. And you either got jilted, or you're not really supposed to be here either. Doesn’t really matter though. We both want in, and this is how we get what we want.”
The tour guide swings by, sweeping up stragglers (aka us). “Come along, folks - you don’t want to miss this!”
We don’t…do we?
She bites her lower lip - and takes my hand. “Just my hand, you hear me?!”
“Whatever you say, future Mrs. Forester.”
We walk quickly now to catch up to the main group, and she whispers, “Forester? Really?”
“What’s wrong with that? It’s a perfectly good last name.”
“Sounds like you should be wearing a flannel and hacking at a tree with an axe. Or have your picture on the side of that paper towel brand, Whatsit - ”
“Bounty?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“With a name like Bounty, you’d think it’d be a pirate on the label, not a Paul Bunyan knockoff.”
A less than impressed pause, then: “Are you high?”
“I mean…not today.”
This was a bad plan. Bad, bad plan.
Thank God, that’s the moment the tour guide stops the group and opens his mouth so that I can close mine.
“Good morning, everyone! I’m Roger, your guide for this absolutely delicious day trip through the finest wedding venue New York City has to offer. This,” he gestures expansively at the space around us, “is our Receiving Hall. Couples often greet their guests here for the first time as husband and wife - or husband and husband, or wife and wife. Variety is the spice of life, as they say! Variety’s a good spice for marriage too - we just ask that you refrain from getting too spicy out here in the open.”
A few appreciative chuckles rise from some of the people in the group. My Mystery Fiancée isn’t one of them. As we head towards the next room, a couple drops back to walk with us: the man a short and beefy New York City Italian guy, and the woman a tall, blonde socialite type.
“Hi there!” the woman chirps, excitement splashing out of her pores. “I’m Tammi with an I, and this is my guy Johnny - Johnny with a Y.” She giggles at her own joke (a line I’m sure she’s been delivering to anyone around for months now), and tugs on Johnny-with-a-Y’s arm. “Aren’t these two just adorable, hon?” She sets her sights on my new partner in crime. “What’s your name, dear?”
I feel a little jolt at the realization that neither of us had even thought to ask the other’s name. Whoops. Lucky for us, the fact that I didn’t ask doesn’t mean this lady knows that.
With a coy smile, my pretend fiancée says, “I’m Amelia.” Amelia. Amelia…Forester. Huh.
“And what about you, handsome?” Tammi leans close and taps my arm, pulling me away from the momentary reverie. “What’s the name of the guy who managed such a wonderful catch, hmm?”
“Oh. Ah, I’m Brent. Brent Forester.”
“Oh, how lovely! How lovely is that, Johnny?!” Johnny grunts, which Tammi apparently understands to be a signal of approval. “You sound like a woodsman.”
Crap, this woman actually wants to talk to us. Time to remember that college improv class you took back when you thought you were funny.
“It’s funny, Amelia and I were just joking about that! She said I should try out to be the next Bounty Paper Towels model. You know, with the flannel and the axe?”
Tammi’s laugh is so absurdly raucous it earns her glares from a few of the couples closest to us. She doesn’t even register them. “That is hilarious, sweetie!” Turning to Amelia, “It’s so rare to find one with looks and a sense of humor! I had to go through all seven of Johnny’s brothers to find that - just imagine it!”
Amelia snorts. I smile too, even though the thoughts of Tammi going through seven brothers is something I definitely don’t want to imagine.
Tammi mock pouts. “I knowww. Absolutely horrendous. Although if I need a stand-in at the ceremony, at least I have plenty to choose from. But enough about us! What’s the story? How did you two adorable ducks meet?”
How did we - Uh-oh.