Jameson

“Would you come out already, Charlie? I’m growing old here, and I have things to do other than sit in another dress shop.”

“No,” she yells through the curtain separating her dressing room from the bridal suite that I’m stuck sharing with a bunch of women. “I look stupid in this one. It’s so fluffy.”

“Fluffy?” I laugh at her words. “Isn’t it supposed to be like that?”

She sighs. “It’s just…not right. Alex won’t like it. I don’t like it either. People will laugh at me.”

“You're ridiculous, Charlie. Stop acting like such a girl.”

The eyeballs alone I am getting from the girls are uncomfortable. Some give me a look of disgust, while others wink or flash a smile. All I want is for this madness to end. Charlie has to find a gown before I lose my damn mind. We have spent weeks searching, followed by nightly phone calls about how nothing is jumping out at her.

“You don’t get it, Jamie. I wish you had to wear a dress and have everyone stare at you and take your picture.”

“No one is forcing you to do anything,” I retort. “It’s your wedding you can do whatever you want. But you have to start somewhere, so come out and let us see this hideous dress.”

I chuckle at my attempt at humor, failing with this crowd. People are so tense when it comes to weddings. While I understand it’s a huge decision, I don’t see why there has to be a big production. Charlie and I grew up with nothing. We lived a simple life, devoid of any luxuries.

Her prized possession was a basketball and mine was a special issue of The Amazing Spider-Man. I still have the comic book. She still has the ball. Somehow, we were able to keep our foster parents from getting their hands on our things.

I don’t see the need for something so extravagant. We have more than what we need and live well below our means, apart from our lavish city apartments. But places in the city are expensive—even shit holes. That’s the price of having the city lifestyle.

“You’re not helping, Jameson,” Charlie spits back with venom in her voice, though I doubt she’s mad at me.

More like she’s mad at herself. She thought this process would be easy. Under different circumstances, I’m sure it would have been a breeze. That is, until Charlie booked the Wells Fargo Center for the reception. Who does that? I doubt she was thinking, and once Regan had confirmed that she could make it happen, Charlie had felt obligated to take her up on her offer. But the venue also added a lot more stress that Charlie didn’t need.

Sydney stands up from the chair in the corner of the room, flicking her black curls over her shoulders. “Let me handle this, Jamie. Charlotte just needs a woman’s touch.”

“No, I need a new dress,” Charlie says, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Sydney stops in front of the dressing room curtain and throws her hands onto her narrow waist. She’s model hot with the body to match, but I’m not into high maintenance girls. Or bossy ones. Plus, she’s dating Carter Donovan, a wall of a man that she somehow manages to put into check. Not that I’m at all surprised. Some girls have the ability to bring men to their knees. Sydney is one of them. But it’s not hard to see that he’s the one in control.

“Yeah, babe,” Kennedy chimes in, holding onto her massive baby bump. “Just come out and let us see you. I’m sure you look beautiful.”

Even though Kennedy is only in her first trimester, she’s so big that she swears she’s having twins. Or that one was hiding somewhere inside her. Much like her friend, Kennedy is an interesting person.

It’s strange how Sydney and Kennedy both hooked up with hockey players, somehow managing to bring Charlie into their inner circle. On the surface, Kennedy and Sydney have the appearance of the typical mean girls that Charlie would’ve steered clear of years ago. But they ended up becoming a valuable asset to this wedding. And not bad company when Sydney isn’t spewing inappropriate things in public. She turns heads everywhere she goes, and not only because of her looks. I never met a girl with no filter, or at least not to the extent of Sydney.

Women like Regan are more my speed and much easier to please. She might be rich, but she’s down-to-earth and works for her money. I like that about her. It would be easy for her to live off her father’s money, but she takes pride in earning a dollar. We would never work if Regan weren't geared that way. I also respect her more because of her desire to make a name for herself outside of her father’s legacy.

After promising Regan breakfast on Tuesday, I had an emergency meeting that forced me to reschedule for a late lunch. Lunch I might miss if Charlie doesn’t speed things up. I had a hard enough time peeling myself away from the office to attend yet another painful dress fitting, let alone sneak off for a cheesesteak with Regan.

For whatever reason, Charlie insists that I be here for every wedding related event. Nothing I say or do will convince her to settle on a dress. I offer no value to this process, mostly here for moral support.

“About time,” Sydney says, as Charlie exits the dressing room in a cream colored gown with several layers down the front that cause the fabric to puff out around her body.

With tiny beads scattered from top to bottom, combined with the diamond flecks that sparkle when the light hits them, she looks so…regal. And unlike the girl I know. I still can’t believe she’s going through with all this nonsense.

“I like this one,” I say to Charlie, studying ever stitch of the fabric because I know she will quiz me later about every detail she did not like. “You look beautiful. I think you’re wrong about Alex not liking it.”

She frowns. “You’re just saying that so you can get out of here to meet Regan.”

“Oh, that’s today,” Sydney says, excited. “I forgot our man-of-honor was going out with Regan.” Turning toward me, Sydney says, “How did you pull that one off, Jamie? Regan is a notorious Ice Queen when it comes to men.”

Annoyed by her comment about Regan, I shrug, pretending it doesn’t bother me when I want to say something so bad. But I hold my tongue because today is about Charlie—not me.

“Because I’m not a hockey player. I actually have something to talk about other than bashing some dude’s head into the ice or whatever it is that your boyfriends talk about all day.”

“Hey,” Charlie says, with a loud huff. “I’m marrying a hockey player. Take it back, Jameson.”

Folding my arms over my chest, I lean back into the chair. “Nope.”

Charlie tugs at the sides of her gown and steps toward me barefoot. “If you don’t take it back, I will find a pink bridesmaid dress for you to wear to the wedding.”

“I wouldn’t wear it on a dare,” I spit back.

“Then, you would fail at your man-of-honor duties, and I’d have to fire you, which would be kind of embarrassing.”

She cracks a smile. Finally. Charlie has looked as though she could snap in half for weeks now. The pressure of this wedding is getting to her in ways I had never thought possible. I hate seeing the stress take such a toll on her life. On our lives. We had enough shit to deal with over the years that her wedding should be something to look forward to, not end up in the insane asylum.

“I guess I would deserve to be fired, but there’s no way you are ever getting me into a dress. Not even on a dare.”

Her features soften along with her voice. “You really think Alex will like this one? Are you just saying that to get out of future appointments?”

“You would think so but no. I meant what I said.” I get up from the chair, place my hand on her shoulder, and give it a good squeeze. “You look gorgeous, and Alex would be an idiot not to agree.”

“How cute,” Kennedy says, placing her hand over heart. “You two are so adorable.”

I glance in her direction and see other women nod in agreement. “Um…thanks, I guess,” I mutter. “Men don’t like to be called cute.”

“How is it the two of you never got together? I could totally see you guys getting married.”

Charlie and I both break out into laughter at the same time.

“Gross,” Charlie chokes out. “Jamie is like family. Even as much as kissing him would cause my stomach to turn.”

“Hey, that’s mean,” I tell Charlie. “It’s not like I’m some troll.”

“Of course not. And you know I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Don’t worry, I feel the same way.” Glancing at Kennedy, I confirm my sentiments. “It was never there. I don’t know what else to say. We never had that kind of feelings for each other.”

“We were too busy worrying if we would eat dinner and where our next meal would come from to worry about sex or dating,” Charlie interjects. “Things like that are not a priority when you’re in constant survival mode.”

“Your childhood sounded pretty rough,” Kennedy says, rubbing her stomach. “But at least you had your Cinderella moment, the whole rags to riches scenario, unlike me. My family did everything ass backwards.”

At least you have a family, I want to add but hold my tongue. It’s not Kennedy’s fault that she had a fairy tale childhood when ours was more like a nightmare.

After bullshitting for a few minutes, I announce that I need to get going if I want to make it on time to meet Regan. I still have to call a cab and take it to the other side of the city with very little time to spare.

Charlie leans in to kiss me on the cheek when I pull her into my arms. The rough fabric of her dress rubs against my skin.

“I’ll probably need your help this week with cake testing and a few other things since Alex is on the road with the team. I’m so happy they made the playoffs, but I wish he were here to have some input into this process.”

“He’s the one who wants the big wedding. Maybe you should hold off until he’s around more.”

“No, all of this needs to get done. I can’t wait until June to plan for July.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. “June?”

“Yeah, if they go all the way, the Stanley Cup Final is in June.”

I pat her on the shoulder. “Let’s see if they even make it past the first round before we get ahead of ourselves.”

I can tell Charlie wants to say something but holds back. Instead, she flashes a closed mouthed smile.

While I’m not trying to be a downer, the obvious fact is the Flyers haven’t been to the playoffs in so many years that they might not last longer than the first round. I wasn’t saying it as an insult to the guys, just stating the fact that the other teams have more experience when it comes to playoff hockey.

After I say goodbye to the girls, I exit the boutique, happy to be away from all the girly shit. Men are not meant to hang out in places like these. I have women ogling me every time and wondering if I’m gay, available, or the groom-to-be. And it’s getting old.

* * *

The cab driver drops me off in front of Tony Luke’s, where I come at least twice a week for a cheesesteak. I also chose it because Regan works only a few minutes away and could walk if she had to. From a distance, it looks like an old metal diner, but, up close, the takeout-style restaurant has a long open window where you can watch them make your food.

A line has started forming down the pavement, crowds of people huddled under the awning. They have benches off to the left, but they’re almost entirely packed. I get a little nervous when I see Regan strolling toward me in an orange-and-black Flyers T-shirt, jeans, and black Michael Jordan sneakers. Charlie has the exact same pair.

Despite being so casually dressed and covered up, I still get excited thinking about what’s underneath her clothes. With her tiny frame, her chest sticks out, drawing my attention to how tight the shirt is against her breasts. Like really tight. Which makes me think about how much of an ass I am for wanting to rush through our three dates to get to the good part. But I’m not that kind of guy. Even if I want to be that guy right now.

Regan raises her hand to wave, as she comes closer. Sunlight hits her hair, making it seem lighter, more white than blonde. With her milky complexion and soft features, she looks angelic, younger even. I often forget that she’s a few years younger than me because she’s aged beyond her years by all the responsibilities she has taken on.

“Jameson,” she says into my ear as she hugs me, making a sniffing sound.

I wrap my arms around her and bend down to kiss her forehead. “Did you just smell me?”

She shrugs, casually. “Maybe. You smell good.”

I hold her at an arm’s-length to stare into her eyes. “Oh, yeah? What do I smell like? I don’t wear cologne.”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s your aftershave or soap. But you smell like…” She holds her index finger up to her mouth, thinking it over. “I guess it’s a man scent. I’m not sure how to describe it. You smell like Jameson O’Connor. How’s that?” She says the last part with a smile that I return.

“You’re a strange one,” I say, laughing. “How about we get something to eat before my boss hunts me down? I don’t have a lot of time.”

She answers with a nod.

We walk over to the long counter, where line cooks are making food behind a window. I glance up at the menu on the wall, even though I already had my mind made up before I’d gotten here. For the most part, I get the same thing every time.

“How much time do you have until you’re expected back at the office?” She asks, stroking my arm for a few seconds to get my attention.

Staring down at Regan, I pull her against my side, hooking my arm around her. “I have enough time to eat and run. If I didn’t have to go dress shopping again, I would’ve had more time, but Charlie wanted me to be there.”

“Did she find a dress yet? I’m surprised it has taken her this long. Coach seems so low maintenance.”

“I’m kinda surprised how crazy she’s getting about this wedding, too. I never thought I’d see Charlie, of all people, go into bride mode.”

“Maybe it’s the venue.” She leans on the counter to check out the menu. “You know, I didn't think when I’d offered it to her as an option for the wedding. I wasn’t even sure if I could come through for her, but when I got the go-ahead from management, and she said yes, I thought it would be cool to have a wedding at the Wells.”

“It’s not your fault. Alex wants this big wedding, though I’m not so sure why when he doesn’t have any family to invite and neither does Charlie. If she didn’t have her players and Alex’s friends to invite, we wouldn’t have enough people to fill her apartment.”

“Then, why doesn’t she consider another location? Maybe something smaller. I know Alex can afford to pay to rent out the Wells, but that’s a helluva lot of money to shell out when they have no one special to invite.”

“I’ve mentioned it to her a few times,” I say, edging closer to where we will place our order. “She doesn’t listen to anything I say. I’m hoping at some point it will all sink in, especially with Alex on the road for the playoffs.”

Regan’s face lights up. “I’m really impressed how they’re playing right now. My dad stopped by my office before I left to meet you, and he was the happiest I’d seen him in a long time. I hope they make it past this round. This city really needs a win.”

“Charlie is planning to go to their next home game.”

“You should come with her,” she says, hopeful. “And if you don’t have a ticket, I can get you one.”

“If you’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Are you ready to order or what?” A guy asks us in a thick South Philly accent.

Startled, I spin around to face him. I point to Regan after I’m done, and she orders a sausage and peppers sandwich, which doesn’t shock me one bit. Most girls would eat something less…messy. But that’s the kind of sandwich Charlie would get, so it’s no surprise that Regan does the same. They have so many similarities, yet so many differences. That’s why I feel so comfortable around Regan.

“It’s been ages since my dad has had the time to come here with me.” Regan grazes her hand against mine. “When I first moved to Philly, we’d come here all the time if he could peel himself away. But now, I see him once a week, sometimes, once a month, if I’m lucky, and we work in the same building.”

Her voice trails off along with the conversation. I don’t have parents or remember what it was like to have them. That part of my life is such a faint memory at this point. All I can recall are empty bottles of alcohol, overfilled ashtrays stuffed with cigarettes and cigars, red-and-blue flashing lights, and the first foster home that followed all of the drama. Everything else I have blocked from memory.

Once we get our food, Regan rolls her eyes at the small seating area, annoyed. “Where are we going to eat?”

I peek at the lack of seating and sigh. “Did you drive here?”

“No, I wish. If I had, we could eat in my car.”

Shrugging my suit jacket off my shoulders, I lay it on my forearm, grab our sandwiches from the counter after I pay, and steer Regan toward the sidewalk.

“I have an idea,” I announce, even though I’m not so sure it’s such a great one. But we have no other options.

Dropping my jacket to the ground, right at the edge of the curb, I flatten it out to give Regan enough room to sit down. “There, all better. I know this isn’t The Palm or whatever you’re probably used to, but this will have to do for now.”

She laughs. “The Palm? Jameson, you have me figured all wrong if you think I’m that kind of girl.”

“Well, I have to assume that your dad is not taking you to Denny’s for lunch, and The Palm was the first swanky restaurant that had come to mind.”

“That’s not even that fancy,” she says, plopping down on the ground.

“Oh, excuse me, rich girl,” I say, mocking her.

She laughs, not the least bit phased by my joke.

I take a seat next to her and hand over the sausage and peppers sandwich. We open the paper and place the food in our laps, balancing it on our thighs. This wasn’t the date I had in mind when I’d asked Regan to meet me here. In fact, I’m a little embarrassed that this turned out to be such a fail. But she doesn’t seem to mind that we’re sitting on the curb, the exhaust fumes billowing around our heads as cars pass.

Eating half the cheesesteak in a few bites, I have grease sliding out from the corner of my mouth. I attempt to wipe it with a napkin before Regan notices. Too bad she’s already looking over at me, as I clean my face.

“You missed a spot.” Regan leans over, and with her napkin, she wipes the rest from the corner of my mouth.

I tense a little from her touch, avoiding her gaze for a few seconds.

“Just as handsome as before.” She doesn’t say another word, and neither do I.

She bites into her sandwich, groaning in delight with each bite. The sounds she makes cause me to chuckle under my breath. But she doesn’t seem to notice, too consumed with how good her food tastes. For close to five minutes, we sit and enjoy each other’s company. This is nice. It’s not often you get the chance to do something so laid back with a woman, and on a date nonetheless.

After I finish the cheesesteak, I crumble the paper in my hand and look to Regan, who has just taken her last bite. I hold out my palm for her to give me her trash, and she does without a word. I push myself up from the ground, find a garbage can, and then sit back to down next to her.

“Sorry, this sucked so much. I’m sure when you’d asked me for three dates this was not what you had in mind.”

“This was perfect, Dimples,” she says, joking. “Any time I get to spend with you is better than none at all. I will take what I can get. Between your schedule and mine, we will probably have many dates similar to this one. It’s unfortunate, I know, but some things are out of our control.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not pissed, Foxy.” I wink as I say the nickname I decided to give her the other night. “I don’t know many girls who would settle for eating on the ground outside a takeout restaurant.”

“I’m not like most girls. You should know that by now. I grew up mostly around men. I hardly ever had any friends that were girls. This is not the first time I sat on the ground to eat a meal, and it certainly won’t be the last, especially when it comes to you.”

“I guess anything I plan for our next date will be better than this one.”

“Way to set the bar,” she says, nudging me in the side with her elbow. “We can only go up from here.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard to do. I have a few things in mind for breakfast and dinner, if you don’t mind waiting until the end of the week. I wish I could do it sooner, but my schedule is killer.”

“If all goes well with the Flyers tonight, they should be home in a few days for game six. How about we plan our next date around it?”

“Charlie will be there, as well as Rico and thousands of other people, cheering in the stands. That might take the romance out of the equation for our dinner date.”

Regan peeks up at me, with a closed mouth smile. “There’s nothing romantic about eating greasy sandwiches wrapped in paper on a street corner, but this was one of the best dates I’ve ever had.”

“Now, I just feel sorry for you,” I say, with laughter in my voice. “Because while this is also one of the best dates I’ve ever been on, it’s not the nicest, by any means.”

“Is that sad or what?” She deadpans. “I need to pick better guys, huh?”

“You chose the right guy. I have to come up with something better. I hate that my job and Charlie take up so much of my day. And you have similar issues getting away from the office. We will make it work. I promise. I don’t care if I have to test my game in your office while we eat Chinese takeout.”

That earns me a smile that reaches up to her wide, blue eyes. “This week is going to be hell for me if the Flyers force a game six.”

“I can only image. The entire city will go insane. You won’t be able to go anywhere without a crowd of lunatics.”

She leans forward, using her elbows to prop herself up on her knees and cups the side of her face with her hands. “My dad was already having a stoke about it earlier. Everything has to be perfect for their homecoming. He stressed that about a thousand times. Poor Murph was running around the building when I left like a chicken with his head cut off. My dad is driving him crazy along with everyone else on the staff.”

“Win or lose, we will have another date this week. That much I can guarantee.”

“We can recreate our first date,” she says, her tone serious.

“This is our first date.”

“Well, I guess it wasn’t our first date, but it was our first encounter.”

Thinking about the night we had met, I laugh once. “You want to have nachos and soda for dinner?”

“Who cares,” she says, nonchalant. “The dates are not about the quality of the meal or the location. They’re about us getting to know each other. Whether you realize it or not, that’s exactly what we’re doing right now.”

“I’m glad we’re doing this. I like you more every time I see you. But I need to step up my game for our next date. Nachos will not do.”

“You could always throw in a pretzel or hot dog,” she says, joking and with a wicked smirk.

“Now, you’re talking, Foxy.” I wrap my arm around her back, taking in her sweet scent, as I hold her against my side. “I wish we weren’t in public right now.”

She smiles up at me. “Why is that?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about what happens after our third date.”

She blushes a few shades of pink to red, and I find it so damn adorable. “And here I thought you weren’t like other guys.”

“Oh, I’m still that guy, but not in the bedroom.”

“How soon can we plan the next two dates?” She attempts to hold back her laughter and fails. “This conversation is turning me on.”

Me, too.

Dipping my head down, I push her hair away from her face, taking her ear in my mouth to suck on it. My breath dots her skin with tiny bumps that I feel against my lips as I kiss my way to her neck. “We can start right now if you want.”

“You’re a bad boy, Dimples.” She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. “But people are starting to look at us.

Peeling myself away from her, I stare into her eyes. “I just wanted to prove a point, and you said you were turned on. I thought I’d give you something to reflect on before you go back to work.”

“Trust me, I will not forget this date.”

I stand up and help Regan to her feet, planting a soft kiss on her lips that only lasts for a few seconds.

“I have to get back to the office.” I give her hand a squeeze. “But we are finishing what we started this week.”

“Good,” she says with a smile. “I will hold you to it.”