“You broke up with Sarah?” Gerard asked, his eyes bulging, his ham-like fists squeezing the life out his knife and fork, almost bending the stainless steel.

I gave him a slight shrug. I missed Sarah, she was nice to have around, and granted I missed her when it got dark, but it wasn’t the end of the world, so I don’t know why he was acting like a meteor was about to hit and bring forth an extinction event.

Women came and went, that wasn’t anything new for me. And Sarah had become a little too clingy, wanted to move in, yet also loved to flirt with everything that moved. And if I was with someone, I liked knowing she had eyes only for me, even if I didn’t give her the same courtesy at the best of times. Hypocritical, yes. But who the fuck cared? Monogamy was for people like my best friend, Gerard, who sat across from me.

Sarah, however, hadn’t seen it that way, had become tired of my wandering eye, jealous of the women who had come before her, the girls I flirted with in my office, and gave me an ultimatum to stop my oh-so-terrible ways or she was going to end it. Needless to say, my stubborn ass let her walk out the door and ever since she’d done her damnedest to spread vicious rumors about me throughout my place of work.

Gerard and I were having lunch at the swanky new fusion restaurant that had opened up a few weeks ago, across the street from my office block—coincidentally one that Sarah worked in too.

The restaurant, with its glossy interior, eye-straining art on the walls, and minimal white tables with matching utilitarian chairs, had promise. It had the potential to go the distance, but it probably wouldn’t be too long before the owners had to pack up shop, take down the new sign, and give up their dreams. It seemed like every couple of months this place changed hands. But I wasn’t complaining. It meant more money in my pocket because I was the one who benefitted from the turnover.

“Seriously, Sebastian. You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“What? No. Why would I?”

“So have you really kicked Sarah to the curb?”

“I said I had, didn’t I? I don’t think I was speaking another language. Well,” I tapped my chin, “if I were to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, then I suppose she ended it with me.”

“What the hell did you do this time?”

“That’s not important. Besides who knows what goes through a woman’s head these days? One minute she wants to be all modern—an open relationship—but the moment you ask out the new office intern and Miss Devil Wears Prada from downstairs gets wind of it, the shutters come down. Closed for business!”

Gerard slowly released his cutlery and brought his hands to his head, fingertips kneading his temples. “No, no… this can’t be happening.”

Gerard closed his eyes, his face starting to turn the color of the beetroot salad that sat discarded next to his steak. The almost luminescent purple juice was in danger of staining the white plate.

“What’s the problem? I didn’t think you liked her anyway.”

“That’s not the point, Baz. Shit, do you not realize how bad this is? Rochelle is going to kill me. Then she’s going to kill you, and after that, she’ll dig up my grave, slice me up into tiny pieces, and feed me to wild dogs just to make sure the job was done properly!”

“Are you still sure you want to marry her? Rochelle sounds a little unstable if you ask me.”

Gerard pounded his fist on the table. I snapped my mouth shut. Okay, so it probably wasn’t the best idea that I, the best man, insult my best friend’s soon-to-be wife.

“I didn’t ask you,” Gerard hissed. “You don’t realize what you’ve done, do you?”

I held up my hands and shook my head.

“I love you man—like a brother—but seriously, fuck, how can you be so oblivious?”

He didn’t let me answer. Had he, I might’ve said that I paid attention to only the things that warranted my notice, everything else was just noise floating around on the periphery.

“Rochelle made Sarah a bridesmaid not just for your benefit or out of the goodness of her loving heart.”

I snorted. Gerard continued, all the while glaring at me. “It was all so the numbers would match up, seven groomsmen on one side and seven bridesmaids on the other. We met on the seventh of July for god’s sake! Ask me how many guests we invited.”

“I don’t want to,” I replied with an exasperated sigh.

“One hundred and nineteen! Want to know why?”

“Nope.”

“Because we met in 2017! Seventeen multiplied by seven is…” Ger wanted for my response.

“One hundred and nineteen?”

“Yes! And if even one person doesn’t show up to the wedding, it doesn’t even bear thinking about. Rochelle is superstitious like that, and as soon as she hears about this, that we’re down a bridesmaid, she’ll lose it. She’s already on the verge… two meltdowns away from turning into Bridezilla.”

I took a bite of my steak, chewed—taking my time to enjoy the tender meat, cooked to perfection, its flavor rolling over my tongue—then swallowed, still not seeing the problem. What a load of superstitious mumbo-jumbo. Rochelle had plenty of bridesmaids, why was losing one out of seven such a big deal? Come to think of it; six was plenty.

“Don’t even say it,” Gerard warned.

“Say what?” I paused as he shot me a wide-eyed, rigid stare. “That she’s still got six left?”

“You had to go and say it, didn’t you?”

“Well she does! Why does Rochelle even need six? It’s not like she has half a dozen sisters that she needs to include so none of them feel like their nose-jobs are put out of joint. It’s not like she’s obligated to have them. This is a choice she’s making. A silly one, if you ask me.” I added this last bit under my breath in case Gerard felt the need to clock me upside the head.

Ger grumbled. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one; I already had that argument and lost. Several times. So you better listen up cause I’m only going to say this once. Hey, Baz? Sebastian, are you listening?”

“Yeah,” I muttered and pushed my plate away, my appetite soured. “I’ll be glad when this wedding is over. But go ahead, lay it on me.”

“You need to fix this. I don’t care what you have to do, you need to get Sarah back or you need to find a replacement. Fast. A stand-in, someone from your office, a fucking actress. Whoever, I don’t give a fuck. But you will bring a date and she will be the seventh bridesmaid at the wedding. She will fit into the dress that has already been paid for out of my own pocket. And if you don’t, so help me god, I will disown you. I’ll find a new best man. Don’t think I won’t.”

“As long as you don’t replace me with Trevor. I don’t think I could live with the shame.”

“Shut up, Baz. You will not ruin my wife-to-be’s special day, or mine. She wants seven bridesmaids; she gets seven bridesmaids! Do you understand? The bride gets what the bride wants!”

I squinted at him. “But what does the groom want?”

“A happy wife! I thought that was obvious?”

“Shit, marriage has changed you, dude. And you haven’t even said your vows yet.”

“Yeah, maybe you should try it.”

“Me? Get married? Are you high?”

Gerard set his lips into a hard line. I rolled my eyes.

“Fine. No need to make a huge deal out of it. You know I’ll do anything for you, man. Why didn’t you just say you wanted me to bring another date along?”

“Oh, she can’t just be anyone, Baz. She must fit into the bridesmaid dress. You do realize they were all specially made? Cost a fucking fortune. Rochelle had all seven of them, Sarah included, fitted by a professional for their unique dresses. And do you know how I know all this?”

“I gather you’re going to tell me.”

Ger grunted. “Because for the last six months all I’ve heard about is this wedding! And you’re not going to be the one that spoils it by dumping—”

“I didn’t dump her—”

“Sarah at the last minute! You have a week to find someone else. Don’t let me down. Or I’ll phone Trevor,” he warned. “I’ll do it. You know I will.”

This time I stopped fooling around and looked at my best friend, who’d been there by my side since the days before high school, and nodded. “You have my word. I won’t fuck this up. I promise.”

---

“Just give me one minute,” I said, almost losing my cool.

“I told you I don’t want to talk to you. Ever again.”

“Argh, Sarah, please listen for a moment.”

“Nah, Baz, it’s over. Stop calling me! And don’t even think about coming down to my floor. I have meetings all day and a magazine to edit. Besides, I’ll have security bounce you back upstairs before you can even blink.”

“Don’t hang up,” I pleaded, hoping for a second she’d reconsider, hear the desperation in my voice, and wait until I explained that I needed her help. Needed her back in my life… at least for a little while.

A one-note tone, elongated, never-ending, droned in my ear. She’d ended the call. Goddamn women! I couldn’t win.

Maybe a dozen red roses, or two, would soften her edges. I had less than seven days to convince her to come to the wedding with me. A light bulb dinged above me; I’d send chocolates too. Maybe even those earrings I knew Sarah had been eyeing up in the jewelers a couple of blocks away from the office. An early birthday gift perhaps. That surely had to get her back on side, long enough to be a bridesmaid.

I let out a frustrated groan and was thankful I was in the elevator alone. Several other schemes presented themselves on the ride up, but somehow I already knew each one would fail. The roses would be turned into mulch, the chocolates re-gifted. Sarah wasn’t a model, but always being surrounded by them daily made her shy away from small indulgences. She’d keep the jewelry though, but in the same breath block my number. Sarah had a mean streak within her and didn’t take kindly to betrayal. Even one she’d conjured up.

What was I going to do now? I couldn’t let my best friend down. I needed to fix this.

After several more attempts, calling, leaving voicemails, redialing her phone number until I knew it by heart, I concluded Sarah obviously wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say, even if it did have something to do with Gerard and Rochelle’s upcoming nuptials. I supposed I couldn’t blame her, they’d always been friends of mine and not hers. Well, Gerard was my friend, Rochelle was just part of the package now. Yay lucky me, I thought with false enthusiasm.

The elevator dinged and I stepped out, forcing myself to come up with an alternative plan.

How hard could it be to get a date? I did it all the time when I wasn’t looking or trying. Though there were those nasty rumors Sarah had kindly spread about like manure, the seeds of doubt flourished, taking root, and even the new intern I’d originally asked out had done her damnedest to avoid me.

But I didn’t have much choice right now. I was desperate. Taking a gander around the swanky office it became clear what I had to do. I was the big fish in the little pond, the shark in these waters… and there was plenty of fish in this sea. It didn’t matter that Sarah wanted nothing to do with me anymore, there were flocks of women in the office, in the city for that matter, that would peck each other to death for a date with yours truly once they fell for my charms.

I just had to find the right bird. Or fish. I shook my head, I was mixing my metaphors.

I panned the open space weighing up my options; a director searching for his leading lady. Straightening my tie, I spotted a woman who had a figure that resembled Sarah’s; someone who could slip into the all-important dress. I approached her desk and towered over her, greeting her with a dazzling smile. All for you, baby.

“Er, can I help you, Mr. Rhodes?”

“Jessica, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Ah, yes, Jennifer.”

“Guess again.”

Shit. I knew it began with a J, but names had never been my strong suit.

“Something exotic to match those beautiful eyes, I bet.”

She glared at me.

“Jamilah?” I tried.

“Nope. Thanks for playing. Buh-bye now.”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and refused to budge. I was still her boss after all.

Sensing my reluctance to leave she sighed. “It’s Jasmine.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Jasmine. Lovely name. You’re new here, right? Can I call you Jazz?” Baz and Jazz—it had a sickly cute ring to it.

“No.”

I scowled briefly; this wasn’t going the way I planned, so I tried again. I had nothing to lose. I was already down the hole, in the trenches, digging in the wrong direction. Jasmine glanced at her screen then away, down the hall and toward the bank of elevators as if looking for a way to escape.

“Jasmine, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Is it about the Gunther building? I haven’t quite finished writing up the listing for it yet.”

“Oh, no. I was wondering if you’d like to be my date next Saturday. It’s a very special day and—”

“Aren’t you seeing Sarah from the twelfth floor?” Jasmine stuck her hand out, her palm flat. “Petite, about yay-high. Blonde? Works for that fashion magazine?”

“No… that’s been over for a long time.”

Jasmine smirked and turned to face me dead on. “That’s not what I heard. Sarah’s told us all about you…”

“How do you know Sarah?”

“That doesn’t seem relevant. It’s a small building; news travels fast.”

“Well, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Jasmine,” I said with an undercurrent of annoyance. Definitely not how this was supposed to go. I was off my game… out of practice and something about the way Jasmine was smiling had me nervous. Like she was chewing on a tasty morsel of information that she couldn’t wait to spread around. “Girls are notorious for bending the truth,” I added, but knew as soon as the damning words were out of my mouth any chance to get a date with the hostile, yet intriguing, new hire was over.

“Right, and all guys are lying assholes, with limp dicks…” Her eyes glittered with mirth. “Of course, clearly you’re the exception.”

“Maybe I am,” I said smiling. “Wait, did Sarah say something?”

“Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. I’ll never tell.” Jezebel said. Or was it Jasmine? Jez, Jazz… it didn’t matter. My mind was addled and confused and a little worried about what other rumors were flying around about me now, courtesy of my ex.

I paused. These were dangerous waters, not the warm shallows I was used to.

“Never mind. So, what do you say? Saturday? It’s an all-day event, a wedding in fact. Free bar.”

“Not if I was the last woman on earth,” she replied. With a flourish, hair whipping around, she spun her chair around to face the opposite direction and dug into the file cabinets.

A passing giggle caught my attention. “You really know how to crash and burn, Mr. Rhodes.”

My secretary, Josephine, glided by, a pleased smile on her face, like a cat that had not only got the cream but the damn mouse too.

Trying to keep my dignity I retreated, following in Jo’s wake, shoulders hunched. Well, that could’ve gone better, I thought. Luckily it was the tail end of the lunch hour and not everyone was back to see my disastrous attempt, but no doubt by the end of the day it would be all around the office.

Jo slid into her chair behind her desk. I waited for her to get situated.

“Yes?” she drawled, exaggerating her impatience. “Do you need some salve for that burn?”

Jesus, were all the women in this place out to get me? Though in the case of Miss Josephine here, that had always been the norm. I would be suspicious if she wasn’t giving me a hard time. Jo and I had never truly gotten along. She thought I was arrogant, and I thought she was an entitled sorority chick who was killing time in an office until she found a worthy husband whom she could sponge off. We tolerated each other. No, that was putting it mildly. We pretty much hated each other.

Of course, it didn’t help matters that I’d slept with the younger sister, broke her heart, then mistaken Jo for Beth when she’d first joined the company. That was an awkward moment in the supply closet.

Regardless, she was stuck with me and I was stuck with her, a gold-digging secretary, all because her uncle was my boss. I may have been the head of department, but he ruled the roost.

“I have a job for you,” I replied with a wicked smile.

“If you think I’m going to go to that stupid wedding and be your date, then you have another thing coming. Sarah has already warned us.”

“Shit, did she take out an ad in the fucking Sunday Times or something?”

“Close to it.”

“Ugh, I could sue her for slander.”

“But you won’t. You’ll only make it worse.”

She was right, I wouldn’t. This would all blow over sooner or later.

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” I replied, lying. Fuck. Onto Plan C.

“Spit it out, I don’t have all day and I’d rather not spend what’s left of my lunch hour talking to the likes of you.”

“Careful, Josephine. There’s no need to be so hostile. Remember who you are talking to. And I don’t need for you to be my date, I need you to find me a date. A bridesmaid, in fact. I’m a busy man and well, I just don’t have the time to search the meat-market to find a choice cut.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I already have a job.”

“Not for long…”

“You can’t threaten me,” she spat back.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Unless you want me to tell a certain somebody that it was your fault the contracts for the Morton deal were late. A lot of money was lost that day.” I’d held this little bit of information in my back pocket for a few weeks now, hoping I could eventually use it; mount a campaign of gross incompetence against her, to get rid of the thorn in my side, so I could replace her with a secretary who didn’t scowl at me all day.

But using it for this was just as good. I didn’t have time to search high and low for a bridesmaid. Like I said, I was a busy, important man. And I didn’t want to strike out for a third time after Sarah and Jasmine. My ego could only be bruised so much in one day.

Jo laughed. “It’s my word against yours. My uncle will never believe you.”

“Maybe so, but do you want to take the risk? Besides, I have another reason you’ll want to play matchmaker.” I smiled and waited for her to bite.

A second later her mouth opened and I reeled her in. “And what’s that?” she asked with a testy exhale.

“Guess who’s in charge of this quarter’s bonuses?” This time I was beaming, lips spread wide, giving her my best wolfish grin.

Jo groaned. “You? But—”

“Bingo!”

“And let me guess, you plan on not giving me one if I don’t do what you ask?”

“Precisely. You catch on quick when you want to.”

“You’re a dick.”

I tutted and waggled my finger. “A dick that has leverage,” I said and shot her a wink. “I’ll even sweeten the deal. You find me the perfect bridesmaid, and I’ll double your bonus. Win-win all round. How does that sound?”

“Like I’m making a deal with the devil.”

I chortled. “Oh, you have no idea.” I leaned down and took the pen from her hand and found a scrap of paper. I listed the requirements for the date I needed for Gerard’s wedding. It was a short list, mainly comprised of her being able to fit into the one-of-a-kind dress. I scribbled the details Ger had drummed into me. Better be worth it, I thought.

Jo glanced at it and frowned. “Is that it? You sure you don’t want her to have a huge set of knockers too?”

“Don’t be crude, Josephine. It doesn’t suit you,” I said with another tut. “I simply need a date. Someone who’ll look good on my arm and won’t drool after one glass of champagne. Think you can manage that?”

“I guess, but where am I supposed to find someone who will go out with you? Your reputation isn’t exactly stellar at the moment.” Jo barked a laugh. “She’d have to live in another state. Or country!”

“I don’t care how you find one, just do it. There are plenty of those online dating apps, right? Timber?”

“Tinder.”

“Whatever. Set me up with some accounts, narrow the applicants down. Get off your lazy ass for once and do this. Find me a bridesmaid.”

Jo crossed her arms and glared at me. I knew she wished I would drop dead but I defied her and stared right back; living, breathing, and in color.

Then a slow smile started to upturn her lips, her eyes sparkling as if a switch had been turned on in her head. For some reason, she reminded me of Batman’s Joker. That didn’t bode well.

“What?” I enquired.

“Oh, nothing,” she said sweetly, inspecting her nails. “I have the perfect solution. I’ll have you a match in no time. Piece of cake.”

“Good,” I said a little uneasy. “Make sure she’s the right size, mind. That’s the most important thing you have to worry about. She has to fit into the dress.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Good,” I said again, my tone sharper this time. “Otherwise no pocket-money for you. Don’t screw it up, Jo. You’ll know I’ll make your life a living hell if you do.”

With that all sorted I turned to my office.

“No wonder, Sarah left you,” Jo muttered behind me.

“I heard that.”

“You were supposed to!”