her delicate gold sandals and nodded agreement.
“Me too. The boots gave me blisters.”
“Wear heels next time,” he advised her, sipping his vodka.
“I will. I promise. You know,” she said, sipping the champagne, “we have really nice children. I love them very much.”
“I do too.”
“I don't think Charles likes them,” she said, frowning.
“They don't like him either,” Blake said, and they both laughed hard at that too. And then Maxine squinted at him as though from a great distance.
“Why did we get divorced anyway? Do you remember? I don't. Did you do something bad to me?” She was definitely drunk by then, and so was Blake.
“I forgot to come home.” He smiled sadly.
“Oh, that was it. Now I remember. That's too bad. I really like you… actually, I love you,” she said, smiling benignly at him, and hiccuped again.
“I love you too,” Blake said gently, and then his conscience got the better of him. “Maybe you should go to bed, Max. You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow at your wedding.” Champagne was always a killer the next day.
“Are you asking me to go to bed with you?” she asked, looking a little startled.
“No, I'm not. If I did, Charles would be really pissed tomorrow, and you'd feel really guilty. But I think you should go to bed.” She finished the last of her champagne as she said it, and by then he could see she was really drunk. The final glass had made the difference, and he was feeling very drunk too. The vodka did him in after a long night of drinking, or maybe it was seeing her that way, in her gold dress. She was intoxicating. She always had been for him. He suddenly remembered, and wondered how he could have forgotten.
“Why do I have to go to bed so early?” she pouted at him.
“Because, Cinderella,” he said gently, scooping her up in his arms, and lifting her off the couch, “you're going to turn into a pumpkin if you don't. And you're going to marry the handsome prince tomorrow.” He started walking her to her bedroom.
“No, I'm not. I'm marrying Charles. I remember that. He's not the handsome prince. You are. Why am I marrying him?” She looked suddenly annoyed, and Blake laughed as he staggered and nearly dropped her, and then got a better grip. She was light as a feather.
“I think you're marrying him because you love him,” he said as he walked into her bedroom, and put her gently on the bed, and then stood looking at her, weaving slightly. They were both as drunk as skunks.
“Oh, that's nice,” Maxine said pleasantly. “I love him. And I really should marry him. He's a doctor.” And then she looked at Blake. “I think you're too drunk to go home. And I'm too drunk to drive you.” It was a fairly accurate assessment of the situation. “You'd better stay here.” As she said it, the room was reeling around him.
“I'll just lie down for a minute and sober up, if that's okay with you. And then I'll drive home. You don't mind, do you?” he asked, as he lay down next to her in his dinner jacket and his shoes.
“I don't mind at all,” she said, as she turned toward him, and put her head on his shoulder. She was still wearing the gold dress and the gold shoes. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
“That's the name of our boat,” Blake said, with his eyes closed, and passed out cold.
Chapter 24
“Hello?” Sam said, still wearing his pajamas, as he yawned. They had all been up late, and he was tired. He didn't know where anyone else was, except he knew Daphne had had too much champagne the night before, but he had promised not to tell when she threw up when they got home.
“Hi, Sam.” It was Charles. He sounded wide awake. “Can I talk to your mom, please? I just want to say hello. I know she must be very busy before the wedding.” She had told him that she had someone coming to do her hair and makeup. And he was sure the house was a zoo. “Can you go get her? I'll only take a minute.” Sam put down the phone, and padded in his bare feet to her bedroom. He looked through the open door, and saw both his parents sound asleep with their clothes on. His father was snoring. He didn't want to wake them up, so he went back to the phone and picked up the receiver.
“They're still sleeping,” he announced firmly.
“They?” Charles knew it couldn't be Sam, since he was talking to him. So who was she sleeping with at this hour, on their wedding day? It made no sense to him.
“My dad's in there too. He's snoring,” Sam explained. “I'll tell her you called when she wakes up.” The phone clicked in Sam's ear before he hung up, and he went back upstairs to his room. Since no one else was awake, he didn't see why he had to get ready yet. He turned on the TV, and for once, he couldn't even hear Zellie's baby. It sounded like everyone was dead.
The hairdresser and makeup artist arrived promptly at ten-thirty. Zelda let them in, realized what time it was, and went to wake Maxine up. Zelda was surprised to see Blake sleeping beside her. But she could figure out what had happened. They both had their clothes on. They must have gotten drunk off their asses the night before. She poked Max gently on the shoulder, and after half a dozen attempts, she finally stirred, and looked up at Zelda with a moan. She closed her eyes immediately and clutched her head with both hands. Blake was still sound asleep beside her, and was snoring like a bulldog.
“Oh my God,” Maxine said, squeezing her eyes closed against the light. “Oh my God…I have a brain tumor and I'm dying.”
“I think it could be the champagne,” Zelda said quietly, trying not to laugh at her.
“Stop shouting!” Maxine said, with her eyes closed.
“You're in bad shape,” Zelda confirmed to her. “Your hairdresser and makeup person are here. What should I tell them?”
“I don't need a hairdresser,” she said, trying to sit up. “I need a brain surgeon… oh my God,” she said, looking down at Blake. “What's he doing here?” And then she remembered. She looked at Zelda then in amazement.
“I think you're okay. You're both dressed.”
Maxine poked him then, and shook him awake. He stirred, and moaned just as she had.
“Maybe it's an epidemic of brain tumors,” Zelda suggested, as Blake opened his eyes and looked at both of them with a grin.
“I've been kidnapped. Hi, Zellie. How come your baby's not screaming?”
“I think he wore himself out. What can I get you both?”
“A doctor,” Maxine said. “No… shit… don't even think it. If Charles saw us, he'd kill me.”
“He doesn't have to know,” Zelda said firmly. “It's none of his business. You're not his wife yet.”
“And I never will be, if he hears about this,” Maxine moaned. Blake was beginning to think that wasn't such a bad idea. He stood up then, testing his sea legs, straightened his tie, and walked unsteadily toward the door.
“I'll go home,” he said, as though that was a revolutionary concept.
“Drink a lot of coffee when you do,” Zelda suggested. They both still looked drunk to her, or had the worst hangovers she'd ever seen. “How much did you two drink anyway?” Zelda asked Maxine as they heard the front door close behind Blake.
“A lot. Champagne always kills me,” Maxine said as she crawled off the bed, just as Sam came into the room to find her.
“Where's Daddy?” he asked, looking at his mom. She looked a lot worse than Daphne, who was hung over too.
“He went home.” Maxine tiptoed across the room as fireworks went off in her head. It was a repeat performance of last night, but not nearly as pretty.
