“I’m from Miami, she’s Canadian.” Sukii motions her head toward Jenny who flinches as if she didn’t want us to know that.
“Canada, eh?” Cap points at me and does the fun “eh” thing for sport. “Lori’s from Canada too.”
“Oh I know,” Jenny’s eyes meet mine for the first time, narrowing for a microsecond before she smiles but there is no kindness in them. It’s all piss and vinegar. This girl hates me.
“Where in Canada?” I have to ask. She doesn’t want to speak to me which makes me want to talk to her more, provoking her and refusing to let her off that easy.
“British Columbia, same as you.” She knows me. I almost take it the wrong way before I remember she’s my PR rep, of course she knows where I’m from. That’s her job.
“Vancouver?” I ask.
“Van Isle. The northern end.” She doesn’t want to say her town on Vancouver Island, which means I have to grill harder.
“Oh, near Port Hardy?” I refuse to let up. I’m grinning at the flicker of disappointment when she realizes I know the island well enough.
“Port McNeill,” she clarifies.
“Right, of course. I had a buddy from there. We went to Notre Dame together.”
“Cool.” She smiles, turning to glance down the line of guests, not asking me who the buddy was.
But again, I don’t let her off the hook. “Brent—”
“Doesn’t sound familiar,” she cuts me off and offers her fake smile once more before she turns to Bev and smiles genuinely. “Jenny.”
“Bev.” Bev smiles wide, her twangy tone is soft. “Matty’s my moron. So you’re the one spending your life wiping his ass and cleaning his messes?”
“Something like that.” Jenny laughs, lifting one of her beers.
“Wait, Jenny?” Cap leans forward. “Not Snowdon?” He squints. “Holy shit.” He points at her and true terror fills her gaze.
She is pleading with him to stop. “You must know my brother’s band. Yeah, Josh Snowdon, is my brother,” she offers quickly. “The lead singer of Twin Peeks—”
“Errr, yeah. Right.” Cap doesn’t lie as well or as fast as she does, but he gets her drift. What the hell is happening? How did he know her brother and her last name?
No one else is noticing this weird exchange except the little brunette next to Jenny who cuts in, “So, Cap, are you guys bummed about the playoffs? That was a brutal loss to the Senators.”
It’s his turn to cringe but he answers with the exact diplomacy a captain needs, “All we can do is learn from the loss and move on. We’ll get them next year.”
She smiles at him and I get a weird twist in my guts.
If anyone is playing the back nine tonight, it’ll be Cap.
Not sure I ever saw Cap as one of the guys who cheats, but as far as the brunette is concerned, it’s game on.
9 Coolest girl at the party
Jenny
The setting for the meet and greet is amazing.
The rustic farm tables have cream lace runners with burlap woven around the leaf-covered olive branch centerpieces placed throughout, adding a splash of color. Pale wooden lanterns are set every few feet, creating a warm glow. They match the chandeliers and are offset perfectly by the white flower bouquets placed here and there between the lanterns.
The small speeches, toasts, and awkward beginnings are over, thank God, and we are eating. The food is incredible. A feast of barbecued meats, amazing salads, and the best roasted potatoes.
Cousin Bev, the coolest girl I’ve ever met, is a blast and has been filling me in on the story of Matt and Sami, the behind-the-scenes version.
She’s affectionately drunk as she leans in, shouting her blissful Southern twang over the band’s weirdly good version of “Summertime” by George Gershwin. “So then Matt and Sami patched things up.” She motions her head at asshole Lawrence who is deep in jolly conversation with Carson and Rich. “If not, Lori and Sami might be the ones getting married. He offered to be her baby daddy and save her reputation.” She lowers her voice and leans in more, her words brushing against my ear, “Deep down, he’s always had a thing for her.”
“No way!” I shout back, stunned but also seeing the predictability of someone like Lawrence being into Upper East Side girls.
She lifts her finger to her lips. “He doesn’t know I am onto his feelings.”
“I won’t say a word.” I do the stupid thing Sukii always does and lock my lips with a zip.
“So changing the subject”—she pauses and sits back, eyeing me up—“what’s your deal? How are you here?”
“At this party or this point in my life?” I ask with a weird beer giggle, realizing it’s hitting me.
“Both.”
“The short answer is my boss didn’t want to come.” I scan the lively group of people eating, drinking, and laughing. “He’s eighty. So this isn’t really his scene.” It’s the understatement of the year. “He kinda forced it on me. I didn’t want to, but he’s helping me find an apartment in Midtown for cheap if I came in his place.”
“What?” She laughs again. “He bribed you?”
“Yeah.” I laugh too. “Cheap rent in Midtown is unheard of. And I was desperate and I’ve only been with the company for six years. I couldn’t say no. I feel awful but he’s moving my apartment this weekend.” I hiccup, regretting bringing this up. “I’ll come home to a new place to live on Sunday. But it’s a debt I owe now.”
“Damn, he must hate weddings.” She finishes off her mug of beer and lifts it up. “Garcon.” It’s the worst French accent attempt I’ve heard. “More beer!”
I follow her gaze to Lawrence who smiles and nods. When he looks at her, there’s something handsome about him, beyond the obvious gorgeousness. It’s a kindness and respect in his gaze I haven’t seen before.
“And one for my lovely friend here.” She points at me. As his eyes flicker to me the smugness finds its way back.
I part my lips to say I’m fine but he turns
