Scot on the Rocks

wiping the frosting off.

The band began to play some sort of traditional wedding song as waiters quickly began serving the cake. Vanessa politely shook her head no when a waiter came to us with pieces of cake.

“Isn’t it supposed to be bad luck not to have a bite of wedding cake?” I asked Vanessa, as I longingly watched the waiter walk away.

“No,” Vanessa corrected me, “it’s only supposed to be good luck if you do.”

“Either way, I think we need some of that cake.”

“I’m not really hungry,” Vanessa said.

“Get me some of that goddamned cake,” I said as a waiter walked by with another piece. I politely nodded and smiled at him, as if I had not just cursed at my best friend over a baked good, and took a piece for Vanessa and me to share.

“None for me,” Vanessa said as I handed her a fork. I ignored her and began eating.

“I think you only need one bite for the good luck to kick in,” Vanessa said.

“Well, I need all the good luck I can get,” I told her as I continued devouring the piece of cake.

“Yeah,” she said, “Me, too. Save some for me.” And with that, she began to dig into the cake. Within seconds, we were onto our second piece, adorned with a sugar rose (undoubtedly a symbol of even more good luck), which we split in two. I ate my half with my hands while Vanessa ate hers carefully with her fork.

After we finished, we took another spin around the reception — from the bar to the bathroom, meandering through some of the tables filled with the more famous faces in attendance. (I knew that was Matt Damon!) After a few laps, we finally found ourselves back at our table, all alone. Jenna was up dancing with her husband, and the other guests from our table were scattered about. It dawned on me that this may have been the first wedding Vanessa had ever attended alone. She fidgeted and looked unsure of what she should do. She began to pick at a dinner roll.

“Isn’t anyone going to ask us to dance?” she asked me, looking around the reception with hope in her eyes.

“It doesn’t look like there are any single guys here,” I said. I thought but didn’t say: “And even if there were, odds are they would be too insecure/immature/arrogant/flat out rude to even ask.”

“So,” Vanessa said, looking around the reception again, “I guess we’re all alone now.”

“Welcome to the world of the single girl.”

25

Sitting at my table, I could see him from across the dance floor. Jack. He was still here. Jackie was still at the wedding, after all — I knew he couldn’t leave me. I smiled to myself. He was dancing and as the crowd cleared a bit, I could see the redhead trying to wrap her tentacles around him once again.

Without thinking, I stormed across the dance floor, grabbed Jack and kissed him. The redhead jumped back and the rest of the crowd faded away as we kissed and kissed and kissed.

“So, does this mean that you think that I’m ridiculously good-looking after all?” he asked me.

“Well, you look ridiculous,” I replied with a smile.

“Let’s dance,” he said, and took my hand. He gave me a gentle spin and I fell into his arms, slowly, as if it had always been meant to be.

“Let’s just say that it means that any guy who puts on a skirt for me is something special,” I said.

“It’s about the legs, isn’t it?” Jack asked. “I’ve got great legs, don’t I? I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“You’re right,” I said, leaning into him. “I can’t.” He kissed me.

“But you’re not going to make me dress up in it again, are you?” he asked as he pulled away slowly. “Like some bizarre, kinky sexual fetish?”

“God, no,” I said, shuddering at the thought. I would never do anything crazy like this ever again in my life. I had learned my lesson. From now on, I will be honest and try to behave like the normal, well-adjusted big-time lawyer that I am.

“Damn.”

“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “I have other tricks to get you to show me your legs.”

“You dirty, dirty girl,” he said, and gave me another peck on the lips. He spun me around and I fell into his arms again.

“So, is this the part where we would normally fess up everything and tell everyone the truth?” I asked him.

“Probably,” Jack said.

“That we’ve perpetrated this huge fraud on the Scottish community but that we’re sorry and then we all hug or something?”

“Probably.”

“But, we’re not going to do that, are we?” I asked.

“Hell, no,” Jack said.

“Thank God,” I said. “See, this is why people hate L.A.”

“Yeah, all of the people are so phony,” Jack agreed.

We kissed and it was perfect. Absolutely perfect. We kissed and kissed and kissed and we didn’t care about who else was there or where we were.

“Brooke,” Jack said.

“Yes,” I said, eyes still closed.

“Do you have it?” Jack asked.

“Have what?” I asked.

“The initial research on likelihood of confusion,” he said.

I opened my eyes, and I was not at the wedding anymore at all — it was just a daydream. A positively delicious daydream, but a daydream nonetheless. I wanted to go back to the daydream where I was still at the wedding, kissing Jack and he had forgiven me for kissing Douglas and everything had been sorted out. Instead, I was in a conference room back in New York at a strategy meeting on the Healthy Foods case. Jack was there, only he didn’t look as if he wanted to kiss me. He just sat across the conference-room table seething and silently hating me.

I sat up in my chair, hoping that I looked as if I were paying attention to the meeting, and not daydreaming about Jack and me kissing.

“Yes, of course I have that research,” I said, knowing full well that Jack knew that I did not. It was the research project the partner on the case had tried to give me on our way out to California the previous weekend. Jack knew that I hadn’t done any work on the case over the weekend and that I had been so tied up on my other cases that I hadn’t even looked at Healthy Foods all week since I’d been back. And it was Thursday. For a minute I was actually nervous that Jack would tell.

“I think that Brooke can handle the follow-up research, as well, then,” Jack told the partners. “By Monday, Brooke?” Jack said. Monday? Did he just give me a weekend assignment? Jack had just banished me to the office for the whole of the weekend. And he hadn’t even tried to pretend that he hadn’t by giving me a Tuesday due date. He was angrier than I thought.

“Not a problem,” I said. “We’re still set to go to the client together tomorrow?”

“Were you taking Brooke to Healthy Foods?” one of the partners asked Jack.

“I’ll take Tina with me to the client tomorrow and Brooke can stay here and do the heavy lifting. Right, Brooke?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said. I could not believe that he was going to take Tina Epstein, the first-year associate on the matter, to the client and leave me here to do research — all weekend long, mind you — when the first-year associate could easily have done it. And probably should have. I billed out at a much higher rate than a first-year associate.