One-Off (19 page)

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Authors: Lynn Galli

Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #lesbian fiction, #Fiction, #Romance, #Lgbt, #Retail, #Genre Fiction, #Lesbian, #Lesbian Romance, #Literature & Fiction

BOOK: One-Off
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“Well, I think—”

I held up a hand to cut her off. “I think your husband went off to the tux shop with his son and you were feeling left out, so you decided to go along with us when maybe you should have stayed home. What do you think? There’s no doubt a pointless Bravo reality TV marathon that you’d rather be watching, isn’t there?”

She huffed audibly. “I don’t need to stand here for this.”

I sighed and let my anger flood away. “I don’t mean to sound insulting, but we’re all a little stressed right now. I’m sure you understand.”

“Right,” she murmured then turned to leave. “It’s not like I was suggesting her mother and I wear the same thing. I just wanted to see what she was wearing.”

“I’m sure whatever you choose will be fine.” Although based on the brash gold jewelry and tight hooker-like dress, I wasn’t all that sure.

“Tell Dallas I had some pressing business to attend to.” She barely finished speaking before she slipped out the door.

I should have felt bad that I’d ripped into her, but she was an unnecessary addition to an already incendiary situation. I turned to go back to the fitting area and found Ainsley watching me. Her eyes shifted to the front window and Rochelle’s retreat. A moment later, she closed the distance between us and reached to cup my face. Before I knew what was happening she was leaning forward to kiss my cheek.

“Thank you for that.” Her whisper brushed against my face. “Mum was getting weepy.”

“You’re welcome.”

She stepped back and avoided looking directly at me. “Dallas made the right decision with you.”

She was surprising me left and right this week. It was almost like we were getting to be friends. That thought left me a little dazed, so I smiled and led her back to the fitting room. I didn’t allow myself to attribute some of the haziness to the lingering effect of her kiss on my cheek.

 

Twenty-Seven

Everyone else had the same idea. It meant pushing my way through other show producers to get to the front of the set just behind the cameras. The show runner looked over and smiled with relief when she saw me take up the space that several others had been vying for.

Dallas was taking a seat at the anchor desk on set. She set her script down and glanced up, spotting me among the throng of people. Her smile flared as it always did when she found me watching her show. I’d rarely missed a taping since she joined the network eight years ago.

Colin appeared at the soundstage doors. He received high fives from every crew member he passed. That was his preshow ritual. He placed a hand on Dallas’s shoulder. She glanced up and smiled at him. They did have unmatched on-air comradery. Among the hundreds of news hour magazine or interview type shows, their harmony set them apart. They led their hour in ratings among cable networks.

Once the show started, it went by in a blur. They taped segments from the desk and their interview set, introducing their prerecorded interviews from South America intermixed with in-studio political analysts. After editing tomorrow, this would be the most explosive show our network had ever put on the airwaves.

“Congratulations.” I stepped up onto the set after they’d signed off and gotten kudos from everyone else. “Great show.”

“Think so?” Dallas asked. “It felt right. My contact with the DEA told me they’re serving warrants now. We’ve taped two narratives for the ending voiceover. If they get him in custody, this could be the best show ever.”

“And you’ll be the main reason that happens. You both should be so proud of yourselves.”

“It feels pretty damn good,” Colin agreed, looping his arm around Dallas’s shoulders. “Are you ready for tonight, babe?” Dallas hid her shudder pretty well, but Colin caught it and rolled his eyes. “It’s just dinner.”

“With a hundred Scottish people that all speak too quickly for me to understand anything.”

“Sixty Scottish people and they’ve been warned to refrain from teasing the American.”

“You’re just as American as me, bub.” She poked his side.

“If I hadn’t spent every summer there, I’d be as lost as you with some of the inflections.”

Dallas looked at me. “Are we picking you up or are you meeting us there?”

I pulled back, frowning. “I’m not going. This is Colin’s family dinner night. I’ll be at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night.”

“You can’t abandon me to this.” She looked stricken. “You don’t have any trouble understanding their accents.”

“I’m not in Colin’s family. You’re not bringing your sisters or mom, so you’re not bringing me.”

“You’d be welcome, Skye,” Colin offered graciously, but I could see he agreed with me. It would be weird to show up with his bride-to-be and her best friend to meet his whole family.

“I’m looking forward to a quiet evening.”

“Not all quiet,” Dallas reminded me.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have all the guest gifts set out so we can get those done tomorrow before the rehearsal dinner.”

“You sure you don’t mind?” Dallas asked again. She knew my answer before I said it, but she asked anyway because after going through the list of everything we’d done while they were gone, she really appreciated how much work we took off their hands.

“I don’t mind.” Three and a half weeks ago I would have been lying when I said that. Knowing how much work weddings were, I was happy to help if it meant taking the stress from my friend.

“I’m excited to get my hands into something other than dress fittings. I almost strangled Detroit last night.”

I laughed. “You were so preoccupied dealing with her you didn’t have time to be concerned about the tiny alterations your dress still needs.”

“You’re not trying to tell me that Savannah acted like that on purpose to distract me?”

I shrugged, wanting to think the best of her sisters. It was possible that it started out that way, but she did sound pretty serious about not liking the purple. “Let’s hope she was. Did you finish the seating chart?”

“Last night,” Colin said.

“Are you printing the name cards or writing them?”

“We started to write them, but realized it was way too cumbersome. I can’t believe I made you address all the invitations by hand.”

“Half of them were just names on envelopes to hand deliver. We split the rest. It wasn’t horrible, but I don’t ever want to do that again. Good thing I’m never getting married.”

“You say that now, but when you fall in love, you’ll be totally gone,” Dallas said as if it were the wisest thing she’d said today. “You’re that kind of person. I can tell.”

“If I didn’t have four meetings lined up later I’d have the energy to debate you on that.”

“You’ll see I’m right. And when we get back from the honeymoon, I’ll have a lot of time on my hands to convert you.”

“Dream big, sister.” I retreated before she went on with her crazy idea.

 

Twenty-Eight

As far as bachelorette parties went, this seemed pretty typical. The only thing missing were strippers. We’d had dinner in a private room at one of the nicest restaurants in town. Stopped off at the trendiest bar where everyone managed to get sloshed on only two drinks. Then we moved on to my part of the party, a competitive scavenger hunt. First Prize was nothing more than a gift certificate to a designer bag shop, but these women were hunting like I was giving away the whole store.

They’d taken up in teams of two and were scouring the city to find the clues I’d paid three interns on staff to hide. I was sticking with Dallas’s team, but it was proving to be difficult because she kept asking for hints. Her partner, Hope, host of her own political talk show, was just as adamant about staying ahead of the pack as Dallas was. The clues were given out randomly to prevent cheating. We’d crossed paths with Dallas’s sisters as well as Morgan, and her partner, Karla, the associate producer on Dallas’s show. I’d thought the point of these parties was to make the bride Queen for the Day. Instead, these women were seriously trying to win that prize and swipe victory from Dallas’s clutches. Not that she needed a gift certificate. She probably owned all of the designer’s bags already, but she should be the winner at her own party.

“Aha!” Hope exclaimed as if she were part of a Victorian detective novel. She pointed to the key phrase from the last clue.

Dallas’s eyes widened and they took off to the nearest Metro station, not even waiting to see if I was following. It was the last clue, and I was hoping they’d be the first to find it. Dallas deserved to win this game.

At Union Station, they practically shoved people out of the way to get upstairs. I glanced behind me and found her sisters getting off the same train, one car back. “Your sisters!” I yelled ahead of the two people that had slipped between me and Dallas.

She looked back, eyes wide and searching. Her hand reached out to grab Hope and yank her up the stairs two at a time. I swerved around the couple in front of me to follow and watch the photo finish.

Seconds after Dallas and Hope got up the stairs, her sisters appeared at the top of the other stairwell. Dread filled my stomach knowing that her sisters were twenty feet closer to the clue than Dallas. Savannah disagreed with Denver over which potted plant held the icon. They hadn’t seen Dallas yet even with a few people calling out both Dallas and Hope’s names. Then as if some divine power intervened, Denver allowed Savannah to lead her over to the potted plant next to the stairwell we’d just taken. They did a double take when they noticed me standing there smiling brightly. It didn’t stop them from searching around the plant, moving the pot, and lifting it to try to find the treasure. When nothing came from their search, they found me again with question in their eyes. My smile hadn’t faded as I pointed to Dallas and Hope doing a victory dance next to the right plant.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in ages,” Dallas said when the other teams had caught up.

“If you think that’s fun, wait till we’re at the next place.” Denver beamed at her.

Dallas looked from me to them and back to question me. I shrugged and smiled. Denver had asked if she and her sister could plan part of the bachelorette party. It seemed only right that they get to do something special for their sister.

We got into cabs in front of Union Station and made our way over to the hotel where Denver and Savannah were staying. I wasn’t sure what we were doing, but at this point, I’d turned the evening over to the sisters. Whatever we did from now on was on them.

Balloons and streamers filled Savannah’s suite. Champagne and strawberries were laid out on the dining room table. “We’re going to unwind before heading out to our next adventure.” She went over to the stereo and clicked on the music as everyone dropped into seats.

Dallas stories were swapped through the first and second rounds of champagne. It was fun to listen to embarrassing stories about my best friend from when she was younger. Denver was a pretty good storyteller.

A knock sounded at the door. I gauged the sound level and hoped it wasn’t hotel security telling us to quiet it down. Savannah hurried to the door and let in two security guys. They entered with stern expressions that said we were going to be shut down. I hoped whatever Savannah had planned next could start now instead of us casting about for something to do until her planned event.

Denver and Dallas stood beside Savannah facing the men. They didn’t stand a chance against this trio of sisters. We were warned to keep it down. While Denver agreed, Savannah for some reason started talking back. I instinctively took a step forward ready to calm the situation if needed. That seemed to be my job description these days.

Before I could intervene, the tallest security guard got right up in Savannah’s face and proceeded to rip his blazer off and gyrate his hips. When the other guy did the same thing to Dallas and all the women started squealing, my mouth dropped open. Strippers. Male strippers. Peachy. I guess I should have asked Dallas if she wanted cliché strippers for her party. I thought I knew her pretty well and strippers weren’t really her thing.

The sisters dropped to the couch as the men striped in front of them. Hope reached a hand out to smack one of the stripper’s asses and started squealing as she huddled with Karla. Dallas looked both fascinated and repulsed. It was hard not to appreciate the smooth six pack and muscular pecs, but once they got down to their G-strings, I wasn’t the only one looking away. Dallas seemed pretty embarrassed to have one of the guys grinding in her face and the other practically dry humping her younger sister.

Surprisingly the guy on Dallas seemed to get that she wasn’t as into it, so he started circulating around to the rest of the women. I stood as he approached me and waved him off. Dallas started laughing and Morgan joined in.

“You’re not her type,” Dallas called when she recognized that I was not having any of this.

He gave her a confused look and tried to again wiggle his hips in front of me. I put my hands up and pointed him toward the couch. “Denver needs a little attention.”

“Not a word to my husband,” she warned everyone and waved pesky red G-string over.

The other stripper was still giving Savannah most of his attention and Dallas yelled, “Purple’s not so bad now, huh, sis?”

“It’s excellent.” Savannah giggled, her eyes glued to his purple G-string. She took another large slurp of her fourth glass of champagne. She was going to be hurting tomorrow.

For another hour, the women worked every dollar out of those strippers. At one point everyone was up dancing with them, and I had a hard time remembering these were all grown women. I was also glad I’d never been to a bachelorette party before. If they’d been female strippers, would I have enjoyed myself more? Likely not. I probably would have wanted to talk them into applying for college or something equally constructive.

When the real hotel security knocked on the door, Denver paid the strippers and started shutting down. I handed out bottles of water and aspirin, giving everyone instructions to finish it before bed. Dallas and I were the last to leave. I wouldn’t let her out of the room until she’d finished one bottle of water. I forced another down her on the cab ride to her house.

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