Tall Tales and Wedding Veils (2 page)

He couldn’t believe how everything had fallen perfectly into place. He’d put in an offer, and after a week of negotiation, Frank had finally agreed to finance the majority of the sales price, only to have their negotiations hit a stalemate when Tony was twenty thousand short of what Frank insisted on for a down payment. That was when he asked his friend Dave to loan him the twenty thousand, and in return, he would become a silent partner.

Tony performed the necessary due diligence. He checked out the current demographic trends and the projected business growth in the area. Hired somebody to do a projected profit/loss statement. Ordered inspections of the building and the facilities. Everything had looked good, and they were set to close escrow on Monday morning.

He couldn’t wait.

As Tracy walked away, Tony turned and looked out over the room. Even though the crowd was light at five o’clock, he knew it would pick up considerably in the next hour. Right now, two guys were drinking beer and playing pool. A young couple was deep in conversation at a table near the door. And Tracy had just set a couple of martinis in front of two women sitting in a booth against the wall.

The women weren’t exactly his type—a little too ordinary-looking—but anyone who came through the door with money in his pocket and looking for a good time was going to be his new favorite customer. He intended to become Mr. Hospitality, courting every one of them with great food, drink specials, and a big, welcoming smile. A neighborhood bar was all about making people feel right at home, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

He turned to see Dave come through the door. Tony had arranged to meet him here to get a check for the twenty thousand, which he was going to deposit this afternoon, which meant he’d be right on track for the Monday morning closing. Tony waved at him, and Dave made his way over to the table and sat down.

“Beer?” Tony said. “I’m buying.”

“No, thanks.”

“Aw, come on. Have one with me. I feel like celebrating.”

Dave shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah? Well, you’re not going to feel like it in a minute.”

Tony froze, dread creeping through him. “Dave? What are you talking about?”

Dave blew out a breath. “Bad news, man.”

“What?”

“I can’t give you the twenty thousand.”

Chapter 2

B
ridesmaid dresses are supposed to be ugly,” Alison said as she twirled the spear of olives in her martini glass. “It’s the law.”

Heather took a healthy sip of her own martini, hoping by the time she reached the bottom of the glass, the memory of those dresses would be obliterated.

Oh, hell. Who was she kidding? She could chug an entire bottle of gin and still wouldn’t be able to forget.

Alison tucked a strand of her straight brown hair behind her ear, then put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, listening to Heather get the bridal-shop experience out of her system. Alison had perpetually widened brown eyes that made her look as if she was interested in anything a person was saying, even when she wasn’t. This was probably one of those times when she wasn’t, but she was too good a friend to say so.

“It wasn’t just that the style was weird,” Heather said. “It was the color, too. They were
pink.
”

Alison’s forehead crinkled. “Pink’s not really your color.”

“That pink wasn’t anybody’s color. Take a blender. Throw in a chunk of watermelon. Toss in a dozen flamingo feathers. Top it off with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. Hit the button, and there you go.”

“How about we make a pact?” Alison said. “When we get married, we have veto power over each other’s bridesmaid dresses. That’ll lessen the chances of either of us making a tragic mistake.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Heather said.

They locked pinky fingers, entering into the umpteenth pact they’d made since junior high. The first one had been a pinky swear that unless they both got dates to the Christmas dance, neither one of them would go, which turned out to be a nonissue since nobody asked either of them.

“Do you remember when we were in high school,” Alison said, “and we made lists of the qualities we wanted in the men we married?”

Heather remembered. Her list had included
intelligent, well dressed,
and
good sense of humor.
Alison’s list had consisted of
nice body, good kisser,
and
well hung.
Even though they’d both been virgins at the time, Alison’s intuition told her that size really did matter.

“Yeah,” Heather said. “I wanted a professional man. You wanted a porn star.”

“Hey! Stamina is a very worthwhile quality in a man. I mean, if it’s over in five minutes, then what’s the point of doing it at all?” Alison looked across the room. “And speaking of men we’d like to marry . . .”

Heather turned to see one of McMillan’s regulars sitting at a table with another man she didn’t recognize. Her heart always skipped a little whenever she saw Tony McCaffrey, but only because there were certain basic reactions a woman couldn’t fight.

“Marriage?” Heather said. “A man like him?”

“You’re right. Forget marriage. I’d settle for a nice, steamy affair.”

Which was about all a man like Tony would be able to deliver, since guys like him were all about playing the field. With those captivating green eyes and dazzling smile, he could have a woman stark naked before she knew what hit her.

“Yeah, he’s gorgeous, all right,” Heather said. “But would you really want a man like him?”

“Please. Would
you
kick him out of bed?”

“I’d never go to bed with him in the first place.”

Alison rolled her eyes. “You are such a liar.”

“No, I’m not. I like men with brains. Guys like him are so good-looking they’ve never had to rely on anything else.”

“I don’t know about you,” Alison said, “but I’d be having sex with the man, not asking him to derive a new law of physics.”

“Fine. Why don’t you hop over there and see if he’s free tonight?”

“Right,” Alison said. “And the entire time we were talking, he’d be looking over my shoulder at one of the waitress’s butts.”

“Exactly. What’s the future with a guy like him?”

“Forget the future. I’d be perfectly willing to take him one night at a time.” Alison sighed wistfully. “Why is it women like us never get men like him?”

“Because we’re B-cups with three-digit IQs.”

“Seriously. Look what we have to offer. We’re college graduates. We have good jobs with 401(k)s. We’re not in therapy. Maybe we’re not Miss America material, but we don’t scare small children, do we?”

Heather frowned. “Next you’re going to say we have good personalities and childbearing hips.”

“Trouble is, we have boring professions. You’re an accountant, and I’m a loan officer. What man wants to date either one of those?”

“So what should we do? Become flight attendants? Exotic dancers? Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders?”

“I was thinking Hooters girls. Just once I’d like a man to love me for my body instead of my mind.”

And that was exactly what it took to get the attention of a man like Tony: a hot body in low-slung jeans and a tight T-shirt that showed off perky breasts, a belly-button ring, and a lower-back tattoo. A woman whose intelligence was inversely proportional to her bra size.

Tracy swung by and asked if they wanted another martini. Heather just asked for the check.

“Leaving so soon?” Alison asked.

“Soon as I finish this one. I have to get up early in the morning. Regina’s picking me up at seven to go to the airport.”

“So you’re actually going on the bridesmaid trip? You said you’d rather sit through a time-share presentation in Death Valley.”

“Well, it is a free trip, and I’ve never been to Vegas.” Then she sighed. “And my mother really wants me to go. It reminds me of when she wanted me to try out for the high school drill team.”

“So you could be around all the popular girls?”

“I think she’s hoping that if I hang out with Regina and the other bridesmaids, there’ll be men all over the place. That way, at least I’ll have a shot at getting one of their castoffs.”

“Actually,” Alison said, “that’s not a bad plan.”

“Wrong. It’s the sign of a desperate woman. And my mother is more desperate than most. It drives me crazy.”

But if Heather was honest with herself, the reason it drove her crazy was because she
was
beginning to feel a little desperate. The closer she got to thirty, the more she felt a million years of evolution bearing down on her. No, she didn’t want Og smacking her over the head with his club and dragging her back to his cave to make little Oggies, but she wasn’t immune to the forces of nature. A forward-moving relationship with a man that eventually led to marriage would be nice, but so far it hadn’t happened.

She glanced back at Tony. Yeah, he was hot, all right, but men like him had never been part of her dreams, just as she’d never been part of theirs. She’d always figured that the man she married probably wouldn’t be all that handsome, but he would be reasonably attractive. He might not be wickedly charming, but he’d certainly be a good conversationalist. They’d settle down, have a couple of kids, take summer vacations, and plan for retirement.

Heather had always prided herself on being a realist, and
that
was reality.

Tony couldn’t believe this. Three days before closing, and suddenly Dave was pulling the rug right out from under him?

“Come on, Dave,” Tony said. “You can’t do this to me. You said you’d loan me the money.”

“It’s my wife. We had a big fight last night, and she told me I couldn’t give you the twenty thousand.”

Tony took a calming breath, trying to keep his panic under control. “Dave. You told me you talked to her. You said she was okay with it.”

“She was. Then she got to talking to her girlfriends. They told her that if I was part owner of a bar, I’d be spending all my time there.”

“That’s crazy! You’re going to be a silent partner. I’ll be running the place.”

“I tried to tell her that, but she wouldn’t listen. She’s convinced I’ll want to be here all the time. She already thinks I play too much golf.”

“So tell her you’ll play less golf. Tell her you’ll throw your damned golf clubs into the lake. For God’s sake, tell her something. I’m set to close on this place Monday morning!”

“Sorry, man. I can’t help you.”

Tony sat back, reeling with disbelief. “Dave? How long have we been friends?”

Dave looked away. “A couple of years.”

“Six years.
Six.
Ever since we worked at Charlie’s together. And this is what you do to me?”

“You’re a friend, Tony. She’s my wife. I have to
live
with her. And trust me, sometimes that ain’t easy.” He checked his watch and sighed. “I have to get home. If I’m late for dinner, I’ll catch hell.”

As Dave started to get out of the booth, Tony grabbed his arm. “Come on, Dave. I’m begging you. Do something. You
know
how much I want to buy this place.”

When Dave looked at him sadly, Tony knew he was sunk. “Sorry, buddy. I really am. But I just can’t help you.”

Dave walked away, leaving Tony alone with his beer, his frustration, and a dream that was falling apart at the seams. If he didn’t show up with the entire down payment at the closing on Monday morning, the deal was dead.

Think. Think! How can you come up with twenty thousand dollars by Monday?

He sat there a long time, trying to formulate a plan, but nothing came to him. He was completely tapped out himself, and he had no other friends he could borrow that kind of money from, particularly on such short notice. No friends, and certainly no family members.

He didn’t own a house, so a home equity loan was out.

He glanced over at the pool tables. He knew he could bet on a few games and come out a winner, but betting on pool in a neighborhood bar wouldn’t net him twenty grand until the beginning of the next millennium, much less by Monday.

He dropped his head to his hands, letting out a sigh of disappointment. By the time this place came up for sale again, he’d probably be collecting Social Security.

Then slowly he raised his head again as a thought occurred to him. There
was
a way he could conceivably put twenty thousand dollars in his pocket before Monday. Betting on pool might be out, but there were other kinds of gambling. . . .

No. He was crazy even to consider it.

But as the minutes passed and his desperation grew, even a crazy plan seemed better than no plan. It was a long shot—such a ridiculous long shot that no reasonable man would even consider doing it—but it was his
only
shot at keeping this opportunity from passing him by.

He took out his cell phone, dialed American Airlines, and booked a flight to Las Vegas, praying that Lady Luck would follow him all the way there.

The bridesmaid entourage arrived in Las Vegas around noon on Friday. They took a cab to the hotel, and by the time everyone paired up for rooms, Heather of course was the odd woman out. But that was okay. She didn’t mind a room by herself if the alternative was to be stuck with a woman who chattered incessantly, complained about her nonexistent cellulite, and hogged the bathroom.

After checking in, Heather spent the afternoon at the pool with the other women, who looked sleek and svelte in their designer swimsuits. Heather finished the novel she’d bought at the airport before the flight, all the while listening to One through Five flirt with every man in the vicinity. Regina did the same, only her flirting was accompanied by a giggle and a flash of her three-carat diamond.
Sorry, guys. I know you want me, but I’m taken.

That evening they went to dinner, and then the other women sashayed across the casino floor, gambling just enough to allow them to sidle up next to any handsome high rollers who might be looking for a good time.

Thanks to a statistics class she’d had in college, taught by a Vegas-addicted professor, Heather knew quite a bit about gambling. How to play the games. What the odds were. Which games were more favorable to the bettor even though they were all stacked in favor of the house. She’d even tried gambling once on a day trip with Alison to a Shreveport casino, and she’d actually won a hundred dollars playing craps. But since it was all about luck, she knew when to quit. At the end of the day, she’d reached the conclusion that gambling was at best expensive entertainment and at worst a horrible addiction, which meant she had no desire to do it again.

The bridesmaids’ other recreation of the evening—picking up strange men—held no appeal for Heather, either. So instead of trailing after them, she strolled up and down the Strip to do a little people-watching, ducked into a few shops, and then took in a comedy show.

Later, as she was going back up to her room, she found a ten-dollar chip on the floor outside her room, which she stuck in her purse to take home as a souvenir.
There.
She’d gotten lucky in Vegas. Only it wasn’t the kind of “getting lucky” her mother had hoped for.

On Saturday morning, they all slept in, then had lunch at a café in the hotel. Heather learned that Five hadn’t returned to her room until after three o’clock, and One hadn’t made it back until dawn. Both of them described their sexual escapades in graphic detail, and the longer they talked, the more Heather realized how white-bread her sex life had been up to now.