Always the Last to Know (Always the Bridesmaid) (14 page)

      Annie scoots her stool closer to me and pulls out a notepad and paper.  “Spill.”

       “I don’t like Matt.  And that’s weird.  He is what I’ve always wanted.  He’s nice, he’s funny, he’s smart, and ridiculously attractive and, you know what?  I don’t like him one bit.”  At least not in a romantic sense.  Platonically, yeah, he’s fun to be around.  Except when playing board games.  I don’t like to play board games in a civilized manner like he does.  I mean, it’s called
Battle
ship for a reason.

       “You don’t like Matt?  I thought you were just upset by my novel.”

       “No, I haven’t even had a chance to read any of your nov. . . why would I be upset by your novel?”

       “No reason.”  Annie sits the pen down and slides it and the notepad away from her.  “So, you’re saying that you really don’t like Matt?”

      I shake my head sadly.

       “Has he asked you to the wedding?”

       “No.  Which is good since I’ll have to decline.”

       Annie’s mouth falls open and it takes her longer to recover than it should.  “What do you mean you’ll have to decline?”

       “Annie, I don’t like him.”

       “You don’t have to marry him and have six kids with him, just go to the wedding with him.  Don’t you know that nothing looks worse than a Maid of Honor with no date?”

      I sigh, defeated.  Even though there are totally worse things than a Maid of Honor showing up stag to a wedding.  Ten car pile-ups, for example, are way worse than me not having a date for Carla’s wedding.  It doesn’t matter though, Annie is never going to believe otherwise.

      Besides, I have bigger fish to fry right now.  I have to throw the most boring bachelorette party known to mankind on Friday afternoon for Carla.  She’s made a list of things she does NOT want at her bachelorette party.  Sadly, alcohol and male strippers are at the top of that list.

      I did talk her into having mimosas and virgin daiquiris.  And she doesn’t know it yet but there is definitely going to be phallic-shaped objects around.

      Hey, it’s a bachelorette party.  She should expect far worse than what I’m doing.  This is the only bachelorette party that I will ever get to throw and I will not have my name dragged through the dull bachelorette party mud puddle.  And, okay, both our mothers and her grandmother will be there so I have to be careful.

      But they should know that penis-shaped straws are to be expected.

      While the boring bachelorette party is going on Friday afternoon, Evan and his boys will be sleeping off their hangovers from the bachelor party taking place Thursday night.  At a strip club. With alcohol.

      I don’t care about the strippers, but, alcohol?  Yes please.

      I was actually asked to go.  Not by Evan of course, but by Carla.  She wanted me to tag along to make sure that no one in the wedding party got too trashed.  Not that it matters since the bachelor party is on a Thursday; the groom will be nice and sober by Saturday.  I refused the invite.  My self-esteem can’t handle twenty guys all googly-eyed for skinny strippers.

      Annie nudges me, “Look at the Adonis that just walked in.”

      I look at the entrance to the bank and immediately duck beneath the counter at the sight.

       “Jess, what on Earth are you doing?”  Annie hisses at me while I’m crouched down to the floor.

       “That’s Matt.”  I whisper.  My God, what is he doing here, at my place of work?  This is not right at all.  It’s almost like he wants to see me or something.

      Oh no.  What if he rushed over to confess his undying love for me?

      What is wrong with me?  This boy is like walking sex and I’m terrified that he loves me.  Not only am I terrified of him loving me, I am also delusional enough to think that he could love me.
       “Welcome to Country Town Bank.  I’m Annie.  How can I help you today, sir?”

      Even on the floor, I can tell that Annie is laying it on thick for Matt.

       “Hi.  I’m looking for Jess Reynolds.  Is she here?”

      Annie laughs as I stand up quickly and hit my head on the counter.

       “Matt, hey.”  I say quietly while rubbing my head.

       “Hi.  What were you doing down there?”

       “I was just, um, picking up a pen that Annie dropped.”  I lie.

       “Oh, Jess will go down for anyone.”  Annie says with a wink at Matt.

      You know, it just dawned on me that I could probably accuse Annie of sexual harassment.  And I would have a good case against her, with witnesses and everything.

       “What are you doing here anyway Matt?”  I ask nicely.  Man, I hope that he is oblivious to the Elevator Eyes that Annie is giving him right now.

       “I was just wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me.”

      Lunch?  I can do lunch.  As long as he doesn’t ask me to go to the wedding with him.  That I can’t handle.  I have a problem with confrontation and hurting people.

      Snap out of it, Reynolds.  Matt Mancini would never love you.

       “So, you’re Matt?”  Annie pushes me out of the way with her hip and leans her upper-body, which is composed primarily of her Dolly Parton boobs, forward to Matt and has this total love struck look on her face.

      This woman is forever sixteen.

       “Matt, this is Annie Connelly.  Annie, this is Matt Mancini.  Matt is the Best Man in. . .”

      Annie waves a hand at me but never takes her eyes off Matt.  “She’s told me all about you Matt, of course.  But she didn’t tell me that your shoulders were
this
broad.  And that hair. . . well, she did say it was quite lovely, but those curls. . .”

      Oh my God.  I’m mortified.  This is me mortified.  My head is on the counter and I’m imagining that I’m on a nice sandy beach.  Just the sand, the ocean, and Owen Wilson and I rolling around in the waves.

      I hear Matt laugh, “What else has Jess said about me?”

       “Time to go.”  I’m on the other side of the windows before Annie has a chance to comment on Matt’s sparkling white teeth.

       “You kids have fun now!”  Annie shouts as I steer Matt out the front doors of the bank.  I am going to kill that woman when I get back in there, I swear I am.

       “Is the diner down the street okay?  I don’t think Evan wants me driving his mom’s car around more than I have to.  Something about my inability to not hit streetlamps, I don’t know.”  Matt is trying to fight the smile on his face, whether from his driving past or what Annie just confessed.  Right, he’s totally thinking that I’m some pathetic overweight girl who talks about the gorgeous Italian Best Man to her coworkers.  Oh, I am going to have to kill Annie and make it look like an accident.  Maybe if I accidentally-on-purpose drop a change drawer on her head?

       “Yeah, the diner sounds fine.  And, about back there,” I try to start to apologize for the fact that Annie was evidently dropped into a box of porno movies when she was a child, but Matt interrupts me.

       “It’s cool.  That woman is clearly off her hinges.”

      I laugh, “She’s really not crazy.  She’s just too nosey for her own good.”

      Matt nods as he holds the door to the diner open for me.  “Whatever you say, Jess.  And, by the way, I’m buying your lunch.”

       “You don’t have to do that, Matt.”

       “Yes I do.  I stole you away from work, I dragged you out here.  I’m buying your food.”

       “You really don’t have to.”

      We sit down at the nearest table, still arguing over who is paying for lunch.  I really do enjoy Matt’s company but I just completely lack the desire to jump his bones.  We’re joking around and he really is quite funny, especially when complaining about Evan’s football player roommates, and it’s during my third chicken tender when Matt mentions the topic of the wedding.                 

       “So, how’s the Maid of Honor stuff going?”

      I shrug, spinning my straw around in my drink.  I can’t tell him about Evan practically sprinting out of the apartment last night.  I can’t tell him that Carla keeps getting sick.  And I definitely can’t tell him that me not having a date is evidently going to throw off the aesthetics of the wedding.

       “It’s all right.”  This seems like a reasonable answer to me, but Matt continues to stare at me, waiting for an actual answer.  “It’s all going fine.  I mean, yeah, Carla’s gone a little nuts and the groom doesn’t like me but, really, in the big scheme of things, it’s all going fine.”

       “What do you mean the groom doesn’t like you?”

      Dammit.  Why do I lack the ability to just shut up?

       “Evan thinks you’re great.”  Matt gives me a look.  “Why wouldn’t he like you?  Everyone likes you.”

      Yeah, everyone likes me all right.  Except for any male between the ages of 21 and 27 - my absolute cut-off age, unless Owen Wilson becomes available and decides to love me, that is.  For Owen, I’ll make an exception to any rule.

      What were we talking about?  Oh, right, Evan actually likes me?  He thinks that I’m great?  So he doesn’t talk to me because he thinks I’m annoying and constantly in his way?  He just doesn’t talk to me because he just doesn’t talk?

      I don’t think I’ve been this happy since the bank unblocked Facebook on all the computers.

       “So, how about you?  How’s the Best Man stuff going?”

      Matt laughs, “I found a strip club.  My job’s done.”

      Lucky bastard.

       “But,” Matt sighs, “Evan is all of a sudden on my ass about getting a date.  I think it’s Carla talking though.  No offense.”

       “None taken.  Carla just wants to see everyone happy on her big day.”

      He shakes his head as chomps down on a fry, “Yeah, she looked real happy the other day crying over a commercial for Alzheimer’s medication.”

      I don’t tell Matt, but those Alzheimer’s commercials make me bawl like a teething baby wearing a wet diaper.  Although, they’ve never seemed to bother Carla that way before.  It must have been one of the commercials where the grandpa doesn’t remember his granddaughter.  That commercial would make the Grinch cry.

       “I know a lot of the girls going to the wedding stag.  Carla’s cousin, Danielle, is single.  She’s a senior at U of L, and blonde.”

      Matt takes a swig of soda, “I’m not much for blondes.  I’ve always preferred brunettes.”

      Oh my God.  I’m a brunette.  Well, a light brunette, but still.  Is he actually suggesting that he might want to go to wedding with me?

      No, of course not.  That’s stupid, Jess, and you know it.

       “Well, there’s this girl, Rebecca, she’ll be there.  She lived next door to me and Carla in the dorms.  She’s a brunette, and really fun.  I mean, yeah, she can out-drink any male in the country, but really, she’s great.”

      Our waiter hands the bill to Matt before I even have a chance to grab it.  I know he said that he would pay and that I should just cave in and let him, but I don’t want him buying me food.  That makes it more like a date.  And this isn’t a date.  I mean, I’m trying to set him up with other women for Pete’s sake.  This is SO not a date.

       “Jess, I don’t want to ask those girls to the wedding.”

      Oh my God, Matt actually might like me.  I cannot believe this.

       “I want to ask Riley.”

      What?  Matt wants to go to the wedding with Riley?  Matt’s. . . gay?

      I did
not
see this coming.

      What do you say to that?  I mean, yeah, it’s totally obvious when some people come out of the closet.  You’re like, ‘Really, you’re just now admitting this?  We’ve all known for years that you were gay, Clay Aiken.’

      But I would never have ever pegged Matt Mancini to be gay.  Not that there’s anything wrong with homosexuality
(and that’s coming from somebody who lives in a red state)
, but I have no idea how to respond to a Best Man who wants to go to a wedding with the bride’s brother.

      I laugh nervously, “It’s nothing against you, but I don’t think that Riley is a fan of the Y-chromosome.”

      Matt laughs as he stands up and pushes in his chair, “I figured as much, judging by the way he looks at you.”

      I stand up also and follow him to the checkout counter, “What do you mean?”

       “Nothing.”  Matt puts on his sunglasses, “So, lunch was good, huh?”

      Well, Matt doesn’t like me.  And, surprisingly, he doesn’t like me for the normal reasons boys don’t like me. . .

      Wait.  Maybe all the boys that haven’t liked me are gay?  That would explain it, and would certainly help out with my self-esteem issues.

       “Could you do me a favor and not tell Evan and Carla and all of them about this?”  Matt asks as we reach the doors of the bank.

       “Of course.”  I say with a smile.  He doesn’t have to know that I have trouble keeping secrets.  But, this is a very serious, very private matter for Matt and I can try to respect that by keeping it on the down low.

      Just because I respect him doesn’t mean that I’ll be able to contain his secret though.

       “I’m going to tell everyone.  I just haven’t got the nerve up yet.  Evan’s my best friend, you know?  I don’t want to freak him out, especially before his wedding.”

      I nod, “I understand.  And so will Evan.”

      Matt gives me a hug and opens the bank door for me.

       “Thanks Jess.”  He says before leaving.

      I can’t even process all of this information before Annie is at my side, fishing for information on Matt.

       “My Lord, if I was thirty years younger, I would ride that boy like a stallion.”

       “Annie. . .”

       “Like a stallion, Jess.”  She slaps my arm, “Why didn’t you tell me he looked like that?  And here I was just sitting here without a stitch of makeup on.”

      Who does she think she’s kidding?  No one’s lips are that red on their own, nor do eyelids come with the liner already on them.  Unless you’re Tammy Faye Baker and have your eyeliner tattooed on.

      At my disbelieving look, Annie nudges me, “Oh, lighten up, Jess.  The boy is an absolute fox.  I’d like to rub him down and. . .”