Hildy pauses in the middle of brushing off the front of her dress and shoots the woman a tight-lipped smile.
Jay stretches his arms and rests his hands behind his head, “Don’t lie, y’all were lit by the time the wedding started.”
“I was completely sober,” Hildy snickers, “but I can’t say the same for the bride,” Hildy shoots the blonde woman another look, “Hannah kept refilling her champagne glass and no one realized it!”
Hannah rolls her eyes and then turns to Bowen, “And I’m surprised to see you here,” she says with an accusatory tone.
Bowen looks over his shoulder, confused, “Why?”
I train my eyes on Hannah’s hand as she traces random designs over his back with her fingertips. I glance at Hildy, then Jay, and then back to Bowen. No one seems fazed by any of this, so I continue to watch with intrigue.
“You’ve been MIA,” Hannah shrugs, “you’re never at Hildy’s anymore.”
Bowen hangs one arm over the back of his chair, looking up at her, “Yeah,” he deadpans, “I’ve been busy.”
“Mm-hm,” Hannah retorts with a roll of her eyes, “as long as you haven’t ditched us for some skank.”
Jay lets out a whoop of laughter that cuts through the air like thunder. He can’t contain himself he’s laughing so hard. Hildy freezes, a flush creeping up her face. Her eyes dart back and forth between me and Hannah, trying to figure out what to say. My expression remains unchanged as I stare up at this woman who seems intent on pretending that I don’t exist.
Bowen presses his mouth together and pinches the bridge of his nose, then reaches over and slides his hand over my thigh.
Jesus Christ, these people…
I set my elbow on the table and lean into Hannah’s field of view, shooting her an enthusiastic smile, “I’m Brett,” I raise my hand, giving her a wave, “the skank—in the flesh.”
Jay thrusts his arm across the table, pointing at me, then looks at Bowen, “This is why I like her,” he declares.
Meanwhile, Hildy finally recovers from her awkward stupor and rejoins the conversation, “Hannah, this is Brett Sorensen, Bo’s girlfriend.”
Oh, good, I exist again.
“Brett,” Hildy turns to me, “this is Hannah Bailey.”
Hannah pauses, raises her eyebrows, and opens her mouth in polite surprise. But I know that look; the one where one minute, you’re perfectly content and then, in the blink of an eye, one sentence throws you off balance and you realize reality isn’t what you thought it was. Two seconds—literally, two seconds—after meeting this woman, I saw the catch in her chest and her brain short-circuit as she made sense of Hildy’s words.
All she can offer is, “No way!”
And now something tells me she doesn’t think it’s so nice to meet me. But before I can respond and make the situation even more awkward, two women approach the table. A woman who looks to be in her forties with sandy brown spiral curls plants her fingers on the table and glares down at Jay facetiously.
“And where is your brother this evening?” she asks with an accusatory tone, bringing her other hand to the hip of her lavender maxi dress, “I’ve seen your dad and the rest of the department, but he’s nowhere to be found.”
Jay glances up at her with a smile when he recognizes her, “Out of town,” he replies, “at another wedding. Something about how the best man is required to show up…”
“Ah,” the woman nods in acknowledgement. She scans the table and then does a doubletake when she sees me, “I don’t think I know you, I’m Cheree Schwartz, I’m the records specialist at the station.”
“And, basically, everything else...” Jay adds.
“Basically,” Cheree gives a half shrug in agreement.
“This is Brett Sorensen, Bo’s girlfriend,” he introduces me.
“Nice to meet you!” she exclaims, and then turns over her shoulder to the other woman standing next to her, “This is Sydney, she just started with us.”
I’ve been listening to Cheree, but I haven’t been able to take my eyes off Sydney. She sticks out like a sore thumb in this crowd, looking more stunning in her black backless jumpsuit and delicate gold jewelry than the bride in her pearl-encrusted lace gown. She has long, icy blonde hair, fair skin, and greyish blue eyes that seem to pull the corners of her coral lips into a warm smile.
She steps around the table and extends her hand to me, “Sydney Van Doren,” she squeezes my hand firmly with an intoxicating grin, “I do public relations, press releases, social media, all that.”
It makes total sense, because Sydney looks like a primetime news anchor, with her perfectly styled hair, tailored outfit, and immaculate makeup that makes her eyes glimmer and her smile pop.
As Cheree goes on about Sydney, singing her praises, I suddenly notice the bizarre exchange occurring around the table. Hildy’s demeanor changes on a dime, and where before she looked embarrassed and annoyed with Hannah’s lack of couth, now she’s glaring at Sydney with utter disdain. She glances at Hannah across the table, who’s chewing the inside of her cheek while her eyes dart between Hildy and Sydney. When I look at Bowen, he’s watching Jay intently, trying to keep a straight face while one side of his mouth threatens a smile.
And then there’s Jay, who’s been transfixed on Sydney since she arrived at the table. I don’t think he’s blinked once since she introduced herself to me. To say she’s very attractive is an understatement, so it’s not surprising that she draws such attention. But this seems…different. While Cheree speaks to Bowen, Sydney notices Jay ogling her and locks eyes with him, casting him a smile that’s slightly more than just polite. When she does, he bites his lip and turns back to the table. But that’s not the end of it.
Hildy, having witnessed the brief exchange, maintains her death stare at Sydney. But when Sydney notices, she doesn’t demure. Instead, she’s unabashedly indifferent. Doubling down, Sydney holds Hildy’s eyes and, without even moving her mouth, casts her a fiery expression that nearly makes my jaw drop before she casually looks away. When Jay makes the fatal mistake of acknowledging Hildy, whose gaze could rival Medusa’s, he immediately glances elsewhere and she turns away with a huff.
I don’t know why, but I find the entire exchange exhilarating. Maybe it’s because I’m still new, semi-anonymous to many of these people. I play no part in their personal dramas that inadvertently spill out onto the reception table after a few drinks. They don’t know me, and I don’t know them, so for now it’s like watching a live episode of some dumpster fire show on Bravo TV that I’ll text Barrett about later.
Except I secretly hope there will be another episode later on…
Later, after the cake cutting and first dances, I don’t bother bringing it up while Hildy and I wait at the far end of the country club’s front porch for Bowen and Jay to return from the parking lot. I can see them from our vantage point, standing at Hildy’s SUV, loading her tote bags jammed with all her pre-wedding clothes, makeup, and tangled cords of hair dryers and curling irons.
Eventually, Bowen starts back across the parking lot as Jay continues rearranging the contents of the cargo area. He leaps up the front steps and stops near the front door. In the lamplight, I spy Hannah leaning against the white railing, a cigarette pinched between her fingers. Hildy and I are too far away to hear what they’re saying, but Hannah lifts her arm and offers Bowen the cigarette, to which he shakes his head no.
“I’m so glad Bo quit a few years ago,” Hildy sighs.
“Huh?” I tilt my head toward her.
“In high school, he smoked like a chimney.”
