She dips her face near me and whispers against my neck, her fresh scent drifting into my nose. “It was four.”
She lets go and leaves.
I stand there, wishing it were Chip’s wedding right now because I can’t wait to see her again.
And that’s a big fucking problem.
18
From the pages of Truly’s Drink Recipe Book
Slippery Slope:
Wasabi powder
Sake
Lime juice
Splash of gin
So maybe you took a step down a slippery slope the other night. Maybe you tumbled a little farther than you thought. No worries. We can get you back up with a certain cocktail. Mix wasabi powder, sake, lime juice and a splash of gin. Strain it into a Collins glass, and take a hearty swallow.
That fire in your nose?
That kick?
It’ll knock you right back up to where you started.
Top of the hill with your feet firmly planted.
You’re good.
No slippery slope for you, no matter how pretty you feel when you slide into that blue dress he sent over to your place for you to wear tomorrow. It fits perfectly, like he knows all the curves and dips of your body.
No matter how sharp the drop seems when you read the note he included: I’d say try not to look too tempting, but that’s a lost cause. See you tomorrow night.
Slippery slope indeed.
19
On the way to Chip’s bachelor party, my phone pings with a message. I unlock the screen, laughing when I find a cartoonish image of a leg bone connected to the ankle bone, and a text from my sister.
Abby: At last! Now we know how they’re connected.
As I turn the corner toward the restaurant, I hunt for a GIF, find one I like, and send it to her. It’s a shot of the board game Operation.
Jason: Well done! For your next assignment, I’d like you to master Operation. It’ll be tough, but I believe in you.
Abby: Jason, don’t be silly. That’s the fourth year.
Jason: I know that. Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know? I mean that literally. Go on. Try and find something that impresses me.
Abby: Sure, let’s talk about the anatomy of the brachial plexus.
A quick Google search tells me that’s the network of nerves extending from the spinal cord over the first rib and into the armpit.
I reply.
Jason: Now you’re talking!
Abby: Impressed? I told you that you’d get a strong return on your investment. Just wanted you to know your money is going to good use.
Jason: I never thought anything different.
I say goodbye fondly and head into the restaurant.
The clatter of forks and the clink of glasses echo across the dark restaurant in the heart of the Upper East Side. Chip picked this surf and turf spot for his last single night, and the man seems pleased.
He stretches his arms wide across the back of the booth, sighing contentedly as he regards the remains of his sea creature. “Guys, this was the best night ever. Thank you so much for being in my wedding party. I’m so dang busy running the firm that I don’t have time for friends. This though? This kind of night out? It’s the perfect solution for a guy like me.”
There’s something refreshing about Chip. He’s entirely forthright about his situation and his need for a best man. He’s not cloying or clingy. He’s simply having a blast and paying for it.
I raise a glass. “Happy to be a part of it.” But Walker’s advice rings in my ears. You do know you can’t do this forever.
“It’s an honor,” Sully says, playing the part of Chip’s good friend to the T.
