Eddie chimes in. “Don’t try to deny it, Gav. You were sick with the hook.”
“And you were the master of the granny stitch,” Gavin shouts.
But before Eddie takes over, I slide back into pole position. “But Gavin’s prowess with crochet hooks aside, what stood out to me most from last night’s bachelor party was not the lovely oven mitt he crafted for Aunt Ellen.” I gasp in an over-the-top fashion. “Oh, dear. Was that supposed to be a secret?” I stage-whisper.
Ellen’s smile spreads across her weathered face. “I can’t wait to use it. Next time, we’ll work on one together.”
“Count on it. In any case, Ellen, I hope you enjoy it as much as I know Gavin and Savannah are enjoying this day. Because the truth is, even when we were at a pub in Williamsburg last night, enjoying a beer and a baseball game, Gav regaled us once more with tales of what a lucky man he is to have convinced this wonderful woman to be his bride.”
This is the money shot—Savannah sighs happily, gazing at the groom, her eyes full of love. The rest of the crowd gives a collective aww too. This is why they’re here: to witness one very happy couple.
“In fact, the night he met her, he rang me up, and I believe his words were ‘I have to tell you something. I’ve met the woman I’m going to marry.’”
The bride clasps her hand to her heart as Gavin smiles goofily at the woman who took his name mere hours ago.
“I couldn’t be more delighted to send Gavin off into the land of happily married men. May your love last many lifetimes.”
I raise my glass once more then bring it to my lips, but that’s for show. I can’t drink on the job. A good understudy doesn’t get pissed when he’s thrust on stage in lieu of the principal actor.
Eddie lifts his glass and whispers, “Dude, you rocked that speech hard. Rocked it like you were banging a babe behind a pinball machine. Like the buzzers were going off, and the flippers were flapping.”
“That’s the effect I was going for,” I deadpan as I sit next to Eddie while we chat.
“Achievement unlocked.”
“Indeed.”
Eddie downs the rest of his beverage. “I am so fucking glad they hired you. I was giving thanks last night. All I could think was how, if it were me up there, the whole joint would know about the time I ordered a policewoman stripper for Gavin’s b-day. That was some night.”
His eyes go hazy with the memory, or maybe it’s the memory that’s hazy, because Eddie suddenly slaps the table in a burst of realization.
“Hang on!” he shouts then drops his voice. “Fuck. That was my b-day I ordered a policewoman stripper for.”
“It can be hard to keep track of officers of the law in thongs,” I remark.
“Wait, wait—I got it! It’s coming back to me. I know what happened.” Laughing, he taps his skull. “I think my brain was trying to forget the whole thing. Because that night with the lady-cop stripper? That was the night my zipper got stuck.” He grabs his crotch, his face contorting as if reliving the pain. “Had to go to the ER.” He shakes his head, sighing. “Then again, it’s not all bad. I took the ER nurse home. She likes scars.”
Yep, everyone is happy I was bumped up to this post, and my bank account will be quite content too.
With the toast done, the bride and groom take a whirl on the dance floor, and I grab the seat next to my date.
Nora has turned out to be the best plus-one an undercover groomsman could ask for. She’s upbeat, fun, and always game for adventure. Flicking her wild brown curls off her shoulders as John Legend’s “All of Me” hits its last note, she tips her chin to the crowd. “So many single women here are eating you up with their eyes. It’s good that I’m here.”
“Yes, please protect me from them. If too many talk to me, they might find holes in the facade.” That’s why Gavin suggested I bring a date. Not that I’d break character, but it gave me a buffer in case any prying relatives asked too many questions.
“I’ll never let them. That’s my job as Matilda tonight,” Nora says, using the fake name she picked for tonight, since Nora loves fake names as much as she loves wigs.
“Then let’s dance. I’m only sorry they’re not playing the alt-rock laced with the banjo. That’s what your Matilda persona loves, right? Dancing to your indie tunes?”
“Dancing or hula hooping, and boy, do I love it when you let me stay in character all night long.”
“As if I’d do anything but support your dreams.”
“And I’d never break character in front of an audience,” she says.
Laughing, I offer her a hand. “Just shut up and dance with me, Matilda.”
On the dance floor, she sets her hands on my shoulders, her pink clutch resting against me. Her warm hazel eyes sparkle as she surveys the scene. “This could be you someday.”
A cough bursts from my throat. “Stranger things have happened, but it’s a safe bet it won’t.”
She pouts. “Come now. You look so good in a tux. It’d be a shame if you were never the one up there.”
“And yet it’s hardly a dream of mine.”
“Sounds like that’s more of a nightmare to you?”
More like a thing I don’t care to discuss with her, or hardly anyone. “We’re talking full-on night sweats and terrors.”
Laughing, she says, “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Like when the groom called you when he met Savannah. I’m dying to know how that went.”
Ah, this is easier territory, since it doesn’t sting. How could it? It’s a fable. “I was first on his list. He had to share the news with his old pal from uni.”
“Naturally. And I’m sure you had so very many things to catch up on. Stories from the quad, all-nighters in the dorm.”
That’s the story we cooked up when both Savannah’s and Gavin’s parents inevitably asked about the best man switcheroo. The groom and I met in college and kept in touch even after I returned to England. And that it was a terribly tough choice between Eddie and me, but Eddie understood and was chill with it.
