Rusty Nailed
Page 47

“It was so great seeing Jillian’s wedding, and how she planned. It gave me so many ideas, and really helped me to focus in on what I want and what I don’t want. If you’ll look here on page seventeen—”
She had a binder out on the table.
“—you can see how I’ll be capturing the light of the chapel to accentuate not only the soft pastel pinks and peaches of the flowers, but also to set off the natural golden tone of my skin.”
“Well, sure, but that depends on the time of day,” Sophia said, casting a mischievous look my way.
Mimi flipped her binder. “Based on the sun’s position in the sky that week, I’ve timed the ceremony to reflect as much light into the church as possible.” She pointed to a sun chart.
“Oh my God, I was kidding,” Sophia said, turning the binder around to see. “This is impressive, woman.”
“Thank you. You’ll also be glad to know that I took into account your skin tone and Caroline’s when I chose your dresses.”
“Our dresses? You chose our dresses?” Sophia asked.
“Hold up, you haven’t even officially asked us yet! Don’t you think you better choose us before you choose the dresses?” I snorted, passing the butter as the plates were set down.
“Please, like I need to ask. Obviously you’re both bridesmaids,” she scoffed, cutting her sausage into quarter-inch slices and centering them on either side of the plate.
“Well, obviously,” I mimicked, laughing at her when she looked up in surprise. “Of course we’ll be your bridesmaids.”
“Makes sense, since Simon and Neil will be groomsmen. And I see that look on your face, Sophia,” she said, not looking up but anticipating her reaction. “He’s in the wedding and that’s final. And there will be no throwing of food.”
I muffled a laugh into my napkin.
“Make sure Simon knows the date. I don’t want him missing the wedding week because he’s off taking pictures of zebras in Australia,” Mimi continued, pointing her knife at me.
“Zebras are in Africa. Kangaroos are in Australia,” Sophia interjected.
“Australia, Africa, I don’t care if he’s in Akron—just make sure he’ll be home,” she said, crossing something off in her bridal planner.
“Oh, he’ll be home. Don’t worry about that,” I muttered. Before she could say anything else, I brandished my own knife. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you using phrases like wedding week. It’s a wedding day, Miss Thing.”
“I have so much planned for this wedding that I need an entire week, and Ryan says I can. And don’t think I didn’t notice you snarking under your breath about Simon being home. What’s going on?” she asked.
“There’s nothing going on. He’s just taking some time off, that’s all.”
They both looked at me.
“What? You’re always saying he’s never home—well, he’s home now.”
They both still looked at me. I looked back.
“It’s great. Really. Great.”
One more moment of silence, then we all returned to our plates.
“So Ryan found out that there’s a group interested in sponsoring a chapter of his charity in San Diego,” Mimi offered, and the news portion of our breakfast began.
“There’s a new krav maga studio opening up down the street, and I’m thinking of taking it. As long as I can protect my hands,” Sophia remarked.
“Clive has finally figured out that the cat that’s running back and forth outside the window wall and anticipating his every move is his own reflection,” I said.
We chewed.
“I think I finally talked Ryan into taking ballroom dancing lessons for the wedding. We get to learn how to tango!”
“I heard from Professor Bernard Fitzsimmons; he and Polly just moved in together.”
“I think Jillian is lying to me about something.”
Forks clattered.
“Wait, what?” Mimi asked as Sophia looked at me in confusion.
“I can’t explain it. I just think something’s going on and she’s not telling me.” As soon as I said it out loud, I was even more convinced. “I don’t know what’s going on, but something’s up.”
They listened as I told them about everything that had been going on: the phone calls, the non–phone calls, the e-mails, everything. I sat back and waited for them to see it, to agree with me.
“You’re basing this all on the fact that she might have said Munich when she meant Vienna?” Sophia asked, shaking a sugar packet.
“No. I mean, partly, but—I don’t know, I just feel like something’s off,” I insisted, not understanding why no one else was seeing it too.
“She’s on her honeymoon. If I was riding that Benjamin train every night, you can be damn sure I’d be forgetful. Mmm, you think he likes it dirty? Do you think he likes it when—”
“Good Lord, Mimi!”
“Jesus Christ, woman!”
We stared at Mimi. To be fair, we’d all fantasized about it. But we never discussed it.
She had the decency to blush into her sausage circles.
“Anyway, no, it’s not just mixing up the names of the cities. She was supposed to be gone awhile, but this is almost getting ridiculous. And she hardly ever checks in anymore—”
Mimi laughed. “How could she check in, when she’s too busy checking out Benjamin in one of those tiny little European bathing suits? I bet they do it in—”
“Enough!” I said, slamming my hand down and making the silverware bounce. “I don’t have time for this; I’m trying to tell you that—forget it. You know what? I need to get to work,” I snapped, throwing a twenty down on the table and getting up.
“Are you really leaving?” Sophia asked as I put my coat on.
“Yes, I’m really leaving. I have to go receive an art installation for the hotel in Sausalito!”
I slammed out of the restaurant, my heart pounding. I was so mad, and I had gotten there so fast. Dammit.
I went back inside to where they were still sitting, wide-eyed. “Thank you very much for asking me to be a bridesmaid; that was really very sweet.” Then I left again.
I got into Jillian’s Mercedes and drove back across the bridge to wait for my art installation. Which never showed up.
Hey, art installation? Suck my dick.
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