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Alexa
My sisterand I watched the dancing while standing next to our table. I had a tequila in my hand. Rachel was sticking with champagne.
The ceremony had been sweet. Missy Jablonski and Donny Dunberry made a cute couple.
I didn’t know them, but Missy had been Rachel’s best friend in middle school and I couldn’t refuse when she’d asked me to be her plus one to this. I loved Rachel, and there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.
I didn’t hate weddings, but I had work I still had to finish tonight.
The dinner had been tolerable, although why anybody chose rubber chicken and vegetarian meatloaf as the two entree choices for a reception hosted above a nice Italian restaurant was a head-scratcher. Probably money.
“Can I be the maid of honor at your wedding, Rachel asked.
“Sure, if there ever is one. First, I’d need a fiancé, and to get one of those I’d need a boyfriend.”
“Duh. And for that, you’d need to start dating again.”
“I don’t have the time right now to devote to finding a non-douchebag.”
“Yeah, Ty was pretty bad.” She looked around the room and then pointed. “How about the guy over there in the green shirt? His hair is clean.”
I followed her finger. “That’s a Jet’s jersey, and it’s not even football season.” God help the woman who hooked up with him. Who wore a sports team jersey to a wedding? “I dated a guy like that once in college.”
“I think it shows he’s capable of enduring the low points in a relationship and hoping for the best. That’s a good quality, right?”
“The guy I dated gave me kneepads and a hard hat with a flat spot on top for my birthday.”
“Okay, that’s weird.”
“He said it was so he had a place to rest his beer while I… you know.”
“Ew. Gross. But the right guy will come along for you.” It was her unbridled optimism showing through.
The doctors had said that quality had probably been the factor that made the difference and helped her beat the disease.
“Hi there. Alexa, right?” the guy who approached from my side said.
I turned to find the happy couple.
The bride took me into a bear hug and sniffled. “We can’t thank you enough for your generosity. It’s going to make all the difference on our honeymoon.”
“You’re welcome,” I squeaked from the tight embrace. I’d gotten them a toaster that held four slices instead of two. How could that be a big deal?
The groom gave me a similar hug when the bride was done. “Promise us you’ll dance one dance, then stay as long as you want. By booking Thursday night, we got a deal, and we get to stay late.”
“Sure,” I said, now able to breathe again.
The obligatory couple and father-daughter dance had taken place and soon I'd be out here.
“Look who’s here?”
It was Evan McAllister, the Shark of Wall Street they called him. They saw a shark, but I knew better. Devil was a better fit. Tonight he wore a black tux, the only tux in the room. I laughed to myself—Devil in a tux.
The man was constantly in the tabloids and blogs, always with a different drop-dead bombshell.
Scanning the room, I wondered which woman he would choose tonight.
He hadn’t seen us yet.
