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‘I don’t know…’ Hols says.
Jake holds a hand her way. ‘Let us try them on before you reject them, woman.’
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest as Dax shakes off his jacket, trying on the floral one.
‘What if this is too much? I mean, we’re florists, so it makes sense for the flowers to be our color. I don’t know, try them on, I guess, but I’m pretty sure my answer will be n—’
Before she can finish her sentence, Dax has on the jacket. Her face lights up even more than usual around him.
‘You practically said the same words when I picked the wedding dress you loved. The one you bought,’ I remind her proudly. ‘So, suck on that while we model these fly-as-fuck suits.’
Hols laughs to herself but goes straight-faced once we’re all in the jackets. As the three of us act as though we’re walking a runway, one by one, she carefully looks us each over, her gaze lingering on Dax.
‘What do you think, babe? Do I look hot enough to marry?’
‘You did before we got here,’ she reminds him, stepping back to admire him. ‘I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but… I think I love them. This is the look! But only colored jackets; otherwise, it’ll be obnoxious.’
Dax grins. He’s a man who enjoys a floral suit jacket. Weirdo. He glances at Jake and me as he turns to the mirror, pulling his lapels. ‘We look—’
‘Bomb as fuck.’ I finish his sentence. ‘Just like I knew we would. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mom is awaiting my arrival. I’m editing today, and you know how she wants a say in every damn decision. Never again will I do work for family.’
‘Riv,’ Hols moans. ‘You promised you’d set up cameras to film the wedding.’
‘That’s the exception,’ I say, returning to the changing room. I put my original clothes back on but wear the jacket to the counter to pay. I have to break this thing in because wedding receptions equal dance parties, and if I can’t bust a move in it, it won’t work. ‘I’ll see you dorks later,’ I call as I exit the shop.
* * *
‘Front door opened,’ echoes from multiple speakers that are a part of the security system at my parents’ place.
I drop my bag onto the bench in the foyer and head straight for the fridge – my usual arrival path. I yank the door open and smile. My two favorite things are always stocked at my parents’ place just for me. Chocolate milk and string cheese. The same snack I had every day after school for twelve years. I’m a creature of habit, I suppose. I grab the milk carton and a handful of cheese sticks, then head to the glass cabinet.
‘River?’ Mom calls on her way down the stairs.
I don’t live with my parents anymore, but I’m at the ass end of a documentary about my once-famous pop star mother, also known as Penny Candy, so I spend far too much time here. Today I’m editing, and she likes to help with that because God forbid I air an image of her that isn’t from her best side. Her left. Seriously, she’s that fucking nuts. I tried to distract her with the online dating thing, but she failed at that. I’ll give her that good news later.
‘I’m in the kitchen,’ I yell, already halfway into a cheese stick while pouring my chocolate milk.
She stops in her tracks as she walks in, a goofy smile on her face as she looks me over. ‘You look handsome! New suit jacket?’
‘Meet my new wedding jacket,’ I say, arms out as I turn for her to see every inch.
‘Wedding jacket?’ Mom asks, her eyes wide. ‘You’re wearing it now? Hollyn is going to kill you. Not only for wearing it ahead of time while drinking chocolate milk, but she said no colors. The flowers are her color, remember?’ Her voice is deadly serious as if she’s worried about me, but the smile on her face says she approves.
‘How could I forget? She beat it into our heads, but I’m not a compliant kind of guy regarding fashion. You know this.’
‘River,’ she says sternly as I pick up my milk cup. ‘Put the milk down.’
‘Nothing’s gonna happen,’ I insist, not putting the milk glass down. ‘Plus, it’s Hols approved. One impromptu fashion show, and the guys and I convinced her to have a change of heart,’ I say, putting the milk carton back into the fridge. ‘Now we’re all wearing colors.’
She gasps excitedly, her hands in front of her chest like her prayers have been answered. ‘I no longer have to wear black like I’m headed to a funeral?’
‘You’re welcome,’ I confirm.
‘Oh, Riv! I’ve got a closet full of colorful gowns. Come upstairs and help me pick.’
I shake my head. ‘That sounds like a Dad job.’
She’s the reason this documentary is taking me so long to finish. There’s always something else she’s planned for me when I’m here, not to mention I’ve got to make money, so I’m still shooting commercials and music videos while working on this in the background.
