“Sophia, come on, baby, are you going to ignore me all night?” Neil asked, and her spine stiffened.
“Baby? You’re gonna call me baby?” she hissed, spinning on her heel. A Come Fuck Me heel, I might add; the girl was fierce. Her hair was waved back in perfect curls, makeup was flawless, body with its newly added breakup pounds was poured into a slinky black dress. And her boobs? Shit. I was even a little curious.
But Neil? He was astonished. Dumbstruck. Clotheslined. The linebacker stared at the cellist, eyes like saucers. Hungry saucers—this boy was still stupid in love.
But she was so very angry. And I couldn’t blame her. Because no one can hurt you quite like someone who says he loves you.
“You don’t get to call me baby,” she snapped, hands on her hips, chest thrust forward; she knew how to use what she had. Grabbing Barry by the tie, she led him toward the parking lot.
Our circle closed in, my hand going into Simon’s and Mimi’s arm going around Ryan’s waist.
“She’s not gonna talk to me, is she?” he asked, his face sad.
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt it.” Our bus pulled up and I tugged on Simon. “Come on, we’ve got to go. We’ll see you at the reception.” I nodded to Mimi, and shot one more look back at Neil over my shoulder as we left.
“Go easy, okay?” Simon said as we walked across the parking lot.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not kidding. She’s your friend, and I get that, but that’s my friend.” His eyes were warm, but warning.
I saw Sophia walking with Hot Barry, her laughter deliberately loud. “Let’s just enjoy the night?” I whispered to Simon as he guided me onto the bus.
We settled into our seats with the rest of the bridal party, celebrating with the happy couple. And as we maneuvered through the streets of San Francisco toward the bay, watching Jillian and Benjamin kiss every minute or so, I felt very happy that I had my Simon at my side. And very sad for Sophia that she did not have her Neil.
But it was a happy day, and after a few glasses of champagne I was ready for a fancy night on the town.
And with the reception at the Fairmont Hotel? It was guaranteed.
? ? ?
If the ceremony was simple, the reception was anything but. Elegant was the best word to describe the Fairmont’s Venetian Room, and the reception overall.
If I thought every candle in San Francisco was at the chapel, then every candle in the rest of the entire Bay Area was lit inside this ballroom. Add to that the golden chandeliers, the crystals dripping from every sconce, the mirrors reflecting and dancing back every flicker and twinkle, and the effect was not of this world.
It was of the planet Money. Which was within the galaxy Ridiculous.
But it was still Jillian and Benjamin. Were there floral arrangements taller than I was? Yes, but there were also copies of their high school senior pictures at each place setting. Was there a full orchestra? Yes, but it was playing instrumental versions of Def Leppard, Journey, and U2. And a band called Rush, which every guy was going bananas over.
When we’d arrived with the bride and groom in tow, we made our grand entrance to an applauding crowd. Once seated at the head table, I saw that Jillian had designed the seating so that even though Simon was the best man, he was still seated next to me. As I looked around at all the pomp and sparkle, I saw that Jillian had seated Sophia and Neil at separate tables (hastily adjusted when the breakup went down), but their tables were next to each other. And there was an empty seat next to Neil.
“I don’t get it, I thought you said he was bringing someone?” I whispered to Simon.
“He was, but he changed his mind. He wanted to talk to her tonight, and he decided he’d have a better shot if he was alone,” he whispered back, a told-you-so look on his face.
“Hmm,” I said.
And as I watched their story unfold from up on the dais, their communications were very clear.
First Sophia realized that while they were technically at different tables, her place card put her directly behind Neil’s chair. And when she approached the round table and pulled her chair out herself (way to go, Barry Derry), she made sure to accidentally-on-purpose bump his chair.
Then when Neil rose to shake hands with someone and accidentally (but maybe not on purpose) bumped her chair, I saw Sophia pick up her salad fork and begin to turn, before Mimi removed it from her hand.
By the time the entrees were served, they were both jostling so much it looked like they had ants in their pants. Except that Sophia’s dress was so tight I was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing any. Panties, that is.
“Are you seeing this?” I asked Simon, nodding toward the chair bumpers.