I instantly turn back to the road, mentally rolling my eyes at the drama queen next to me.
“Why did she ask you to keep an eye on him?” I repeat the question.
“I have no idea.” She shrugs. “It’s Archie, you know. He has everything figured out, so I don’t see how I can help.”
I glance at her, trying to figure out if she speaks this way so I don’t suspect anything. Nope, she really thinks he’s put together.Oh, Archie, you need an Oscar for your performance in fooling everyone.
She lets out a heavy sigh. “Justin was bummed he wasn’t the best man.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She looks out the window. “He wanted to do this huge bachelor party with strippers and all that.”
I cackle, imagining his crestfallen face when Alex told him. “Maybe that’s the reason he wasn’t chosen?”
“I told him the same.” Her laugh is contagious, and I find myself joining her. “I still think he’ll do the party.”
“Freya will kill him.”
“Told him the same.” She waves her hand in the air. “The man doesn’t listen.” She sits silently for a few seconds before speaking again. “Though I understand why Alex chose Archie.”
I don’t interrupt, letting her find her own words, feeling like she needs to talk it through.
“They lived through something out there that irrevocably changed them both. I think they both need closure, and that brotherhood, or whatever it is, will help them.”
I agree, nodding. But what happens when they find this closure? Alex will move on with his life, and what about Archie? I’m a little scared to venture down that road.
We don’t chat about anything of substance the rest of the way. Well, again, Kayla chats, and I nod and shake my head at all the right places, preferring to let her carry on the conversation. Especially when she just wants to vent about certain things. People do that around me.
When we arrive at the diner, we place little cartoon dicks everywhere. A full-sized shirtless cardboard cutout of Freya’s favorite actor with steely abdominal muscles, a wide toothy smile, and a blond ponytail greets everyone at the door. I eye him suspiciously—he is the furthest thing from Alex as they come. To be honest, he reminds me of Justin. A little too much, and I shudder.
Cupcakes of all different penis shapes, sizes, and colors are artfully displayed in the shape of—you guessed it—a penis on the bar table. Drinks are ready to be served: a pitcher of virgin Margarita for Freya and a few alcoholic ones for everyone else. Marina cooked a few appetizers for everyone when she closed the diner. We are all set for a quiet, family-like celebration.
Soon ladies begin coming in. Donna, the owner of the local coffee shop—well, a Dunkin’ that may or may not deal some of the best home-roasted beans you’ll ever find under the table—walks in first. My mom—weird but okay. Alicia, Justin’s sister, comes in, looking super sad, with their mom.
Emma from the Dancing Pony, wearing an elegant elvish outfit and ears, of course. She’s a few years older than me, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without those ears, even in school. It all became a part of her personality. I can’t imagine her without any of it, and I respect her for standing her ground even when school bullies deemed her weird.
There are a few other locals that Freya became friends with, plus a few people she probably doesn’t know, but others invited them. But that was expected, so we got extra food and drinks.
Everyone brought gifts even though we told them that it’s not a wedding but a bachelorette party, and we’ll just be drinking. No one listened, of course. So, here we are, loading gifts in the trunk of Freya’s new SUV. Since the weird situation with Freya’s first car when she showed up in Little Hope, Alex can’t stop changing her vehicles. He buys her a new model every single year. I can’t imagine what will happen when the little one is born—he’ll turn into a grizzly papa bear, buying out every single minivan in the state.
Everyone takes pictures with the shirtless actor, and by the time the Margarita pitchers dry out, the pictures become risqué. So far, me and Freya are the only people who don’t drink. When my mom throws her leg over the actor’s waist, I regret not having a glass. Or five.
I longingly glance at the leftovers of Margarita and then at Freya, who looks like she wants to bury herself under a pile of blankets in her house and be done with this party. Leaving her the only sober person to watch after everyone else would be cruel, so I let out a loud sigh and go back to watching my mom and another respectful lady of our fine town humping the cardboard dude.
Two timid, elegant women my ass.I cross my arms over my chest and laugh to myself. We should have events like this more often so people can let go and have some fun—a thing we lack in this small town. So far, gossip, coffee, and good pancakes are our main weaknesses.
Everyone left, and only a few people stayed to help clean up. It’s actually better this way; otherwise, we would be bumping into each other.
We’re all cleaning as Kayla smacks her forehead with an open palm, scaring the ever-loving crap out of me—I’m so on edge these days. “Oh shoot, I forgot!” she exclaims.
“What?” I ask.
“We were supposed to pay the rest of the money for the order.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I forgot.” Her cheeks turn pink. She’s a very responsible person. Usually. But not today. Today, her brain checked out, and she’s already tipsy.
