Page 5 of You're So Vine
“Shh,” says Valentina. “Your brother’s about to make his speech.”
Nate’s up at the mic now. I look for Lee but she’s still at the top table, her arm around Shelby. Fair enough, I guess. It’s an emotional time for them and a big reminder of the hole Billy’s death left in their lives. I miss Billy, too, but sometimes I wonder what would have happened to me if it’d been Lee who got sick. Sometimes I feel like she’s the one person who’s kept me tethered to this Earth.
Everyone’s laughing at a joke Nate’s made. When I first met Nate Durant, I didn’t take to him much. Found him high-handed. Thought he was the kind of guy that had to boss people around to puff up his own ego. Turned out he was having a hard time personally and was fighting his feelings for Shelby. Made him more than a little tense. He apologized to me for it. We get on fine now. Though he can still be kind of uptight.
Nate passes the mic to his brother Danny. Handsome like all the Durants. Makes a killing repairing and dealing in classic cars down in LA. Has a touch of the showman to him.
“He’s in his element,” Izzy confirms. “Dan loves an audience.”
“Did you see the car he came up in?” asks Max. “It’s a Porsche 550 Spyder. Super rare. I googled it. They’re worth, like, three million bucks.”
“What?Bullshit,” says Izzy. “It’ll be a replica.”
“Shh!” hisses Valentina.
Izzy shoots me an “oops” grin. Can’t help grinning back.
Danny’s finished his speech. Offers the mic to Shelby, but she shakes her head, smiling, still tearful. Nate’s the one with his arm around her now. Lee’s chatting to Nate’s mom—another fine-looking woman in her fifties.
Time to cut the cake. Everyone cheers. Looks like Shelby’s never going to stop crying. Nate wipes her tears with a napkin. Danny directs us all to the buffet lined up against one wall. I’ll just sit here and wait until everyone’s had theirs. Everyone’s mingling now, swapping seats, talking around the buffet. I’m on my own at the table. Might loosen this tie…
Oh, shit, the band’s started up. Music’s not the problem: they’re a local indie group, heavy on beards and banjos, but they know how to get a crowd on its feet. It’s the getting on the feet that’s the problem. I don’t dance. Never have, never will. Better find a dark corner to hide in.
Shelby and Nate are out on the floor, looking as happy as any two people could possibly be. Wonder what sort of kids their mix of genes will create. Got to say, I quite like the idea of being an honorary uncle. If I can babysit a cantankerous goose, then a toddler will be no—
“Hey.”
Shouldn’t have been daydreaming. Should have found that dark corner.
It’s Ava. Wearing a green dress that I sense she feels as comfortable in as I do in this shirt and now sloppy tie. She’s smiling but she’s got dark circles under her eyes. Unhappy is still my best guess as to her true mood.
“Hey,” I say back.
“I’ve been told you don’t dance,” she says in her straightforward way. “Do you want to get a mulled wine with me instead?”
She sees me hesitate. I see her shoulders stiffen.
“I’m not coming on to you,” she says, brisk and brittle. “Just thought we could spare each other having to talk to anyone else.”
Thought Lee might have come back by now, but I guess she’s got family priorities. She is the mother of the bride, after all. And I like Ava. I like her directness, her determination. But, as I said, I’m not cut out for relationships for a whole stack of reasons I won’t go into here. Happy to be her friend. Just don’t want to be anything more.
“Sure,” I say. “But I’m not much of a mulled wine drinker, either.”
“Neither am I,” says a marginally happier-looking Ava. “Let’s hit the hard stuff.”
I get to my feet. I’m six-five, Ava’s five-four. Good thing we’re not going to dance. We’d be the comedy floor show.
The bar has been set up by some of Ted’s people from Bartons hotel. There’s the usual wine and beer, and a menu of fall-themed cocktails.
“Got anything with bourbon?” I ask.
“Yes, sir,” says a young man who looks like he’s modeling himself on Ted. “There’s the Wood Fire: reserve bourbon, Tentura, maple syrup, ground peanuts, grapefruit juice, and a hint of refined rowan berry. Or, if you prefer, there’s the Wild Boar: rye whiskey, amaro di angostura, cacao agrodolce, mandarin juice, and chartreuse.”
Ava’s laughing.
“He lost you at ‘yes, sir,’ didn’t he?” she says to me.
“Help,” I say.
