Page 14 of Rocking the Receiver
I’m on my own, people-watching at the edge of the sprawling lawn. I’m utterly overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, amongst which are two Brits and an American, who’s also the hostess.
As for the two Brits, that’d be my mom and me. When I eventually informed Tim that Sally moved out, he suggested that Mom tag along. Last time he’d seen her, she was dirt-poor. Thankfully, my so-called stardom enhanced her life, but she adamantly refuses to relocate closer to me, claiming that I’m always traveling anyway, so we compromised and I financed the makeover of my childhood home.
Instinctively, I look for her in the crowd and find her chatting animatedly with a group of the Lefevre’s friends. Soon after, shelooks up, meets my eyes, and tips her champagne flute my way. Empty-handed, I grin at her; I stopped drinking about an hour ago, too aware of the upcoming performance that Tim and his wife requested from me.
I’ve been practicing my breathing instead. I’m used to performing in front of large crowds, and I love it, just ask my friend, Dante Reyes. It was so much fun to do a duet with him at the Seaside Music Festival in Oregon, even if I’m prone to stage fright. I wish it would recede with habit or fame, but it hasn’t, and Sally—my biggest supporter—gone to lead the life she deserves with Nathan also changes my usual dynamic. I shouldn’t complain too much since they’ll make the trip to the music festival in Colorado in a couple of weeks; I love seeing her at peace and in love with a good guy.
“Still shy, my boy?” Mom’s voice startles me from my reverie. Her British accent is crisp and clear.
“You know me! Also, trying to get in the right mindset for the gig.” It’s not even a total lie. “Victoria said I should head towards the makeshift stage as soon as the DJ plays ‘One.’” How fitting!
“What about you, Mom? Are you okay, surrounded with all these French natives?”
“Oh, darling, I’m wonderful! Most of them speak English… or at least try to. Everybody’s so nice. It’s been ages since I’ve seen Timothée. He’s grown into such a fine man. He and Claire make a beautiful couple, don’t they?”
I agree, scanning the dancing crowd to find them. Looking at the happy couple, Mom and I discuss the newlyweds, the endless mass that she truly enjoyed, and my short stay in my hometownwhen the festivities are over. Soon enough, she leaves to mingle with other guests.
Lip syncing toModern Love, I spy him. Finally! Elliot… also, Tim’s younger brother, I remind myself. I got caught up in the moment one too many times and won’t let it happen again.
The handsome devil looks up and catches my eye, silently acknowledging me.
I get it, nobody actually knows we’re friends.
I ignore how his face lights up or how my stupid pulse accelerates. With that, the large crowd I don’t particularly care for seems to vanish as his eyes lock on mine. A genuine smile slowly tugs at my lips.
He pops some finger food into his mouth and wipes his hand on a tiny napkin, never averting his eyes, then weaves through the throng of people in my direction. “Salut, mon ami.”
“Salut.” I bet I’m butchering the second syllable because the letter “u” always gives me trouble, but who cares? At least, I know better than to pronounce the “t.”
We both sigh in sync, chuckling at that.
Things have been more than civil between us for the last few months. Since he reached out again, we’ve primarily texted to keep in touch. Seeing him after a year makes me oddly happy, especially now that we are able to reconnect in person. The previous tension has evolved, and I’m glad to register that, thanks to the distance and our regular texting, I am more at ease around him.
I switch back to English. “How’s it going?”
“Great, great. It’s quite a party, huh?”
During mass, I overheard that three hundred guests were expected; I’m not sure how many are here now, but way too many for a formal seated dinner. They opted for a high-quality, organic buffet that we eat on high-tables scattered around the beautifully decorated premises.
“Indeed. Your brother looks like he’s walking on cloud nine.”
“Yeah, I can see it… in a stressed-out kinda way, but that’s understandable. After he proposed last year, they didn’t have much time to pull this off.” He extends his arm and waves his hand in a circular motion, his fingers brushing my forearm. I stiffen, and thankfully, he doesn’t pay attention to it. “They’re disgustingly in love, those two!”
I agree, then admit, “I was beginning to think you were intentionally steering clear of me.” I laugh as casually as possible to pretend I’m on top of my game.You do know that my heart lurched because you barely acknowledged me when we stood side by side as best men during the Mairie ceremony. I get that we both had a mission to fulfill… but you stubbornly stayed with your family. Why?
But I don’t say that. I keep my frustration to myself.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be rude. Family duty…” He shrugs dismissively. “I guess your mom’s presence kinda threw me off. I wasn’t expecting to see her. Call it cold feet at meeting a parent.” There’s a hint of something in his voice that contradicts his laidback attitude; I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Then, he breaks eye-contact to stare at his feet and mumbles, “My dad introduced us. It was awkward…” He trails off, and I don’t press for details. He doesn’t sound eager to elaborateeither, his bold personality nowhere in sight for a split second. He recovers quickly. His gaze switches back to intense. “Before you get on that stage, why don’t I treat you to a drink for liquid courage?” He pauses and adds, “…since I’m allowed to drink here and I made sure some of the staff from last year wouldn’t be around.”
“Did you now?” His grateful expression pleases my ego. “Thanks for taking care of my public image. I appreciate your concern, I really do.” His radiant expression is captivating, even though I doubt he’s aware of it. “I could use some sparkling water. Then, I’ll be happy to have a beer after my gig.”
“Oh, is that a date?” A smirk slips through his luscious lips. My eyes are as big as saucers, and he lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m kidding, man. I’m kidding!”
I need a second to regain my composure. This kid will be the death of me. So, I decide to switch topics. “By the way, last time I talked to Tim, he was raving about your football skills that landed you a full scholarship.”
“You talked about me with Tim?” Reaching for mini veggie skewers from a passing tray, he inhales three at a time.
