Page 2 of Before You Say I Do
First, make sure Emily didn’t get so drunk she fell on her face.
Second, charm the pants off the bride’s dad, who was paying her bill. He might even give her a tip if she played her cards right.
Third, tell the best man he was very much barking up the wrong tree.
* * *
Jordan swungher beat-up Ford Capri into the space in front of her Brighton flat and shut off the engine. She sat for a few long moments, the only sound the roar of a passing quartet of pub-goers, who’d just left The Rusty Bucket, her local. She opened her handbag and fingered the crisp notes the bride’s father had pressed into her hand when she’d left. A thousand-pound tip from him. A snotty, drunk hug from the bride that had left a stain on her dress; and a sigh of resignation from the best man as he realised his normally winning smile wasn’t going to cash in this time.
A bang on her car roof made Jordan jump. She turned so fast, her neck did that popping thing at the base. An arrow of pain surged to her brain. She winced as her best friend and flatmate Karen grinned at her through the passenger-side window. She was making a winding motion with her hand, almost as if Jordan’s car didn’t have electric windows. Which it didn’t.
Jordan leaned over, her face still furrowed after her neck spasm. She grasped the window winder and gave it a few turns. The sound it made could never be described as healthy.
Karen’s mouth turned up at the sides before she spoke. “Hello, flatmate who I haven’t seen all week. Question: why are you sitting in your car like a weirdo?”
“Because I am a weirdo?”
“That’s a given.” Her friend leaned in further, both hands resting on the Capri’s half-down window.
Jordan eyed it, hoping she didn’t lean too hard. Her car was a piece of living history, and as such, needed handling with care.
“Why are you clutching your neck like that?”
“Because it just did that weird popping thing.”
Karen tilted her head. “It’s because you work too hard and therefore your body is too tense. You need to relaaaaaaaaax.” As she said the last word, Karen moved her head dreamily, as if she’d never had a neck spasm in her life. “So did you marry off another rich schmuck today?”
“My mission was completed without a hiccup.” Jordan rolled her neck tentatively. No pain. She thought back to Emily’s meltdown just before the service. How she’d mopped it up, and then reassured Emily her marriage would survive.
Jordan had been in the job too long.
Platitudes and lies fell from her lips like confetti.
“If it helps any, you look gorgeous in your dress.” Karen’s gaze rolled down Jordan’s body. “When I say gorgeous, I mean like a weird green streak. What even is that colour? Celery chic? I particularly love the flower in your hair.”
Jordan ripped the flower from her head. She’d been in such a hurry to get home, she’d forgotten to take it out.
Karen gave her a cocky grin. “Get changed, and come down the Bucket. I’ll buy you a drink. And you never know, the woman of your dreams might be waiting tonight.”
That made Jordan smile. “Because there’s always such a glut of good-looking lesbians in the Bucket.” She checked her watch. 9pm. She’d been working since 7am. No wonder she was tired.
“No looking at your watch and coming up with excuses. I haven’t seen you in the past month because you’ve been getting Emily and Max married. Now it’s done, it’s time to relax.” Karen straightened up, then gave the roof two quick slaps.
“Hey!” Jordan shouted. How many times had she told Karen not to do that?
Karen’s face came back into view, her hands resting on the window again.
Jordan leaned over. “Show Carrie the Capri a little more respect, please.” She smacked Karen’s hands.
Karen stepped back, holding Jordan’s gaze. “If only you loved me as much as you love this car.” She cocked her head. “Do me a favour and do as you’re told. Come and have a drink with me. You need to be reminded of real life and your real friends. Not the weird make-believe world you inhabit when you’re hired as a rich person’s bridesmaid.”
Jordan took a deep breath, then gave her a nod. “Okay. Give me 15 minutes and I’ll see you in the bar. Get me a wine. The largest one they sell.”
Karen grinned. “That’s my girl.” She banged the roof again before she walked off down the road towards the pub, and turned to give Jordan a wave.
Jordan grabbed her phone from her bag on the passenger seat, then pressed the side button. It lit up. She had a new email. She should leave it until tomorrow, go home, then get down the pub. But she never did. Being your own boss meant you were always on. She opened the email.
Jordan stared at the photo pasted into the top of the email. Whoever this was, she was the definition of a beautiful woman.
