Beach Wedding(12)

Nick was running around like a demon, so I made a command decision to help out by pouring and handing, pouring and handing. No more twisting, no time for formalities. We were under siege.

As the sun went down, people started smoking dope right out in the open. The first time I went to use the bathroom, I noticed that the long lines at the porta-potties didn’t seem to go any faster despite the fact that often two or three people were going in at the same time.

I was coming back across the sunset-lit grass when the music started.

It was some catchy sort of salsa rhythm that was vaguely familiar, maracas and an African bongo drum. Then when the playful piano melody kicked in, my eyes almost popped out of my head, and the hair actually stood on the back of my neck as I realized what it was and who was playing the party.

The voice started singing, and all of the guests there on the grass beside the sea let out a roar as George Michael himself, the world-famous pop singer, appeared on the stage.

I stood there, gaping at his mirrored aviator shades and leather jacket and frosted blond hair, as he began to belt out his hit “Freedom.”

Rooted to the grass in astonishment, I was watching George and his band bop along to the dance beat when I suddenly noticed that the swings were moving.

On them were the young ladies I saw before. But they weren’t wearing jeans and T-shirts anymore. They were wearing shiny black leather dresses the size of hand towels, along with spiky silver stilettos, going back and forth on the swings with their long blond hair trailing out behind them like twin tractor-trailer mud flap fantasy girls come to life.

As I finally threaded my way back to the bar, I shot a look over at Nick as two more model types wearing similar dresses got up onto the varnished pine and started dancing like we were all suddenly in an MTV music video.

“How?” I screamed over the music at Nick as I stumbled over to him in awe. “How is this happening?”

“Don’t worry,” Nick screamed back in my ear as he clapped me on the back and handed me a champagne glass on the sly. “You know me. I’ll find a way for you to pay me back.”



16

Coming on an hour later, Nick had just left to hit the head when the girl appeared.

I was down behind the bar, opening up yet another box of champagne, and when I straightened up, the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life not in a magazine was staring into my eyes.

She had short black hair and had to be a model. She didn’t seem real. She looked like an elf or a Greek goddess or something.

“You look like someone I know,” she said as her gaze seared through the back of my skull and soul.

You do, too, I thought, swallowing. Aphrodite.

It would have been a great line to actually say, but that had a 0 percent chance of happening. My mouth opened, but no words were available at the moment apparently. Seeing her had thoroughly disconnected my brain from my tongue.

“You really look like someone I know,” she said again.

I couldn’t help but notice she had an accent. English, Australian, something awesome.

“Lucky guy,” I finally got out.

“No, I’m serious,” the girl said, a smile playing on her pouty lips. “Have you ever been to Birmingham?”

I opened my mouth again, but I couldn’t even get a “no” out this time, so I just shook my head.

She tilted her perfect face at me.

“Oh, well. Do you do any tricks?” she asked.

“What?” I said.

“Tricks. You know, like Tom Cruise? Don’t all Yank bartenders know tricks?”

I looked at her, then turned and picked up an Absolut vodka bottle from the shelf behind me and flipped it and actually ended up catching it.

“I’m really not allowed to,” I said with a wink. “What can I get you?”

“One cosmo,” she said, holding up a finger.

A cosmo? I thought.

Cosmo to me was a magazine that my mom wouldn’t let my older sister, Erin, bring into the house. But when had being an ignorant fool stopped me? Especially on this incredible evening.

I did the flip thing again and grabbed a tumbler and poured in some of the vodka. Then I went into one of the coolers and added some ice and a few more liqueurs, rum, and a little gin. I saw some red juice next to the gin and put that in there, as well.

I shook the concoction and poured it into a wineglass and added a straw and was about to hand it to her when it happened.

I slipped on the slick swamp grass of spilled beer and champagne behind the bar and went down flat on my ass.

So that’s what those rubber mats behind a bar are for, I thought as I got up, my butt and the whole back of my shirt soaked and dripping with booze.

The good news was I was still holding the drink. The bad news was that I was wearing half of its contents like a crime scene all down the front of my white shirt.

I looked at the now giggling girl and was about to open my mouth to say something when I decided to just hand her what was left of the drink.

“If only you’d spilled the whole thing,” she said after she took a wincing sip. “That’s the single most horrid drink I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

Then she looked at me and burst out laughing.

As she laughed, I saw that she had a little gap in her front teeth that would have made me fall in love with her right then and there. Except that had already happened two minutes before when we first laid eyes on each other.