The Invitation by Vi Keeland(7)
I looked over at the bride. “Remember how Mr. Neu would just drone on and tell all those really bad corny jokes? And then he’d be the only one to laugh at them?”
The bride looked at me like I was absolutely crazy. I was pretty sure she was right.
For the next five minutes, I blabbered on and on—standing in front of a room full of people telling them how I ran to the bathroom when the teacher finally stopped talking. But all of the stalls were taken, and I just couldn’t hold it anymore. I detailed how I’d come back to the classroom with wet pants and tried to hide it, but one boy had spotted it and yelled “Look! The new girl peed her pants.” I’d been absolutely mortified, with tears brimming in my eyes, until my friend came to my rescue. In an act of courage that would become an unbreakable bond for the two of us, Olivia peed her own pants and then stood up and told everyone the grass was wet outside at recess, and we’d been sitting together.
I closed my story by telling a room full of smiling faces how my utmost wish for the happy couple was that they’d have the same love and laughter I’d shared with the bride for many years. Raising one hand, I held up an imaginary glass. “A toast to the bride and groom.”
People started to applaud, and I knew I needed to use the time to get the hell out of there. Hudson was still standing off to the side, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I thought he might be a little proud of me for not crumbling. His eyes gleamed, and he watched me intently as I walked over and pressed the microphone to his chest.
He covered the top of the mic and smiled. “Entertaining.”
I showed him my pearly whites through an exaggerated smile and crooked my finger for him to lean in closer.
When he did, I whispered in his ear, “You’re an asshole.”
Hudson let out a deep laugh as I stormed away, never looking back to see if he was following. Luckily, Fisher was already walking toward me, so I didn’t have to search for him before we hightailed it out of here.
His eyes were as wide as Frisbees. “Are you wasted? What the hell just happened up there?”
I grabbed his arm and kept walking. “We need to get the hell out of here quick. Do you have my purse?”
“No.”
Shit. I debated just leaving it, but my license and credit card were inside. So I veered left and made a beeline for our table. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hudson and the groom talking to the ma?tre d’ and pointing in our direction.
“Shit! We need to hurry.” I rushed the rest of the way to our table, grabbed my purse, and turned back around. After two steps I pivoted.
“What are you doing?” Fisher said.
I plucked an unopened bottle of Dom Pérignon from our table. “I’m taking this with me.”
Fisher shook his head and laughed as we headed for the door. Along the way, we swiped bottles of champagne from every table we passed. Confused guests had no idea what to make of the scene, but we were moving too quickly for them to comment. By the time we got to the exit, our arms were full, and we had at least a grand worth of bubbly.
Out front, we got lucky that a few yellow cabs were stopped, waiting at the light. Jumping into the first empty one, Fisher slammed the door shut, and we both got up on our knees to look out the back window. The ma?tre d’ and the two security guys who had been checking IDs earlier were halfway down the marble staircase. Hudson stood at the top, casually leaning against a marble pillar and drinking a glass of champagne as he watched the insanity of our departure. Blood rushed through my ears as I looked back and forth between the traffic light and the men closing in on us. Just as they reached the curb and stepped off, the red switched to green.
“Go! Go!” I yelled to the cabbie.
He hit the gas, and Fisher and I stayed on our knees, watching out the back window as the men grew more distant. Once we made the right at the corner, I turned around and slumped into the seat. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.
“What the hell happened, Stella? One minute I saw you dancing with a gorgeous man who looked completely into you, and the next you were telling some crazy story to a room full of people. Are you drunk?”
“Even if I had been, I’d be scared sober right now.”
“What came over you?”
“It’s not what came over me, it’s who.”
“I’m not following.”
“You know the gorgeous man I was talking to?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, turns out he knew all—” A sense of panic washed over me as I realized I wasn’t sure where my cell phone was. Frenzied, I opened my purse and started to pull things out. Clearly, it wasn’t inside, but it just had to be. Refusing to accept what I’d done, I turned the purse over and emptied the contents onto my lap.
No phone.
No freaking phone!
“What are you looking for?” Fisher said.
“Please tell me you have my cell.”
He shook his head. “Why would I have it?”
“Because if you don’t, that means I left it on the table at the wedding…”
CHAPTER 3
Hudson
“Mr. Rothschild, you have a phone call.”
I huffed and pressed the intercom. “Who is it?”
“It’s Evelyn Whitley.”