Bar Crawl(29)

“I know, I know. The fact is, though, this grown up thing is new for CJ. We’ve all had over twenty years to mature into adults. He’s trying to grow up all at once, and there aren’t enough Eat Me biscuits in the world to make it happen fast enough.”

I scrunched my eyebrows at her bizarrely placed Alice in Wonderland reference, deciding against questioning her on it since the evening was weird enough as it was.

“Look,” Georgia cut into my thoughts, “you don’t have to have some dramatic, romantic make-up with him. The least you two can do for each other is give each other closure, if that’s what it needs to be. He’ll need it, Frankie, if he’s going to have a chance of growing up at all.”

“And you want this all to happen at your wedding?” I questioned skeptically.

“It’s not like I’m going to step aside and give you the altar. Get a grip.” Georgia waved her hand, and then pointed to my oven. “Whatever’s in there is about to burn if you don’t take it out.”

Looking over my shoulder, I noted the timer. “It’s got five minutes left, according to the recipe.”

With a sigh, Georgia left her stool, reached into a drawer she’d never been into, and pulled out a pot holder. Hinging at the waist, she reached into the oven and pulled out perfectly roasted vegetables. “The nose knows,” she said, almost to herself, as she set the pan on the stovetop and turned off the oven.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Anyway,” Georgia turned around and met my gaze, “consider Saturday. Please. It’s on the Vineyard. Here are the details.” Georgia reached into her clutch, which she’d left on the island, and produced a formal wedding invitation.

Taking it in my hand, I shot a look to Bradley, who shrugged. Looking back to Georgia, I took a deep breath before I spoke. “Do you always carry around an unaddressed wedding invitation?”

She took her clutch under her arm, shrugged, and, with an endearing smile, said, “You never know who you’re going to meet along the way.”

Georgia turned on her heels and, with knocking steps, showed herself out, driving away before I could even close my mouth.

“What the hell was that?” I addressed Bradley with the wedding invitation still clasped in my hand.

He grinned broadly. “Looks like you’re going to a wedding on Saturday. Come. Let’s start planning your wardrobe.”





CJ




The night before Regan and Georgia’s wedding, I found myself surrounded by old friends at Finnegan’s. It wasn’t a private party sort of thing, like when our friends, Josh and Monica, had gotten engaged a few years before. This was more G and Regan’s style than one of those stuffy rehearsal dinner things, anyway—just hanging out with music, beer, and friends.

All of the people I considered “friends” at all were there. Regan and Georgia, of course, but, also Bo and Ember—who Regan had toured professionally with for a while as part of Ember’s parents’ band—and Josh and Monica. Josh used to manage Finnegan’s, before he started managing Bo and Ember when they got a record contract that most musicians would have killed for. I grinned as I looked around at everyone, knowing they’d all had parts—in one way or another—in the short stories in Bar Crawl.

“What are you staring at?” Ember challenged from a few barstools down. She was among my original detesters.

She’d seen through my earliest bullshit, and threw it right back. The daughter of hippies, and educated in the Ivy League, November really was every guy’s wet dream. Brains. Beauty. And a hell of a rack.

“Nice…assets.” I raised an eyebrow and playfully gestured to her chest.

Ember smiled as she scrunched her nose. “Pig. You’re a pig. These are working breasts, CJ. I feed my son with these!”

“Lucky him,” I teased.

Ember leapt off her stool and raced over to me, smacking me in the shoulder.

“Uncle!” I laughed, pretending to fight off her pitiful attack. “How is Jackson, anyway?”

From the other side of Ember, her husband, Bo—who was the most authentic guy I’d ever met in my life—spoke up. “I’m surprised you remembered his name.” Bo stuck out his hand, and I granted the high five. “He’s one, and the coolest kid on the planet.”

Bo smiled proudly as he slid his arm around Ember’s slender waist. As she leaned her head on his shoulder, I fought the thorn bush turning in my stomach. I wanted that. I could have had a chance with Frankie, I’d thought, but, I’d blown it.

“What’s the matter?” Ember asked as she tilted her head. “You look…serious.”

Ember and I had a playful—if dysfunctional—relationship. We’d never really talked about things. The way she looked at me made me feel convicted of some emotional crime.

“He’s just whiny because he f*cked it up with a girl. A good girl.” Georgia—never one to come to my rescue in social situations—piped up from behind me as she put her arm around my shoulders.

Ember’s eyes became more invested, darting to Georgia. “Fucked up how? Like…didn’t call her the next day?” The teasing was there, but I knew by her serious gaze that Ember understood Georgia meant something more.