Mollywood (3 page)

Stacy’s mom and Dad had been fairly indulgent for their oldest daughter’s special day, but they’d wisely drawn the line at an open bar and a sit down meal. Still, the location itself was worth every penny. Stacy had spent all of her savings on her dress and Sanchez had done the same on Stacy’s ring. The happy couple originally planned to take a three day honeymoon down to Galveston, but I refused to allow it. I smiled, happy that I could afford to give them a proper getaway as a wedding present. Stacy and Sanch would be flying out to Napa Valley for the next week, and I’d soon be busting my butt covering for Sanchez while they were away.

“I suppose I’d better haul some ass then. Can’t keep the bride waiting!” I replied with a grin, and headed off to find Stacy. I wove through the swelling crowd until I reached the room reserved for the guest of honor’s preparation. I knocked (shave and a haircut-style), and it was Stacy herself who flung the door open. She looked devastatingly perfect in her plunging sleeveless gown. Her blonde hair was teased to such perfection that Miss Texas herself would’ve been proud. Her eyes, however, looked wild.

“Did you bring the ‘something blue?” She blurted, and I immediately waved the garter in my hand. I’d expected this greeting. Stacy would happily get married without one of her bridesmaids, but she was far too superstitious to get married without accounting for all her good luck charms.

“Good. Now get the hell in here. We’ve taken all the pictures we could without you.” She demanded, her eyes strategically judging my level of
presentability
. Stacy had graciously allowed each of her attendants to pick her own dress pattern. She made no demands. We were free to be as creative as we liked, as long as our dresses were all the same color and material. It was probably a wise decision, since we were all so different in ages and shapes. Her sixteen year old sister was her maid of honor, and she looked darling in her tea length sleeveless tank-style dress. Sanchez’s sister was nearly forty years old, but her buff arms and plentiful cleavage rocked in her strapless floor-length. The last bridesmaid, a high school friend, was a fairly hefty gal. Her choice of sweetheart neckline flattered her well, and her pale skin and red hair looked better in mint green than the rest of us. I couldn’t stop admiring her.

After we posed for a series of group photographs and Stacy and I had one of just the two of us, Stacy’s mom waltzed into the room. Overly tanned and bleached, I felt like I was getting a sneak peek at Stacy’s future self when I saw her. ‘Stacy Senior’ gestured to her gold watch.

“It’s time.” She murmured.

“Oh God!” Stacy exclaimed, flushing a deep shade of fuchsia. Her panicked eyes darted to mine. “What if I mess up my vows? What if I cry! Oh God, I’m not wearing waterproof mascara! I can’t cry, Molly.
I don’t want to cry
.”

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Breathe, Stace. You’ll be great. That’s Sanchez out there. He looks like a million bucks, by the way. You just think about him waiting under that archway for you. The rest of this fluff isn’t important.”

My pep talk seemed to do the trick. Stacy plastered on her best customer service smile. Her mother herded us out into the ballroom and lined us up. I found myself paired with Sanchez’s younger brother, Pablo. He was an inch shorter than me in my two inch heels, but he was pretty cute and very friendly, so I was content with the situation. We were the first two to head outdoors and down the white-carpeted aisle. As we made our way toward the arch, I gave the crowd my best pageant girl grin. This wasn’t my thing, and I inwardly cringed as a flash went off in my face. I inadvertently locked eyes with Joe, who’d been seated on the bride’s side. He was two people in from the aisle, but his brilliant green eyes drew my attention as if he were the only thing in focus. His full lips turned upward at the edges when I found him, and I couldn’t help but melt. Had I not had scores of people watching my every move, I’d have ditched Pablo on the spot.

Sanchez forced a grin and nervously mopped his brow with a handkerchief as we joined him near the railing. The panoramic view of Lake Travis gave me a tiny touch of vertigo, and I quickly swiveled to look back on the crowd. I could see Joe. Even seated, he towered over Stacy’s family members and a crease appeared between his brows. He must have seen something concerning on my face. When I flashed him an easy smile, relief washed over him and I saw him sit back and visibly relax.

After the rest of the couples repeated our ceremonial journey, the string quartet began playing The Wedding March. Everyone stood in a rush, and I noticed the priest shuffle impatiently. Judging by the level of the sun in the sky, it wouldn’t set until after this wedding was long over. I saw a few people aggressively fanning themselves with their programs, and was grateful for my sleeveless dress. I’d noticed that Joe had abandoned his suit jacket in the car. The temp was in the eighties, yet by all accounts it was actually quite mild for August in Texas.

Stacy took her trip down the aisle like a boss. There were no sobs or raccoon eyes on her part, though her mother made up for that completely. Stacy was composed and picture perfect and Sanchez lit up like a spotlight the moment she came into view.

Thankfully, the priest kept it short and sweet, and there were no lengthy poetry readings or warbling soprano soloists. I found myself tearing up as I watched my friends exchange vows, partially because I’m a hopeless romantic, but also because they’d only been a couple for about as long as Joe and I had, and I was certain they’d be divorced within the year. The thought of having to replace either of them made me want to hurl. Far worse was the thought of them breaking each other’s hearts.

After the ceremony, we posed for a couple of pictures outside with both the bride and groom and then headed into the arctic blast of air-conditioning. I accepted a glass of punch from Pablo and scanned the crowd for my date. I worried about Joe having someone to talk to while I fulfilled my obligations as a member of the wedding party. My concerns were completely abated when I spotted him at the bar with his former boss, Graham. Joe and Graham were tight. Graham was one of the main reasons Joe had made it through his personal tragedies in one piece.

The two of them laughed uproariously at something Graham’s wife was saying. Seeing Joe so happy and carefree coaxed a smile from me, and I wandered off to leave him in more pleasant company. It’d been a while since he’d laughed like that with me, and I didn’t want to encroach on his good time. With a bittersweet backward glance in his direction, I took my place beside Sanchez’s sister just as the toasts began.

“IT’S GREAT TO see you, Joe. It’s even better to see you looking so
happy
.” Graham’s wife, Anne, came in for a stealthy hug that took me completely off guard. I smiled, but eyed Graham awkwardly. He shrugged and finished off the last swallow of his beer, his reticent expression implying she did stuff like this all the time. After she patted my back and wandered away, Graham took a seat on the nearest bar stool and I joined him, waving the bartender over.

“Shiner, please. Biggest draft you’ve got.” I glanced at Graham expectantly.

“I’ll have the same.” He nodded, and turned his probing eyes to assess me. Graham had stepped up to be a surrogate father figure for me, even before my world crumbled. The rift with my own parents had still been the size of The Grand Canyon at the time of Jess’s accident, though mom had been trying to weasel her way back in when she’d found out we’d been expecting a child. When both Jess and the baby died, I went a little bit nuts.

Okay…maybe more than a little
.

My parents bailed immediately. They had no way to deal with what I was going through or the angry lunatic I had become. They scurried back to Florida and left my older sister, Tamryn, to deal with me and my breakdown. Thankfully, Mason and Mac Hildebrandt, my oldest friends, were around to help her out. They’d had the good sense to bring Graham along, knowing that even in my darkest hour, I’d be willing to listen to him. Who knows where I’d be if Graham hadn’t stepped up.

Or if I’d still be around at all…

“So, I hear from Mason that you and Mac are making money hand over fist. I guess I won’t be getting any phone calls from the two of you looking for work anytime soon.” I glanced over at him and saw the gleam in his eye that belied the surly tone.

“Well, if you ever need any finish work done you know where to find me.” I murmured. He clapped his hand on my arm and beamed at me.

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing so well. You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel for far too long, son.” Graham had always believed I was too talented to be doing basic carpentry. When I lost my wife and son, I also lost my will to carve. I couldn’t tap into my creativity at all, but I still had my carpentry skills and Graham had been willing to hire me on. Even after all the trouble I’d gotten myself into…picking fights on jobsites, showing up still drunk. Graham stuck by me when most of the foremen in Austin had written me off as more trouble than I was worth.

We settled back to our beers and I let me gaze wander over the crowd. Molly looked breathtaking. Her luscious dark hair was piled on top of her head in a way that drew my attention to her exposed neck. I wanted to nibble her, and imagining the sounds she would make caused me serious frustration. She was such a contradiction in her sweet little bridesmaid dress which showed off so many of her tattoos. Like a little lost fairytale princess who Dita Von Teese had taken under her wing. Watching her enjoying herself at the table with the other wedding party members, I felt my heart in my throat. Her beauty was effortless. It didn’t matter if she was dressed in my old sweatshirt or was draped in an expensive gown; she always outshone everyone around her.

Graham followed my gaze and chuckled softly. “You’ve got it bad.”

I glanced at him and felt my face flush. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Molly’s a special girl, Joe. I’m happy for you.” He replied, sipping his beer.

His words gave me pause. I couldn’t talk to Mason and Mac about Molly, so that made Graham my only outlet.

“Between you and me? Even with…Jess…I never felt so…consumed. Sounds crazy…but it’s a fact. Does that make any sense at all?”