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Mal just sighed. "You've done something bad in your pants too, haven't you?"
"Da-da-da-da," said Zeny.
"Z, your da is a big naughty word that starts with d and ends with k." Mal turned back to me with a pained expression. "You'd think being a millionaire rock star would save me from having to deal with poopy diapers, wouldn't you? But no. My life is a complete misery ever since everyone started popping out babies. Total chaos. It's not okay."
He searched the crowd, eyes narrowing in on someone. "And she knows about it. She's laughing at me, Z. Why, I bet your Auntie Anne sent you over here for me to deal with, didn't she? They're all against me."
Zeny smacked him in the face again, following it up with a big wet open-mouthed kiss to his cheek. Talk about slobber.
"You're lucky I love you," he told the baby. Meanwhile, the little dog, Killer, yipped joyfully, jumping at Mal's feet, making the baby laugh even more.
Zeny reached for the dog with one chubby fist. "Kiy."
Beyond us in the main room, the party kept on keeping on. I hadn't seen Joe yet, but he had to be here somewhere. Ever so calmly, I clutched my hands together. Hopefully that'd hide the worst of the shakes. Ah, anxiety, my old friend.
"Go, frolic, have fun," Mal told me somberly. "I have to deal with Miss Smelly Pants here."
"Okay. Thanks." I smiled, trying not to laugh at the broken look on his face.
Which left me confronted with the large room full of people again. Ugh, parties. Worst. No, none of that nonsense, I could do this. One step at a time, I made my way toward the gathering. Why, a knight in shining armor facing down a dragon horde couldn't have been as brave. There were a whole lot of people here I didn't know. Fortunately, there were quite a few people here I did know too.
"Alex." Lydia threw her arms around me, her cheeks a rosy hue. A color suggesting the lady had a few drinks before I arrived and was thoroughly enjoying herself. "I'm so glad you came. We weren't sure if you would."
"'Course I came." I'd only finally made the decision the night before. But Lydia didn't need to know that. "Couldn't miss seeing Nell and Pat re-tie the knot."
"Isn't it great? Love, thy will be done."
"Why are you quoting eighties song lyrics?" asked Rosie, giving me a quick side hug.
"Because Mal got the expensive champagne and I'm making the most of it." Lydia grinned. "That redheaded guitar man is so getting drunk sex tonight. Rawr."
"Okay, Tiger." Rosie laughed. "Settle down."
"Soooo," I said, dragging out my last moments of happiness, etc. "How's Joe?"
Dating Star. No, married to Star. God help me, he was probably pregnant with Star's baby somehow. I wouldn't put anything past modern science. They were all out to ruin my life.
"Good," said Rosie, ever so succinctly.
"Oh. Great." I grabbed another scotch off a passing tray. "Good to know he's still breathing."
"Yep. He's definitely doing that."
"Is he still working on the apartments?"
"Mmhmm." Rosie nodded.
Taking another sip of champagne, Lydia tried to hide a smile. Not so successfully, as it turned out. Mostly she just wound up nearly dribbling the good French stuff.
I frowned.
"Why don't you just ask me what you're really dying to know?" said Rosie.
"Fine." I sniffed. "Is he with Star?"
"Nope." She grinned, showing lots of white teeth. "That turkey-brained girl is gone."
"Once she realized Joe wasn't going to fall at her feet, she suddenly had to be somewhere else," said Lydia. "Maine, was it? Or New England?"
"Somewhere over that way." Rosie shrugged. "As long as it isn't here, we're happy."
"You should have seen her flirting with everything that had a penis within a fifty-mile radius."
"Gag worthy," said Rosie. "She even tried that shit with my husband when he came in to pick me up one time. He just ignored her, but still ... not cool."
"No," I agreed. "Wow."
"Feel better now?" asked Rosie, giving me a wink. "Your man is still a swinging single. Pissed at you. Still single, though."
"Oh."
Brows high, Lydia nodded. "He really hasn't gotten over you leaving without saying goodbye."
"Okay." Bummer. Not a surprise, but still. I took a sip of the scotch. "It's been over two months. I was sort of hoping--"
"No," said Rosie.
"Nuh," added Lydia. "Alex, with all due love and affection: that was not your best move."
Rather dramatically, I sagged to one side. "I know, I just..."
Both women watched me, waiting for some amazing, all-revealing explanation. Sadly, I didn't actually have anything resembling same. I'd needed to run at the time. Everything had been too much, too painful, too gah. Not a great word, but sadly, it fit.
Rosie gave up waiting first. "Okay, well. I hope you brought your ass-kissing lips with you."
I nodded. "It's a stay-on lip gloss. Chanel. Val bought it for me."
"Great shade."
"Thanks." I offered a glum smile. "Exactly how angry is he? Say, on a scale of one to ten, where one is rock-and-roll wrestling where it's mostly just posturing and finger pointing, to ten, where Godzilla is trashing Tokyo?"
The girls pondered for all of about a minute.
"Eleven?" asked Lydia.
"Sounds about right," said Rosie. "You hurt his delicate man feelings. Given Star took off only leaving a note a few years earlier, it wasn't pretty."
"Shit." My shoulders sagged. Maybe I should just hide and drink for a while. Delay the unhappy reunion. "I didn't mean to hurt him."
"Best of luck, my friend." Lydia clinked her champagne flute against my glass. "And remember, when in doubt, get the girls out."
I cocked my head. "What?"
"Tits," whispered Rosie.
"Ah." I checked out the small amount I had on offer. "I'm not sure that'll work in my case."
"Apparently size doesn't matter," said Lydia, who had enough going on for two women with some to spare. "If they're into breasts, then all are great."
Maybe. "I think Joe's more of an ass man, actually."
Lydia sighed dreamily. Dreamily or drunkenly. Tricky to tell which. "Nothing says I love you like anal."
I downed some more scotch. It was worth a thought.
"Okay." With one hand on top of the other, Rosie made the T for time-out symbol. "There are small innocent babies here somewhere. Let's keep butt sex out of this, please."
"Sorry," said Lydia, chastised.
All of a sudden, from the stage situated in the corner of the room, Vaughan started playing the "Wedding March." Amid much whistling, clapping, and cheering, people moved to either side of the room, leaving an aisle. Andre, in a sharp blue suit, stood beside Nell, resplendent in a slinky simple ivory gown. The woman was beaming, her whole face lit up with love. Up front stood an Elvis impersonator, strangely enough. And Patrick, in black jeans and a black button-down shirt.
"Mal insisted they get married by the same Elvis who married Anne and him in Vegas," whispered Lydia. "He said the dude knows how to make vows stick."
"Elvis hoodoo?"
She shrugged. "Guess so."
I frowned. "Oh, have I gone mad or is half of Stage Dive here?"
"No, all of Stage Dive is here," said Lydia.
"They're buddies with Vaughn. His old band toured with them."
Nell and Patrick deserved to be happy. I had another mouthful of scotch, smiling at all the love in the air. Peace, happiness, stuff like that. Contrary to those emotions was the big strong hand gripping my arm, drawing me back through the crowd.
Crap. I'd been found.
Sooner rather than later might have been quite acceptable under some circumstances. Just not this one. Thunderclouds were friendlier than the look on Joe's face. Tornados, tsunamis, all sorts of natural disasters. The bearded one was indeed pissed. Though it should be noted he looked downright delectable in his black suit and tie.
Without a word, he marched me away from the wedding taking place. Down a corridor into another wing, far, far away from anyone else. And all the while, his grip around my upper arm remained not painfully tight, but definitely iron strong. As awesome as my new YSL heels were, they'd not been meant for jogging.
"Slow down," I hissed. "Joe."
