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All of them do subtle double takes when they see Bailey. I don’t blame them. She’s left beautiful behind. Now, she’s spectacular. It isn’t only the way she looks. It’s also the way she’s handling herself. I can see the tension going out of her. She’s turning into t
he Bailey nobody but I seem to have known: funny, smart, at ease with the world.
The real woman has come out of hiding, and she’s getting stronger by the minute.
As for the relatives—after a while, I give up trying to remember names. There are so many people at this rehearsal dinner that it’s hard to imagine any of tomorrow night’s wedding guests have been left out.
Some have, but I won’t know that until tomorrow night.
As for the bride and groom—they have not yet put in an appearance, but the bride’s parents are front and center.
When I am introduced to them, Violet’s mother tells me that Elevator Boy—she refers to him as our darling Chester—paid for all the festivities.
“He owns a cleaning business,” she says proudly.
“A launderette,” my PA says, so sweetly that I wonder if s it’s possible to get a sugar high just from hearing those words. She smiles angelically as she snags a glass of something from a server. “You must be so happy for Violet.”
Violet’s father nods.
Violet’s mother isn’t quite as gullible. Her eyes narrow to slits. “Three launderettes,” she says.
“Oh, of course. Silly me. Chester owns three launderettes,” Bailey says, looking up at me with an expression of total innocence. “You know what a launderette is, don’t you, Matthew? It’s one of those places where you feed coins into a slot and then you get to wash your sheets in the same machine where somebody else just washed poopy diapers. Such an amazing invention!”
I almost choke on a mouthful of the red swill I’m drinking.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” my PA-turned-Vixen asks.
Sweetheart? I nod and pat my lips with a paper napkin embossed with the names of the happy couple held in the beak of a golden dove.
I could swear the bird winks at me.
“I’m fine,” I say.
Bailey smiles. “Good. Because the night is young.”
Man. If this is just the start of the evening, what comes next? Is Bailey drinking too much? I doubt it. Sure, she’s had three drinks in maybe fifteen minutes, but she’s right about the bubbly stuff tasting nothing like champagne. The red stuff is definitely wine, but still, it’s only wine.
“Where is Violet?” my PA asks. “I can hardly wait to congratulate her.”
Violet’s mother doesn’t answer the question. She’s suddenly staring at Bailey as if she’s never seen her before.
“My goodness,” she says slowly, “whatever have you done to yourself, Bailey? You look—you look—”
“Magnificent!”
This, from Violet’s father. It’s the first word he’s uttered and from the look his wife shoots him and the way he shrinks into his suit, I figure it might be his last for the night.
“Different,” she says coldly. She turns her attention back to Bailey. “New clothes? New hairstyle? Makeup? I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
I have been holding my drink in one hand and Bailey’s hand in the other. Now, my PA kind of turns towards me so that her body is pressed to mine. She rests her fingers lightly on my chest. Instinctively, I let go of her elbow and slide my arm around her waist.
“Mostly, what’s different is having Matthew in my life,” she purrs.
She turns that lovely face up to mine and after maybe a tenth of a second hesitation, I bend down and kiss her. It’s as natural as it was to put my arm around her and it’s only a light kiss, just the brush of my mouth over hers.
Why not? It’s part of the game.
But when I look into her eyes, I know three things.
