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Chapter 16
Jenna
“Tell me we’re not rolling out of bed at seven in the morning,” I groan when my alarm goes off for the third time. The sound feels like it slices right through my temples and I put a pillow over my head.
“It was your idea to arrange manis and pedis with my mom the morning after the bachelorette,” Stacey says, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
Kelsey and Nina complain from their piles of blankets, too.
We all stayed over in Stacey’s suite after the bachelorette last night. It seemed like the best idea, and I’m glad. I don’t think I would have dragged myself out of bed if I was alone.
“Come on, we have to get showered and get dressed,” Stacey says. “My mom isn’t going to be forgiving. She wants to impress Genevieve, and Lorraine flew in last night.”
“Lorraine, the distant cousin?” I ask.
Stacey nods. I know a little about who’s who on the guest list. And the planner, it’s my job. I covered most of the information before we flew to Hawaii so that I know the faces when I see them and understand who Laura means when she drops names like confetti.
“Lorraine is even worse than Genevieve,” Stacey says.
“They can’t be all that bad,” Nina said, getting up. She stumbles, losing her balance before she takes her first step.
It’s going to be a long day.
“Let’s revisit that statement after this morning,” Stacey says. “I’m ordering room service so we can chew while we get ready. If I don’t get something in my stomach, I’m going to hurl all over the nail technician and Mom will have my hide.”
It’s a good idea. While Stacey sails through the shower first, I order room service and make it as greasy as I can get. I don’t know if all the calories we’re consuming will come back and bite us on our wedding day, but my body does not want a salad, and the other girls don’t complain, either.
Last night was worth it, though. I drank more than I should have—I was trying to forget about Charlie and how lousy he made me feel. What the hell was he thinking, coming all the way to Hawaii in this romantic gesture? It’s just more than a year too late. And it’s pathetic. I know things like that always work out in the movies, but real life is nothing like the movies, and my breakups are final.
I get the door and let them push in the silver trolley with our food. Nina and Kelsey flock toward it. Stacey steps out, a towel around her hair, and it’s my turn to get under the hot spray.
It’s heaven to get clean, and the shower snaps me to a little bit more. We can do this. Getting our nails done is always fun, and I won’t tell Stacey, but I’m looking forward to seeing what Laura’s friends are really like. Are their friendships anything like what Stacey and I have?
A group of photographers huddles around the salon entrance. The manager flutters around, excited about the publicity, but Stacey groans when the car pulls up. Harvey insisted we take his car instead of a cab again—Laura wants us to look good for her friends.
"We need at least one of those bodyguards back," Stacey says. She pushes sunglasses onto her face and gets out. We follow, and I make a mental note to hire one back for the rest of our stay, at least.
When we step into the salon, leaving the flashes of cameras behind, Laura and her friends are already there.
"The paps are driving me crazy," Stacey says to her mom.
“You’re a little late,” Laura answers, tipping Stacey’s face up and studying her with a frown.
“Sorry, Mom. Late night.”
“Hmm,” Laura says disapprovingly.
“It’s my fault,” I say. “I suggested we eat before we arrive.”
Laura smiles at me, her attention diverted from Stacey, who looks relieved.
“Good call. Did you have a good time last night, girls?”
We all glance at each other before we nod. It was a good time, all right. So good, I can’t remember most of it. But Stacey had a blast, and that’s what matters. She’s only going to do this once. Hopefully. But she and Marc are the kind of people who make it work. Their relationship will probably last forever.
“Come on, we’re ready for you,” Laura says, and we sit down in comfortable chairs that lean back. Technicians swarm around us. We each have two, one tending to our hands and one to our feet. Music plays softly in the background—some soothing pan flute crap I would never have chosen. With my splitting headache, I would prefer silence. But we’ll have to grin and bear it.
Laura introduces us to Genevieve and Lorraine. They both look like they stepped from the pages of a magazine—their skin is flawless, hair perfectly glossy and gorgeously styled, and they’re wearing clothes that would probably cost me a full year’s salary.
