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“Don’t be gooey.”
“Don’t be late.” He hangs up, and tingles swarm around inside my stomach. I may have made fun of Bizzy and Grace all these years, but I fully understand them now. The charm and anticipation of unspoken promises are equivalent to living in fantasy land.
“Okay, no more,” I tell the technician, dropping my phone on the table beside my chair.
“It’s quite okay, Miss.” She goes back to work.
I close my eyes and actually feel all the muscles in my body loosen as the woman starts the reflexology on my heel. Her hands are firm, and she presses deep with each movement. Perfect, just perfect. The massaging chair kneads and rolls, and it doesn’t take long for my mind to completely clear.
My phone rings lowly, and when I see it’s my mom, I press ignore and go back to bliss.
“Hmm,” I moan when she loosens the muscle in my calf. She works each leg expertly.
This is heaven.
My phone goes again, and I’m tempted to ignore it, but when I peek to see who’s calling, I grab the phone. “Hi, Rachel.”
“Hi, Claire, are you busy?”
“Does orgasm by reflexology count as busy?”
I hear her typing, undoubtedly making a note that I like reflexology pedicures. This happens frequently when we talk; she’s always noting things I mention.
“Should I call later?”
“Nope, if you can handle the moaning, I can talk.”
She chuckles with a high pitch, making me wonder if my wedding planner is a girlie-girl. “I can deal with the moaning. Sorry to bother you, but your mother said she couldn’t get a hold of you so I thought I’d give it a try.”
“My mother is a liar. We spoke three times last night. Since I walked in the door to this place, I’ve had four phone calls. Hers, I chose to ignore. I’m glad you called; it saves me an email. We’ve had a few additions to the guest list that may bring attention. Eddie Jarvis, Joe Palos, Perry Carver, and Darren Jackson.” I name the athletes that are connected to us through Shaw and Nick. Through the last few years, we’ve become friends. Eddie is a teammate of Nick’s, and the other three Shaw’s clients. All of them are famous, all of them are awesome, and all of them invited themselves—deciding they weren’t missing the final Bennett Brother wedding.
“Mathis already informed me.”
Of course, he did.
“I’m actually calling about something a bit more… controversial.”
“Controversial?”
“I received a call from Grace, and she wanted to discuss your bachelorette party. She explained her delicate situation and wanted to get ideas.”
“It’s not delicate. She’s knocked up and an extreme southern belle. Her nickname is Sweet Peach. I’m sure, when she started looking into planning, she was overwhelmed.” I crack myself up.
“Well, yes, I guess so when you put it like that. But she was gung-ho for the true girls’ night out experience, not caring about the pregnancy part.”
“That sounds exactly like her.”
“This is where the controversial part comes in. It wasn’t ten minutes after we hung up, Mathis called. He was… how can I put this… shall we say adamant, that you are in no way to have anything salacious. He emailed me a list that eliminated almost all normal options of what the usual bachelorette parties consist of. I received similar lists from Shaw and Nick. Unless you want to do a day trip to the Hoover Dam, I’m afraid I’m in a pinch.”
“Those men are insane! Have you ever seen such barbaric antics?”
“This is Vegas, I’ve seen everything.” There’s hilarity in her answer. “I think I may have a solution. It will be pricey, but I think I can make it happen. However, it may require some unorthodox name-dropping.”
“Keep talking.” Now, I am intrigued. This woman hasn’t flinched or shown one interest in the fact that our small guest list includes six of the most sought-after athletes in the country. Using the term name-dropping means this must be extravagant.
“How do you feel about concerts?”
“I love concerts.”
