Always the Last to Know Read online

  I snort; this is not going to be her last attempt at trying to find me love. If the producers would let her, she would run a personal ad for me on the local news channel she works at. I don’t know what her exact job title is, but I know that it involves holding a clipboard, wearing a headset, and being in the control room a lot, which would allow her to sneak in a commercial about her pathetic roommate’s lack of a social life with no real difficulty.

  “Carla, I appreciate the help, I really do. But I don’t need any help getting a date.”

  “Really? Jess, who was the last guy to call your phone?”

  I eye my phone. It’s sitting on the coffee table, closer to Carla than it is to me. There is no way that I can even attempt to beat her to it. Realizing such, she scoops it off the table and flips it open. After a few clicks, she smiles.

  “Just as I suspected. The last guy you talked to was my brother.” Her smile vanishes and is replaced with a look of surprise. “You talked to him for forty-three minutes?”

  I nod, “Yeah. Well, technically, I argued with him for forty-three minutes. He couldn’t find his sketchpad and thought that he left it here. I told him that he didn’t, he said he did, I called him a doofus, he called me a wuss, and it only got meaner after that. And I was right. His sketchpad was at his office, not here.”

  After Riley graduated college two years ago, he immediately got accepted to this local contracting business to design blueprints for houses and companies and that kind of thing. He loves his job but makes sure to keep his work sketchpad at his office. His other sketchpad, the one he called questioning the location of, is full of random doodles and drawings. Kind of like the drawings Leonardo DiCaprio’s sketchpad in Titanic, only without the naked drawings of prostitutes and stuff. That’s what Riley loves to do. The drawing part, I mean. Not the prostitutes. He has been drawing for as far back as I can remember. And he is really good at it.

  Not that I would ever tell him that to his face, of course.

  Carla snaps my phone shut and smiles smugly, “I rest my case. You need my matchmaking skills.”

  “Don’t set me up, Carla. It’ll make me nervous.” I say with a sad face, but she seems unmoved. Fine, two can play this game. “And there’s nothing worse than a nervous and shaky bridesmaid who has a history of accidentally knocking stuff over to take all the focus off the bride during a wedding. And there’s going to be all those lit candles around and, oh my God, just think what could happen to the wedding cake.”

  “Fine. I won’t set you up. Geesh.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you should know that Matt plays guitar and volunteers at a soup kitchen twice a month.”

  “Really?” Evan and I ask at the same time.

  “Yeah.” She turns to stare at her fiancé, “Evan, he’s your best friend. How did you not know that?”

  Evan, as usual, grunts in response, and even shrugs a little. Carla rolls her eyes, but can’t help to steal a quick glance at him and smile.

  Yuck.

  “So, are you sure, Jess? You’re sure that you don’t want me to set you up with a guitar playing, soup kitchen volunteering Italian?”

  “That’s right.” I say slowly and with some difficulty.

  Carla hears the weakness in my voice and smiles. “Okay, I won’t say anything to him.”

  “Thank you.” I say with the same amount of trouble. It isn’t that I don’t want a date to the wedding, or just a date in general, I just don’t want the guy to feel bad for me and give me a pity date. Not that I could get a date as cute as I could remember Matt being; my luck has never been that great. And, there is no way in Hell I am going to land a date with him, or any other guy, for the wedding if they know that I will be dressed like Scarlet O’Hara’s ugly sister.

  Of course, Matt is going to have to wear a lavender suit. Maybe I would feel pity on him as well. Then we could date each other out of pity and have one of those classic love stories of the Best Man and Maid of Honor falling in love and jetting off to Italy for a private wedding in his native Italian village, perhaps in the same court square that his grandparents were married in some fifty years ago.

  I haven’t even met the guy and am already picking out a china pattern.

  I’m worse than Carla.

  Two

  Tuesday, June 23rd

  “When does Little Bo Peep want her dress back?”

  I don’t even look up at the person across from the teller window. I know exactly who it is.

  “Vayase, por favor.”

  “Come on, Reynolds. Don’t start this Ricky Ricardo crap with me again.”

  I look up at Riley and smile. He has an annoyed expression on his face but I can see amusement in his eyes.

  “Riley, how are you dear?” Annie, my neighbor teller, pushes me out of the way with her hip to get a better look at him.

  “Hi Mrs. Connelly.” He replies wearily and takes a step back from the teller window. Riley is convinced, as am I, that Annie has a crush on him. Which would be all well and good if Annie wasn’t married and old enough to be his mother. It may just be that Annie is overly sensual, or just a total cougar. Of course, if I look like Annie when I reach my fifties, I’ll be hitting on guys in their twenties as well. She kind of reminds me of a brunette Dolly Parton, with bright eyes and big hair, but with drawn-on eyebrows. She definitely has the same sweet Southern nature that Dolly seemed to radiate, and is, without a doubt, shopping in the same size of bras as Dolly.

  I look down at my flat chest. Damn her.

  “I brought lunch.” Riley waves a take-out bag from the deli down the street.

  “You want something, don’t you?”

  Before he can answer, Annie nudges me, “Go have lunch with him, sweetie.”

  I groan and head out from behind the counter and follow Riley outside to the picnic table behind the bank, but not before stopping in the break room to grab some Cokes out of the machine; it is way too humid outside to not have something ice cold to drink.

  I watch him carefully as he pulls the sandwiches out of the bag. He places a very cheesy ham Panini in front of me. Oh that bastard is definitely wanting something, and is willing to play dirty to get it.

  “What are you up to, Callahan?” I ask before touching the sandwich. I’m not committed to anything until I touch the Panini, those are the rules. Oh my God, are those sundried tomatoes? Riley is a clever one, all right.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to go in halves on a wedding gift for Carla and Evan.” He says with his mouth full of food.

  I nod and pick up the sandwich, feeling confident that I can handle this arrangement, “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ve been kind of stumped on what to get them. What’d you have in mind?”

  “I was just thinking. . . what if you moved in with me?”

  I choke on the ham sandwich. Mama Cass’s life just passed before my eyes, I swear to God. Riley hits my back a few times and the sandwich dislodges.

  I take a few breaths and several sips of soda, trying to calm down and comprehend what just happened. Had Riley really asked me to move in with him? Had I almost choked on a ham sandwich? My first few tries of speaking are nothing more than strange sounds.

  “Sorr… I… wha?” Is what I manage to blurt out.

  He puts his hands together and stares at them as he talks, “Carla and Evan are getting married and they’re going to want the apartment to themselves and you won’t be able to stand staying there with them. And I know you would rather walk on burning hot coals barefoot and naked in front of your mother and Green Bay’s defensive line than to move back home.”

  What is it with boys and Green Bay’s defense? He has everything else right though. I can’t even stomach the idea of moving back home with my parents and their ‘on again, off again’ marriage. And I definitely can’t live with Carla and Evan once they are married. Evan is practically living at the apartment already, and I grit my teeth most days with him there. He will be there all the time once he marries
Carla.

  Riley must be able to see the gears in my head spinning in circles at frantic speeds. His bright green eyes catch mine.

  “Live with me.” He says simply. Before I can respond, he launches into his reasoning. “Look, you can have the spare bedroom and the hall bathroom is all yours. I already have all the furniture for the kitchen, including a dishwasher, I know how you feel about dirty dishes, and the livingroom’s furnished. There’s no deposit, and I’ll make the rent cheap for you.”

  I open and close my mouth three times before speaking actual words. “Riley, we would kill each other.”

  He shakes his head, “No we wouldn’t. Look, if you don’t want to move in for Carla and Evan, or for your sanity, move in for Jackson.”

  “Low blow.” I mutter, thinking of the massive Great Dane that Riley saved from the animal shelter two years ago. To be this giant of a dog, Jackson is the sweetest, most spoiled creature to ever walk the earth. Every time I go over to Riley’s house, Jackson jumps on the couch and puts his head on my lap and just waits for me to scratch his ears. The dog is ridiculous, but I probably love him just as much as Riley does.

  “Please, Jess.” Riley is still looking at me with those green eyes of his and my stomach gives an odd lurch.

  “Okay.”

  Riley smiles and I can’t help but copy him.

  “Do you think that we should get them an actual tangible gift though?” Riley asks after a moment of silence.

  “Probably. I’ll look up some stuff online.”

  Riley smirks, “You know, we could go look for stuff together, in an actual store.”

  “No. No way in Hell am I going shopping with you. Shopping with you is the reason that we both got blacklisted at Home Depot.”

  “Like no one had ever knocked down a display of ladders that knocked over a display of paint that spilled all over the regional manager and gave him a concussion before.” Riley waves a hand, dismissing the whole thing. “Come on, Reynolds. Mom told me that I have to get them an actual gift, not just money in an envelope. Please, Jess. Just help me find something for them and I’ll leave you alone.”

  I tap a finger to my chin for a moment before having a grand vision.

  “Fine. I’ll help. But only if I can paint your kitchen yellow.”

  “Yellow? Fine, whatever, okay. Anything to get my mom to stop bugging me.”

  “Deal.” I check my watch, “I have to get back in there. Thanks for lunch, Callahan.”

  “You gave up way too soon. I would have went so far as to let you paint the master bath purple if it meant that it would get my mom to stop being so concerned about me having a proper outlet for my feelings.” He shakes his head, and helps me clean up the mess from our little picnic.

  “You poor baby, your mommy cares about your emotional well being.” I begin to open the door to reenter the bank, “Just be glad she’s not concerned with your romantic life.”

  “Don’t worry, she’s lecturing me about that too.” He snorts, before opening the door to his Jeep, his first and only vehicle. He had mowed lawns and cleaned garages since he was twelve to be able to afford a Jeep when he was sixteen. And he got his wish with a ten-year-old Jeep Wrangler that barely ran. He and his dad spent a summer fixing it up, with Riley refusing to add doors to it the entire time, despite the request from his mom and sister. Riley thought that the Jeep not having doors made it bad ass, a sentiment he and his father seemed to share. It wasn’t until I said that over my dead body would I ride in a vehicle without doors that Riley put them on. The Jeep is still bad ass, with a shiny red paint job and the top always down, not to mention all the audio equipment Riley installed in it last year.

  I pretty much love that damn car.

  “I’ll see you at the tux fitting later.” I smile as he closes the car door.

  “Thanks for rubbing that in.” He tells me through the open car window.

  I step back behind the teller’s window and attempt to count to ten. Annie is at my side before I get to four.

  “That boy is gorgeous.”

  I snort, “Seriously, Annie, you have got to start wearing your glasses.”

  Annie smacks my arm and rolls her brown eyes at me. I started working as a translator for Spanish speaking customers at Country Town Bank eighteen months ago and Annie had been the only person to really reach out and be a friend to me. She is truly a Southern woman with her caring, but nosey, charisma and an unstoppable nature to play matchmaker. She has been trying to get me to seduce Riley since she met him ten months ago.

  And Annie would know about seducing. Sometimes I think that Annie keeps her husband tied up in the basement of their home while she’s at work. She probably makes him call her Mistress Annie too. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised or anything.

  She gets all of her tips out of Cosmo. I was at her house once and she had at least six bookshelves dedicated to the magazine. She owns every issue of the magazine, in duplicate, since 1973. She keeps one set bound while the other set has been torn apart and the articles separated into categorical binders, such as “Men”, “Sex”, and “Quizzes”. She has offered me access to the library whenever I need any good sex positions.

  I told her that I would call when Hell froze over.

  ***

  I have been waiting for the day of the tux fittings ever since Carla uttered the words “lavender” and “Riley” in the same sentence five months ago. I just can’t believe that the day has finally arrived.

  Not only am I excited to make fun of Riley, but I will also be meeting the Best Man, Matt, which Carla called to remind me of four times before I had even left work. I’m pretty sure that she was supposed to be working during the times that she called me but she insisted that there wasn’t much news going on in the world, let alone in our town. Besides, her wedding is far more important than ten car pileups and hostage situations.

  “Shoot me. Please.”

  I look up to see Riley standing in front of me, looking like a purple marshmallow Peep. I try to stop myself but a snort escapes me.

  “Go to Hell, Reynolds.”

  “I hope you know that you’re not at all threatening in that frilly purple shirt.” I manage to get out between giggles.

  “If you’re the groom, I would get out now.” The tailor laughs, looking Riley up and down and shaking his head. At my second snort, the tailor looks at me and winks. He kind of reminds me of my grandpa, except with a pulse, and I can’t help but smile at him; Riley’s scowl only gets deeper across his face.

  “I’m the bride’s brother. And,” he looks at me, “speaking of the bride, where in the hell is she? I left work early for this and I don’t want to have to wear this thing any longer than I have to.”

  “She called while you were trying on that masterpiece.” He shoots me the finger but I continue talking, “The Best Man’s plane arrived late, but they’re on their way. She should be here any minute.”

  As if on cue, the door to the tailor’s shop opens and in walks Carla, Evan, and one of the prettiest boys that I have ever seen in my twenty-two years of existence.

  Riley, who has quickly moved to my side, whispers in my ear, “You can close your mouth, you know.”

  I elbow him but take his advice and shut my mouth, which had been hovering just inches above the floor. I can’t help it, the guy is just that pretty. He’s shorter than Riley, but still much taller than me, slightly muscular and has the most gorgeous mop of dark brown hair that I have ever seen.

  “Jess, this is Matt.” Carla smiles as she lightly shoves me toward him.

  I shake his hand (his big, strong hand) and try to remember how to form words.

  “So, you’re Jess? Carla was talking about you all the way here.”

  My tongue still isn’t working. Carla punches me in the arm and I slowly come out of my trance.

  “Hi.” Hey, I did it! I said something!

  Matt laughs, “Hi.”

  Riley clears his throat and we all turn to look at him, which
I will admit is a challenge for me to tear my attention away from Matt’s face. I can hear Evan gulp as he gets a good look at Riley’s tux. He knows exactly what he is in for, and that it isn’t going to be a pretty sight.

  “Oh, right. Matt, this is my brother, Riley.” Carla mutters, bored with the introduction. It takes her a moment to register that he is donning the clothes for the wedding and, when she realizes it, her entire face lights up. “That tux looks so great on you Riley!”

  “Yeah, it looks great if you’re blind in one eye and have cataracts in the other.” He does a sideways glance in a nearby mirror. “Very severe cataracts.”

  Carla punches him in the arm.

  “What happened to you saying no to purple?” Matt mutters to Evan.

  Evan sighs, “She withheld sex until I caved in.”

  Matt let out a laugh, “God, you have the best fiancée ever.”

  “That’s so sweet, Matt.” Carla smiles at him, completely unaware of their conversation. I can’t help but smirk; Matt and I will get along just fine.

  “Hey, shouldn’t you guys be trying on your tuxes?” Riley asks in a huffy voice. I can’t help but smile at him as he stomps back into the dressing room, the bottom of his purple pants dragging the ground, and slams the door shut.

  “He is such a diva.” Carla and I say in unison, shaking our heads at the door Riley had just closed with some serious attitude.

  “He’s got a point. The sooner I’m in and out of that tux, the better.” Evan says, earning him a death glare from Carla. She follows him back into another dressing room, rambling about how the tuxes are so important to the overall theme of the wedding and blah blah blah.

  “So, is the Maid of Honor dress as bad as these get-ups?” Matt asks, looking at me with those dark brown eyes.

  Be still my heart.

  “You have a frilly shirt. I have a frilly umbrella.”

  “That sounds kind of dirty.”

  We both start laughing. Oh my God, he’s cute AND funny. He has to have a flaw somewhere. Maybe he’s wearing a toupee…