Rusty Nailed
Page 38
I was seeing stars.
“Sorry, I can’t even pretend to have heard anything you said after Food Network. You worked there! And you quit there! Why, woman—why in God’s name?” I cried, my jaw hanging open so wide it was a good thing we were sitting down. Otherwise I’d trip.
She laughed and raised her eyebrows. “Let me guess. Barefoot Contessa?”
“Yes!” I screamed. Everyone stopped to look at us, and I turned red. Simon looked over from the bar, and I gave him the all clear.
I regrouped. “I mean, yes, I am a fan,” I said coolly.
“Me too. She’s super nice.”
“You’ve met her?”
This time Simon excused himself from who he was talking to and started toward me, Trevor and the apostles in tow.
I know it’s not logical; I know it’s not even physically possible—but I swear on all that is holy, they walked in slow motion. Like in some kind of action movie. Simon took point, Trevor just off to his left, and the rest slightly behind, like geese in a V. Everyone stopped to watch. It was like the sexiest train wreck ever; no one could look away.
I’d say it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, but music from the early 2000s was on heavy rotation, and 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” gave the boys their own soundtrack. All I saw were the sapphires, and they were laser locked and speaking volumes. I was familiar with this Simon.
Strong Simon. Authoritative Simon. Big Swinging Dick Simon. And on this, I could confirm.
Wallbanger Simon.
He reached our table, sat down next to me with an amused look on his face, and slid his arm around my shoulder.
Oh. My. God. Simon Parker put his arm around me! Like, in front of everyone!
Wait, this wasn’t high school. This wasn’t even my high school. But that didn’t stop girls from throwing eye daggers at me from all corners of the room. I smirked a little, preening with my shoulder candy.
“You want to tell me why you’re over here screaming?” he whispered into my ear, and I melted. But before I melted totally, I got control.
“Your girl Megan here has met Ina Garten, in person!” I announced, looking fondly at her. “You’re my new best friend!”
“I bet I could get you a signed cookbook,” she offered.
“Trevor, your wife is the coolest person ever,” I gushed. “I’m buying you a drink—what’re you drinking?”
“Just club soda,” she said, casting a shy smile at Trevor, who beamed.
I looked between them, then arched my eyebrow at Megan, who nodded. “Congratulations! Wow, that’s great! You must not be far along, you’re so tiny!” I gushed.
“Wait, what’d I miss?” Simon asked.
“She’s only about eight weeks—we just found out.” Trevor grinned, taking her hand across the table.
“Wait, what’d I miss?”
“That’s so great,” I said. “And so soon after the wedding. What a year for you— What, Simon?” He was tapping me on the shoulder.
“I don’t get it. What’s eight weeks?” he asked, looking bewildered.
“She’s pregnant,” I said, rolling my eyes at Megan, who responded in kind.
Simon looked at Trevor in shock. “Dude?”
Trevor nodded. “Dude.”
Simon digested, then grinned wide. “Dude!”
Take a lesson, girls: That’s how you communicate with someone you haven’t seen in ten years.
• • •
Dinner was fantastic, his friends were fantastic, the entire evening was fantastic. Once dinner had been served, everyone mingled again and people were truly happy to see Simon. From what I could glean from tidbits here and there, most of his classmates knew he was a photographer, and some even knew how successful he was in his field. But hearing him tell his story, telling people what he’d been up to over the last ten years, was really fantastic.
And you should have seen his face when the apostles started whipping out their wallets to show him pictures of their kids! All of them, married; all of them, kids; all of them, settled into the good life. The good life that was preordained for apostles from Moneyville, USA. I had to bite down on my lip to keep from laughing when Luke copped to having triplets. Simon looked like he was going to pass out. I just made circles on his back with my hand and sent him back into the fray when another wave of old friends made their way by the table.
No one said a word about his family, and I’d been paying attention, ready to swoop in with my no-panties alternative. They were just all glad he’d finally popped back up on the radar, and to know he was doing well, that he was happy.
After dinner we walked around the room and I saw more yearbook pictures on the wall, including Senior Superlatives: Class Clown, Cutest Couple, that sort of thing. After what I’d seen tonight, I knew he was on here somewhere; it was just a question of where. Best Hair? Best Smile? Best Looking? I could see all three, but it turned out to be the one on the end: Most Likely to Succeed.
“Well, look at you. Everyone knew you were going places way back then,” I joked, pulling him in front of the picture and comparing what ten years did. In the picture he was tall and handsome, eyes bright and hopeful, an easy grin on his face. A little leaner than he was now, of course; just the tiniest hint of a laugh line here or there.
He looked at the picture and smiled ruefully. “I can’t believe they put those pictures up. How embarrassing.”
“No, it’s nice. I like seeing you back then.”
“It’s funny, seeing this now. You know why I got this one?”
“As opposed to Most Fuckable? Because you have my vote for that one.”
“Because I was going into business with my dad,” he answered, his eyes darkening a bit.
“I’m sorry, Simon,” I breathed as he pulled me closer by the hand that’d been on my back all night.
He was silent for a moment, looking at the picture. He took a deep breath. I wondered whether I should tell him about what I wasn’t wearing under my dress; there was a dark corner not too far away—
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s actually been nice to think about these things again. Makes it seem not so far away.”
“Far away, my ass. Far away is Istanbul,” a female voice said behind us. We turned and saw a petite girl with closely cropped jet-black hair, a nose ring, several eyebrow piercings, and the most piercing green eyes I’d ever seen. The tiny black dress, fishnet stockings, and Dr. Martens took your eyes to her body right away, and when you put it all together, the girl was a f**king knockout. With killer arm ink.
“Sorry, I can’t even pretend to have heard anything you said after Food Network. You worked there! And you quit there! Why, woman—why in God’s name?” I cried, my jaw hanging open so wide it was a good thing we were sitting down. Otherwise I’d trip.
She laughed and raised her eyebrows. “Let me guess. Barefoot Contessa?”
“Yes!” I screamed. Everyone stopped to look at us, and I turned red. Simon looked over from the bar, and I gave him the all clear.
I regrouped. “I mean, yes, I am a fan,” I said coolly.
“Me too. She’s super nice.”
“You’ve met her?”
This time Simon excused himself from who he was talking to and started toward me, Trevor and the apostles in tow.
I know it’s not logical; I know it’s not even physically possible—but I swear on all that is holy, they walked in slow motion. Like in some kind of action movie. Simon took point, Trevor just off to his left, and the rest slightly behind, like geese in a V. Everyone stopped to watch. It was like the sexiest train wreck ever; no one could look away.
I’d say it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, but music from the early 2000s was on heavy rotation, and 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” gave the boys their own soundtrack. All I saw were the sapphires, and they were laser locked and speaking volumes. I was familiar with this Simon.
Strong Simon. Authoritative Simon. Big Swinging Dick Simon. And on this, I could confirm.
Wallbanger Simon.
He reached our table, sat down next to me with an amused look on his face, and slid his arm around my shoulder.
Oh. My. God. Simon Parker put his arm around me! Like, in front of everyone!
Wait, this wasn’t high school. This wasn’t even my high school. But that didn’t stop girls from throwing eye daggers at me from all corners of the room. I smirked a little, preening with my shoulder candy.
“You want to tell me why you’re over here screaming?” he whispered into my ear, and I melted. But before I melted totally, I got control.
“Your girl Megan here has met Ina Garten, in person!” I announced, looking fondly at her. “You’re my new best friend!”
“I bet I could get you a signed cookbook,” she offered.
“Trevor, your wife is the coolest person ever,” I gushed. “I’m buying you a drink—what’re you drinking?”
“Just club soda,” she said, casting a shy smile at Trevor, who beamed.
I looked between them, then arched my eyebrow at Megan, who nodded. “Congratulations! Wow, that’s great! You must not be far along, you’re so tiny!” I gushed.
“Wait, what’d I miss?” Simon asked.
“She’s only about eight weeks—we just found out.” Trevor grinned, taking her hand across the table.
“Wait, what’d I miss?”
“That’s so great,” I said. “And so soon after the wedding. What a year for you— What, Simon?” He was tapping me on the shoulder.
“I don’t get it. What’s eight weeks?” he asked, looking bewildered.
“She’s pregnant,” I said, rolling my eyes at Megan, who responded in kind.
Simon looked at Trevor in shock. “Dude?”
Trevor nodded. “Dude.”
Simon digested, then grinned wide. “Dude!”
Take a lesson, girls: That’s how you communicate with someone you haven’t seen in ten years.
• • •
Dinner was fantastic, his friends were fantastic, the entire evening was fantastic. Once dinner had been served, everyone mingled again and people were truly happy to see Simon. From what I could glean from tidbits here and there, most of his classmates knew he was a photographer, and some even knew how successful he was in his field. But hearing him tell his story, telling people what he’d been up to over the last ten years, was really fantastic.
And you should have seen his face when the apostles started whipping out their wallets to show him pictures of their kids! All of them, married; all of them, kids; all of them, settled into the good life. The good life that was preordained for apostles from Moneyville, USA. I had to bite down on my lip to keep from laughing when Luke copped to having triplets. Simon looked like he was going to pass out. I just made circles on his back with my hand and sent him back into the fray when another wave of old friends made their way by the table.
No one said a word about his family, and I’d been paying attention, ready to swoop in with my no-panties alternative. They were just all glad he’d finally popped back up on the radar, and to know he was doing well, that he was happy.
After dinner we walked around the room and I saw more yearbook pictures on the wall, including Senior Superlatives: Class Clown, Cutest Couple, that sort of thing. After what I’d seen tonight, I knew he was on here somewhere; it was just a question of where. Best Hair? Best Smile? Best Looking? I could see all three, but it turned out to be the one on the end: Most Likely to Succeed.
“Well, look at you. Everyone knew you were going places way back then,” I joked, pulling him in front of the picture and comparing what ten years did. In the picture he was tall and handsome, eyes bright and hopeful, an easy grin on his face. A little leaner than he was now, of course; just the tiniest hint of a laugh line here or there.
He looked at the picture and smiled ruefully. “I can’t believe they put those pictures up. How embarrassing.”
“No, it’s nice. I like seeing you back then.”
“It’s funny, seeing this now. You know why I got this one?”
“As opposed to Most Fuckable? Because you have my vote for that one.”
“Because I was going into business with my dad,” he answered, his eyes darkening a bit.
“I’m sorry, Simon,” I breathed as he pulled me closer by the hand that’d been on my back all night.
He was silent for a moment, looking at the picture. He took a deep breath. I wondered whether I should tell him about what I wasn’t wearing under my dress; there was a dark corner not too far away—
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s actually been nice to think about these things again. Makes it seem not so far away.”
“Far away, my ass. Far away is Istanbul,” a female voice said behind us. We turned and saw a petite girl with closely cropped jet-black hair, a nose ring, several eyebrow piercings, and the most piercing green eyes I’d ever seen. The tiny black dress, fishnet stockings, and Dr. Martens took your eyes to her body right away, and when you put it all together, the girl was a f**king knockout. With killer arm ink.
