“Saved by the bell,” I mutter to myself. The limo is here. One by one, we all slide into the stretch limousine, Vicky first, then Chrissie. I’m last, of course. I get a spot in the back, smushed up against the window. No worries. I’d rather be here than in the center. Vicky hasn’t said much since the conversation in the living room was cut short. The other women are doing their best to distract her, handing her drinks, stroking her ego by telling her how amazing she looks, and regaling her with funny stories about all the times they got drunk together in college. I didn’t go to college, so I don’t have anything to add on that subject.
I’m keeping a close eye on Vicky, though. She’s pissed. I know her well enough to know that whatever Chrissie said back in her living room hasn’t been resolved.
* * *
I’m sittingat the bar, minding my own business and have been since we got here, a couple hours ago. I’d say minding my own business isn’t possible as it’s the best place for people-watching on the planet. Since I consider myself a pro people-watcher, I’m in hog heaven. For example, I’ve watched at least seven guys crash and burn trying to talk to the two women next to me. I don’t know who they are, they aren’t with our crew, but it’s been hilarious. The women have been brutal to those poor men.
The part I’ve enjoyed the most has been the lines the guys have used when they approach the ladies. My personal favorite is, “Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?” My goodness, that guy was cocky. I cracked up, which drew attention to myself, but that’s okay. The ladies laughed with me as soon as he left.
The thing is, the guy was cute, sure, but nothing extraordinary. Nothing like Alec Marchesani. Nowhecould get away with a pickup line like that. I snort aloud because a man like Alec, no matter what Chrissie thinks, doesn’t need a line. He has “it,” even if he is pretty broody and uncoordinated on the dance floor. You overlook stuff like that with a guy like Alec.
Actually, some of my favorite romance books have broody main characters. With those guys, it’s endearing. Plus, there’s always a hidden reason they’re like that. For example, they were orphans who had to fight and claw their way to the top, leaving them bitter. That is until the perfect woman shows up and changes everything.
I’d like to tell you I’m that person for Alec, but even after the two of us have practiced the dances by ourselves for several days since Sunday, I can say with 100 percent certainty, there’s nothing romantic going on between the two of us.
Oh, did I forget to mention my private lessons with Alec?
It happened like this. After the last disastrous dance class on Sunday, I was left behind to straighten up after the bridal party left. According to Chrissie, that is part of my job.
Whatever.
While I was picking up empty coffee cups and muffin wrappers, I overheard Madame DuBois tell Aunt Annabelle that Alec is a lost cause, adding, “I can do no more. Deal with it.”
As I was walking out of the building, I remembered I parked my car two blocks away, in front of the coffee shop. That’s when I saw Alec leaning against his car.
“Hey,” I’d said as I passed him.
I stopped in my tracks when Alec said, “I need your help, Matilda.”
“What kind of help?” I mean, maybe he wanted help in the dirty sense. Honestly, I was okay with that. Hell, I wished it the night before. You know, alone in my bed.
“Dancing. You seem to know what you’re doing, and you’re a better teacher than anyone else in that room,” he says, pointing to the dance studio. “Will you work with me? In private?”
“Hell yes!” I shouted.
Just kidding. I wouldn’t humiliate myself to that degree.
I did agree to help the guy, though. It says a lot about a person that he’d want to take the time to get it right for his brother.
I met him at his hotel after work for the next three days. Don’t get excited. It wasn’t as sexy as it sounds. He’d talked the hotel manager into letting us use an empty conference room to practice. I used my phone and a small speaker for the music, and we practiced. And practiced. His parents got to town on Thursday, which meant we couldn’t practice after Wednesday. No matter, by Wednesday evening, he had the moves down. Pretty much.
Is it was fun.Hewas fun. We laughed our butts off the entire time. At one point, he said, “I wishyouwere my partner at the wedding.”
Sigh.Me too, Alec. Me too.
“Oh, my God, Mattie. You’d better get over there,” bridesmaid Callie says as she jabs me in the arm with her finger. “Vicky is two seconds away from killing—”
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because the chant “Fight, fight, fight…” has filled the “hottest club in Chicago.”
Honestly, I don’t get it. What’s so special about this place? It looks just like all the other dance clubs in the world. It’s dark, with the only light coming from the pulsing strobes on the dance floor. The music is loud and more techno than anything else. And it’s expensive. Example, the price of my bottle of water was fifteen bucks.
Ridiculous.
Good thing I only needed the one. I’ve been nursing that little baby the whole time.
“Did you hear me?” Callie squeaks. “They’re fighting.”
“Who?” I’m going to go out on a limb and assume it’s Vicky and Chrissie.
