“I was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome as a kid. I’ve been poked and prodded by every needle and test in existence. It’s actually why I started tattooing. Kind of like a conquer-your-trauma thing.”
“I never would have known,” I say, then wonder if that was a dumb thing to say.
“It’s not a visible illness.” She purses her lips. “And Pen likes to pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“So you two…aren’t close?”
“I think we would cut genetic ties if Penelope had her way. That’s partially why Aunt Lou mandated my involvement in her wedding. Well, that and she likes to stir the pot, a trait that Iadmire deeply.” Calliope narrows her eyes. “Speaking of which, I heard Penelope asked you to be an unofficial co-maid of honor?”
My stomach drops. “She just asked, I haven’t given her an answer yet. I wasn’t expecting it at all.”
“I was. It was only a matter of time before she found a workaround for Aunt Lou’s one condition.”
“It’s just because of the book?—”
“Tour.” Calliope rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what she told me too. You’d think in exchange for a quarter-million-dollar wedding, she’d be capable of doing this one thing. Especially with everything she has riding on it.”
My eyes bulge. It’s one thing guessing the wedding budget and another thing entirely to hear someone say it out loud. But something else catches in what she said. “What do you mean, everything she has riding on it?”
Calliope turns her head to exhale a stream of fruity vapor away from me. “Aunt Lou is redoing her will now that Uncle Alfie has passed.” Her eyes go glassy, but she shakes it off. “Pen was never all that interested in Aunt Lou, until she realized the will rewrite was the last chance to secure her trust fund.”
“That doesn’t sound like her,” I say, remembering the sweet girl from Lakeview Writers Group and Sangrias and Syntax.
“Mom and Harold have done well for themselves, but it’s nothing compared to Aunt Lou’s family money.” Calliope tips her beer toward me. “They never had their own kids, so us and my aunt’s family are Louise’s only remaining relatives.”
I’m not an idiot, I know Pen comes across as a bit disingenuous. She’s just got so much going on. Her social media is a full-time job, not to mention writing. We’ve been friends for seven years now. We’ve had our ups and downs, sure, but I know who Penelope is. She’s not that kind of person.
I shake my head, rejecting the idea that Penelope would do all this just for a trust fund.
Calliope shrugs. “Money does something to people.”
“There she is!” Penelope parts the crowd, standing out like an angel among (late-nineties-era) mortals. She’s wearing a white tweed mini dress, chunky white heels, and a pearl headband. “My knight in shining armor!” She pulls me off my barstool and into a fierce hug that I try to enjoy. It’s difficult because of the intense smell of sickly-sweet perfume clinging to her.
“I was just talking about you,” Pen gushes before realizing I’m not alone. “Calliope,” she adds, distant but cordial.
“Penny,” Calliope says into her beer.
“We need to celebrate.” Pen goes on her tiptoes to flag down the bartender. “We have to do shots.”
I balk. “Oh, I don’t dr?—”
“Let’s get the rest of the wedding party here.” Pen winks at me. “Joshie!” She calls behind her. “Baby, where are your groomsmen?” She calls the girls over too, and I learn who her bridesmaids are: Clara, Izumi, a college friend named Emma, someone I’ve never seen before who looks like an Instagram model, and…the girl who was hooking up with Eitan when I met him. Our eyes meet and it’s clear she recognizes me. We both decide to pretend this is our first time meeting.
“I’m Deepti,” she says, flipping her raven hair over her shoulder. “I go by Deep.”
“Ruby.” We shake hands. It’s as awkward as it sounds. It gets even better when Eitan joins the circle forming. He and Deep smile at each other, though his is office-coworker-pleasant, and hers is let’s-rip-our-clothes-off-(again)-sultry.
A few other attractive guys join us. I keep my eyes down, concentrating on counting every individual knuckle crack as I fiddle with my hands.
“Rubes!” Clara pulls me into a hug. “So fun having you here.”
Penelope counts. “We need thirteen shots!” she announces to the bartender. “Tequila.”
“I’ll shoot soda water,” Izumi sighs.
“Ha! Right, you’re excused.” Pen looks pointedly at Izumi’s stomach.
“I’ll take water too.” Eitan holds up a hand.
