An Easy Dare Read online

  “Good idea,” Anna said. “I don’t want all my trash-picking to be for nothing. I almost touched a used condom trying to get one of those doubloons.”

  The thought of getting back to the piece energized me. Art was the only thing in my life that I loved to spend my time on. Working on the willow tree had been my therapy.

  I set the bag next to my purse and thought of all the days and nights I’d spent plotting how to make the piece come to life. For a while those were the only times when I didn’t think of Gabe.

  I pulled out my cell phone. Time to call Cort. I needed some grounding.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re calling your fiancée already,” Anna said. “We’ve been home less than ten minutes. You’re going to be bound in eternal matrimony tomorrow to that little weasel. Isn’t that enough?”

  I started dialing. “You could be a little more supportive, you know. Just because you don’t like Cort doesn’t mean I don’t.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what you see in him. And you deserve to be happy.”

  I laid my half-dialed cell phone on my lap. “Doesn’t everyone deserve to be happy?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Miss Philosophical,” she said. “Typical, idealistic Cat. You’d think I’d be more like you, with all those meditation classes I’ve been taking.”

  “You spend the entire fifteen minutes with one eye open, staring at that hot guy from the yoga place. They should call it Anna Goes Into a Trance with Ryan Reynolds Lookalike classes.”

  “They’d probably get higher enrollment.” She shrugged. “Either way, meditation isn’t working. I’m just as bitchy as ever.”

  “It’s the phone sex,” I joked. “It’s turned you into a harlot.”

  “Ha! A harlot. I like that.” She scrunched her lips into a kiss and talked in her throaty, breathless voice: “Yes, this is Viv. The harlot.” Viv was her “stage name,” although her stage mostly involved her unmade bed in a room strewn with shoes.

  I laughed. “Is that really how you sound when you talk to them?”

  “I’ll never tell, Catherine Martel.” She lit the cigarette and took a drag thoughtfully. “I’m sorry for talking shit about Cort. I support you one-hundred percent, you know that.”

  “I know. You just have to remember, there’s more to Cort than the money and the show. He never left my side after Gabe left—and not because he wanted to hook up. He didn’t even try anything until last year. He’s taken care of my father. He treats me like a queen—”

  “—more like a prize—”

  “—and he’ll always be there for me,” I added, hardening my voice. “Always. I love him. I can count on him. It’s a safe kind of love, not the crazy kind I had with Gabe. There’s something to be said for that.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just—he can be such an ass.”

  I picked up the phone and finished dialing. “So can you,” I said.

  She shrugged. “Point taken.” She nodded toward the shower. “After all that hard-core partying, I need a shower. When I get out we’ll get shitty drunk like teenagers and share all our secrets.”

  Cort’s phone buzzed in my ear. “You know all mine already.”

  “We’ll make shit up, then,” she said, making her way to the bathroom. “Make-believe. I can do that. I do it every Wednesday night as Viv the harlot.”

  Cort picked up just as Viv the harlot closed the bathroom door.

  “Hey, babe,” he said. I could tell by his voice that he’d been drinking heavily. “Back already?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting party of the year,” I said, quickly adding, “but it was fun.”

  “Anna and my sister didn’t kill each other, then?”

  I could also tell by the background noise—or lack of it—that he was alone in the house. I wondered what happened to his bachelor party. It was only midnight. Then again, he didn’t have a large group of friends. Acquaintances, yes, but mostly through business.

  “No,” I said. “They behaved.”

  Cort rarely spoke poorly of Anna because he knew she was my best friend. It was one of the reasons why it upset me so much when Anna talked shit about him. He doesn’t say bad things about you, I’d say. He likes you. But she’d just roll her eyes and say, Just because he doesn’t talk shit on me doesn’t mean he likes me. It just means he’s smart enough to know that if he says bad things about me, you won’t like him anymore.

  “Good,” he said. Pause. “You okay? You sound like something’s wrong.”

  Nothing wrong, dear, except that the man I loved my entire life, the guy you hate, the one who exudes all that raw sexuality, is suddenly back in town after a three-year hiatus. But never-you-mind. What time’s the wedding again?

  “I’m fine. Just wanted to hear a friendly voice.”

  “Anything happen tonight?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing, really. Just asking.”

  Did he know Gabe was back in town? Did he know about the note and the Champagne? Should I tell him?

  No. It was the night before our wedding. I didn’t want memories of Gabe to interfere with that. If anything crawled under Cort’s skin, it was Gabe. He may hold his tongue when it came to Anna, but the same could not be said of Gabe.

  “Why’s it so quiet over there?” I asked. “You get rid of the strippers already?”

  He laughed lightly. “Yes. I’m sitting here having a drink all by myself. Staring at the fireplace.”

  “Now that you mention it, you sound kinda weird yourself. Everything alright with you?”

  “Of course. I couldn’t be happier. I’m marrying the most beautiful woman in New Orleans tomorrow, aren’t I?”

  I smiled. “If you say so.”

  Without missing a beat, he promptly replied: “Yes. I say so.”

  -3-

  A woman’s wedding day is supposed to be the most important day of her life. It’s the day when she feels like a princess in a fairy tale. Or so I’ve heard.

  Instead, I felt like an ogre—even wearing the white dress and jewels—because I couldn’t shake Gabe out of my head. What kind of woman is thinking of another man on her wedding day? But I was desperate to talk to him and look into his eyes. Ask him why he left and why he came back. Ask him if he ever loved me or if it was an act – and if he loved me, why did he leave? And I wanted to see what he looked like, if he was still strong and ripped, with a five o’clock shadow that darkened the hard lines of his jaw. For the past year I’d been looking at Cort, who never let stubble pock the soft lines of his creamy face because he said it looked dirty.

  And now I’d be looking at him for the rest of my life.

  But that’s how it should be, I told myself. Because Cort had loved me just as long as Gabe had, and Cort never left. He was there, always reliable and familiar, for me and my father. He was safe, and so was my love for him. I didn’t love him with the same passion that I loved Gabe, but I loved him. He’d always been a constant in my life. Besides, passion doesn’t last forever. It dies eventually. Passion is like a light that burns off too much energy—slowly, it dims and fades and then you’re left with real life. Practical life. That’s what Cort was. Practical. They don’t exactly make Hallmark cards for that sort of thing, but maybe they should. I don’t want to rip off your clothes when I walk through the door, but you’re always there for me and I love you. Happy Anniversary.

  Sometimes a girl’s gotta make practical, responsible choices.

  I repeated this to myself all morning as I went through the motions of getting ready for an extravagant wedding that was way too over-the-top for my taste. It was Cort’s idea to have me arrive at St. Louis Cathedral in a horse-drawn carriage, ready for the photographers. I could’ve been married in jeans, for all I cared.

  That’s how Gabe and I planned to get married.

  I pushed the thought away and eyed Anna’s reflection in the mirror beside me. In less than ten minutes w
e would leave the Belrose Crescent Luxury Hotel in the Quarter; me in one carriage, my bridesmaids in another, but for now I was an unmarried woman, standing in an extravagant dressing room with my closest friend in the world. Anna had been raised with us in the Quarter and she’d seen me through it all—she’d been there when my father took care of Gabe; she’d seen Cort pout and whine when I spent too much time with Gabe when we were kids; she’d been my shoulder after Gabe left, when I cried for days, then weeks, until my body ran out of tears. Now she’d see me through this.

  She handed over my bouquet with as much enthusiasm as she could manage. It was a bouquet of roses. I wanted daisies—they’re my favorite flower—but the ever-present Delilah had laughed wildly at that suggestion.

  Daisies at a Belrose wedding? Delilah had said. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. Think what people would say.

  If you ask me, a flower is a flower, so who cares? And who has the time to jabber on about someone having daisies at a wedding?

  New Orleans society, that’s who.

  I took the roses from Anna and sighed.

  “If you don’t mind my saying so,” Anna said, “You are the most miserable-looking bride ever.”

  She shifted her eyes toward the closed door. Delilah and Holly were in the hall, waiting for us.

  “I’m just … thinking of my mother.” It wasn’t completely untrue. I had been thinking of her early that morning. Even though I’d lived without her my entire life—she died of cancer when I was barely a toddler—I always missed her, or at least the thought of her, on important days.

  Anna adjusted a piece of hair that had fallen across my forehead. “Are you sure that’s all? Nothing else?”

  She knew me too well.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  She took the roses out of my hand, tossed them on the vanity and looked me squarely in the eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Cat. You know that, right? You haven’t signed the papers yet.”

  “It’s my wedding. Of course I have to do it. You know how much money the Belrose family has spent on—”

  “Fuck that. Money is money. This is your life, and you don’t have to go through with it.” She took both my hands in hers. “I know you’re not doing this just for yourself. You feel like you owe Cort something because he’s taken care of Marty. But your dad is a grown man who needs to handle his own problems.”

  Marty. My father. Once upon a time he had big dreams to have his own restaurant empire, just like the Belroses. Maybe he would’ve, if my mother hadn’t died. But instead of developing a restaurant empire, he developed a drinking and gambling problem. The Belroses never fired him for it, though. He managed to go from a barback to floor manager of the Blue Note, the Belroses’ four-star restaurant and lounge. When I told Cort I would marry him, my dad was promoted to manager of the Crescent.

  “My dad can take care of himself. I know that,” I said, even though I’d never been totally convinced it was true. “Besides, that’s not what this is about.”

  Anna kept babbling like she didn’t hear a single word I’d said. “We can leave right now. I’ll figure out a way to get you out of here and I’ll clean up the mess. Eventually it’ll all blow over. But if you marry him, you’re stuck, Cat. Forever. And Gabe—”

  “I won’t be ‘stuck.’ I’ll be married to a man I love—a man who promised to take care of me and has followed up on that promise ever since we were kids. Gabe left, remember? And in a really shitty way, I might add. Besides, I thought we settled this last night. You said you’d be supportive.” I took back my hand and adjusted my veil. I didn’t need Anna’s shit.

  I took another look in the mirror. I barely recognized myself. My brown hair was curled and piled on top of my head. My eyes were painted with shadow, eyeliner and mascara. I’d never worn so much make-up in my life.

  An image popped in my head: my head on Gabe’s lap at our favorite bench in Jackson Square, him looking down at me and saying, promise me you’ll never start wearing make-up. You’re the most natural beauty I’ve ever seen, and I love to see every part of your face.

  “I am. I just know you don’t love Cort the way you love Gabe,” Anna said, frowning. Forever Gabe’s defender. “I’ve known you forever, and I know that for a fact.”

  I opened my mouth, ready to give her my whole Hallmark-card spiel, but Anna didn’t care about that. She’d defend Gabe till the end. She’d always hated Cort. Most people did, but only because they didn’t know him the way I did. There were parts of him that were vulnerable and insecure. It’s why he acted like an ass sometimes. He was worried that people would find out he was still that scared little boy who never learned how to climb a fence.

  “Cort has been here, by my side, since forever,” I said.

  “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Like a popcorn kernel that gets stuck in your teeth.”

  “Gabe is my past. Today is about my future. Do you have my back or what? Jesus, Anna.” I picked up the bouquet and sighed. “Let’s get going. My dad’s probably going out of his mind waiting for me to show up.”

  The truth was, Anna was right. My dad was part of the reason I could never run out on this wedding, even if I wanted to. He was so proud that his daughter was marrying a Belrose. He’d watched all of us grow up together side-by-side but I’m sure he never thought that any of us would become a real part of the Belrose crowd. Cort moved in a different circle. One with cash. My dad expected me to end up with Gabe, the son of a drug-addled lounge singer who sang nights at the Blue Note before disappearing to the streets.

  But then, everyone thought Gabe and I would end up together.

  Especially me.

  That thought haunted me as I loaded onto the carriage, wearing my expensive and insanely uncomfortable wedding gown. Before the carriage took off Anna squeezed my hand and said, “I’ll always have your back—remember that,” while Delilah and Holly hung back, waiting.

  The bumpy carriage rode me through the Quarter, ready to deliver me to a new life. When we reached Jackson Square, I saw the bench where Gabe and I used to sit, two kids growing up together in the shadow of St. Louis Cathedral. I saw Pirate’s Alley, the narrow walkway where we used to dart off and sneak kisses—kisses that were sweet, innocent and childlike at first, but grew as we did, until we were nineteen years old and pawing at each other’s buttons in front of the William Faulkner house until I could feel him hard against my thigh, sometimes so hard that I thought he would break through his jeans.

  I shifted in my carriage seat. It was a quiet mid-morning in the Quarter. A few tourists waved. A little girl pointed at the carriage, her eyes sparkling like diamonds, probably imagining her own wedding.

  I was so lost in thought that I hardly noticed when the carriage stopped.

  “Ma’am?” The old carriage man’s weathered face looked at me nervously. He was a New Orleans relic. He could have been in this same scene at any time during the last couple of centuries. “You okay, ma’am?”

  “Lost in thought,” I replied. Just, you know, thinking about my ex. The whole Quarter reminds me of him. Maybe I should draw pictures of Cort and hang them on all the wrought iron. Then I can see my husband’s face everywhere instead of Gabe’s. What are your thoughts? “Must be the heat.”

  “It’s not at all that unusual to lose your way on your wedding day. Moments like this make it easy to get lost in your thoughts and memories. It’s strange how memories can just flood together sometimes, make you not know your Monday from a Tuesday. Pretty girl like you, though? You’ll be alright. Here, let me help you down from this carriage, you’ve got a wedding to attend to.”

  “You’re right, sir,” I said. “I do have business to attend to.” I turned and grabbed the carriage man’s hand. It was selfish of me to think of Gabe at a time like this.

  I blinked up at the Cathedral and felt my heart pound. Here goes nothing. I inhaled and swallowed. Actually, here goes something. A very big something.

  Jesus. I didn’t expect to be this nerv
ous. My insides trembled. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt such a rush of anxiety. Anxiety wasn’t really my thing. I was more of a chill-out-because-everything-will-be-okay kind-of gal. When Gabe left, it shook that foundation to its core, and now I felt that shakiness again. Would everything be okay, or should I lift up this massively expensive skirt and take off running like a bride gone mad?

  I glanced over at the carriage driver like he’d know the answer, but he just raised his eyebrows and flashed me a congratulatory smile.

  I bunched some of the skirt in my hand and lifted it, ever-so-slightly. I could see the news headlines now: Runaway Bride Dashes through Jackson Square! Belrose Left at the Altar! If I took off running now, I might as well run to Mississippi because I’d never be able to show my face around here again.

  I took another deep breath. Don’t be ridiculous, Cat. You’re not seriously thinking about taking off in these shoes. You can barely walk in them, much less run. Besides, you’re not just doing this for yourself. Think of your dad.

  As I stepped out of the carriage I felt like I was entering a different universe and although the sights were ones I had seen my entire the life—the church, the steps, the faces—it all seemed otherworldly, as if I had entered someone else’s body and was living someone else’s life. When my dad linked his arm in mine, I felt a little warm again and remembered so many nights when I was kid and would watch him crying from the stairwell. He never saw me, never knew how I would pray all night for him to be happy. Today his smile was so wide it was almost unrecognizable. It gave me the resolve to walk up the aisle.

  So much for being a runaway bride.

  Besides, I was certain all the trembling and anxiety would disappear as soon as I saw Cort’s face. Isn’t that how it worked? I read somewhere that if you have cold feet, just stay calm until you see your future spouse’s face and your doubts will go away. At least I think I read it. Maybe I just imagined it.