Loaded, p.24
Loaded, page 24
But within a few moments, I’m finding my seat as well, and then the orchestra starts to play. I should probably have expected it, but Barbara and Bentley’s two girls walk up the aisle first. One of them’s wearing a cute little pine green dress and spreading rose petals, and the other’s wearing a pair of black slacks and a golden blouse, being dragged up the aisle by a border collie—I think it’s the same dog that flipped out and almost ruined Elizabeth and Emerson’s wedding. At least this time, it just runs to the front and jumps up on Bentley.
He seems ready for it, smiling broadly and crouching a little to let it lick his face. When the wedding march starts, I turn around and watch with everyone else.
Barbara has been married before. I knew that much.
Still, I didn’t expect her to wear a blood red dress that looks a little like a salsa dancer’s costume and the queen’s coronation dress had a one night stand. It’s got flouncy ruffles all along the asymmetrical skirt, which is slit up the right side. Matching asymmetrical ruffles, going the other direction, rise up the one-shoulder bodice.
It’s absolutely stunning.
For a fall wedding, where all the accent colors are shades of brown, gold, russet, and mahogany? It’s unexpectedly stand-out and glamorous in a way a white gown never could be. I’m dying to know who designed the dress. It really, really looks like Laurent’s work. If he didn’t do it, I bet someone who copies him did.
It’s totally not what I should be fixating on, so I let it go and enjoy the show.
The two little girls are dancing back and forth a little from one foot to the other, but everyone else is smiling calmly as Barbara finally reaches the front. Bea winks at me from where she’s standing next to Seren. The ceremony goes on a little too long, and my mind starts to wander, but the man with the white hat finally does pronounce them husband and wife.
And then they both share their vows.
“You took long enough to notice me,” Barbara says. “I figured, after more than a decade of knowing you, that you had no interest in me. I think that was a reasonable assumption.”
Everyone laughs.
“But I suppose men sometimes just don’t know their minds.”
“Often.” Dave clears his throat.
“Luckily, you did figure out that you liked me.”
“I love you.” Bentley takes her hands in his. “And I promise that from now on, I will never ever take you for granted again.”
“You better keep that promise,” Barbara says, “because if you don’t, I get all of them in the divorce.” She waves at the audience. “Even if they’re all horrified that I’m saying the word divorce at our wedding.” She’s smiling as she shakes her head. “I used to be superstitious, but after doing everything right the first time and having everything go wrong, we’ve done everything backward, and I’ve never felt better about anything in my life.”
She releases Bentley’s hands and opens her arms.
Before the girls can reach her side, the border collie jumps up, trying to lick her face.
“No, Lucky,” Bentley says. “Down.”
But the girls are giggling as they hug their mother.
“We got the kids first,” Barbara says. “I knew that night, when you came to help me without any reason, I knew I wanted you by my side, whatever came. And I promise you that, no matter how strange things are in our lives, no matter how backward, no matter how slow or how fast, I will be here. I will keep loving you through it all. The dog licks. The crazy family. The business ups and downs. I’ll be here for everything.”
Bentley drops to his knees. “And my first promise is to you girls.”
This is a little weird.
“I promise that I will love your mother every single day, every single minute, from now until forever. You don’t need to worry that we’ll get in an argument and things will change. We fight plenty, but it never changes how much I love her.”
The girls are smiling.
He stands up. “And I promise that I will listen to the excellent advice of Dave and Seren.” He mock whispers, “But when they disagree, I’ll go with Seren.”
Everyone laughs at that.
“I finally got this one tied down,” Barbara says.
And everyone cheers.
It’s a really lovely wedding—no rain, no strange outbursts. No bizarre displays or awkward interchanges. Just a little boring, and really, really cute.
Of course, the wedding dinner, which is inside in the ballroom, is when the alcohol comes out. I’m as surprised as everyone else when, after moving into the ballroom with Bea at my side, the bride unties something around her waist and the bottom half of her dress just drops to the ground in a bright red puddle.
“Now it’s time to have a little fun.” Barbara waves at the band in the corner and they start to play. “And you should probably brace yourselves. Apparently some of the family’s planning to toast us.”
“In spite of our best efforts.” Bentley groans. “They’re a gregarious bunch.”
There’s some jeering and laughter, but most everyone starts looking for their seat. There are little placards, but they’re small. Bea’s waving me over, presumably having found ours, when someone taps my shoulder.
When I turn around, it’s the man I’ve been preparing to see, the future senator of New York, more than likely. “Easton.” He purses his lips. “I’m not happy to see you here.”
“No?”
His nostrils flare. “I think I was pretty clear. You should’ve broken up with my granddaughter as I asked.”
“And yet, I have no intention to.”
“You think I’m being a tyrant,” he says. “I understand that from your perspective, it feels that way. But trust me when I say that I know better than you what she needs in her life, and you’re all wrong for Bea. It’s not just about my campaign.”
“How am I wrong for her?” I spread my arms. “I’m not deformed. I’m not a pervert. I hold down a job.” I shrug. “I’m educated, and polite, and I love her.”
He scowls. “Yes, you’ve said, but Bea needs someone who puts her needs first. She needs someone who’s solid. A family man.”
Before I can even tell him exactly how I’ve put her first, Bea steps next to me. “Grandfather.”
He sighs. “Beatrice. I’m just having a word with—”
“No.” She folds her arms. “I forbid it.”
22
Bea
When I saw my grandfather moving toward Easton, I knew what I needed to do. I nearly dropped our nameplates and then scrambled across the room, waving people off rudely.
When I draw near, I hear my grandfather, spewing nonsense as usual. “Bea needs someone who puts her needs first. She needs someone who’s solid. A family man.”
As if he has any idea what I need. Or even more ridiculous, as if he cares. Before poor Easton has to take one more second of abuse, I take his arm. “Grandfather.”
My grandfather sighs. “Beatrice. I’m just having a word with—”
“No.” I fold my arms. “I forbid it.”
“Pardon me?” He’s always saying that. It’s his polite way of saying ‘I reject your premise. Try again.’ Only, I’m done trying to please him. Done for good.
“I said, you’re not allowed to talk to my boyfriend. I’m worried about what you might say, and I don’t want you talking to the man I love.”
Easton freezes beside me. In hindsight, it might not have been the best time or place to tell him that I love him, too.
“You don’t want me talking to him?”
But I can’t back down now. “You have a track record of saying all the wrong things.”
“I have a record of saying—” Grandfather splutters. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“I’m sure you threatened him already,” I say. “I’m not sure quite what you’re willing to do, but I’m guessing whatever it was would constitute a massive violation of due process.” I step closer. “And you should think very carefully about all the things I know that might harm you before you threaten anyone in my life again.”
“Before I threaten. . .” His eyes are wide, his lips open.
“Mom is the tip of the iceberg. I could tell them about how you always left me in her care. I could tell the media how you threatened my foster parents. I could tell them so many things that you don’t even know I know, from the mess with that oil company, to the things I heard you doing with the much-too-young woman I saw leaving your house six years ago. It was the week Grandmother was out of town with her friends. Florida, I think you said she was?”
Chew on that, old man.
“Beatrice Cipriani—”
“From now on, I’m going to be called Beatrice Fansee,” I say. “They may not be able to adopt me, but Dave and Seren have been my parents for a very long time now. You can either get on board, or I’ll throw you right under the bus with a smile on my face.”
He swallows, straightens, glances around at the people watching us quietly, and nods. “I can see that tonight is not the right time to discuss this.”
I lean closer, drop my voice, and say, “And if I get even the smallest whiff that you’re bullying a local New York business to get your way, you had better believe that would be shared far and wide. A governor persecuting a New York business to further his own agenda would be an impeachable offense, and I’d be the first in line to testify.”
Grandfather’s completely unable to disguise his fury as he stomps away, and when he reaches my cardboard-cutout grandmother’s side, Grandmother grabs her bag without so much as a complaint and they head for the door.
Good riddance.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know that seemed nasty, but if you had any idea what a terrible person he is, you’d know it was a long time in coming.”
Easton shakes his head. “It was glorious.”
“I hope he didn’t threaten you with anything too horrible.”
His smile’s broad. “You know, he tried, but I actually might owe him a thank you for that.”
“Why?”
“It was the incentive I needed to stand up to my own personal Goliath.”
“Oh?”
“I signed an agreement this morning obligating me to sell my shares of Sacrifice Nothing—and my parents to sell their shares—to a friend of mine and his father. You heard us talking the other day.”
“Wait.” I grab his hand. “You didn’t.”
“I got the idea when your grandfather tried to bully me, but honestly.” He shakes his head. “It’s very freeing. I’m going to start over, and this time, I’m not going to take the company public. I’m going to find another latency, and I’m going to make that company exactly what I want.”
“But Easton, your whole life has been that company.”
“Not anymore it’s not.” He’s looking into my eyes. “It never should have been, and believe me. I’m getting a very, very large pile of money to ease any anxiety I have about it.”
“I can’t even remember when I met the groom.” Dave’s voice from the front of the room washes over us, and I realize I should not be up here, chatting while Aunt Barbara and Uncle Bentley’s wedding is underway. I’ve had my moment, but the rest of the moments are for them.
Easton and I find our seats pretty quickly.
I still feel a little bad about Easton selling his company, but surely it’s not too late to stop that from happening. Then I’m able to watch, eating the amazing salads the waitstaff keep bringing out, first a strawberry salad, and then a pasta salad, while our family members stand up and talk about Uncle Bentley and Aunt Barbara.
As I listen, something strange happens.
I can hear it, the similarity between what everyone says about them.
The stories kind of converge in my brain, and a melody emerges. A melody that is Bentley and Barbara. It’s their devotion. It’s their patience. It’s their enduring kindness. Their frustration and weariness with the world, and then their joy in turning toward one another.
It’s how individually, they’re all less, but as a family, they’re enough.
I stand up, patting Easton’s arm, and cross the edge of the room to where the band’s playing softly. Luckily, there’s a keyboard. “Can I borrow this?”
The poor player blinks, and then nods. He stands up and steps back toward the wall. When Killian stops talking, which frankly is a relief, I step into the gap. “I’m Beatrice,” I say into the microphone. “And I wasn’t sure whether I’d get an invite, since the first time I met Uncle Bentley, I threatened to cut his throat.”
That gets everyone’s attention.
“When I first came to live with Mom and Dad, I didn’t think I belonged there. I figured it was just a matter of time before I packed up my junk and found a new place to stay, with new people to annoy. The idea that I might have found my family.” I choke up, but I forge ahead. “It hadn’t even occurred to me.”
Jake catches my eye, and he’s not smiling. He looks sad.
“But you know, that never happened. No matter what dumb things I said, no matter what idiotic things I did, like threatening Uncle Bentley, Mom and Dad kept right on loving me. And Uncle Bentley, not three weeks after I threatened his life, came to my very first birthday party.”
I drop my fingers on the keys of the keyboard.
“I’m not sure either of you will remember what you gave me for my birthday.” This time, my eyes well with tears. “But Uncle Bentley, you had heard I liked music, so you bought me a keyboard, not unlike this one.” I place my hands on the keys.
“It was one of the best gifts I ever gave,” Uncle Bentley says.
“And Aunt Barbara, you gave me a pair of headphones to connect to the keyboard. That’s probably the only reason no one took the thing away, because I had no idea what I was doing at first.”
Everyone laughs.
“For a long time, I didn’t want to play in front of anyone. I’ll be honest, I still don’t really enjoy this part. I like to make up songs, and I like to play them—but I do it in the peace and quiet of my own family room. For a long time, that’s where my songs stayed.”
I point at the wall.
“Over there, in that pile, you’ll find the panic-gift I bought you. I think you might like it, but who knows? The gift I wanted to give you, a song, just didn’t come to me. Not until I watched you. Not until I heard all your guests talking about the love you share and about the family you’ve built.”
I play the opening chord. It’s hopeful. It’s bright. And then it segues into something mournful. Something tragic. I don’t have words yet, but I think some songs are better without words. It’s pure emotion.
Like me, Uncle Bentley and Aunt Barbara had some rough times. They felt alone, they felt unloved, and they felt unworthy. I could tell in the way they joked. I could tell in the way they smiled as Dad kissed Mom. I play that sorrow into the beginning.
But then the hope comes back. The chords progress into something lighter. Something tentative, something new.
And then comes the real transition. The key signature from the tragic and the key signature from the hopeful combine, and the harmony meets the melody. The sorrow and the joy combine to form something more. Strength.
That’s what I’ll call this song.
Strength.
When I play the final chords, I stand up. “My mom and dad were there for me, lending me their strength, lending me their faith when I didn’t have any of my own. And you two—I can feel it. Together, you’re just as strong as Mom and Dad. You’re better together than you were apart, and you’ll only grow stronger.” I shift to look at Ricki and Nikki. “You may have times you doubt, moments of fear, but I promise you that eventually, you’ll realize that their strength is also yours.”
I turn back toward Aunt Barbara and Uncle Bentley. “I’m so happy for all of you. I’m delighted that I’ll be around to watch as you only grow stronger. Congratulations and best wishes for the years ahead of you.”
When I walk back to my seat, Uncle Bentley starts clapping, and then everyone else joins in. It’s the first, and probably the last, time that I’ve ever been happy to perform.
But when we finish eating, I notice that Octavia has tried to call me four times. I’m not sure she’s ever called me before. She’s always just texted. When I slide to my texts, I read hers. CHECK YOUR EMAIL.
So I do.
And buried between something from Tractor Supply Company—how I got on their list I will never know—and Ann Taylor Loft is an email that says Finalist: Sony Music Record Competition.
I don’t squeal. I’m proud of that.
I do, however, drop my phone.
Luckily, the screen doesn’t even crack. The rest of the night is a complete wash, though. I can’t think about the wedding, not anymore. All I can think about is going up on that stage in front of who knows how many, being live-streamed to many more, and playing my own song, with lyrics I wrote, in the hopes of getting an album of my own.
Things in my life have been going so well, this is sure to nosedive.
I start trying to brace for it.
23
Bea
There are sixteen days between the wedding and the finals performance.
Each and every day is an agony.
“Do you feel ready?” Easton’s face is bright and happy in the lights from the stage. I know he’s here to support me. I know he’s trying to be helpful.
I might punch him on the nose.
“Is that the wrong thing to ask?” He cringes. “Sorry. This is the first time my girlfriend has ever been preparing to perform in the hopes of winning a record deal.”
Octavia laughs.
I scowl at her. “How are you not more nervous?”
She shrugs. “I’ve been on stage a lot, and also, I’m not harboring any of the false hope you are.”
“It’s not false hope,” Easton says. “Your song is amazing.”
