Fall Apart (4 page)

“Perfect. Less work for me.”

If Damon’s mother were standing next to him at that moment, she would’ve given him the eyebrow. This guy
was
charming.
Watch yourself, Day
, she’d say.

I’m watching, he thought.

The wedding planner cracked the whip again and they stood for all of the “school room shots” that Alarik renounced. At one point Mandy asked if he had any ideas he wanted to try for himself and Alarik jokingly told her to take her lady friends and run for the hills while the groomsmen gave chase. She could call the resultant picture “The Fox Hunt.”

Mandy loved it. She and the bridesmaids kicked off their heels and hit the ground running, skirts gathered in their arms and flowers flying from their bouquets. Mandy’s veil was caught in the wind behind her. It was like a bunch of pixies were let loose on the back lawn.

Alarik turned to the men with laughter in his voice, saying, “Well, gentlemen?”

“For Christ’s sake,” Todd growled quietly to himself. He was a competitive son of a bitch, though, and one shared glance between him and Damon and they were off to the races.

Luke was fast and caught up quickly, Damon was in the best shape, and Todd would kill himself running in order to win. It was a close match-up. Franco was probably somewhere in the back of the pack, wrestling with his jacket and trying to rip a nicotine patch off of his arm. The ladies had a good head start, but it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility that they would be trampled because a race was now involved.

Damon barely edged his buddies out for the win as they caught the girls on the far side of the lawn. Luke swept Mandy up into a spinning hug, making her giggle like a little girl. Todd shocked the hell out of them all by dipping Valerie, dropping a swift kiss on her mouth, then promptly setting her on her feet and walking back across the lawn like nothing happened. Val’s eyes went soft and that ice cracked for a second before she realized almost everyone was looking at her.

Franco came pounding up with the last guy in the pack and he was breathing heavily. Reaching for Damon’s arms to steady himself, he spat on the ground. “Don’t worry, bumhole,” he wheezed. “I ain’t gonna kiss you.”

“That’s a relief.”

Coughing and spitting on the way back to the terrace and the open bar beyond, Franco nodded to himself. “Sandra might be right about me quitting.”

“Maybe,” Damon offered.

Alarik observed Franco’s coloring with alarm as they approached and took a few steps their direction to make certain no one was going to stroke out on the cobblestones.

“I’m alright,” Franco waved him off. “Need a new set of lungs is all.” He wobbled off toward the doors leading inside the hotel, abandoning Damon to the company of the finest looking representative of the Union Jack since Daniel Craig.

“I wasn’t really serious about that photo,” Alarik said by way of apology, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a sexy way as his dimples gave a jaunty hello.

Heck.

“What color are your eyes?” Damon blurted out of nowhere. Alarik was taken aback by the outburst and Damon knew the heat coming off of him could probably be felt ten paces away.

Alarik’s dimples suddenly returned with a lightning bright flash of teeth as he laughed. The sound was three times more pleasant than Damon imagined. He tried to think of his mom and her severe look and her cocked eyebrow and her warnings, but things were getting hazy. An invisible cloud of English magnetism was distracting him.

“I could tell you the answer,” Alarik spoke in an undertone, “but it’s preferable, in my opinion, for you to take a closer look and see for yourself. And that’s an open invitation.”

Damon knew he was supposed to say something in response, maybe even something witty, but those elusive things called words were hiding somewhere faraway, along with his dignity and sense of purpose. He winced and walked away. Just left the scene of the crime without a backward glance.

As he yanked open the door leading to the ballroom and lobby, he heard Alarik call out teasingly, “Perhaps later, Mr. Wright.”

Lord at the heavenly gates
, Alarik thought to himself. Oh, he liked that one.

He realized he was staring at the set of closed doors Damon disappeared through and considered following. Flirting was one of his favorite pastimes and under normal circumstances he wouldn’t hesitate to pursue, yet there was a provoking bit of doubt that told him a recess was in order. He wanted to keep the interest going, not chase the man away, and it was quite clear Damon could outrun him.

Mandy and Luke were alone with the photographer, the rest of the wedding party having drifted away to find drinks and friends, so Alarik made his exit as well. Gently returning his camera to its bag, he filtered through the groups of guests stacked up in the hall leading to the ballroom and saw that the wedding planner had forced the bridesmaids and groomsmen back into the vestibule for their formal introduction to the crowd. They were much more pleasant this time around because alcohol had been provided.

As Alarik passed the group he forced himself not to look for Damon. He would be aloof for the time being. At the bar he caught the bartender’s eye and asked for a scotch. Two men were caught up in their own conversation as they waited for their drinks and Alarik heard Damon’s name. His ears instantly perked up and he shifted until he was close enough to hear all that was said. He was gathering intelligence in preparation for battle.

“I saw him for a minute outside. He’s avoiding me,” the shorter, darker haired one said to his balding companion.

“I’m not surprised.”

“That’s how it always starts. I piss him off, make him forget, have some fun, and send him away again.”

“Maybe he’s got a boyfriend now and doesn’t want to have your kind of fun anymore,” Baldy mumbled into his drink.

“That’s just it. He’s gotta know that it’s not about being together
permanently
after the three go-arounds we’ve had. It’s…” he laughed heartily to himself. “Fuck if I know what it is.
Fun
, I guess.”

Alarik accepted his drink at the same time that Shorty and Baldy accepted theirs, and the pair noticed him standing there. He gave them a smile he didn’t feel.

“May I ask your name?” he said to Shorty.

A spark of interest flared in the man’s eyes as he stood up to his full height—still unimpressive overall, though he wasn’t ugly. Alarik worked in a business where hardly anyone was ugly, though. A smarmy smile and great hair weren’t enough to impress.

“Andrew,” the man said boldly, as though his voice would cause Alarik’s pants to leap from his body, unable to withstand the force of such blatant sex appeal. Baldy heard the tone and wandered away, unimpressed.

“Well, Andrew. I’m glad we’ve met.” He tipped his glass in a toast and took a sip. The scotch was warm and made his smile spread wide, which Andrew took as a good sign, seemingly forgetting about his plans for Damon.

“And why are you so glad to meet me?” he asked, playing coy. The way he leaned against the bar and tried to cock his hip so that
particular
areas of his anatomy were
particularly
prominent bothered Alarik. Damon had allowed
this
three times? Poor fellow.

Alarik swirled the dark liquid in his glass, the ice cubes rattling against the sides. “I don’t know many people here, and I have this rule, you see, that when I’m in a strange environment it’s best to meet the bastards straightaway. You, Andrew, are a right bastard. It’s great luck that I met you so soon.”

Andrew’s eyes bulged and his
Open For Hot Sex
expression became an affronted scowl as Alarik moved away. He hadn’t made it more than a few steps when he paused and turned back around as though he’d forgotten something.

“One more thing, Saint Andrew. I’ll not allow you near Mr. Wright. Enjoy your drink and back to Baldy with you.” He shooed him away.

A woman that Alarik hadn’t noticed before was at the other end of the bar and gave a pleased gasp before moving off through the crowd. Perhaps Andrew was better known than Alarik imagined. The further the story spread, the better.

Go on, then, he thought of the woman, make me a legend.

The DJ announced that he was about to introduce the wedding party and the crowd shuffled to make room. Alarik applauded, cheered the bride and groom, and found his assigned seat for the dinner. When the toasts began, he sat back attentively, knowing that tradition dictated a few words from Damon. He’d heard The Best Man speak only twice, and it wasn’t nearly enough to slake his interest. Most days Alarik dealt with men and women amongst whom vanity had run amok. The fresh, unpracticed attitude of this man at the head table was difficult to accept at face value. He found he wanted to hear more and more from Damon simply to discover if he was like this all the time.

Mandy’s sister, Valerie, spoke with feigned confidence to cover her nerves and while her sentiments were sincere, she was remote and robbed her own words of warmth. She didn’t speak long before passing the microphone to Damon and returning to her seat.

If he makes any awful puns, Alarik thought, this might be over before it begins.

Damon straightened his tie and stood, one hand on the back of Luke’s chair as he surveyed the audience.

“Good evening,” he smiled. “I went against the advice of everyone I know, including the bride and groom, by refusing to plan ahead for this speech. I thought about looking up some good jokes, or something really eloquent about the step Mandy and Luke took earlier, but that’s not my way, either. I’m going to wing it. No safety rope.” Damon looked at Todd and Luke who laughed like this was an inside joke.

“I met Luke when we were much younger. I know him very well,” he continued thoughtfully. “Todd and Franco came along and joined our duo in high school. It doesn’t seem fair for me to stand here and speak only of my perspective, because where you find Luke, you find me
and
Todd
and
Franco. A package deal. I’d like to think of this as a tribute from the three of us to you, Luke and Mandy.”

The bride and groom weren’t far from misty-eyed and Damon had only just begun. Alarik knew Mandy’s sniffles would pick up any moment.

“I think Todd and Franco would agree with me that Luke is the best of us. He’s very brave.” Todd and Franco were quiet, their attention on Damon, and at these words they nodded in support.

“Luke introduced Mandy to all of us three years ago and we liked her because she let us make room for her, rather than pushing us out of his life or taking over who he is, which we’ve seen happen to other guys we know. We learned quickly that she is a daring and kind woman.

“As they were standing there at the altar this afternoon, the brave man and the daring woman, I thought about how right it was. I hope they know they have the freedom to be intrepid adventurers with their life together because they’ll always have the three of us guys close by to support them.” Damon gestured to his friends at his side. “You’ll have Todd, with his honesty and intelligence. Franco with loyalty and strength. And me—I’ll be around to listen no matter what, no matter when, dashing good looks and all.”

Damon held up his glass as laughter spread and then waited until the entire ballroom held theirs’ up in return. “To Luke and Mandy: Brave and Daring on this day and every day.”

“To Luke and Mandy,” Alarik and the other guests repeated, touched by the simplicity and sincerity of Damon’s words.

At the head table, Franco and Todd stood to thump Damon on the back and the three of them, in turn, embraced the bride and groom. Mandy was gooey with tears and Luke was pretending he wasn’t wiping moisture from his eyes.

Alarik turned to the couple smiling at his side and lifted his hands in defeat. “And with that, my plans for a quiet holiday have been ruined.”

They kept smiling, but with vacant expressions. Alarik shrugged.

Once the dancing was in full swing, he cut through the crowd, determined to have a talk with Mandy. She noticed him coming and her self-satisfied expression told him what he needed to know. Swinging her out onto the floor, he arched a brow at her and waited.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you enjoying yourself? Meeting new…people?”

“You’re Machiavellian ways have caught me off guard. Is this whole wedding and your love affair simply an elaborate ruse to set me up?”

“I don’t know; is it working?”

Alarik sighed. “I’d like to kiss him senseless, if that’s what you mean.” Mandy chuckled lazily, as if she’d expected to hear this exactly, and Alarik watched her indulgently. “I’m completely serious, you. I’d like to kiss him until he is entirely without sense, no remaining wits whatsoever.”

“I knew it,” Mandy said proudly. “I knew you’d like him. Didn’t I say there was something about him?”

“Oh, you said there was something about him, however, you failed to mention that he is charmingly unsure of himself, stunningly athletic, and eloquent in an odd American way—except for that moment, perhaps, when he shouted at me on the terrace.”

“What—”

Alarik moved on. Their song wouldn’t last forever and he needed as much information as possible. “It’s nothing. Tell me about him.”

Mandy sobered, her eyes shining with a protective light. “He’s a really great guy, Alarik, but he’s serious. He works in the family business—a sporting goods store in Ventura—and he’s there by himself a lot lately because his father has a heart condition and isn’t able to work as often as he used to. Damon doesn’t like to talk about it; Luke can’t even get him to admit how serious the situation is.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Alarik said quietly. “It must be very difficult. I don’t want to try chatting him up if he’s not in a good mindset for seeing someone. I don’t want to create another problem.”

“Damon needs a distraction.”

Alarik frowned and Mandy’s eyes widened, unused to seeing him so grave. “I don’t
want
to be a distraction. I’ve distracted myself and others for long enough. I want something serious. If I were to approach him, it would be to see if there could be more. I’m thirty-eight and I’m tired of living like a twenty-year old. It’s exhausting, actually. I haven’t yet tired to the point of signing myself up on a dating site—
Have Camera, Will Travel—
but if things continue as they have, it won’t be long. I don’t want to become the lecherous photographer stereotype, bedding my clients for a thrill. No Mandy, I will not chase a fuck.”