Groomless - Part 2 (11 page)

The next day, Kate and I went to visit Zack at the hospital. Like something right out of some awful teen movie, he’d been run over by a bus and was in a full body cast.

“I brought you some flowers to cheer you up,” I said, laying the colorful bouquet on the table beside his bed. “How are you?” 

“I feel like I was hit by a bus.”

“Maybe that’s because you were,” Kate said.

“Well, damn, girl, I’m s’posed to stop traffic, not be run over by it!” He laughed, then winced. “Gosh, everything hurts, but they’ve got me on so many painkillers it ain’t funny. I’ll be out of commission for a couple months, I’m afraid, stuck wearing this ugly ol’ cast.”

“Maybe they’ll let me bring in a hot glue gun, and I’ll cover you with sequins,” Kate joked.

“Ask the nurse, honey! I ain’t got a thing without my bling,” he said. He then turned his head to me, groaning as he did so. “I’m so sorry you lost your groom.”

“It’s okay. I don’t have to have one. The important thing is the dance.”

“I’m going to bawl my pretty little eyes out watching it on videotape.” 

“Me too. I’m sure there won’t be a dry eye in the house.”

“I heard that those people from
Kelly and Michael
are gonna record the reception.”

“You did? I didn’t know that. They invited me to be on the show, but the production assistant didn’t say anything about taping the event.”

“Your dad told me.” Zack sighed. “Damn it. My one shot at network TV, and I had to go colliding with the business end of a Greyhound.” He winked at me. “Oh well. I might miss my shot at the limelight, but I guess it’s supposed to be all about the bride anyway.”

“We woulda had a blast,” I said.

“As long as Zack didn’t turn into a groomzilla,” Kate chimed in.

“Will you bring me a piece of that cookie cake thing?” he asked. “Maybe you can even call me up on Facetime or throw some quick pics on Instagram.”

“You know it!”

“When your daddy called to check on me, we had a long talk.”

“You did?” I asked, then nervously bit my lip and wondered what the two of them had discussed. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know, but Zack was always happy to elaborate. He was quite the storyteller and lived for drama of any kind.

“Yes. He’s a good man. Anyway, after we talked, we came to the conclusion that we both think it would be in your best interest to let your blue-eyed babe take my place. Your Lukey knows your dad and loves your family, and he’s known you forever, right?”

“First, he’s not mine. Second, I’d never call him ‘Lukey.’ Third, it’s just not a good idea.”

“Why, girl? You and I both know he can rock a tux with an ass like that.”

I chuckled. “Well, yeah, but… It’s just not all about looks. We have a history, and I just don’t think—”

“That’s just it. You just don’t think. That boy is fine, and I know he screwed up in the past, but maybe he’s changed. It’s obvious he is still into you. And as for you… Well, why must you always run away from what you really want?” he asked.

“You make him sound like an angel, and I assure he’s not. When things seem too good to be true, that’s usually because they are.”

“Ah. There it is. You’re scared of getting burned.”

“Yeah, Zack, I am.”

“You have this amazing past with the most eligible bachelor in New York City, and you won’t give him another chance?”

“That success you keep reading about was the reason we broke up in the first place. Money doesn’t mean anything to me. He broke my heart once, and I won’t let him do it again.”

“You’re a tough cookie to break.”

I smiled. “That I am.”

“That might make things worse,” Zack said.

“How so?”

“Because from what I read in that
Forbes
article, the boy loves a challenge.”

“Whoa,” Kate said. “You read
Forbes
?”

Zack sighed and rolled his eyes. “Girl, I read all sorts of things. You oughtta read something once in a while instead of painting your damn toenails in shades of neon hell every other hour.”

I laughed at their banter and shook my head. “I’m not worried about Luke. I’m unbreakable.”

Kate looked over at me. “Zack’s right, you know. You should give Luke a shot.”

I blew out a breath. “Well, to be honest, the thought has crossed my mind.”

“I bet,” Kate said, smirking.

Zack grinned from ear to ear. “A guy like that would be crossing my mattress and not just my damn mind if I had half a chance with him. You go for it, girl! That’s an order from a man who looks like a damn mummified burrito.”

Chapter 13

I finally gave in and called Luke and explained the whole plan to him. “The whole thing is really just so Dad can see me as a bride and dance with me and watch me cut the cake and all that. It’s—”

“That’s so him. I’ve never met anyone more devoted to his family than Dean Cross. This will make him so happy, even if it kills you.”

“Yeah, well, there’s that, but this is the one last thing I can do for him,” I said, my voice catching in spite of my best efforts to sound brave.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, sounding like he meant it.

“Rent a tux,” I said.

“No need. I own several.”

“Well, beyond that, just be my fake groom,” I managed, swallowing hard. “My dad loves you, and I know it would mean a lot to him.” I didn’t have the nerve to tell him it would mean a lot to me too.

“I have to think about this.”

“You do? I thought you said—”

“I know what I said, and I’ve been mulling it over, in case you changed your mind about this Zack character, but…”

“But what?”

“Uh…well, not to sound like a total asshole, but I have to run it by my PR people. With the article I had come out in
Entrepreneur,
there’s been a medial hailstorm, and I have to be careful.”

“Ah, right. Lifestyles of the young and famous. I understand though. Gee, maybe I should have asked for your autograph the other day.”

“It’s not a no, JJ. It’s a legitimate concern. And I want to do this more than anything. I’ll get back to you today for sure.”

“Okay, but even if you can’t play the groom part, I hope you’ll still drop in at the party and say hi to Daddy. I’m sure he’d like a chance to say goodbye,” I said hollowly.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to do more than that,” he said, not unkindly.

“Thanks,” I said, then quickly hung up.

After he hung up, I realized that he did, in fact, still have the same phone number from five years earlier. It was odd that a phone number made so much of a difference, but I thought for a minute that perhaps he hadn’t changed much after all. I wondered if the PR business was just an excuse, and I only hoped I hadn’t made things worse by asking him to pretend to be my man when he most certainly wasn’t that anymore.

* * *

Since Patty was so compelled to give me the pink slip, I had to do something for money, so I found a whole different kind of gig: working in the kitchen in a local restaurant. I hated working outside the photography industry, my one, true passion, but I had to find some way to pay the rent. 

I shaved fresh parmesan onto the Caesar salads and counted out precisely seventeen olives for the focaccia dough; according to my boss, an odd number looked more “artisanal,” enough to look as if they were studded with rich, briny olive slices but not enough to overwhelm the palate or break the olive budget. I arranged them just so, distributing them evenly while letting them look scattered. I was quite impressed with my olive layout skills, even if no one else seemed to notice.

“Julia!” one of the waiters called out, making me lose count and forcing me to start over.

“Yes?” I said, looking up.

“There’s a guy here to see you. He looks rich and shiny,” Cal said with a roll of his eyes.

“You may go,” Santino, our head chef, inclined his head regally. “Fifteen minutes and no more.”

“Thank you,” I said, suppressing my own eye-roll. Santino was a brilliant chef, but he was also a tyrant and seemed to take some sick pleasure in letting me do only the most boring grunt work. I had to comply with him, though, because if I didn’t, I knew I’d find myself in a far less prestigious and lower-paying position, like refilling sauce bins at Top China Buffet.

I wiped my hands on my apron, took it off, and hung it on the closest hook. I peeled off my hairnet, stuffed it in my pocket, and followed Cal. Just as I suspected, there was Luke Ellison, at the hostess stand, in his bespoke suit and zillion-dollar Italian shoes. He looked exactly like the commanding, handsome pictures I’d seen in
Time
and
Forbes
, and he was oddly poreless; I had assumed that was all photoshopped, but he was clearly just that flawless. Rather than fumbling around with his phone or looking embarrassed and diffident, he was perfectly at his ease chatting with Rodrigo, the busboy.

“Luke,” I said, hoping my white uniform was not stained with anything. Santino insisted that we wear them, even though nothing on Earth ever prevented them from getting filthy in the kitchen. I was so embarrassed by my sweaty appearance and my footwear, clogs that I could hose off at the end of the night. It was hard not to resent Luke for looking so put together and terrific, just as he always did, even in the pouring rain.

“I need to talk to you. Have a seat,” he said, indicating the low leather bench in the entryway.

“Can we take a walk instead?” I asked. “I’ve got about fifteen minutes.”

He nodded, smiled at me, and held the door open for me, always the gentleman.

The night breeze was cool as it wafted across my face, and I closed my eyes for a second just to enjoy it. Then I walked alongside him, trying to match his long stride as he headed up the sidewalk.

“So…does PR approve?” I needled.

“Yes, as long as we go big.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that your dad’s party should go completely viral.”

“The press is already hyping it up as a heartwarming story. And with you joining the cast, it’ll skyrocket overnight.”

“It’s going to be a media frenzy if I join and give you my one hundred percent. Are you sure you want me to?”

“I’m positive. And everyone already saw you win the ‘groom’ spot on
Live with Kelly and Michael.
”

“I know my involvement will bring a level of attention you’re not used to.”

“Really, it’s fine. And I’m sure PR told you it could potentially benefit your image and brand.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s not why I’m doing this and you know it.”

“I know,” I said.

The last thing I wanted was a media circus around at my dad’s last hurrah, everyone talking about his death like he was just some kind of news scoop instead of a real person who was really dying and trying to give his little girl something to remember him by. But on the other hand, my dad loved all this attention and that the story was inspiring, that we could turn a bad situation into something so heartwarming.

Luke shifted his stance. “We’ll do a few talk shows, and you can talk about how much this all means to your dad. Maybe you can even pull out a snapshot of us at prom or something. You still have some pictures, right?”

“I think so,” I said, wishing I’d followed my gut instincts and burned them long ago, “but what about—”

Cutting me off, he answered the question before I asked it. “Don’t worry. Your dad won’t have to do any more interviews or anything. I know that newspaper story already caught the attention of some, but if I’m involved, I guarantee we’ll have vendors falling all over themselves to make this as special as you want it to be. They’ll comp flowers, food, anything to be part of it. It’ll save you a fortune. All you’ve got to do is stand there and smile, and you’ll be able to give your dad the wedding reception of his dreams, give him everything he wants.”

“Not everything,” I said.

“I know,” he said, suddenly solemn. “It won’t buy him a cure, but we can at least make the day unforgettable, as special as you want it to be, with no limitations. I love your father, and I know you know how I feel about you. I’ll help you any way I can. This is a process, and I know it’s hard for you, but I can make it easier.”

“Are you trying to sell me something?” I asked, smirking at him.

“Sorry. I guess I sorta default to persuasion. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“I don’t really want more publicity then I already have, but I guess it’s a must if you’re going to do this favor for me. I mean, if I want you to be the stand-in, I have to accept you on your terms.”

“You never could before,” he said. As soon as the words left his lips, he shook his head and looked at the ground, as if he regretted every syllable. “Sorry, JJ. I-I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You can say anything you want. You think I should’ve accepted you on your terms and continued with the long distant relationship where you never paid attention to me. But I think I’m worth more than that. Hey, we’re not together. You’re merely…an old friend, helping me out the best way you know how. And that’s beyond sweet. I’ll just say thank you and leave the personal baggage at the door.”