The Accidental Proposal (13 page)

Dan’s face lights up. ‘Is it the strippers?’

‘Strippers?’

‘For the stag night.’ He pats me on the back reassuringly. ‘No need, mate. Already in hand. And I have to say, I’m rather enjoying the audition process. There’s this one who can shoot a table-tennis ball across the room from her—’

‘No, Dan! Not the strippers. It’s the speech that I wanted to discuss with you.’

‘Speech?’ Dan takes a sip of his beer. ‘Just thank me for being such a great best man and a brilliant friend and, quite frankly, a fantastic all-round guy, and then you give me those cuff-links, and—’

‘No, Dan. The speech you have to give. About Sam and me.’

‘
I’ve
got to give a speech?’

I look at him, not sure if he’s joking. ‘You do know what you have to do? What the best man’s duties are?’

‘After I’ve got you shagged by a stripper, you mean?’ Dan laughs, then sees that I’m serious. ‘Of course. On the day, all I have to do is say a few choice words about what a small penis you’ve got, then I get my pick of the bridesmaids. Simple.’

‘Have you ever heard a best man’s speech before?’

He shudders. ‘God no. I’ve always been far too busy. I tell you, there’s a reason why there’s the word ‘ride’ in ‘bridesmaid’. Something about weddings just seems to bring out the . . .’

‘Dan!’ I grab him by the shoulders. ‘The speech.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he says, shrugging me off. ‘I’ll just ad-lib something on the day.’

‘No, you won’t.’ I’ve heard Dan’s ad-libs before, including the time he was being interviewed with some grumpy feminist on GMTV, and he suggested – live – they change the name of the programme to PMTV. ‘The speech is the most important part. For example, you have to say how lovely Sam is . . .’

He licks his lips suggestively. ‘That won’t be a problem.’

‘And then you have to, you know, talk about me. And make a few jokes if you must.’

‘Relax,’ says Dan. ‘I’ve been doing my research.’

‘Such as?’

Dan produces a DVD from inside his man-bag. ‘Watching this.’

I stare at the copy of
Four Weddings and a Funeral
he’s holding like the holy grail. ‘Very funny.’

‘It is, isn’t it? I particularly like the bit where—’

‘Dan, back to the speech, please. There are a few taboo subjects.’

He puts the DVD down on the bar, then pulls a small leather-bound notepad out of his pocket. ‘Should I be making notes?’ he says, uncapping his pen.

‘Well, it’s just Jane, really.’

‘Jane?’

‘Yes. I’d rather you didn’t mention her, if you don’t mind.’

Dan freezes, his pen in mid-air. ‘What?’

‘Jane. Don’t make any references to her.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s just a bit sensitive, isn’t it? Given everything that went on, and all that.’

‘But . . .’ Dan leafs through several pages in his notepad, where I can worryingly make out several instances of Jane’s name in his scrawly handwriting. ‘That doesn’t leave me anything.’

‘Yes it does.’

‘Like what? You went out with Jane for ten years, then she dumped you, then you met Sam, who you’ve been with for, what, eighteen months, and now you’re marrying her. So unless you were a particularly promiscuous teenager, which given what I know about your sexual prowess I very much doubt, then the Jane years are the only source of material I’ve got.’

‘It’s just that it’s going to be my and Sam’s special day. And I don’t want Jane to figure in the proceedings any more than she will be already.’

Dan looks up in shock. ‘You’re not thinking of inviting her, are you?’

Ah. ‘Of course not,’ I say, trying hard to stop myself from blushing. ‘I meant, you know, in spirit.’

He grins, mischievously. ‘Chance would be a fine thing. What if I didn’t refer to her by name?’

I nod. ‘That could work. Although what would be better is if you didn’t refer to her at all.’

Dan puffs his cheeks out. ‘Jesus, Ed. Give me something to go on. I mean, I’m on show here, don’t forget.’

‘Have
you
forgotten who’s wedding this is? It’s not a chance for you to show off in front of everyone. It’s an opportunity for you to pay a tribute. To me. And Sam.’

‘Yeah, right,’ says Dan. ‘Next you’ll be telling me I don’t get to snog Sam’s mum, or something.’

‘No, you don’t. And while we’re on the subject of snogging, the last thing I want is for you to turn our wedding into some sort of personal speed-dating session. So no getting off with any of the bridesmaids, or the waitresses, and I especially don’t want you taking your clothes off on the dance floor and asking if any of the women want to limbo under your pole.’

‘That was once. And I was very very drunk.’

‘And seeing as you brought it up earlier – the stag night. No strippers.’

Dan looks as if he can’t have heard me correctly. ‘No strippers?’

‘That’s right. I don’t think that’s the kind of thing that Sam—’

Dan laughs, cutting me off. ‘This is your stag night we’re talking about, Ed. You need a proper send-off. And I hardly think Sam is going to have a say in what we – or rather you – get up to. Besides, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’

‘Yes, well, by the sounds of things, that stripper with the table-tennis ball trick might hurt me. And anyway, I don’t think it’s very appropriate, do you?’

‘Of course it’s appropriate,’ splutters Dan. ‘It will be your last night of freedom.’

‘That we’re having a week before the wedding, may I remind you? So it’s not, actually.’

‘Which might I say is another excellent idea of mine. Gives us both a chance to recover. And you enough time to get a flight home from . . .’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ Dan grins. ‘Even so, it’s still the final chance for you to sow your wild oats. So a trip to the lap-dancing bar is the least we can do. In fact, it’s the law. Besides . . .’

I hardly dare ask. ‘Besides?’

‘I was going to get you a couple. Of strippers, I mean.’ Dan nudges me. ‘I thought it’d be a chance for you to double the number of women you’ve ever slept with in one go. Result!’

‘Dan, I’m serious. It just wouldn’t feel right.’

‘You’ve obviously never met Candy and Bambi. They felt pretty good to me.’

I look at him incredulously. ‘How is that the best start to married life? Going and sleeping with another woman—’

‘Two other women.’

‘Two other women, the week before you promise to be faithful to someone.’

‘It’s the perfect start. Gets it out of your system.’

‘No thank you, Dan. Besides, that’d be the last thing I’d want Sam to find out about just before we exchange our vows.’

‘You sure? Once you and Sam tie the knot you won’t get another chance. And remember, it’s always easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.’

‘I’ll pass, thanks.’

‘Really?’ says Dan, incredulously. ‘Trust me – you’ll thank me afterwards.’ He leans back in his chair and knits his fingers behind his head. ‘And probably
during
, if you know what I mean.’

‘Dan, listen carefully. No lap-dancing. No women stripping at all, in fact. And while we’re on the subject of removing clothes, there’ll be none of that stripping me naked and handcuffing me to a lamppost rubbish either.’

He looks at me for a second, before opening his notepad again and crossing something off a list. ‘Spoilsport.’

‘I’m serious. I just want a nice civilized evening with a few fri
ends.’

Dan yawns exaggeratedly. ‘Bor-ing.’

‘It’s not boring, Dan. It’s the way I want it.’

‘Okay, okay. And who do you want to invite to this whirlwind of an evening?’

I think about this for a moment. ‘Well, there’s you, obviously. And me . . .’

‘And?’

‘Er . . .’ The truth is, I don’t actually have that many male friends any more. Most of the male halves of the couples Jane and I used to know went with her when we split up, and Sam and I don’t really have that many couple-y friends. ‘Does Wendy count?’

Dan shudders. ‘This is a stag do, mate, and although Wendy’s flat-chested enough to pass as a bloke, the only women there will be ones who’ll take their clothes off in exchange for money . . .’

‘Or not.’

Dan rolls his eyes. ‘And Wendy would have to pay
me
if she wanted to drop her— Ow!’ Dan rubs the back of his head, where a beer mat has just Frisbeed into it.

‘Careful what you say in here,’ I say, glancing over towards the bar, where Wendy is looking rather pleased with her aim. ‘She’s got hearing like a bat.’

‘Which is kind of appropriate,’ whispers Dan. ‘Given that she’s an old one— Ow!’

‘Will you never learn?’

Dan rubs his head again, then glowers back at her. ‘Anyway,’ he continues, ‘back to the stag do. What about Sam’s dad?’

‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

‘So . . .’ Dan looks down at his notebook. ‘It’s just the two of us?’

I nod. ‘Looks that way.’

‘Excellent,’ he says. ‘Just like old times, before you met the old ball and chain. I’ve managed to blag us both a room – or rather, a couple of rooms – at the Grand, so you don’t have to worry about getting home late. Or at all.’

‘Thanks, Dan, but . . .’

He looks up sharply. ‘What now?’

‘It’s just, well, I haven’t spent a night apart from Sam since we moved in together.’

‘And you’re going to be spending every bloody night with her for the next fifty years, so make the most of it. Besides, you won’t be spending the night before the wedding with her, so it’ll be a chance for you to get used to it.’

‘The night before the wedding? Why ever not?’

‘Dunno.’ Dan shrugs. ‘Ask Sam.’

‘Sam?’

He nods. ‘She called earlier. Asked if I wouldn’t mind putting you up.’

‘Whatever for?

‘Maybe she wants the option of a night’s head start, in case she gets cold feet and decides to make a run for it.’

‘Very funny,’ I say, finding it anything but.

‘Relax. It’s supposed to be bad luck, I think. So I told her you could stay round at mine. But no funny business,’ he adds, wagging a finger at me.

‘I think I’ll manage to control myself.’ I take a mouthful of beer. ‘So where are we going? On the stag, I mean.’

Dan taps the side of his nose. ‘That’s on a need-to-know basis, sunshine.’

‘Yes. And I need to know.’

‘No way.’

‘Why not?’ I ask, suspiciously.

‘Because I want it to be a surprise.’

‘You’d better at least tell Sam, because she’s having her hen night the same evening.’

‘Good point,’ says Dan. ‘Don’t want to run into her accidentally, and have her spoil the party.’

‘Er, what party will she be spoiling, exactly?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ he says, as innocently as he can muster. ‘I’ve just got a surprise or two up my sleeve.’

‘Not like the last time I stayed round at yours and you “surprised” me by replacing my shower gel with that hair-removal cream?’

‘Yeah.’ Dan laughs at the memory. ‘I mean, no.’

‘Dan, I’ve told you, I don’t want anything to spoil this wedding. And that includes any practical jokes you might have planned for me on the stag do. I don’t want to look ridiculous in the wedding photos.’

Dan stares at me for a second or two, then rips a whole page out of his notepad and crumples it up. ‘Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to,’ he says, enigmatically. ‘Besides, like you said, there’s a week between the stag do and the wedding anyway.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘That’s just enough time for your eyebrows to grow back,’ he snorts, ‘for example.’

‘Dan!’

He sighs. ‘I can’t believe you don’t want to spend one of your last nights of freedom looking at naked women. Especially considering you’re only ever going to be seeing the one naked woman for the next fifty years. And trust me, you’ll only want to see her naked for the first half of that.’

‘Would you mind not talking about my fiancée like that?’

Dan grins. ‘Sorry, mate. But fifty years. With the same woman?’

‘Why do you look at it as a negative thing? As far as I’m concerned, it’s time spent with someone I want to be with.’

He picks his beer up, then puts it back down again. ‘I’m sorry, Ed. You’re right. I guess I’m just a bit jealous, that’s all.’

‘Jealous?’ I’m a little taken aback. It’s not like Dan to admit anything like this. And certainly not where I’m concerned. ‘Of me?’

‘Yeah.’ He picks up his bottle again, and pretends to read the label. ‘You know. I just wish my expectations were as low as yours.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Where relationships are concerned. And I don’t mean that there’s anything wrong with Sam. Quite the opposite. It’s just that I always want that
new
feeling. The excitement of finding out what someone’s like.’