The Wedding Bet (18 page)

The month off just focusing on work made me appreciate the work-a-holic men driven from their households and forever into the world of jobs and profits. Work gave me that assurance things started and ended. My gut reaction remained sharp in business and judging customers as good or bad. On the other side of the equation, relationship matters threw my truth-gut seeker into a frenzy. I never knew beyond that a man was trying to get in my pants, what else a man might be trying to do?

Since PR Man fell under business, my grasp on where we stood never wavered. He was my client and I his customer. No hanky-panky expected or required.

Going for my third strategy session for the next four months pleased me. These sessions boosted my morale. Confirming it was right all along not to give in to marriage until I’m ready. The world doesn’t need a baby from me—not just yet anyway.

* * * *

I wore a black pant suit. I needed to keep up my no-nonsense impression. We’d be talking about the Brent Parks Talk show and how to handle the Speed Dating. My Speed Dating date was Saturday, November
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“Hi, Amy.”

Amy jumped up, back to her chipper self. She stuck out a photo for me to look at. “What a pretty light brown Labrador retriever.”

“She’s only a pup now. Well-trained.”

“Yours!”

“Remember I told you about my dilemma.”

“I never forget a grieving girl’s tale. The helicopter or dog or dog and dog or no girl and boy.”

“Something like that. I’m so into Ian. Parting from him just wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair to you or Ian?”

“Fair to the both of us. He loves me, too.” Amy took the picture back. “So I bought Heli. His dog and mine are about the same age. Now Ian’s dog chases after Heli more than my toy helicopters.”

“I’m addicted to HEA endings.”

“What?”

“HEA, Happily Ever After endings...in romance stories.”

“Ian and I aren’t your typical romance story. We don’t have fake arguments and shallow problems. That helicopter-dog-boy problem threatened to destroy our relationship.”

“I’m so pleased for you, Amy. I only wish I enjoyed your success. You were doing what you loved when you found the love of your life. Here I’m doing all the search and sifting and still frog, frog, frog,” I pronounced frog like the sound of a croaking frog.

Amy laughed. “Trying too hard makes it difficult to see what is right under your nose.”

“The only thing under my nose is going to be a wart, if I keep kissing these amphibian knights.”

“You’re silly, Megan.”

“Life is what it is. I thank you for entering me on all the dating websites.”

“It wasn’t boring. You’re an interesting personality. You know Spanish. You want to go visit Flanders. You used to be an important librarian and now a successful wedding caterer.”

“Wow this woman you’re talking about has got her act together.” I smiled modestly. If she knew how boring my life really was, but I believe in sparing the innocent some things in life. “Anyway. Right now I need to see about this Brent Parks Talk Show,” I mentioned as I passed her desk to go see PR Man

“Never, ever mention sex if you go on that show. Brent Parks will go nuts.”

I paused. I stopped. “People keep telling me that. I watched Brent Parks’ Talk show a couple times. I don’t remember him and sex being an issue.”

“Don’t!” Amy warned me sternly.”

I shrugged my shoulders and let my eyes follow the thread of blue doors leading to PR Man’s office. He was hard at work when I knocked and entered.

“Ms. Megan Bedrosian. Come in; please sit down.” He made a grand gesture like one of those English gentlemen in a royal court

“You’re in an entertaining and flashy mood.”

“I thought I should be a little more animated to give you a demonstration of how to act on a talk show. Don’t just sit there like a hardened ball of sugar on a dining table. You have to be engaged. Look alert. Listen hard. Answer clear. Don’t be intimidated by all the cameras. The show only lasts for one hour and then you’re out of there—but what you say could last a life time.”

I sat down and all the information PR Man pushed into my ears felt like the last rites appendix of a dating manual. “How hard was it to get me on the Brent Parks show?”

“I’m glad you asked that,” He leaned back.

As he leaned back I noticed another chip fell off the statuette. This time from Isle’s dress. What the heck was PR Man doing that keeps destroying the poor couple? My eyes inadvertently stuck on the further disfigured keepsake standing on a daily calendar. “Before you answer that—”

“Ahem. I—in the process of explaining to Brent Parks how the Wedding Bet came about, he sort of snarled at me. “I don’t care how the dame decided to not get married for a year. You say she doesn’t look like a dog. I want her to explain how this year has been? Going without a man must be torture for her! I was marking it on your calendar of planned events. It doesn’t cost us anything to go on the show. The publicity is going to be huge. We can dispense with a lot of other smaller things like radio spots, and airplane banner messages. Just don’t be intimidated by him. But Megan, lock the three combined alphabets and one syllable out of your mind. S-E-X.”

“Tell me about Brent Parks and sex?”

“You’ve been warned by others I’m sure”

“I have.”

PR Man looks me sternly in the eyes. His dark eyes burrowing deeper into my soul, like he tried to see when I last undressed naked. “The Talk Show scheduled for November 16 at 1 pm sharp. I suggest you don’t eat lunch. We don’t want all the blood flowing to your stomach so you can’t think. That’s how Brent Parks gets his guests to make asses out of themselves.”

“I’ll eat a big breakfast, at say nine o’clock—”

“And have to use the bathroom during the show. No. We’ll eat a modest breakfast, just you and me around eight-ish. I know a nice, quiet, out-of-the-way place. Brent Parks has been known to rile up his guests—supposedly by accident—before they come on the air. He tries to get a sneaky advantage over his guests off air. Staging fake drama. The guests arrive on his show, all distracted and in a bad mood. His ratings go up. You look like a fool. Then he’ll trick you into mentioning sex and bam! Everything will hit the fan and you’ll feel like an adult reading something you wrote on the internet when you were a fourteen year old girl and thought you were a badass.”

PR Man’s speech found no available slot in my brain. And I have a good filing system for most anything from bullshit, to spam to self-promotion. I filed it under television, movie personalities. Television and movies tell us nothing about the people in those industries themselves. Then regular folks are shocked when they find out media personalities have completely different lives than portrayed.

“All right. I’ll get ready and you can pick me up at my catering shop at eight.”

“We’ll go to some quiet place like the library. Brent Parks hates books with a passion. He’s all media. Twitter, Facebook, etc. By the way, on the positive side, prepare yourself for a nice uptick in your business wedding clients. This is going to be huge.”

* * * *

November 17, 2012

The Joinrite Historical Hotel held many functions and fundraisers. I liked the hotel because it was carpeted wall to wall. They spared no expense in getting you amenities like tablets, power rechargers and a glass of water. I wore a battleship grey pants suit. I planned on taking no prisoners today.

Olivia really outdid herself. She smooched around and talked to Keyonamei Ard—Speed Date coach. Keyonamei was a regular blonde like me who wore a blue and pink kimono over a nice pair of black dress pants. On her head perched a silver tiara. Now that’s how I wanted to dress but my iron-how-to-avoid-marriage counselor Debra never gave her seal of approval. Scrutinizing Keyonamei dress, I learned she obviously ran her own business. This was her baby.

The men paid a whopping forty-five dollars to participate in this speed date session. They were told lots of female executive, models, stay-at-home moms and female scientists, business managers, saleswomen attend. Frankly, not the type a bunch of men wanted to marry. All of them seemed to be looking for someone more powerful than themselves. A typical female bad-choice maneuver.

I relaxed knowing all us girls had the same idea. We just wanted some cock without the drama of saying we wanted cock. I wasn’t over sex after all. Just tired of using my various vibrators in the same fashion, month after month.

Olivia assigned me to table 301 in the large ballroom. I searched up and down for 301 on the outskirts of the large plush hall. Finally, I went up for some refreshment and locked my ankles waiting for Olivia to show up after fixing and adjusting name placards .

A tall man came up to me and tried to chit-chat. He wore a big cowboy hat, jeans and a leather label on his dark black jacket that said, Texas.

“Hi, Megan.”

“Texas,” I said, “I’m unavailable until the Speed Date starts.” I left him standing there speechless. His big blond-bushy mustache waving in the breeze, as I spotted Olivia writing on a name card.

“Olivia!”

“Megan!”

We hugged.

“I searched up and down for my table. I can’t find it. You didn’t forget about me?”

“Aha. You wish, Megan.” She pointed into the middle of the ballroom. “You’re table 301.”

“Olivia why is it so prominent? Surely there are more important women here than myself. I’m just a wedding cake caterer.”

“Importance has nothing to do with it. You were place according to my discretion.” Olivia gave a very mischievous look. “I want you to get all the attention. Besides, if you meet someone here, you can skip all these other crazy schemes you and that Steve Lafe—what’s his name?”

“PR Man.”

“PR Man dreams up for you. I personally think, he’s got the hots for you, Megan. You know ‘When Harry Met Sally’ is right—boys and girls can’t just be friends.”

I cocked my head, “Olivia, that’s because were business associates. He is my client and I am his customer.”

Olivia grabbed my hand and escorted me to table 301, but not before I spotted Texas stalking over to and looking like he was complaining to Keyonamei. It didn’t look good. But I was a powerful woman now. I knew how to repel a man without thinking of it being hard on his male ego.

I sat down realizing several women executives, probably in my income bracket and above smiled nicely and waited like golden eggs for a treasure hunter. The humor of the situation became very apparent to me. I looked at my card placard. It read Megan—Wedding Caterer. Mentally I added in fine gold script, “just another piece of meat for the male gaze.”

I flashed my smile, avoiding chit-chat like Debra suggested. “Weak people chit-chat, and find common ground with the people in their surroundings. You’re in control. You don’t need them. You’re confident.”

I craned my neck realizing that those with less prominent careers like secretaries seemed to be on the outskirts. I imagined the girls from McDonalds had their table and chairs out in the hallway. Who knows where the Hooter girls sat?

Keyonamei made her way over to my table, brushing her long blonde curls out of her face as she passed one table after another. Like a drug, I resisted the inducing habit motions of the Speed Date Madam. My curls fell over my bangs just as Keyonamei led a tall figure behind her own taller frame.