The Wedding Bet (24 page)

At 5:45 PM I showed up happy and bright in full hideout mode, holding off any contacts for the last day, until 6:15 PM 1 year later arrives. PR Man and I were laughing over dinner at a restaurant he frequented. Going to any place I went spelled doom, as I never went anywhere without the Triad members Olivia and Cynthia—the sworn enemy at this point.

“Why did you choose me for your last day of the bet?”

“Because you’re safe. You can’t fall love with me. You know all my flaws. You’ve seen me without makeup. You’ve seen me in sweats, bad hair, and BO.”

I wore sweats, rollers in my hair. No one in their right mind would find me attractive. PR Man’s influence caused the waiters in the nice black pants and skirts and white shirts and blouses to ignore me. He gave them big tips. He even tipped the restaurant owner.

“It’s a publicity stunt. You know, kind of connected to the Brent Parks Talk Show. The owner took a second look at me.

“Ahhhhayayaya. You’re that over sex girl on the viral video. Trying not to get married.” The exclusive restaurant owner smiled big. “I see. Proceed. I want a big tip after the stunt, Steve.”

PR Man’s cell phone rang. He nodded and blinked his eyes really slow to the restaurant owner as if to say no problem. The satisfied manager left.

“Don’t answer that!”

“Megan, you’re being flighty; you’re not playing hide-and-seek with the triad in third grade. And as fun as this creative campaign has been, it is ending. The wheels of business must keep turning.” He clicked the phone saying his last annoying thoughts on the matter, “Might be new business calling.”

He smiled. He hands me the phone.

I wave my hands, no! “Who is it?” I whisper as many a successful campaign failed in the last phase. “PR Man, I won’t be part of a failure; not after all I’ve gone through.”

PR Man stretched out his hand further giving me his cell phone.

“If this backfires…”

“Congratulations, Megan! Looks like you avoided marriage for one year while looking for marriage partners. Hehehe.”

“Hello, Amy! Thank you! PR Man is creating all this suspense.” My eyes shot darts of annoyance at him. “Why didn’t you tell me it was Amy in the first place?” Men! “Amy I’d like to thank you, Limber & Love, PR Man, Andy for making this victory possible. PR Man gave me inspiration when I needed. I’m sitting here with rollers in my hair, Amy. I threw a catty-ratty pink bathrobe over my nice dress black dress pants, pink blouse waiting for 6:16 PM. How’s Ian? The Women’s Center?”

As Amy started talking, I realized she is preventing anything stupid happening on PR Man’s part at the last second. He couldn’t let Limber & Love down, not in front of Amy.

“Ian’s cool. He’s even stopped laughing at the viral video of you—once I explained to him the situation and that you were my friend.”

“That’s great. Just great...Maybe that’s all I need to do is clarify why this year’s been so crazy.”

PR Man shook his head no like a disapproving dad.

“Well, Good luck, Megan, if I don’t see you back in the office again.”

“You’re making me want to cry, Amy. I already look a mess as it is.”

“Take care. Stay off those talk shows.”

“I will, Amy. You take care, too.” I ended the call and handed the cell back to PR Man. “You really know to make a girl miserable during a vulnerable time. Now we were saying—oh, yes, you can’t date me without breaking customer-client relations.”

“I can just quit and ask you to marry me.”

“No! You cannot! We had a deal—you keep me single for one year. And those lady cupids (Why isn’t there a female cupid? You ever thought of that male-feminist PR Man? Like only boys and not girls have hormones?” I needed to distract him from that crazy and dangerous line of thought he brought up.

He brainstormed about it.

He liked resolving problems that lacked pat answers. He checked his watch.

Finally he said, “Wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Her arrows refuse to leave her bow.”

“Cupid’s arrows only work on girls?”

“Women are used to love; so cupid’s arrows are not that effective. Men are not used to love. They need a push.”

I checked my watch, 6:00 PM. I gave my plate to the waiter. I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking about love with you, PR Man!”

“I’m harmless, like you said, Megan.”

“Should I call Olivia and Cynthia now and rub it in, celebrate my victory. Have them come here to celebrate with me, us?”

PR Man acted very happy and nonchalant. He checks his watch again. This place will take them at least ten minutes to show up.”

I called Olivia. Come over the PR Man’s restaurant and celebrate my non-wedding victory. “

“We’re on our way, Megan. There’s always hope. Cupid may strike at the last second.”

“Ha. Dreamers!” I boasted.

Eleven minutes later, they burst through the quiet restaurant doors at 6:11 PM.

“I’m gloating feeling good.”

“Look at you, that’s so not fair, dressed like a married woman, taking her husband for granted.”

We all laugh.

PR Man shook his head at our craziness.

Olivia tried to influence a waiter of my good qualities, but he’s skeptical of my bedside manner in the morning.

The clock ticks down to 6:13 PM.

Cynthia calls someone. “A suitor you know and touched wants to talk.”

PR Man waved away the phone. He shook his head.

“What can happen over the phone, PR Man?” I reach for the phone and then purposely fumbled and dropped it onto my lap and from my lap onto the floor.

PR Man is shaking his head pathetically. He knows I can’t deny the Triad their tradition. So I have to work between the lines of truth and circumstances.

I picked up the phone. “Must have clicked off, gee.”

“Your Texas, the hunky stripper guy?” Cynthia said.

“Really?” I answered.

“Really?” Olivia questioned.

PR Man looked rather tense as he counted down for me: five, four, three, and two one! 6:16 PM One year today. The bet is over Megan wins!

“Yay. I’m free not to get married!”

All my friends sadly get up, and are ready to leave.

“I quit!” says PR Man really loud.

“I really want to thank you, PR Man! You’ve been obviously devious and cruel.”

“Yes, and I want to marry you, Megan!”

“See it worked, Olivia shouted jumping up and down with Cynthia.” You’re getting married, Megan.”

“No, I’m not! This is infatuation, PR Man. I know we’ve been through a lot of things this year.” I said unfurling the curls in my long blonde hair. “But that doesn’t make it love. Besides you’re really A. not my type and B. Not qualified.”

“I do beg to disagree,” PR Man insisted.

I was stunned.

PR Man said, “According to your three rules I do. 1) I loomed everywhere on your campaign not to be married—city, Internet, magazines, newspapers, out of state, buses, restaurants, at dances, television, even a few late night commercials published free during public broadcasting hour. 2) I quit my job.”

“I fired you!

“Like Jobs and Clinton, I got it back! 3) I became a better man during the crises and decided, then and there I couldn’t live without you, not just your body.”

I said the only defensive able thing possible. “That’s was hypothetically for our strategy against, those lady cupids.” I pointed to Olivia standing there with her female friends.

Cynthia came back and they all sat down at our table.”

“This sounds interesting,” said Cynthia.

PR Man said, “What do you say, Megan, yes or no?”

“I have to think about it.” I mean are girls supposed to say yes on the first attempt by a man? Shouldn’t he work at it? Shouldn’t I make him sweat it out so that when I do accept his internal resentment of me romantically torturing him can make him want to play around on me—on our honeymoon? Isn’t this the way to build up suspense in life? All these questions of equity and fairness came to mind. Perhaps I was overthinking this. PR Man, are you the jealous type?”

PR Man scoffs. “Remember, I’m the man who sat calm and cool while you decided whether or not to sell your snatcheroozoo for forty million dollars!”

All the girls laughed.

“That’s right. I forgot about that, PR Man.”

“Megan. What are you waiting for? I admit I lost the wedding bet.” Olivia nodded in PR Man’s direction. “Now you can safely get married on your own.”

Cynthia added, “We’re thrilled and happy for you, if you marry now, or ten years from now—”

“PR Man is not going to wait ten year,” said Amy walking in.

“I called Amy and told her to come over,” PR Man said, to make our breakup easier, if you turned me down.”

“I haven’t turned you down, PR Man. Where you really the Black Knight that day at the Lover’s Dance?”

“What if I said, yes?”

“Where did you hide the horse!” Olivia, Cynthia and I said all together.

“The stables aren’t too far from the Grantor’s Hall. Just across the golf course. I dismounted and told him to go home.”

“Oh, he’s good, Megan,” Cynthia cooed.

“Yeah, he’s good, Megan. You’ve got to marry him.”

I responded. You like animals, that’s a major plus, I admit.” Inside my heart I wanted to shout yes. I kept reviewing all the fun times we experienced. Crazy times, but fun. However my brain held my lips closed.

“You haven’t exactly answered yes either.”

“Olivia what should I do?”

“Do you love him?”

“In a strange way.”

“Love is a feeling like no other...that’s why it’s strange, Megan. It’s not some logical thing that happens like a narrator in a story that’s going to say. Olivia used a deep fake manly voice:

“Megan, marry Steve. He has all the qualities you want in a man.”

I thought about it. “Damn why don’t narrators show up and make things of the heart easier?” I hesitated. “I’ll marry you!

PR Man said, “That’s a miracle. There is a God!”

“Goddess,” I corrected him. I thought to myself and yes, the miracle moved my lips to say yes.

“We can have this feminist debate a month from now.”

“What is going to changed in one month?”

“Will be happily married in Tahiti and no one wants to argue on their honeymoon.”

* * * *

One month later, at church before our vacation honeymoon trip. PR Man and I, PR Man’s boss Andy, Michelle, Amy and her boyfriend, Ian Olmedo, Debra Runyon, Marriage Counselor, Olivia, Cynthia And Vic, Amber, Soccer Girl At Wedding, Keyonamei Ard—Speed Date Coach, Jennifer Mata, Shawn Posado are all there. The women waiting to catch the rose bouquets. I felt this strange deja-vu of all the past steps toward marriage, I unwittingly made this past year upon seeing all their faces.

I don’t believe in fate striking in the same way twice. That’s just boring. Hollywood can do that. So I made sure only one person caught my bouquet of flowers. Olivia. It was a power move. Debra approved. The bridesmaids didn’t like it one bit. You should have seen hem frown, their arms crossed over their chests, and dowdy, pouty facial expressions. Olivia stood alone behind me. If anyone needed some love and marriage karma returned to her, Olivia did.

One...

I turned around and made sure no one was behind me. I saw Amy’s female dog, Heli standing there beside Olivia. Heli, the professional helicopter catcher.

“Amy, no accidents, take Heli away from beside you.”

Everyone laughed, but they have no clue how far Olivia’s soccer skills have deteriorated over the years. I wouldn’t have been in this predicament if, she had million-dollar hands and caught the first wedding bouquet in the first place.

Amy complained, “My stars, Megan. For someone who didn’t believe in love until now, I think you’re becoming obsessed. Heli isn’t interested in your bouquet of flowers.”

Heli whimpered, frowned and as Amy pulled and tugged and tugged on the dog’s collar.

Two…

The crystalline truth emerged. I realized throwing the bouquet took practice. But you only get one time to do this.

Three minutes before, I soaked the roses in water for three minutes. They needed to be alert and fresh for the toss.

Three...

I tossed the bouquet of roses; they freely left my hand. You wouldn’t think there would be much drama in watching one person catching a bunch of red roses, but it all went in slow—slow—slow motion.

The flowers went up high, and far. Right over Olivia’s head. She turned around, the “Oh, my!” expression on her face priceless. She ran after the flowers. Her stride growing wider and wider. Heli barked and struggled to get free of the leash Amy now held with two hands. Olivia kept reaching up higher, higher as the flowers finished their arc and began to fall, lower and lower. All the girls watched in shock as the flowers came close to hitting the ground—but Olivia caught them at the last second!

“Thanks Megan for making me work at this.” Olivia said smiling, waving the bunch of red roses. All the bridesmaids and flower girls were surprisingly happy now. They forgot all about their lost chance as the tradition continued. Now they knew, soon they could be standing behind Olivia catching the wedding bouquet.

The girls all crowded around her like she’d won the game. They congratulated her.

Then the church doors opened wide and Mr. Lauser came in and shouted. “Oh, dear.” Mr. Lauser took off his hat. “This can’t be. Did I miss anything?”

The bridesmaids and flower girls spread aside making a way for the encircled Olivia, holding the wedding bouquet, to walk to her new beau.

“No. Hon. You’re right on time. I caught the wedding bouquet!”

“But that means—”

Olivia nodded and kept slowly approaching Mr. Lauser.

I smiled. Steve grinned wide.

All the bridesmaids and girls clapped.

The best men and men laughed.

“We have to—get married next,” Mr. Lauser continued. “Oh, I don’t think we can get married over here. The traffic is terrible. It shall have to be—”

Olivia reached Mr. Lauser and stared into his eyes.

“It—it shall have to be in Wales—at my castle.”

“Is that a proposal, Mr. Lauser? Olivia croaked.

“I-I suppose it is. If—if you’ll have me. I’m such a terrible cook.”

“You can leave all the cooking up to me,” Olivia said, turning to me and smiled. “See the tradition works.”

I said, “Works just fine,” as I pulled Steve by his waist toward me and kissed him again.” I whispered, “One kiss for the bride at a wedding is just not good enough. So I’m starting a new tradition.”

“And I’ll help it become popular and chic,” said Steve, leaning down slightly to kiss Ms. Megan Bedrosian-Laferte.

So, reader. There you have it! My banal Happily Ever After (HEA) or Happy For Now (HFN) romance story. Steve and I go on and well, you use your naughty imagination, because that’s the only way our children can be born in the future. Like I said at the start, you don’t have to read the whole thing. I had a few laughs winning the wedding bet. I hope you had a few laughs, too. Now go ahead and pass the novel on to your girlfriends. They’ll enjoy searching for the humor in this novel that is, at least, a romantic-treasure hunt of the heart.

—THE END—