Don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic for my brother and Stella, but I'm not very fond of being the third (or, when Kevin and Danielle come along, which was often, the fifth) wheel, and I'm sick of all these people asking me when I'll finally get hitched and lose this purity ring, and trust me, at 24, I really want to get rid of it.
I want to replace it with another kind of ring, but I don't know when I'll get the chance, or if I'll even get another shot at it.
"Hey Nick," someone says from the other side of my hotel room. I turn my head slightly, and see a fully dressed and fully groomed Kevin entering. "Almost done?"
"Pretty much. Just trying to figure out this suit," I answer back, staring at myself in the full body mirror in front of me. I love Gucci as much as the next person, but I wish my suit wasn't so, how do I say this, shiny.
"I think they made this suit out of plastic," I tell him, pulling at the 'fabric' of my tux, "or maybe rubber."
"Don't complain, mine's gray with glitter," he says to me, pointing at his shimmering blazer as he stands next to me, catching a glimpse at himself in the mirror as well.
"It's silver, which is actually okay because the wedding theme is gray," I answer back, "my suit looks like really badly made black pleather."
"I wouldn't worry about it," he says to me, slapping my back lightly, "you don't look as stupid as you think."
"I think you're lying."
"You think you might be right," he says, slapping my back again, but with a little more force. I open my mouth slightly, but close it again after deciding that I don't feel like answering back right now. I glance at him, and see that he's rubbing his wedding ring and twisting it around his finger again. Damn him.
"Where's Danielle?," I ask him casually, turning my attention back to the mirror and the ridiculous suit.
"Helping Stella with her dress," he replies, adjusting his tie, "they can't afford to ruin a hundred thousand dollar Vera Wang now."
I nod slightly, remembering Joe's many complaints and sleepless nights of work just trying to pay off for a dress he hasn't even seen. "Where's Adam?"
"Flirting with the flower girls," he says with a chuckle, "funny that he took after Joe, out of all the people, right?"
I smile, and I picture my little five year old nephew trying to impress Stella's nieces with some of his 'Justin Timberlake' dance moves and some of the jokes he learned from his dad's wild younger brother .
"I wish I had kids," I say randomly, and, as expected, Kevin just laughs at me.
"A little excited, aren't we?," he says with another laugh. "Try finding a person you want to have them with first before anything else, right?"
"I already did," I say to myself, hoping that Kevin wouldn't hear, but, after he slaps me again, I realize that I'm way to loud for my own good.
"Still pining for her, aren't you?," he asks me, with his stupid 'tell-me-all-about-it-because-I'm-your-big-brother' tone.
"You're not getting anything out of me," I say to him, and yet he stills looks at me funnily.
"It's been five years since she's left," he says to me, rubbing his chin as if he were deep in thought. "What's she doing now, by the way?"
"She's training for the country's Olympic figure skating team," I answer, then all the memories of the day she she boarded that damn plane come back to me. Still as painful as ever.
"Ever the dedicated athlete," he says with a sort of bittersweet melancholic grin, "wish she could've gone today, at the very least. It is, after all, Stella's big day."
"Stella understands," I remind him, "I think she wants her to win the gold more than she does."
"But, if ever she did come," Kevin begins, smiling mischievously, "and you were to see her-"
"I don't think so," I cut him off quietly as I lean forward to get a better look at my face, "she's apparently been seeing her coach for around five months."
"How'd you know that?"
"I'm Nick Lucas," I reply coolly, brushing away a few curls of hair away from my face, "I have my connections."
"Does mom know about that?," he says apprehensively, tightening his grip on my shoulder.
"She doesn't need to know anything," I say, then, I brush my brother's hand away, and turn for the door.
"Nick," he calls out as soon as I reach for the doorknob, "are you really just going to wait for her to come back to you?"
He really can't take a hint, can he?
"I'm thinking," I look back at him, with one of my signature smirks, "that was a rhetorical question."
"No, it wasn't," he answers back indignantly, "don't think anymore, just ans-"
Before I could hear the rest of his sad attempt to persuade me, I slam the door behind me, and walk out of the hallway to the elevators.
Even when he's already touching thirty, he still talks too much for my own taste.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Joe, stop fidgeting-"
"Kev, I think I'm losing the rings-"
"How could they be missing, I just gave them to you?!"
"I don't know, I was just holding them; dammit, those were Harry Winstons-"
"They're with me, Joe, and I said stop fidgeting-"
"I'm sorry, Nick, are you the one getting married-"
"That was a cheap shot-"
"You know you had it coming-"
"Are you sure Stella said yes, Joseph?," somebody else butts in. The three of us turn to see Frankie, and, to no one's astonishment, he was locking fingers with some size 2 model again, but this time, this one was from a Victoria's Secret catalog; at least, I think that's where I've seen her from.
"Hahaha, Franklin," Joe says sarcastically, sneering as he walks to the end of the assembly line.
"Nice job," Kevin tells him, but he has this weird look on his face that I'm sure Frankie can't read, then he nods to me and follows Joe out to the back of the church.
"What he really means," I begin to say, taking a place beside my younger brother and leaning in to whisper in his ear, "is she the best you can do?"
"Oh Nicholas," he says to me, wrapping his arm around the model's waist, "at least I've got a date today. Since when was the last time you've had a girlfriend, or, at the least, someone to hold hands with?"
"Of course he would pin that on me," I say as they leave for their assigned , I've only had around three serious girlfriends, the first having been a wildly successful Disney slut, the other was a freakishly popular tone deaf singer, and then there was 'you-know-who', but that's surely a hell of a lot better than having a string of has-been models as armcandy. At least, that's what I tell myself.
I would never, ever, admit this in public, but he's two points shy of being a genius. That's one point less than me. Clearly, I have a problem with that.
And, I also would never, ever, admit this either, but I'm sick of never having someone to hold hands with.
Stupid younger brother. Stupid size 2 girl.
Then, out of nowhere, the fifty-piece orchestra begins to play, and I take that as my cue to get moving.
"I need to get a lingerie model," I mutter to myself, and then, once I see two of the bridesmaids look at me suspiciously as they hitch up their dresses haughtily, I realize I need to stop muttering to myself.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"To Joe and Stella," my eldest brother says into the microphone, holding up his third glass of champagne, already half-empty, as he grins happily at the couple sitting at the head table, "it took you, I don't know, around twenty years, I think, to realize that you two really belong together, and no matter how many other people you dated before to try to ignore your feelings for each other, and may I remind everyone that that was a lot, you both are extremely lucky to know that you can always come back to each other, and know that even if there are plenty of gorgeous looking fish in the sea, you two will continue to love each other and annoy us with your lovable bickering, whether we like it or not. Cheers."
He raises up his flute, and the rest of the crowd in the grand ballroom reception follow suit. He finishes his in one gulp, which is more than what I can handle, and then goes to say, "you know, we've known Stella since we were kids, and to Nick and I, she is one of our best friends, a sister we never had, and the strictest stylist ever. To Joe, she is all that, and a whole lot more. He should be aware of how extremely lucky he is to have found his best friend, his first love, and his lifelong partner all in one person, and at such a young age as well. Take care of her, Danger, and Stells, just try to give more effort in putting up with him. God knows it's going to be harder now."
The room erupts in a sort of soft laughter, and though it seems like a joke to them, they have no idea how much work Joe really is. I should know, I've been having it for twenty-four years. Kevin raises his now empty glass once again to the smiling bride and groom, and exits the platform to sit down beside Danielle, who was busy keeping Adam both silent and entertained.
"Yes, thank you, K2, for your kind words for the bride and groom, and stay away from the bar" Frankie says as he takes the michrophone; why Joe chose him as the night's emcee after all the sneering and jokes he made about him, and, at times, Stella's bad choice in men, I'll never really come to understand. "Now,why don't we hear something from our favorite award-winning songwriter, that sound good? Come on down, Nick," he says, gesturing to me.
Go to hell, Franklin.
"No, you really wouldn't want to hear me talk," I say as everyone sitting around me begins to edge me forward to say a few words. "No, seriously-"
"Oh, come on, Nicky-"
"Carl, get off me-"
"Please, Nick," Stella pleaded, holding the microphone in front of her and Joe's table, and a little pout on her face, "you hardly talk anyway."
"It won't work this time, Stella-"
"Nick," my dad, Tom, expert manager whispers to me, leaning his seat forward as he feigns a smile for the rest of the room, "just say something; we don't need another riot."
"Since when did I start a riot?," I whisper back.
"Remember Adam's last birthday party, and all the kids asked you to sing for them, but when you didn't, they all started bawling out of control and throwing food all over the place?"
"That was a kid's party, dad, I think the people here would be more mature," I answer back.
"Exactly," he says, nodding his head to emphasize his point, "instead of cake, they'll be throwing around champagne, and we paid around nine thousand bucks for that."
"Why would they throw champagne-"
"Nicholas Jerry-"
"Well, what are you going to do to convince me?," I ask, smiling around as well as the audience gives us a confused look in unison.
"Well, I got an invitation from my friends over at New York," he starts out, "and they want you to perform at Madison Square Garden."
"But I've already done that-"
"Well, have you ever performed with Elvis Costello and Bob Dylan? No, I didn't think so," he says after seeing the idiotic-looking, appalled expression that is probably on my face at the moment. Damn Costello and Dylan for being so good.
"I want autographs," I hiss at him, before standing up, grudgingly, may I say, and approach the stage. I never really liked talking in front of crowd, that was more of the Kevin or Joe/'s thing. I was more of the music guy.
"Good evening, everybody," I begin, and I think I'm biting my lip hard enough for it to bleed. Crap, crap, crap; I hate public speaking."Mine won't be as, how do I say this,well,
I don't know, but still, ummm, right."
My dad should be laughing his ass off right now. "Okay, well, Stella, whether we like it or not, was, is, and always will be there for me, as well as the rest of my family. She has that real, genuine desire to help everyone, or, at least, make them look as good as possible. Sure, she may have had a few missteps, like Van Dick- oh, it's Van Dyke? My apologies, and when it comes to her clothing, when the time comes, she'll do some evil stuff to you, but, no matter what anyone would say or do to prove otherwise, Stella is a wonderful, beautiful human being. Here's to you, darling," I say, clapping along with the rest of the crowd.
"Now, Joe, though I always say the opposite, is one of my heroes- yes, I know," I say when I see Joe's, and the rest of the room's, surprised faces. "I would never have admitted this if I were younger, but I realize now that I am jealous of my older brother- yes, I am talking about you, Joseph," I assure him again once I see his jaw drop and when he points at himself, as if asking a question. "I have never had the ability to just be myself freely, without a care in the world, whether the people around take it or leave it. I never really had the ability to make people really like me with just the first impression, nor have I really had the ability to make fun of myself. I have difficulty in being who I really am, and I envy you because you have always been comfortable with yourself, and you don't really care about what other people think. I know I keep on telling you that you should act more your age and the like, but that was because I thought that wouldn't make me as boring compared to you."
Joe puts a hand over his heart, and brings the other to his face, as if he were wiping tears away from his face, and then, damn him for it, he laughs and gives me a thumbs up. That's exactly what I was talking about.
"And," I say, raising my hand up again to silence the restless crowd; who are all probably now bored, "as a final note, I am jealous that from the very beginning, you knew who your true love really is, and though you have acted that you were the ladies' man among us Lucases, you knew your heart really was with just one person, even though it took you twenty-one years, yes, it's twenty-one, Kev, to come to terms with that, I still admire the fact that you had, and will continue to have, a lifelong best friend. Thank you, and cheers to the newlyweds."
I will never do this again. To hell with public speaking. As I take my seat amongst the clapping guests, Frankie is already blabbing away at lightning speed; he must have had a dozen or so Pixie Stix, probably taken from Adam.
"That was the President, ladies and gentlemen," he said excitedly, quickly clapping his hands, "vote for him in 2040, okay? Good, now, now, how's about we catch some garters and bouquets, sounds good, right? Okay, will all the bachelors and bachelorettes please step out onto the dancefloor, yes, Carl, that includes you-"
"What do you think you're waiting for?," my dad says, before holding my chair and pushing it forward, forcing me to stand up. Really, now, dad?
"I'll get you a meet and greet," he says in his sing-song voice, and I just concede defeat. I am hating him right now.
"Hey, President, move forward," Frankie says, waving at me wildly as I linger around at the back of the crowd. No way in hell; last thing I want to do is strap a garter around a random girl's thigh. Plus, I don't really want to see Joe pulling down the thing up-close; he and Stella sort of have a problem with hiding their affection. After a few minutes, there is a surge of whistles, hooting and cheering, and I know Joe has done his job. I move slightly to catch a glimpse of the couple, and I see Stella blushing profusely, and Joe grinning as he holds up the white, lacy, garter above his head. He has absolutely no shame.
He turns with his back towards the crowd, and throws it. All these guys seem to really want to get this thing, as they all push and shove to look for the seemingly lost piece of stretchy string. Actually, now that I think about it, where did it go?
"Hey, Nicky, what's that hanging at the back of your collar?," Carl says from behind me in his stupidly unusual high-pitched voice.
"What are you talking about?," I say, not bothering to face him.
"Here, lemme get it," he says, before he goes to pull something out of my collar.
"No, I'd rather that I do it," I say, brushing away his hand, then I go and reach for whatever is there. Then, I grasp a soft, sort of scratchy material, which I recognize to be the sort of texture lace has, and then I really begin to dread this. I pull it out quickly, and, to my horror, it turns out to be the stocking garter that was just on Stella's leg. Oh crap.
"JOE!," Carl yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to call my brother's attention, "Joe! Nick! He got it! He got-"
"Yes, I can see that," my older brother says, sharing the microphone with Frankie, and they're both laughing their heads off. I can't believe these people are my brothers.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter as I attempt to make my way back to my seat, but before I reach it, Kevin stops me, holding my arm. He appears to be serious, but I can tell he was probably rolling over in laughter just a few minutes ago, because his face is red. Or maybe that's because he's had too many drinks.
"No getting out of this one," he says to me, patting my shoulder lightly.
"Easy for you to say, you're already married," I reply.
He just chuckles again, and tells me, "why don't you see who catches the bouquet first, right?"
He turns my shoulder, forcing me to look towards the dancefloor and watch the ladies crowd around behind Stella. She flashes a sweet grin, then turns her back on them, and tosses the bouquet of white roses, dotted with small sky blue flowerets over her head. I notice the girls seem to be more mellow than the guys; I figured they'd be more, shall I say, overly-excited. There is still the screaming, of course, and the nose-diving towards the floor, but none of them seem too rowdy. However, I am still terrified.
"Who caught it?," Kevin suddenly says. I look up from my reverie, and see that the audience has thinned quite a bit. Some of them are even going back to their seats, with the scariest of expressions on their faces. I look back up at my older brother, who's even tiptoeing a bit just to know who is the 'lucky girl'. Hell, even I'm doing it.
Curiosity gets the better of me, so I leave him there to ogle at the group, and I stride quickly, but as discreetly as I can, to the stage to get a better look.
Joe and Stella must have really strong arms, because everything they throw always seem to land somewhere in the back. The remaining few people who stayed out on the floor looked around them to see who could've possibly caught the thing, and then, she appears out of nowhere.
Oh, God no.