Chapter 1: An Unforgettable Encounter
Eddie's face was a mask of congeniality—but his eyes were alight with the desire to murder.
"I can assure you, madam, I have the documentation on hand. This is the exact shade of coral that you ordered. The material has already been paid, in full, and the dresses are ready for fitting. I'm afraid I cannot offer you any kind of refund," said Eddie Gluskin. He stood behind the counter of Gluskin's Bridal wearing his usual uniform of nice slacks with a matching vest and bow-tie over a white dress shirt. The stripe of hair on top of his head was slicked back without a single strand misplaced, and the sides shaved short. The fake smile plastered on his face was growing uncomfortable.
"You're wrong. The documentation is wrong," said Lisa, bride-to-be of the day who was making Eddie's life a living hell. Her brown hair was combed into a complicated hairstyle, and she wore a beautifully tailored cream skirt and jacket over a petal pink blouse. "The color you used is hideous. Coral is last season. I never would have picked such an orange shade. I'm not doing a beach wedding, for Christ's sake—we're going to be on the mountain side. This is all terribly unacceptable. Waaaaaaay," the last part came out as a long whine directed at the blond man standing nearby. Eddie guessed Lisa had dressed them both, considering her fiance's pink collared shirt and cream colored slacks that matched hers perfectly.
Waylon's brown eyes suddenly reined in from whatever spot they were studying on the ceiling. His eyebrows shot up in confusion. "Are you even listening?" demanded Lisa. "This is important! This wedding is going to be attended by every manager and executive officer at Murkoff. A tacky wedding reflects poorly on you. That could affect your future prospects at the company."
"I highly doubt that," said Waylon giving a snorting laugh. "Be reasonable. I designed their latest in-house software, they can't really function without me until I can train the others how to use the interface. I doubt they would fire me because of coral bridesmaid dresses…"
"This is so typical of you," said Lisa, turning her chin up and pouting. Soon, Lisa's bottom lip was quivering and her eyes shone with unshed tears. Eddie could not stop the automatic narrowing of his eyes at the disgusting display. What type of spineless man would give into such obviously manipulative behavior? The pouting only seemed to confuse Waylon further.
Lisa grabbed Waylon by the elbow and pulled him away from the counter. She spoke in hissing whispers that were still audible to Eddie. "Is this how it's going to be, Waylon? You'll always let everyone walk all over you? We've talked about this."
Waylon Park gave a resigned sigh. He pulled his shoulders back, and walked purposely up to the counter. He was inches shorter than Eddie. He had to gaze up to meet Eddie's predatory blue eyes. "There has been a mistake," said Waylon. "My fiancee and I will not be paying anything for these dresses. It was your fault for completing the dresses out of this material without first showing it to me, or my fiancee, for approval. I expect you will want to order a different fabric color, and re-make these dresses in order to keep your sizable commission we agreed upon for the job. We will not pay a cent until Lisa is completely, one-hundred-percent, satisfied."
"Mr. Park. Is this your signature?" asked Eddie, calmly pressing a printed page down on the counter and sliding it toward Waylon.
"I don't care what kind of contact you think you have. I have access to the best lawyers in Colorado. I work for Murkoff, heard of them?" Waylon narrowed his brown eyes. He may have been shorter than Eddie, but he was able to pull rank with the best of them. "You wouldn't get a cent, and the court fees would bankrupt this business. Now. Are we going to be able to fix this problem, or should my fiancee and I find another tailor?"
"You will not find another dress maker of my quality in this state," said Eddie, his voice still calm despite the intense glare in his eyes.
"Then we'll go out of state. We can afford the best. Clearly, this is not it. Sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Gluskin," said Waylon. He lifted his chin and walked over to Lisa, chatting away on her phone. "Come on, we're leaving."
"Wait, don't I have to pick new color swatches, or something?" asked Lisa. Her blue eyes were wide with disbelief, as if it was impossible for her to imagine a scenario where she did not get exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it.
"No," said Waylon, making sure his voice was louder than necessary for Eddie's benefit. "We will need to let all of our friends and colleagues know that Gluskin's Bridal is unprofessional, and not at all what was advertised. I'll get us tickets to New York for next weekend, and buy you any dresses your heart desires." Lisa clapped her hands girlishly before putting the phone back up to her ear and exiting the shop.
Waylon turned to follow her, but he was stopped short by a firm grip around his arm. "You signed an agreement. Even if you do not want these garments, I expect to be reimbursed for my costs," said Eddie. Waylon stared in horror at his arm where Eddie's hand was clamped harder enough to bruise.
"You can't touch me! I'll have you arrested for assault," said Waylon, panic infiltrating his tone.
"And I will point out to the police how you have gone against your agreement, and are attempting to short me on a ten thousand dollar contract," said Eddie, his voice deadly and low. "This is my livelihood. I turned down several other seizable contracts in order to devote time to this job. I am owed for those missed costs, as well as the material reimbursement."
"The hell you are," said Waylon with a sneer. He attempted to pull his arm free, but Eddie did not budge in the least. The grip was iron clad, and Waylon began to struggle visibly. "Let me go, asshole! Everyone's going to know about this. You think you have trouble now? Wait until everyone in the area that can afford your prices finds out you assaulted me, and tried to force me to buy inferior goods!"
Eddie released Waylon's arm so suddenly that Waylon was thrown backwards, stumbling into a mannequin wearing an ornate, ivory gown. The collision caused a rhinestone encrusted tiara on the mannequin's head to clatter to the ground. Several stones flew off in every direction. Eddie's face immediately fell as he realized the expensive mistake. Waylon straightened his stance, giving a loud hmph. "Serves you right for assaulting me. Good luck with your business, Mr. Gluskin. You're going to need it."
Waylon turned and walked out of the shop, the soft ding of a bell signaling the closure of the door behind him.
"Fine! Go! All of you, whores," the loud screams were muffled by the closed door, but Eddie could see through the window how Waylon paused and then rushed toward his white Mercedes. He glanced back and Eddie made sure he got a look at his murderous face. Waylon gave the smallest smirk before getting into his car.
The car drove out of sight, leaving a seething Eddie behind in his shop. He mumbled to himself in anger as he stared at the eight coral gowns. They were all custom designed and sewn. He had sewn them, personally. "The nerve of these…people," he muttered as he retrieved the fallen tiara. He counted the missing rhinestones and sighed. "I'm adding that five hundred dollars onto their bill, as well." It was futile, he knew, considering they had already refused to pay. Even if he attempted to find a cheap lawyer, the legal fees would likely consume the majority of any settlement he might potentially receive. Eddie sighed and closed up his shop for the evening.
Gluskin's Bridal was located in Leadville, Eddie's home since childhood. Thanks to the hard work of his mother, the shop held a reputation that drew in people from all over the state to the small, mountain town. Eddie had no desire to leave the area, and hoped he would never have to make that decision. The mountain air held a type of healing property.
Eddie drove his old, blue Ford into the most popular barbecue restaurant in town. The entire building was made of wood with faded signs and some neon beer advertisements illuminating the entrance. It was not a fancy place, but the locals enjoyed it. Inside, the walls were plastered with every type of road sign imaginable and the tables sported red-and-white checkered tablecloths. He walked over to join his two friends at their usual table.
"Rough day at the shop, Ed?" asked Frank Manera, easily managing to sense his friend's irritation.
"Aren't you supposed to be manning the grill tonight?" asked Eddie, calmly pulling out a chair and taking a seat directly between the two men. Frank was wearing his red shirt sporting the Rib Shack logo beneath a full coverage apron. The apron was smeared with so much red barbecue sauce someone might have guessed Frank was a butcher, rather than a line chef. Frank had long hair, and a long beard—and he was required to wear a hairnet on both when he was working.
"I'm on break," said Frank, leaning back in the cheap plastic chair, getting comfortable.
"You're always on break," said Dennis, typing away on a cellphone without glancing up at Eddie's arrival. He was wearing his usual stained t-shirt over jeans look. No one was sure what Dennis did for a living, but he always had cash, and he had a reputation as a guy who could get things. He was a man of many talents.
"Yeah, well, like, you're always on break too," said Frank. Eddie rolled his eyes.
"Good comeback," said Eddie before leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.
"Shit," said Frank, leaning forward with renewed interest. "Ed's table manners have slipped. Must have been a hell of a day."
"Asshole customers, stiffing me on my biggest commission all year," said Eddie, staring daggers at the table as though it were somehow responsible. "I have lost commissions because I was too busy to accept them, I paid for the materials, and I spent countless hours performing the work myself. Today the…the degenerate whore shows up with her spineless, bitch fiance, and says she doesn't like the color, and they won't pay. I showed them the contract…bitch boy has the nerve to tell me they won't' pay a cent. Threatens litigation if I go against them, knowing full well I can't afford those kind of legal bills. Oh, and on the way out, they knocked over my favorite tiara…"
"Awww, see, now that's the worst part, wasn't it?" asked Dennis, putting a heavy hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Sorry 'bout your crown, bro." Frank snickered but attempted to keep it hidden from Eddie who turned icy blue eyes on his friends and practically growled.
"What I wouldn't do to get some revenge on those pompous…rich…entitled…" Eddie trailed off, frowning down at his hands.
"So they're gone, now what?" asked Dennis, finally putting his phone away to stare at Eddie. Dennis had a shaved head and low brow, giving him a rather formidable look. He was wearing a thin collared shirt with his name embroidered over the pocket and a pair of dirty jeans.
"Rent is paid up for three months. I suppose I will be having a sale on coral bridesmaid dresses, and trying to sell the tiara at a discount," said Eddie.
"Coral? Wait, you made a dress out of coral?" asked Frank, scratching his head.
"It's a color, you uncultured ass," said Dennis, before giving a sidelong glance at Eddie. "Right?"
"You're both hopeless," said Eddie, standing up from the table without having ordered anything. "I'm going home."
"Yoohoo! Eddie," came a singsong woman's voice from behind the counter of the restaurant.
"Good evening, Pamela," said Eddie, straightening his vest and standing taller as he addressed the owner of the Rib Shack.
"You always manage to class up the joint just by walking in, lookin' so dashing. How is it a man like you is single?" asked Pamela. She paused refilling a bowl of peanuts to sigh dreamily while staring at Eddie. Pamela was a large figured woman in her forties with hair dyed orange, though probably in an attempt to look red. Her makeup was always flawless. "Frank, get your scrawny ass back in the kitchen."
"It's my break, Pammy," said Frank, though he was already standing up with a kicked-puppy expression on his face.
"I keep telling you—there aren't any breaks! You only work part-time!" said Pamela, glaring at Frank as he walked behind the counter, adjusting his apron. "Lucky you have such handsome friends, or I might run your ass out of here. Now put on your hairnets!"
"Okay, alright, sheesh," said Frank, disappearing into the kitchen area.
"Goodbye, Frank," called Eddie before clapping Dennis on the shoulder. "Be seeing you."
"Take it easy, old man," said Dennis, already absorbed with his cellphone again.
"Would you not go so fast? These aren't exactly hiking boots," said Lisa, maneuvering carefully up the walking path wearing designer flats to match her dress suit. She was in good physical condition, her yoga instructor and personal trainers could attest to that, but she absolutely refused to wear anything sensible. Waylon sighed as he held out his hand, helping his bride-to-be ascend the slope.
Once they reached the top where the small white gazebo was located, Waylon spread his arms and spun around. "Tada."
"Hmm. It's a view, sure, but there's views like this all over Colorado," said Lisa. "I don't want to get married in Leadville. This place is disgusting."
"You agree to this months ago, I already booked the place. Remember? We chose it because it was scenic and logical considering its proximity to the bridal shop. I already reserved a block of rooms at the Hampton Inn for a very sensible price," said Waylon.
"I hate it. I changed my mind," said Lisa, frowning as she held her hand up over her eyes to shield them from the last evening sunlight.
"No," said Waylon, turning to face her. "I'm sorry. I stood up to that poor tailor today for you, just because you didn't like the dress color, after you chose it—personally—months ago. I'm not going to cancel this place. I think it's perfect, and the deposit was nonrefundable. Please, be reasonable."
"Oh, please, like you can't afford it," said Lisa, tossing her well coiffed hair. "Murkoff's Golden Boy, they pay you whatever you ask. What better way to put all that excess salary to use than spending it on the wedding of the year? Oh, I can't wait! All of the higher ups will be there. It's going to be extravagant. We should look into a location in Denver, wouldn't that be better? I should tour all of the best locations. I'm sure Jeremy wouldn't mind, he knows every hot spot in Denver."
"Yeah, Jeremy, swell guy," said Waylon, rolling his eyes. "Why is he doing so much for this wedding, anyways? At work, I get the feeling he can barely tolerate my presence, yet he's been involved with every step of planning my wedding?"
"He's the CEO, babe, he can be as involved as he wants to be," said Lisa. She put her hands on her hips and stared out across the view of rolling, green foothills, sparkling creeks, and spots of thick trees. "I'm sorry, Waylon. I can't imagine hiking up here in a wedding dress just to say our vows."
"They have golf carts available?"
"A golf cart? Now you're joking, and it's not funny," said Lisa. "I am going to walk back down now, and pretend you never said the words 'golf cart' to me. I consider this matter settled."
"This is my wedding too, you know," said Waylon, daring to look up and meet Lisa's blue eyes.
"Excuse me? The wedding is all about the bride…" said Lisa.
"Yeah, but I am paying for it, and hiking is important to me—it's my favorite hobby, and I would like at least some small say in what happens at my own wedding."
Lisa walked over and put her hands on either side of Waylon's face, squeezing as she scrunched up her nose. "You're adorable when you try to be assertive." She kissed him lightly on the nose. "We'll keep this place as a maybe." Waylon started to retort, but Lisa held up her hand and took a step away, retrieving her cell phone from her tiny, designer clutch which could likely only fit that one, single phone-and one of Waylon's credit cards, of course.
"Hello? Oooh, I left you so many messages! You are never going to believe the drama," said Lisa, absorbed in her phone call. "The dresses were wretched and Way told the tailor to throw them right out, and refused to pay. Now the site is a maybe because it's far too inaccessible, and dangerous! What if it rains? Will I be expected to get married in some barn? Can you imagine? The Board of Directors of Murkoff Incorporated sitting in a barn…"
"Who is it?" Waylon asked, tapping his foot in annoyance.
"Jeremy," mouthed Lisa, causing Waylon to scoff out loud.
"Why is he calling so much?" asked Waylon.
"He has a lot of input on this wedding! He's your best man," said Lisa.
"Miles is my best man, you know that, and there is no fucking way I am making Jeremy Blaire my best man…"
"Just a sec," Lisa said into the phone before covering the microphone with her hand and glaring at Waylon. "Are you serious right now, Waylon? I'm going back to Denver—immediately. There's too much to do. You're welcome to stay here as long as you like." Lisa turned and started walking down the hill before resuming her phone conversation. "Sorry, Waylon's throwing a fit about the location all because of some silly nonrefundable deposit…I know, that's what I told him…I'm on my way back to Denver now…I'm taking the Mercedes, can you send a company car for Waylon? Oh, That would just be wonderful…"
As Waylon watched Lisa drive away in his car, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his cream colored slacks that Lisa had picked out for him to wear. He walked to where the gazebo was perched on the edge of a steep hill.
The view was amazing. Mount Massive rose in the distance, majestic and tall, surrounded by grassy hills and spattered copses of trees. It was idyllic. Exactly the type of place Waylon had imagined himself getting married when had gotten down on one knee in front of his college sweetheart. Of course, she had refused him the first two times. But, after he received his promotion, and a considerable raise, she had agreed to the marriage.
Waylon knew he should feel happy to be getting married, but the situation had only added to so much stress in his life. He barely had time to see Lisa anymore with all of her lunches with wedding planners and florists, plus driving to Leadville just to fire their tailor. Waylon sighed as he leaned against the post of the gazebo. Some nights, Lisa did not even come home, claiming to have drunk too much champagne or eaten too many wedding cake samples.
Waylon was distracted by the vibration of his own phone in his pocket as he stood watching Lisa drive away in his white Mercedes. "You're late," he said into the receiver.
"I know," said Miles, giving an exaggerated sigh for emphasis. "I couldn't get away. The interview just kept dragging on and on. I'm really sorry. I can head there now, if you still need me?"
"Don't bother. Lisa fired the tailor, and now she doesn't want to get married outside the museum either," said Waylon, attempting to pull the phone away so Miles would not hear his sigh.
"You're serious? I thought you loved that spot?"
"I did—I do, really. I'm there, now. But I guess Lisa isn't going to want to hike anywhere in her wedding gown."
"They have golf carts?"
"Yeah, I told her that. She nixed that idea right off. I don't know what to do anymore," said Waylon, staring off at the mountains.
"I know you're tired of hearing it, but are you sure this marriage is what you want?" asked Miles.
"Come on, you're my best man," said Waylon. "You're not supposed to spend so much time trying to talk me out of my own wedding…"
"I'm your best man because I'm your best friend. I want what's best for you. I know you and Lisa have been together since college, but you can't deny that she's changed, right? I think the 'Murkoff Wives Club' has had a terrible influence on her. You guys never just travel for fun anymore, if it's not first class and a five star resort, she's not interested. You need to protect yourself…"
"Protect myself, from the woman I love?" asked Waylon. "I wouldn't have even gotten this job if it weren't for her. She's entitled to half of what I earned, she helped me earn it. She can't be a gold-digger when she was here from the very beginning. She's stuck by me through a lot…"
"I know. I have, too, remember?" asked Miles. "I'd like to see Lisa carry you across the country following a band or hiking over a hundred miles just to see some remote peak…"
"Be reasonable," said Waylon, though he was grinning. "That's why I have both of you in my life. You're both important to me."
"I just worry. You haven't been yourself lately. I'm worried about you," said Miles.
"I'm worried about me, too. Work is just…" Waylon made a disgusted noise into the phone. "It's tough, and the wedding is stressful. But, it'll get better."
"You really believe that?" asked Miles.
"Once the new software goes live, and the worst of the initial bugs are worked out, I can focus entirely on the wedding, and make sure that Lisa is completely happy. It's stressful right now, but I'm not giving up. I'm not running away from this. I've run away too often in the past. Now, I am meeting my problems, head on," said Waylon.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting another call. Sorry I missed the location tour and the tailor appointment, but I'll be here for the next thing. What is it, some kind of…"
"We're interviewing several potential cover bands for the reception…"
"DMB!"
"I already tried. Lisa's exact words were 'fuck no.' But maybe something similar," said Waylon, grinning despite himself.
"I'm away for a month for a story, but once I get back, I am going to make sure I'm there for the next appointment. Sorry again. Talk soon."
Beep.
Waylon sighed, alone again with his thoughts. He knew Miles was worried about his marriage to Lisa, but Waylon believed everything would be better once the wedding was over. Then, he and Lisa could settle down as a married couple.
They would go on their honeymoon to the Patagonian Andes, and spend their time hiking in the day, and making love all night. Viewing the Carres de Paine, in person, was on Waylon's bucket list. He knew Lisa would love it, once they got there. A vacation would definitely help with the stress at work, as well.
The new software system was scheduled for implementation, and Waylon knew there were several employees gunning for his position. He may not be as charming as Raul, or as self-assured as Kurt, but Waylon beat them all on knowledge of the program. He felt confident his job was secure. He just needed to get past the initial launch phase with most of his sanity.
Yes, everything in Waylon's life was going exactly the way he wanted it. He walked around the gazebo, enjoying the view offered by the nearby steep drop. Waylon put his hand against one of the posts and leaned forward, curious to see exactly how big of a drop-off was below. There was a sharp snap before Waylon found out exactly how far the drop was. He sailed through the air, and landed in a thicket of brush with a heavy thud.
Eddie drove the short distance to his house. To call his residence run down was too kind. The walls were uneven, the roof ready to cave at any second, and all of the windows were so covered with dirt and dust one might assume it was done on purpose to block prying eyes. Not that anyone would want to pry into Eddie's hovel. The lawn was mostly dirt with patches of weeds, and a wide array of antique sewing equipment left outside to rust. An unused clutter of gardening equipment lay next to several flower beds that were nothing but mud.
Before Eddie could open the door, he was assaulted by three very friendly, and very large, Doberman Pinschers. "Darlings! Darlings, behave," said Eddie as he carefully pet each one. He squeezed their heads affectionately between both hands before opening the door and following the dogs inside.
Eddie maneuvered his way through the interior. It required some dexterity because his home was full of wall to wall boxes full of antiques and treasures. The boxes had begun piling up years ago, and eventually entire portions of the house were inaccessible. The kitchen, part of the living room, and Eddie's bed were the only usable spaces in the entire three bedroom house.
The first thing Eddie did upon arriving at his home was to remove his fine clothes and set them aside in his bedroom. Between the dogs and the clutter, it was difficult to keep his finer clothes clean if he wore them around the house. Once he was dressed in comfortable plaid pajama pants and a white tank, he could relax in his one usable chair in the living room. He clicked on the television and the local news popped onto the screen.
A fuzzy picture came into view and Eddie stared hard at the screen, his blue eyes going wide with wonder as the gears in his brain began working overtime. He reached for the phone sitting next to his chair and immediately punched in a familiar number. "Hey. I need to call in a big favor. Seems I actually need something you may be able to get…"
A/N: This story is inspired/loosely based on the movie "Overboard." I saw an Overboard AU in someone's bookmarks and immediately ran off to write this story. This is quite possibly the fluffiest thing I have ever written since no one dies and none of the variants are crazy. This is also a completely new writing style with all the scene breaks, and even changes in POV, so I apologize if it seems clumsy at times, I have to try new things to continue to grow :-/ Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't, let me know!