A/N: We all know what I don't own. So, there.
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Bellagio Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada
Sarah lay back on the poolside chaise lounge and soaked in the desert sun. She was wearing a white bikini, oversized sunglasses and nothing else. Idlily, she considered jumping into the pool to cool off, but decided instead to take a cold drink.
She reached for the icy pitcher of vodka and grapefruit juice sitting on the small table next to her and refilled her tall glass. After a large swallow, she put the glass down next to the sweating pitcher and settled herself back down.
She was listening to Carina and Rachel discuss the attributes, both seen and unseen, of the various men around the Bellagio's pool. At least with respect to Rachel, Sarah thought, wryly, 'Big talker.' Carina, dressed in a bikini top and lightweight linen pants, was in a different situation now. With her leg, she seemed a bit more subdued, at least compared to the old Carina. Unlikely to walk over and sit on some random guy's lap.
After Sarah's selection of the perfect wedding dress the day before, her mom and sister, and Lou, had headed home. Her mom was preparing to move into the house she'd recently bought for her and Molly. Lou was getting ready to move to New York and had a lot of errands to do before that. None of them could take the time for a weekend in Vegas (although Sarah suspected that her mom also didn't want to cramp her style with her friends). She chuckled to herself at the thought.
By the time they had arrived and checked in, both Marie and Karen had also arrived. Introductions were exchanged for the ladies who didn't know each other. Sarah had already informed everyone that both Karen and Rachel were civilians and that Mei-Ling and Marie worked for other countries' intelligence services. Just so that the ladies would know to be careful with their discussions.
Once they had settled in and resumed drinking, they went for dinner to the Picasso restaurant in the hotel. The food was delicious, and they enjoyed looking at the original Picasso paintings and drawings on the walls. Many bottles of wine later, they finished the wonderful dinner and headed over to the Cirque du Soliel show "O" in the hotel. They all enjoyed the show and chatted happily afterwards. But, they did hurry out to see the last show of the famous fountains, which they also enjoyed, making sure to get pictures of themselves with the spraying water in the background for posterity.
The eight of them split up after that. Carina, Sarah and Marie went to the casino to gamble. Zondra, Mei-Ling, Karen, Rachel and Ellie went dancing in the hotel's club. When they were all sufficiently tired out, one by one or two by two, they retreated to the block of rooms they had taken for the weekend to get at least a little sleep.
The next morning, after breakfast (complete with more alcohol), they found themselves lounging by the pool. Rachel ordered pitchers of Bloody Marys, screwdrivers, and vodka and grapefruit (a sometime favorite of hers). A couple of bottles of champagne rounded out the offerings.
Karen and Ellie were in the pool throwing a tennis ball back and forth. Zondra and Marie were reading and Mei-Ling was sleeping on her stomach with the top of her bikini undone for a more even tan.
Sarah's mind was drifting when she heard Zondra take a call on her cell phone. Arranging a meeting for Monday morning.
"Work?" asked Sarah.
"Yeah," said Zondra. "A reporter for the Los Angeles Times. Word is spreading about the new provisions the Mattocks are putting into the Studio's contracts to stop sexual harassment. I'm the designated executive to talk to the press."
"Which contracts?" asked Rachel, suddenly sober and wearing her lawyer hat.
"All of them," said "Employment contracts, production agreements, screenwriter's agreements, everything. Sexual harassment is going to be a breach of contract and the Studio reserves the right to immediately shut down production. The Mattocks are not fucking around here. Not at all."
"Z," said Rachel, "can I stop by on Monday and get a copy of the language? I'd like to take a look."
"Sure. No worries," said Zondra. "We can have lunch."
"Nice." Rachel turned and said to Sarah, "Drink up now. No booze at lunch today."
"Why?" asked Sarah.
"It's a surprise," said Rachel with a grin.
"Spies hate surprises," said Sarah.
Rachel grinned and said, "We'll see."
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Exotic Racing facility, Las Vegas desert, several hours later
Sarah whooped at the top of her lungs as she came out of the turn and pushed the Ferrari F430 into the straightaway. She glanced at the speedometer as it climbed past 135mph as she blasted down towards the fast-approaching next series of turns. 'Now this is fun,' she thought, grinning from ear to ear.
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Jamieson's Steakhouse, Los Angeles, California
The setting was wonderful. The private room let out onto a rooftop terrace looking west to the sunset. In attendance at the party were Chuck and Casey, of course, Morgan and Devon, Fitz, Billy, Marco and Leo, Bryce, Cole Barker, Jeff Barnes, Lester Patel and Big Mike. The only one of the groomsmen who couldn't make it was Kevin Graham, who couldn't get away from his Air Force duties. Ben Mattock couldn't make it either, unfortunately.
A waitress came through and took their drink orders while a waiter passed hors d'oeuvres. Casey ordered a scotch on the rocks and Chuck ordered a Ketel One martini, up with a lemon twist.
Chuck said to Casey, quietly, "Finally got a response from Joe at Microsoft."
"And?" his partner asked.
"Conference call Monday. Said no need for the tech guys. Just wanted to talk to management. You want to be on the call?"
"Naw. I trust you and Sarah to deal with them. You can fill me in later," said Casey.
"Right," said Chuck, taking a drink of his martini.
He had checked in with Sarah earlier in the evening and she was still buzzed from her driving experience in the desert. Ellie, Carina and Rachel had made a good choice with that activity. The ladies were going out again later in the evening, but they hadn't yet told Sarah what was planned.
Chuck wandered across the terrace to find Cole in conversation with Big Mike.
Big Mike saw Chuck approach and said, jovially, "Chuck, I want you to know that I brought my appetite tonight." He rubbed his massive belly.
"Great, Big Mike. You'll have to save room for dessert, remember. They have some terrific pecan pie here."
"Oh, don't you worry, my friend. That won't be an issue at all."
"Hey, Cole. Thanks for coming in," said Chuck, shaking Cole's hand.
"Wouldn't miss it, matey," said Cole seriously. "Been looking forward to it for a while now. You told me Sarah is in Vegas for her hen party tonight too, right? I don't get to visit with her on this trip?"
"Yeah, with her girlfriends," said Chuck. At those words, both men thought about Amy at the same time. They stepped a bit away from Mike, a civilian who thought Amy had died in a car accident. "Cole, I know you weren't with her for long, but Amy..." Chuck had not told Cole all of the details of Amy's death, especially not her prior betrayal.
"I know, Chuck. It sucks. We are in a rough line of work and this happens sometimes. She and I didn't have the romance of the century, but I liked her and I'll miss her." He shrugged. "Here's to Amy," he said, raising his glass of Irish whiskey and clicking it with Chuck's martini.
"To Amy," said Chuck.
Bryce came over to them. "Hey, Cole. Good to see you again," he said, shaking the hand of the British agent.
"Larkin, good to see you too. You look better than the last time," said Barker.
"Low bar, dude."
"True enough," said Cole.
Chuck left Bryce and Cole to talk and made his way to Fitz and Marco. "Hey, fellas. Thanks for coming."
"Wouldn't miss it, Chuck. Looks to me like Casey has put together a grown-up's party for you. No strippers and such nonsense," said Fitz.
"Yeah. He and I talked about it. Just booze, red meat and good friends. It's what I wanted. I've been to strip clubs and they always creep me out, to be honest," said Chuck.
"So true," said Fitz. "They leave me cold too."
"Me too..." said Marco, with a grin. "But for an entirely different reason."
All three laughed.
Chuck wandered over to Devon and Morgan, who had been joined by Casey. "Chuckster," boomed Devon. "Way to go. Awesome party, my man."
"Thanks, Dev. But you really have to thank my best man." Chuck patted Casey on the back. "It was all his idea."
"Well done, Casey," said Morgan. "I always thought I'd be Chuck's best man, but I'm glad it's you. I'm good with being the officiant, and you have done the best man job perfectly. Thank you for taking care of my buddy."
"Thanks, Grimes. And you're welcome. It's an honor," said Casey, giving Morgan's shoulder a squeeze.
"Yeah, Morgan's right. Great job, Case," said Devon.
Chuck found Jeff and Lester and entered mid-conversation. "Come on," Lester was wheedling. "Just one. Just one actress. All I need is one. For your old friend. Come on."
"Doesn't work that way, dude," said Jeff, sipping a club soda. "Look, Lester, here's the thing. You have a real ear for music. You really do. You are very talented. If you want to break into the movie business, that's your hook. Start writing music for movies and TV shows. I'll take your tapes and have the Mattocks listen to them. That's the way in."
Chuck said, "You know, Lester, Jeff has a really good idea for you there. You ought to take him up on it. He's a bit of a rising star at the Studio. At least from what I hear, anyway."
Lester looked contemplative and said, "That's a good idea. I'll think about it. Thanks. Hey, Jeff, let's have a drink to celebrate."
"Not drinking anymore, Lester. You know that," said Jeff.
"Just one, Jeff. Just for old times. Come on," said Lester.
"No, Lester. And stop suggesting it," said Jeff.
"Yeah, Lester. Not cool," said Chuck. "You know he's not drinking anymore. Stop with the peer pressure."
Lester huffed, but didn't suggest it again.
The waitress called them all inside for dinner. Slabs of bacon. Blue cheese salads. Shellfish towers. Steak. Lobsters. A plethora of side dishes. Many, many bottles of wine and beer. Dessert was key lime pie, pecan pie, chocolate cake and ice cream.
The conversation was fun and a little raucous. The men spent time telling funny stories about Chuck. Morgan told stories of Chuck as a kid. Bryce told one or two from when they were in college. Devon had a long, very funny story from when he and Ellie were first dating and he had just met Chuck. As everyone knew that Big Mike, Jeff and Lester weren't read in on the spy business, they were careful not to tell any stories that might have revealed classified information or breached their covers.
Chuck had a wonderful time. He was surrounded by his best friends and the celebration was all friendship and good cheer. He couldn't have wanted anything more from the evening. He hoped Sarah was having a good time as well.
Several hours later, they were sprawled out on the chairs on the terrace looking at the ocean. Casey had given out cigars and the waitresses were serving single malt scotch and other, similar, libations. Everyone was stuffed, happy and relaxed. Bryce came over to Chuck and said, "You good?"
"Yeah. Wonderful, to be honest. I'm pretty buzzed. I'm hanging with all my best friends. I'm marrying the most perfect woman in the whole world in a few months. What could be bad?"
Settling himself down in the seat next to Chuck, Bryce said, "You deserve every bit of the joy coming to you, dude. Every single bit."
Chuck held up his glass and clicked it with Bryce's, "Thanks, pal."
"Can't wait to see it. You and Sarah getting hitched. It's gonna be great. I'm really so happy for you both."
"Yeah. Um, thanks. Um, listen, Bryce. The thing is, you're not going to be there. You're not going to be invited to the wedding. You see..."
Bryce started back in surprise, unable to hide his profound shock and dismay at what Chuck had said. It felt like a hard punch in the gut. Chuck was looking out at the endless blue of the Pacific and didn't look at Bryce, probably deliberately. It only took a moment or two for Bryce to school his features and put his poker face on.
"No, no, no, Chuck. It's cool. I got it. I know how both Sarah and Ellie feel about me. I don't blame them. They're right. It's cool. I shouldn't be there. It's the right thing." Bryce started to chuckle a bit. Almost anyone would think it was a genuine laugh, but Chuck knew him well enough to know it was false. "You just be sure to get a good recording so I can check it out later, dude."
Chuck reached out and squeezed Bryce's arm. He said, "I will. You can count on me, pal."
"Always and forever," said Bryce, meaning every word.
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In front of Bryce's apartment
Billy said, "You good?"
Bryce looked up from the view out the car window and said, "Yeah, Bill. I'm solid. Thanks for the ride. Have a good one."
"Yeah. You too, man. Aspirin and water before bed. It's magic."
"Got you. I'm on it. Thanks," said Bryce.
He walked up the steps to his building and opened his door. Closing and locking the door behind him, he dropped his keys on the side table near the entry. He walked across the dark apartment to a chair by the window and sat down staring outside without seeing it.
The copious amounts of alcohol he'd imbibed were certainly affecting his thinking, but he didn't consider himself drunk. No. He thought his mind was crystal clear. The only thing he could think about was Chuck. And what he, Bryce, had done to their friendship over the years
He knew he had fucked up, but that didn't even come close to the right description of the extent of his misdeeds, of the damage he had done to the friendship he had so blithely abused. It was a silly little characterization when compared to the actual facts. What he had done was much, much worse than that. And now he wasn't invited to the wedding of the only friend he had in the entire world, and it was all because he had, repeatedly, been an asshole to the man. Sarah and Ellie were one hundred percent right in keeping him from the wedding.
Sitting in the dark, looking out the window, Bryce began to cry silently. The tears and sobs couldn't expiate his guilt, but wallowing was the best he could do at the moment. He fell asleep in the chair, still crying.
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A/N2: Wow. Talk about mission impossible. Trying to create a modicum of sympathy for the well-hated Bryce Larkin. Don't know if I managed. Guess you guys will tell me.