The Show Goes On

Bells In The Bahamas

The wedding was a grand affair, just as everyone expected. The Bahamas Ocean Breeze Resort made a spectacular setting for the party and it was almost certain that the bells could be heard past the harbor and into the sea. Naomi looked gorgeous, a duchess and Jordan her handsome duke. The sand smelled clean and the air was cool. With doves flying all around, everything had been perfect for when the pair said, "I do."
This setting, however, didn't suit Brandi in the least. Ever since the tuxedo shop, she'd been left with a slightly sour taste in her mouth and she wasn't sure what it even meant. Whatever. As Naomi's bridesmaid, she wore a long white and lavender dress with lace and ribbons. Brandi hated the dress; it itched and it was just about suffocating her heaving chest. She adjusted the top and yanked it up, heading inside the resort building to party at the reception with everyone else. The bells had stopped clanging, anyway.
Inside, a band played a dance version of Stairway To Heaven.
"Hey, Naomi. You look great," Brandi pasted on a beaming grin and greeted Naomi.
She smiled back. "Thank you! You do, too. Isn't this nice? I love the beach," she said through her hard Jersey accent.
"Yeah, it's great, huh? Nice band."
"Isn't it? Donnie said they'd be good."
Brandi continued the mandatory small talk for a few more minutes before heading towards the bar. The only way she could get through this wedding without combusting was getting plastered. She headed towards the bar and ordered a glass of vodka. Chester came over next to her and ordered a margarita.
"Nice wedding, huh? They really went all out."
"Yeah... Real nice. I like the..." She said pointing at the ceiling.
"Oh yeah. I told Jordan that wasn't a smart idea."
On top of the ceiling, there was a huge mound of lace-ish material adorned with jewels and sequins. Brandi couldn't even make out what it was supposed to be.
"It looks like a fucking net covered in glitter. I get the feeling that was Naomi's doing," he chuckled.
Brandi rolled her eyes and swallowed her second vodka. The waiter kept them coming.
"I wonder why. You gonna dance or anything?" She asked, clearing her burning throat. The alcohol left her scorched.
"I gotta get real fucked up before doing any of that." Chester said, shaking his head. He was on his 3rd drink. Or was it second? Brandi's mind was slipping away from her already. She couldn't hold her liquor to save her life, and it messed her up fast, too.
"I'm plenty fucked up. I'll see you out there," she said, swallowing the rest of her vodka and wading out into the crowd.
"Brandi!" Jordan shouted over the blaring music. "Brandi!"
She whipped her head around and found him, practically letting out a sigh of relief.
"Hey, Jordan!" She smiled.
"Didn't waste any time, huh?" Jordan grinned good-naturedly. "Tootski?" He asked, holding out a vial with familiar white powder. Brandi shook some onto her fist and snuffed it up, shooting her head back. The room was humming harder, now. She started to dance to the music. Still Led Zeppelin. Jordan followed suit.
Brandi laughed happily and the entire floor glittered like a disco ball. Jordan was good at dancing, too. He did it effortlessly, like he'd been doing it all his life. Dancing was a foreign concept to Brandi, but being this drunk and this gleeful, it didn't take her long to find a rhythm. She shook her hips and Jordan shook his at her. They didn't even talk. They grinned at shook their hips at each other, their arms sort of finding a way to work on their own. Brandi kept moving and the crowd swallowed her. Men ogled her, women stared at her with envy. Brandi didn't notice. She bumped her hips at whoever welcomed it and danced with the room, falling into it as a whole. In fact, she'd been dancing for a while between Jordan's colleagues before she realized that Naomi had called Jordan away to meet her aunt, Emma. A man with a camera was pulling people aside, shooting the wedding video. Brandi was tired and took a breather, wading through the crowd to a nearby table with Jordan's parents.
"You must be Brandi," smiled his mother. She was a kind, strong woman, nearly reaching 60. "Jordan talks about you."
"Nice to meet you both," Brandi smiled.
"Reliable, he says," Jordan's father grunted through a glass of scotch. "I bet Jordy's got you doing all his work, huh? He'd better pay you well..."
"It's okay. He does." Brandi beamed. She was good with parents, even as a kid. Everyone's parents thought she was the best type of friend a person could have when, in actuality, Brandi was the one convincing her friends it would be a fun idea to smoke weed during 10th grade graduation and walk on stage to get their diplomas completely stoned. She was just a gifted liar. But she did like Jordan's parents. They were nice, the type of people she'd expected to have brought up Jordan. The wedding photographer came to them with a camcorder.
"Any words for the newlyweds?" He shouted over the shouts of the crowd. Max piped up first.
"Yeah - Jordy! You remember what I told you son. It involves your penis, and her-" Jordan's mom cut him off.
"Shut up, Max. Have a good time, Jordan. We love you, son." She smiled to the camera.
"What about you, Miss?" The cameraman aimed the lens at Brandi.
"Oh, uhm... Great party, boss. Have a great time with Naomi and best wishes to you both. Happy wedding, Jordan," she grinned as big as she could, raising her glass as if making a toast. She was feeling unusually wobbly. The camera man cut off the film and went to look for the rest of Jordan's confidantes.
The party raged on into the wee hours of the morning, and Brandi couldn't find Jordan anymore. She assumed he'd left already. By 5 in the morning, the commotion had died down and the room was gradually thinning out. She ultimately took a cab with Chester and Otter back to the hotel.
They were supposed to stay in the Bahamas for the rest of the week but Brandi left early.
She didn't feel up to staying; New York was calling her name.