The Wedding Party Page 3

  “Fine. Whatever,” Krissy hissed. She stalked out of the bedroom, snatching up her purse on the way past the dining room table. At the door, she turned toward Jordan, her face red with indignation. “There’s a couple of things you should know, Jordan.” Her mouth curled into a cruel smile as she spat out the words. “I’m not a twenty-four-year-old graduate student like you thought. I’m a nineteen-year-old freshman. And the reason you keep looking at me funny, like you know me?” She laughed, and it was a bitter sound that sent a shiver down Jordan’s spine. Krissy was clearly enjoying thrusting in the dagger. “You knew my mom a long time ago. Cathy Donahue.”

  Jordan’s breath left her in a rush. Cathy the babysitter? Cathy who stole her virginity decades ago? Cathy who had been Krissy’s age when they had that summer of secret sex? Oh my God! Jordan felt the blood drain from her face; it was probably collecting in her knees, which began to shake. But she wouldn’t give Krissy the satisfaction of reacting. She said nothing, just trembled silently and let her stomach do crazy flips, wondering all the while if Krissy had planned to drop this bomb at some point or if it was simply an act of revenge for this morning’s rejection. It was disingenuous and cruel to keep such secrets.

  “She talked about you when you got to be this wealthy real estate person with your face on buses and billboards all over the place. I wanted to see for myself what all the fuss was about.” That voice. That voice was so familiar now, so much like her mother’s.

  Jordan’s mouth had long ago gone dry. “Just get out, Krissy.”

  Krissy laughed harshly, pleased with her little victory. “Fine. I’ll be sure to tell my mom you said hello.”

  Jordan leaned against the closed door, trying to coax her breath back. Christ! She’d been fucking the daughter of her first lover! What a crazy, sick, twisted circle jerk that was! Fuck me, she thought. She didn’t want to—couldn’t—think too hard about any of it right now. She had been juggling the balls in her life just fine without stopping now for some useless navel gazing. Business was good; in fact she was thriving professionally, and in her personal life she was having a great old time, doing as she pleased, seeing who she pleased, lovin’ ’em and leavin’ ’em. She saw no reason to drop any of those balls now. She just wanted to get on that damned airplane and leave this tiny nightmare behind.

  Chapter Four

  Shannon

  The airport was a roiling mass of humanity, but it was Saturday and it was damp and raw and the time of the year when many Chicagoans escape the dreary March weather for a while. Sunshine, warmth, palm trees—the perfect accompaniment to a wedding that Shannon would have been happy to have staged in Chicago. But if a lavish wedding in Vegas made Dani happy, then so be it. Her humble beginnings fueled her sometimes rabid need to spend money, and Shannon could not fault Dani for that. Money was Dani’s drug, but most everyone had some kind of crutch or layer of armor against the world. Jordan had all her transient women. Claire’s coping mechanism was to withdraw into herself. Shannon’s crutch had often been her work. It still could be, if she hadn’t given it up last fall so they could concentrate on getting pregnant. She continued to read all the medical journals, met weekly with her former nursing colleagues for coffee and volunteered at the hospital a couple of times a month. In her mind, she would always be a nurse, and she couldn’t wait to get back to it one day. What she was growing more sure of was that her return to work would be sooner rather than later.

  She sidestepped an energetic toddler crawling on the floor. The little girl gave her pause, especially when the big blue eyes looked inquisitively up at her. Her heart stuttered for a moment, but she would not allow herself to feel sad. Not now. Not this week. She hurried to her travel mates at the gate, glad for the diversion from thoughts of babies.

  Shannon looked at the long faces of her friends. This would not do. She wanted—needed—a spark of joy right now. “What’s with all the frowns, ladies? It’s a wedding, not a funeral.”

  Dani clasped her hand and gave it a squeeze, her reassurance fading in her weak, accompanying smile. “Nothing to worry about, my love. Just storing up our energy for the week.”

  Claire added, “It’s true. I have a feeling there won’t be much rest for us after this plane ride.”

  “I suspect you’re right.” Shannon’s gaze traveled to Jordan, who slouched in her chair looking anything but like the supercharged, carefree, party girl she usually resembled. She was closest with Dani, but Dani didn’t seem to be noticing her funk. Something was most definitely going on in Jordan Scott’s world. Shannon said pointedly to her, “Surely you’re looking forward to a week-long party in Vegas. This should be like Christmas and New Year’s all rolled into one for you!”

  Shannon was teasing, but her words had a bite to them. She loved Jordan for who she was, but sometimes got a little impatient with the perennial college student act. Jordan was immensely successful in her real estate business, and she wouldn’t be where she was in her profession without tremendous business acumen, hard work and a strong sense of responsibility. Unfortunately, she seemed to leave those traits behind at the office, because they certainly didn’t extend to her love life. She had the playgirl role down to a fine art and women definitely flocked to her in droves. Her dark brown, almost black hair, her sky blue eyes and her exotic cheekbones were like some kind of chick magnet. Not to mention the seductive charm and the bulging wallet in her pocket. But Jordan was Jordan, and how she lived her life was her business. If the whoring around made her happy, well, who was it hurting? Certainly not her and Dani.

  Jordan’s smile fell short of convincing but her eyes brightened a little. “Trust me, the Strip isn’t going to know what hit it when I get there.” She yawned widely and stretched. The contrast between her words and her actions wasn’t lost on Shannon. “I guess I had a bit of a rough night last night,” she amended meekly.

  Claire guffawed. “I thought you would have been storing up your energy instead of using it all up right before the trip. You look more like a pussy cat right now than a tiger!”

  “Who said I used it all up? Are you kidding me? My tiger claws are already starting to come out. I’ll be back in fine form in no time! A little nap on the plane and I’ll be ready.”

  Claire shook her head sternly, the mother figure scolding a teenager. “Well, we’ll just see about that. You should know by now that when you hit forty, the old body isn’t the party machine it used to be.”

  “Speak for yourself, grandma.”

  Claire threw her head back and laughed. “Those are fighting words, Scott. Too bad I’m not going to take the bait.”

  “Maybe you should for once, Claire.” Jordan’s blue eyes were full of icy challenge.

  Ouch, Shannon thought. It was true Claire was a little square. She didn’t do anything to excess as far as Shannon knew, but the last three years—since Ann’s death—Claire was more sober and isolated than Shannon figured was healthy. She hardly laughed anymore, and it was heartbreaking to see her so down, so disengaged. She was only forty-seven. She was still a very good-looking woman. Her short, sandy hair had only just begun graying at the temples, adding to her stately, calm demeanor. And while the frown line between her eyes sometimes gave away the churning inside, Claire’s calming, intelligent brown eyes and serene smile were as reassuring as a warm hug. Shannon noticed the way women looked at Claire, how they tried to get close to her, but of course, they never could. Women swooned over the strong but sensitive types, and Claire could certainly have her pick of them. Whether or not she ever dated again, Shannon only wanted her friend to be happy. Maybe the trip would help pull her out of this pervasive disenchantment with life, make her see there was a world out there worth exploring and engaging in.

  “Okay, ladies.” Dani took the referee role. They were like a pack of siblings sometimes when they all got together, they’d all been friends so long. “No blood spilled before the wedding, at least.”

  Jordan laughed, springing to life a little. The spa
r with Claire seemed to have revived her. She settled back in her chair, her legs spread in that cocky, cowboy way she had about her that so many women seemed to find irresistible. “You women have to give me at least one night where you’ll try to keep up with me. Seriously, it would do all you wet blankets a world of good!”

  Dani grumbled. “Who you calling a wet blanket? There was a day, you know, when I—”

  “Never mind, my dearest.” Shannon clamped her hand over her lover’s mouth. “We don’t want to hear about your escapades, especially just days before you’re to become permanently joined at the hip with me.”

  Dani gently removed Shannon’s hand and covered it with kisses, the spontaneous affection melting Shannon’s heart. “There is absolutely no place I’d rather be, my love.”

  They kissed tenderly, drawing the expected mild protests from Claire and Jordan.

  “Get a room,” Jordan teased, not meaning it.

  Claire joined the act too. “Are we even going to see you two all week? Or are you going to hole up in your room the whole time, having newlywed sex?”

  “Wait,” Jordan protested. “Aren’t you two supposed to be celibate all week until the wedding night? Not that I would know, but isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

  “Celibate my ass,” Dani shot back.

  Shannon giggled, her mischievous streak asserting itself. She couldn’t imagine she and Dani going a week without sex. “Okay, let’s all make a pact. We all go celibate for the week or else we all have as much sex as we can.”

  Claire nearly choked on her coffee. Jordan whooped like a teenager.

  “You know which one I’m voting for,” Jordan supplied, grinning like a fool.

  Dani winked. “Me too.”

  “Claire?” Shannon raised an eyebrow at her friend.

  Claire’s face was a mask of white. “You can’t be serious. What are we, a bunch of undersexed college freshmen on spring break?”

  “Yes!” Jordan replied. “Besides, you’re single. What’s holding you back?”

  Claire went silent, sulking into her coffee cup, and Shannon felt compelled to come to her rescue. “Okay, look, I was only kidding, you guys. Forget I even brought it up.”

  Jordan rolled her eyes. “Speaking of college, what about your niece, Shannon? She’s young and gotta be up for having a good time this week. I’m looking forward to having a playmate, since none of you all fit the bill!”

  “Hey, no corrupting the kids,” Shannon warned, but she was teasing. Amanda was far from being a child. She was a twenty-six-year-old University of Chicago graduate student. She’d been away studying at Stanford the last few years, returning to Chicago last fall to begin work on her PhD in art history. She was so busy studying and working that Shannon barely saw her, but as far as she knew, Amanda was not the partying type. She was a smart, sensible kid. Shannon had picked her to be a bridesmaid in part to rekindle their once close relationship.

  “How come she’s not joining us on the flight anyway?” Jordan asked.

  “She had to work today. She’s flying into Vegas tonight.”

  “God, I haven’t seen little Amanda in years,” Jordan said. “I probably won’t even recognize her.”

  Dani stood and stretched. “She’s not so little anymore. She’s twenty-six now and a lot taller than me.”

  Jordan whistled. “Jeez, I feel old.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Claire sniped. “In fact, you should feel right at home with college students.”

  Jordan leveled a murderous look at her. “Well, if college kids are my milieu, then a nursing home is yours!”

  “Whoa!” Shannon interjected. “Truce, you two?”

  Claire smiled sweetly. “Don’t worry. Jordan and I won’t be jousting all week. As soon as she realizes her buffoonery, that is.”

  Jordan scowled for good measure, then broke into laughter. “Oil and water as usual, eh Doctor Cooper?”

  “Nah, just old friends who can appreciate their differences.”

  The ice having been broken, everyone relaxed.

  “Speaking of Amanda,” Claire added, “she was a teenager the last time I saw her. I remember thinking then that she was going to be a real heartbreaker one day.”

  “Oh, she is,” Shannon answered, proud of her beautiful, smart niece. “Not that she’d ever fess up, but I’ll bet there’s a whole string of women in California she left pining for her.” It was undoubtedly true, but Amanda was the most discreet person about her love life than anyone Shannon knew. You couldn’t bribe, cajole, or force personal information out of her.

  The boarding call went out, and Shannon looked out at the cold, gray sky one last time. She was a little nostalgic suddenly, but not in an unpleasant way. The next time she returned to Chicago, she would be a married woman. She couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Five

  Amanda (Las Vegas)

  It was like being inside a noisy arcade—the constant ding-ing and chiming of slot machines rising above the usual airport din. Who ever heard of slot machines in an airport anyway, Amanda Malden thought scornfully. What struck her was that people were playing them mindlessly, like automatons, killing time while waiting for departing planes or arrivals. She supposed bloodthirsty Vegas was trying to suck every last dollar from the tourists before they left. It was sick, and if gambling was the only thing to do in Vegas—besides her Aunt Shannon’s wedding of course—she was going to be bored out of her mind. The casinos weren’t getting her little bit of hard-earned money.

  Amanda was tired and had no patience for the pulsing, cacophonous pinball machine she found herself in the middle of. She blew out an exasperated breath and told herself to calm down, she’d be out of it soon enough. Besides, the visit wasn’t about her personal pleasure, it was about Shannon and Dani’s. She’d not seen much of her aunt over the last eight years, and she was happy to do her part to help make the week memorable and enjoyable for the brides. They were two of her favorite people, and, as Shannon had reminded her just last week over the phone, it would be a much-needed break from school. She could sure use a break. She’d been working her ass off the last few months with school work and her part-time job. While she loved both, the forced vacation would give her mind a rest and hopefully let her reconnect with her aunt.

  Scanning the carousel for her bags, Amanda wondered if she’d get much time alone with Shannon. Shannon was her only aunt, but she would have been her favorite anyway. She had been like a second mom and big sister all rolled into one during Amanda’s formative years. With her mother—Shannon’s sister—dead now, Amanda and Shannon were really the only ones left in the family. For a while they’d been as close as an aunt and niece could be, but not the last few years. Geography was only partly to blame. The rest was Amanda’s fault mostly, because she’d chosen to keep a secret from Shannon, and now she didn’t exactly know how to dismantle the image that she’d not so much constructed as she’d let her aunt assume was the truth. How could she tell Shannon she was not the person she thought she was? How could she explain her terrible mistake when there was no justification for her lapse in judgment? It sucked now, carrying around this dishonesty, this secret, and she’d have to find a way to come clean with her aunt, particularly now that she would be in her presence all week. It was much easier to keep a secret from a distance.

  Amanda claimed her two bags and wheeled them to the automatic doors leading outside. She had just raised her eyes to look for a cab when she heard her name.

  “Yes?” She turned in the direction of the voice. A middle-aged woman as tall as herself but stockier smiled politely and held out a hand. Amanda set her bags down and shook it, seeing few signs of recognition in the woman’s face. She had short, slightly graying sandy hair and brown eyes that twinkled softly when she smiled. She looked like the kind of stranger you might slip into a coffee shop with to escape a rainstorm, then end up sharing with her your life story. “Please.” Amanda laughed self-consciously. “You have to help me out here. You look
so familiar, but I’m sorry, I can’t place your name.”

  “That’s okay.” The woman’s voice, low and warm, assured Amanda that she wasn’t the least bit offended. “Claire Cooper, your aunt’s friend.”

  “Oh, my God. My aunt’s best friend! I’m so sorry, Claire. How could I have not recognized you?”

  “Probably for the same reason I barely recognized you. People change a lot in, what, seven or eight years, I guess it’s been? But I do remember you being so tall, so that helped me recognize you. And beautiful. That certainly hasn’t changed.” The last part was said with a simple frankness that wasn’t the least bit phony or gratuitous. Amanda was touchy about people commenting on her looks. Compliments were often because someone wanted something, or backhanded because they were jealous. It was almost comical how women clutched their boyfriends—or girlfriends—a little tighter in Amanda’s presence. From Claire, however, the comment was a refreshingly innocent observation.

  “I’ll agree with the tall part, anyway.” Amanda didn’t place the same value on her looks that others did. Yes, her beauty opened doors, got her noticed, but in truth, it was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. Jennifer had proven this to be true. Jennifer had treated her like she was royalty, as though her looks conferred some sort of rock star status, and then Jennifer had hurt her in the deepest possible way. She had taught Amanda a bitter life lesson—beauty didn’t keep a lover, didn’t bring you the kind of happiness you could count on. It was just window dressing that, in the end, didn’t amount to a hill of beans.

  Claire shook her head lightly, still smiling. “Six-foot tall women are a rarity, don’t you find? I almost never come across a woman as tall as me, so it’s a treat.”

  “Yes, you’re right. It’s pretty rare.” And yes, it was kind of a treat standing eye-to-eye with Claire now that she thought about it. Jennifer had been a lot shorter; most people in her life were.