It’s hard to say who saw the other first. Amidst the partially cloudy room crowded with pockets of people talking in loud and boisterous voices, it’s a wonder the connection was made at all. Some called her blondie because of her goldilocks-like cascading curls, but the pink cowboy hat atop those locks earned her the nickname by which she was referred for most of the evening: Cowgirl.

After sharing numerous glances from across the room, Cowgirl decided to make her move. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely grossed out by the way my eyes tirelessly poured over her body, sizing her up for the vixen I’d made her out to me in my mind. She calmly pushed a few in her path out of the way as she slinked towards my side of the room where I relaxed on a couch next to some random guy whose girl was perched on the couch’s arm as she balanced her weight delicately on his shoulder while whispering lewd comments in his ear, comments just loud enough for me to hear. Every so often she would pull back from the hand she had cupped over his ear and gauge me for a reaction. I smiled as fake a smile as I could muster.

Cowgirl continued to draw closer, the cosmetic glitter she’d applied around her exposed navel now reflecting in the ambient light. She was tanned, toned, and clearly on the hunt. I ran across a mental checklist to be sure I wouldn’t appear too repulsive. A quick, nonchalant huff in the hand revealed I needed a Certs or the like; with no mints on me I took a quick gulp of Scotch and swished it around in my mouth before smoothing my beard around the chin with my other hand. A hundred scenarios ran through my mind at breakneck speed as she approached: What are you doing in a place like this? This isn’t really your vibe, is it? Why have you been staring at me like a maniac for so long? Don’t you have any game? I started to panic and adjusted my posture to keep from sinking further into the hot leather of the couch. I was getting shorter, I was sure of it. She probably thought I was some pervert getting off on the hot talk going on next to me, as if I were into voyeurism or whatever that latest hot shit was these days. She was probably coming over to tell me I was creeping her out and to stop before she dispatches her muscle-bound oaf of a boyfriend-slash-part time model-bouncer at the Viper Room to teach me a lesson. I shot her another look to see how far away she was and we locked eyes fiercely, her gaze holding mine and refusing to let it go. I felt like prey, like somehow I’d given away the upper hand without ever really knowing I had it. What could a woman looking like she did in a place like this want from me? Would she ask me to introduce her to some strapping youth she’d seen me joking with earlier? Was she waiting for me to make fun of her hat as so many had already done this evening? I noticed my pulse increasing and suddenly I was very aware of how muggy the room had become. My feet felt like they were sinking into the deep shag of the carpet. I looked down to make sure they weren’t already fully engulfed.

“Hi,” I heard from directly in front of me. I looked up and Cowgirl stood there, her left hand on her hip and the other dangling to the side.

I took a deep breath. “Hi. Uh…nice hat. You don’t normally see that shade of, uh, pink in a non-satin hat. Usually those straw numbers are brown.”

She smiled a sickly sweet smile. “Thank you. Mind if I sit down?”

Before I could answer she turned and plopped down on the hot leather. I had to move quickly to avoid her planting her ass all over my leg. In my haste to clear some real estate for Cowgirl I shoved into the couple talking naughty on my left.

“Hey!” they both said in unison as the girl’s connection with her beau was severed and she tumbled onto the ground. She stood up quickly and shot me a mean stare before carefully re-balancing herself on the arm of the couch.

“So,” I said, turning my attention back to Cowgirl, “what brings you over? I figured you’d stay in your corner of the party all night.”

“It was the shirt, I could tell you’re a fan,” she replied, still smiling.

Oh god, I thought, she caught me staring at her chest. It was nice – I won’t lie – and firmly held in place by the best that Victoria’s Secret offered. And for a half shirt it stopped in the perfect spot, giving off just a peak of her floating ribs and that gorgeous, flat belly that culminated in what I call “hip cleavage,” those upside-down L indentions running along the hipbone. The girl worked out and proudly showed it, otherwise her belly piercing wouldn’t have been so audacious. But she had caught me, nonetheless, and either was flattered or amazed that somebody could be so crass and obvious in staring down a pair of breasts. I knew I’d done it too much too often; it was as if I’d been trying to beam her images through my eyes as if her chest and my brain were telekinetic. Oh well, I was caught and there was no use in trying to deny it. Since I was in such straits I subconsciously made the decision to take one look down the top part of her shirt before answering, the part where she had hand-notched a “v” below the collar line to let some cleavage peek through. Her skin was sinfully smooth and the areas closest to the crease in her chest were marked with freckles, surely from years of overtanning. I was in heaven.

“Yeah, a fan, well you got me,” I confessed.

She hopped excitedly on the couch and curled a leg under the other. “Cool, I’m a fan too. Big fan.”

Wait a minute – what the hell were we talking about?

“We’re like totally from the same era. What’s your favorite song?”

Then I realized what she meant by being a fan and the shirt: Her modified half shirt number was an early 80s vintage tour shirt from the Canadian rock band Rush. Moving Pictures was the tour, to be precise. I smirked and looked down. Underneath my white unbuttoned Armani party shirt was a Rush Grace Under Pressure shirt, with the tour’s trademark image of an egg in a vise gracing my chest.

“Rush, right, big fan,” I stuttered, trying to get the conversation teetering back on track. I was stupid. I took another breath and told myself to calm down, she’s no different than any of the other women in this room. I took another good look at her and noticed her eyes – green and brilliant even in the low, hazy light of the room. I didn’t know if they were natural or color contacts, and I didn’t care. She had a wholesome, fresh face, the kind untouched by outpatient laser surgery and the latest vanity fads. A touch of baby fat remained in her cheeks and embellished the dimples that appeared when she smiled. With her body it’s a wonder I happened upon any of her facial features at all.

“Subdivisions. Analog Kid. The Body Electric,” I finally answered once I composed myself and flattened my beard one last time against my chin. “I guess I’m not your typical Rush fan because I don’t gravitate towards Limelight and 2112 or Closer to the Heart.” I shrugged. “Oh well.”

“That’s cool,” she nodded. “I prefer their later stuff too, like The Big Money.” She held out her hand formally. “I’m Stacy.”

I took her hand and shook it with equal formality. “I’m Reed.”

“Cool name!” she shrieked.

“Not really, but I’ll play along.”

“Who are you here with?” she asked. Stacy had decided it was time to cut to the chase and see if I was worth her effort.

“Stephanie,” I replied, and quickly added “but she’s just a buddy. She got me in here.”

“Who?”

“Stephanie.”

Her nose wrinkled as she ran through the names she’d heard and the people she knew. Stephanie hadn’t registered.

“Who?” She again asked.

It suddenly dawned on me that in this place more people would likely know Stephanie by her stage name rather than her actual name. Her actual name was reserved for moments outside the surreal spotlight of adult entertainment.

“Sunrise,” I finally replied with some emphasis. Stephanie and I had met a couple months ago by chance at Trader Vic’s lounge at the Beverly Hilton and hit it off right away. I learned of her work in the world of porn and the stage name she appeared under – Sunrise Adams – that first night. Unless there was some previous engagement or work-related situation we couldn’t get out of, we started meeting up for drinks once a week ever since. Tonight we were supposed to meet at one of our usual haunts but instead Stephanie steered us towards this party, which she had heard about at the last minute.

“Oh, you’re a friend of Sunrise Adams? Cool! She’s such a sweetheart.” When I told Stacy she didn’t have to kiss up to me with lines like that she protested. “I’m not kissing your ass! I met her twice at parties last summer and she was so friendly and so nice to anybody who walked up and said hello. So you guys came together?”

I shook my head because I knew what she was fishing for. “I came along with her. We just hang out every now and then. It’s not like you think.” Stacy nodded with an easygoing nod. “We also came with a buddy of mine who’s getting married this weekend,” I added, turning around and realizing I hadn’t seen him in nearly half an hour. “I wonder where the hell Aaron went off to.”

As if on cue, the door to kitchen swung open and out came Aaron, led by the hand by four model quality women who paraded him to the center of the room before the shortest of the bimbettes spoke up: “Hey everbody, this is Aaron. Everybody say hi to Aaron.”

A clamor of joyful “hi, Aaron” and muddled tones of various chatter rang out in response.

The short bimbette in the far-too-high heels continued: “Aaron is getting married to the love of his life this weekend, his soulmate…” she paused. “What is her name?” she asked.

“Vanessa,” Aaron responded.

“Vanessa. Ooh, pretty name!” the girl mentioned as an aside. “Aaron is marrying Vanessa,” she resumed, “and we want to send Aaron out with a bang, so on three everybody say ‘congratulations, Aaron!’”

The bimbette counted three and half the room shouted congratulations in response, while others completely ignored the event. Some muttered, “sucker” after the room quieted. One of the four gave Aaron a huge kiss on the lips as her going away prize before the group parted. Aaron spun around dreamily for a moment before he realized he was standing a few feet away from me.

“Speak of the devil,” I said to Stacy as I motioned for Aaron to come over.

“Holy shit,” Aaron began as he arrived in front of the couch, “look at the women in this place!! I swear to god, this place doesn’t exist. It’s impossible. This is all a dream. Why are all the incredibly hot women all in porn?”

Stacy leaned forward and started to speak but I interrupted her before she could answer. “They prefer the term ‘adult entertainment.’ Don’t call it porn, it’s frowned upon.”

Aaron shrugged and Stacy backed down.

“Besides, impossible is nothing,” I responded, then after a pause added as a punch line: “Nike.”

“I’m Stacy,” Stacy began, holding out her arm to Aaron. “Congratulations on your soon-to-be marriage.”

Aaron wiped a faint bead of sweat from his brow. “Thanks Stacy. You a friend of Reed’s?”

She smiled and looked at me. “I soon hope to be,” she replied in a husky voice.

“We just met,” I added. “So how’s Mr. Groom feeling?”

“Pretty damn good Mr. Best Man,” Aaron replied. “They have bottle after bottle of Crown Royal in the kitchen. You know how much I love Canadian whiskey.”

“Yeah, she’s mistress to us all.” I made eyes at Aaron to hit the road so I could continue with Stacy. The last thing I needed from Mr. Off-the-Market was a cock block.

Stacy pointed at me. “You’re his best man? That is sooo sweet! What are you going to say for the speech?”

The truth was I didn’t have a clue what I was going to say to commemorate Aaron and Vanessa’s union and it was worrying me to no end. Public speaking was never a problem for me but this was different. Being a best man requires a combination of style and calm that a lot of guys cannot pull off. The role itself mandates a certain amount of planning and steering to and from events. From a logistics point of view it’s runner up to the amount of things the bride has on her plate. And that speech – ugh – that speech looms over all post-ceremony events. It has to be touching, heartwarming, and memorable. Get nervous and it will show; bomb with a joke and you’re a putz. Speak for too short a time and you’re not thoughtful enough, but go on too long and you’ll be considered a blowhard. Being best man is something most men will never have to be and they don’t know how lucky they have it.

I smiled and took in the vision of Stacy again before answering. Boy, the things I’d love to do with her. “The speech is in progress so I can’t share anything just now, especially with Captain Howdy here hanging over our shoulder. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Aaron stood up and tried to act offended. “Fine, I know when I’m not wanted.” He slowly turned his head toward the kitchen. “Besides, there’s plenty more Crown Royal in the kitchen waiting for me.” He sulked off in the direction of one of the bimbettes still waving at him.

“Hey,” I called, trying to catch him before he got too far away. “Find Stephanie and ask how long she plans to stay.”

Stacy looked hurt. “You’re going already? It’s just getting fun around here.”

I slid back the cuff on my shirt and checked the time on my IWC. “It’s almost three AM on a Wednesday night. Thursday morning. Whatever. Aaron and I have a big weekend ahead of us that begins not too long from now. I still have to pick up our monkey suits and drive up to Santa Barbara.” I paused and took Stacy and her golden curls in one last time. “I also have to finish a speech.”

She pouted unsuccessfully as I pulled an old business card from my back pocket and scratched out the information in typeset on one side. I flipped the card over onto its blank white side and wrote out my cell number.

“Here,” I told her as I handed over the card. “Now the ball’s in your court. I’d love to get together with you some time, especially if you live on the Hollywood side of Laurel Canyon.” I got up from the hot leather sofa, ready to track down Aaron and if possible, Stephanie.

“Love that hat,” I added. I leaned down and flicked the brim with my forefinger. “No matter what anyone tells you, never get rid of that hat.”

________________________________________________________


The car’s engine whined with a growl of urgency as I sped along the 101 freeway towards Santa Barbara. Aaron was getting married in about 48 hours and there was so much still undone. There were tuxedos to pick up, a speech to come up with, dinner with Aaron’s groom’s men, and at some point I was going to have to squeeze in some visiting time with my brother’s family. After all, they were putting me up for the night.

I pulled out my phone and fished the wireless earpiece out from the glove box and situated it around my ear. Bluetooth was a godsend. It was bad enough that people in California couldn’t drive, so much so that every trip to the market had become an exercise in defensive maneuvering. Put those same people on cell phones and you were gambling with your life. As the thought ran through my head I looked over on the shoulder in the traffic opposite me and saw two cars pulled over with each of their owners yelling loudly into their cell phones, likely in a mad rush to be the first to phone in their side of the story to their insurance company. I tapped the power button on the Bluetooth device and waited for the voice prompt to respond.

“Aaron. Cell phone,” I yelled. After a longer than usual pause the ringing began on the other side.

“Hey dude,” he answered, “I was just thinking about you. How’s that for timing? I was thinking ‘I wonder when the fuck my best man is going to call, being that I’m getting married in two days and there’s so much shit to take care of.’”

“I know Aaron, it literally took everything in me to pack up and get going this morning. I’m on the road right now and probably just under an hour away. What’s the plan?”

There was a pause on the other end. “I thought you could tell me.”

“I have to get your tux and mine, and there are various errands I have to run. That reminds me – when and where is Kate picking up the flower corsages? I have to check with her on the boutonnieres.” Kate was one of the bride’s maids and Vanessa had entrusted her most anal retentive maid with the task of keeping the smallest and easiest to overlook details in check.

“I dunno,” Aaron responded. “I’ll call Vanessa and find out.”

“Whoa, hold the phone chief, you don’t want to do that. She left those chores to other people, so by calling for a status check on something she’s not involved in that will lead her to believe there’s a bunch of monkeys running the show. And with the wedding day so close I can’t think of a better recipe for turning her into Bridezilla.”

“Yeah, good point,” he agreed. He remained silent. The weight of Saturday was starting to settle on his shoulders and it was clear I was going to have to do all the problem solving today.

“Give me Kate’s number and I’ll get to the bottom of it. If you don’t have her number then I’ll take Samantha’s. She’s bound to know Kate’s cell number.” Samantha was the maid of honor in tomorrow’s festivities and someone with whom I’d had one too many trysts during our college years. I couldn’t help myself; her tanned, leggy volleyball player physique and ever-blonde hair called to me like a beacon on campus, and whenever I found myself between relationships she was always inexplicably available. But she knew just as well as I what she was getting into back then, and if she didn’t realize it the first time, then she had to have known the drill the second, third, and fourth time. I was rather eager to see her in her bride’s maid gown myself.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Aaron asked.

“We’re both grown ups here, it’s not like we fling ourselves at each other whenever we are in the same room together.”

Aaron was still silent on the other end before replying. “That’s exactly how most of us remember it, Reed.”

“Relax Aaron, that was a long time ago. Besides, we have both been off each other’s radar for so long that I’m sure our collegiate urges will be under control when we see each other at the rehearsal tonight.”

Aaron fished around in his day planner for the number and we covered remaining details.

“Remember,” he reminded me, “dinner Friday night with the guys at Epiphany. That’s on Victoria Street. It’s jacket and tie. Reservation is at 6:30.” He hung up.

I got off the phone with Kate after first spending fifteen minutes talking to Samantha just as I pulled up to my brother’s house in Carpinteria. The boutonnières were all taken care of and would be waiting in the groom’s dressing room at the church rectory. As for the other minor details, Kate had them under control and we checked almost everything off the to-do list while on the phone. I clicked off the Bluetooth earpiece and revved my car slightly to announce my arrival as I ascended the sloping horseshoe-shaped driveway leading to my brother’s front door. I stopped the car and popped the trunk to fetch my bag, and as I shut the trunk the door to the house flew open and a boy who didn’t look as young as I last remembered came running out.

“Uncle Reed, Uncle Reed!” He manhandled my leg, clutching it with the bravado of a horse wrangler. “Mom! He’s here!”

His mother came out after him, carrying a dish towel and smiling. “I can see he is here, Tyler.” She mussed his hair and extracted the boy from my leg. “Hello, stranger. How was the drive?”

“The same as usual, Marie: All the Angelinos escaping to somewhere else.” I leaned down and got on eye level with Tyler. “How old are you now, Tyler.”

“Nine years old!” Tyler enthusiastically replied.

I stroked my beard around the chin. “Uh huh, so you must be getting older. Any girlfriends yet?” I teased.

Marie rolled her eyes.

“Ooh, gross. No way, dude!” Tyler exclaimed.

“Ah, decided a relationship is too much right now and instead you’re just playing the dating game. Smart guy. I knew there was some Becker logic passed down to you.”

Tyler crinkled his face as if to indicate the idea of him dating girls was a gross one too.

“What?” I shrugged. “I assumed it was natural for manly men like us to go conquer all the girls in the schoolyard.”

Tyler shook his head.

“No? I must have a problem with the intelligence I am getting. I’ll have to check on the reliability of the reports from your sister.”

Tyler laughed. “Lena can’t give reports. She’s only two.”

“Well, duh.” I tested the weight of my bag. “Want to show me how strong you are by taking my bag inside?”

“Okay!” Tyler went for the bag with both hands and he needed them, as he lifted first with his back and additionally had to walk on his tip-toes to get the bag through the door. The moment he got over the threshold he dropped the bag flatly on the fire glazed terra cotta tile lining the entry.

I put my jacket on the entryway ottoman and followed Marie into the kitchen, Tyler at my side the whole time.

“Where’s Lena?” I asked.

Marie put the dishtowel on its hanger and began putting some dishes away. “She’s sleeping, thank god.” She sighed a long sigh, a revealing sigh. The type that tips a person’s hand, in this case perhaps as if to say parenthood might not have been everything Marie had thought it would be. After another sigh she added, “It’s been so hard to establish a sleeping pattern with her.” She shook her head for emphasis.

Tyler poured himself into a vacant chair. After a few moments of silence he began kicking one of the chair legs with the end of his tennis shoe, the contact resonating in a squeaky noise every few seconds.

After bearing with it for what I thought had been too long, Marie told Tyler to stop it. “But I’m bored” was his defense.

“Hey Tyler, I have an idea. I need to go into town and pick up a few things. Maybe you can come with me and help out.”

Marie’s eyes widened as she gazed at me with the desperation of somebody at their wit’s end. “Yes,” her eyes seemed to plead you must take him out of here for my own good. Just for a little bit.

“What’s in it for me?” Tyler shot back.

“Tyler James Becker!!” Marie shouted. “You do not talk to guests like that, especially family!”

I put out my hand like I was stopping traffic. “It’s okay.” Then, to Tyler: “We’ll see how much of that attitude you have in public. What if when you’re done helping me I help you land a new girlfriend? I figure since you’re such a big man and all, it won’t take much.”

“That’s gross!” Tyler asserted.

I walked over to the table and pulled him by the shoulders from his chair. “Come on, kiddo. One of these days you’ll thank me for all this.”
_________________________________________________________

“Is this ceremony going to be performed by candlelight?” whispered Ken. He looked around the barren room nervously and waited for his next set of instructions from the pastor.

“What do you have against fire?” I quietly joked. I locked eyes with the set of beauties across from us while they fidgeted with their practice bouquets and tried their best to pay attention. At the head of the group Vanessa stood in a very rigid and proper pose, hinged on every word coming from the pastor’s mouth.

“…and then you will turn away from each other and walk over to the candle.” He repeated it for emphasis and moved in time with the bride and groom to show them the proper way it was to be done. “Turn and walk over to the candle,” he repeated.

“See, the candle!!” Ken said again out of the corner of his mouth. “The freaking candle again.”

“Knock it off. We’ll be done here soon enough and it’s all easy street from there,” I reminded him.

The pastor came over and instructed us where to move and how to face. “The bride and groom are the focal point, gentlemen. If they move down altar you turn and keep your gaze fixed upon them.” He looked at me. “As best man you are giving a reading. Do you know what passage you will be reading?” he asked.

“Yes. First letter from Paul to…his sweetheart.” The rest of the guys in line laughed and the girls looked over to see what the noise was about. The pastor frowned.

“Sorry. I’ve always wanted to say that. I’m reading from the Gospel of Mark.”

The pastor looked over his notes. These things were scripted and he wanted no surprises or hiccups. “Yes, I see it here – The union of houses passage.”

I nodded.

The pastor walked back to the couple to guide them further and as soon as he left Samantha slid over to take his place.

“What do you make of all this?” she asked, widening her eyes and cocking her head towards the altar.

“Well, Ken here thinks the candles are a little too gothic, but I’m good with it. I like a little tradition.”

Samantha smiled. “Aww, are you getting soft on us?” she teased. Then, changing the subject. “See the blondie on the end, the Australian bird who flew in from Sydney?”

I craned my neck and gazed down the line of bridesmaids. She stood out at the end, tall and radiant, full of understated beauty. I don’t think she was even wearing any makeup.

“Nice. Who is she?”

“Alison. Anita. Crap, I can’t remember. She asked about you and it took everything in me to not tell her how much of an asshole you are.”

“Thanks, that’s sweet. I feel special. Or are you just marking your territory?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. If you keep that thick and ugly beard of yours you’ll never get laid again. You might as well be the Unabomber.” She wrinkled her nose and smiled mockingly before moving back over to the girls’ side of the altar.

Ken leaned back over. “She looks like she’s gained about 15 or 20 pounds since college,” he commented.

“Like we’re all physical fucking specimens of mankind,” I replied. “Shut up and go back to your candles.”
_________________________________________________________

During the rehearsal dinner I got the sense that Aaron was tightening up with nervousness and fear, so like a good Best Man I steered him away from the crowds and, after stopping off quickly to pick up some beer, over to a hillside east of Isla Vista, a place we used to go hang out occasionally when we were students at nearby UC Santa Barbara.

I pulled the car to the edge of the road where we’d have a gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean and Los Olivos below. I went outside, cracked open a beer and laid back on the hood of my car. Soon Aaron followed suit.

“So what’s up?” I asked.

“What’s up?”

“Yeah. I got the feeling you were uptight earlier and could use a breather.”

Aaron took a gulp of beer. “What would give you that idea? I’m only getting married on Saturday and changing my entire life.”

I took a swig of beer. I had no words that could console, nothing to let him know I’d ever been down that road myself.

“Yep.” It was the best I could muster.

“I shouldn’t be nervous about this, Reed. It’s the bride’s place to worry during weddings.”

“Afraid the cake won’t have raspberry filling like you ordered?”

“Funny. Vanessa can fret over those details. I’m a big picture kind of person.” He took another gulp of his beer. “I mean, I don’t even have a job and I’m still finishing my Masters Degree. How am I supposed to support a spouse like that?”

This was no place for a you should have thought about this earlier speech but still I had to say something. He was expecting a reassuring, calming word.

“You’re a resourceful chap. You’ll come up with something.”

“That’s the thing, what if I can’t? It’s not just me anymore. I have somebody else I’m responsible for. What if I make poor choices?”

“Then hopefully Vanessa is right there to see them for what they are and guide you. You’re a team now. Take the rough patches together. I’m sure she’d want you to do the same for her.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve just felt so much out of my element this week. At certain points I feel like I’m in the background and at other times, forgotten. It’s like my life is going on right before my eyes and I can’t reach out and take control of it.”

I knew exactly what Aaron meant. I had felt that same way many times in the month following my father’s death, like I’d been the narrator of a story I wasn’t a part of and yet there were things that demanded my attention and involvement. No amount of soothing words would put him at ease. I knew what Aaron needed, and it wasn’t a beer, or advice, or a view from the hill. Aaron needed to feel like he was in his element, somewhere he could wrap his head around things he knew about. The guy was an economics man so I needed to speak to him in his language.

I finished the beer and slid the can back into its paper cardboard case. “You know what I don’t get,” I began, “it’s all those people who invest in blended mutual funds that are invested across fifty or a hundred different companies. How can they possibly make any money in the short term?”

“Money in the short term from that sort of investment is a pipe dream.” Between swigs of beer he added, “Unless a heavy proportion of the fund’s blend consists of bond investments. Blended mutual funds work off the principle of dividend reinvestment, so there’s no hope for any short term gains.”

“What good is that?” I asked. “Why wait 30 years to cash in on that action?”

“Because you are contributing to the greater good, globally speaking.”

“Greater good?” I asked.

“The money you invest gets invested across global economies. Electronics, livestock, textiles, the energy sector, et cetera. What these investments do is help strengthen the infrastructure of goods every nation relies on – superpower or third-world – and in turn fuels the global economy. That’s how it works.”

“I prefer cold cash.”

Aaron nodded. “There is nothing wrong with that either. A steady allocation of funds for buying treasury notes, precious metals, and foreign currencies is always a good move.”

I laughed and shook my head. “No, I mean my dead presidents, especially Presidents Grant and Jackson.” I reached into the cardboard carrier and fished out another beer.

“It figures,” Aaron replied with a grin. “You never change.”

“Hey, I resent that! Two years ago I would have said you’re crazy if you suggested I’d care about the stock market and economics; one year ago I would have said you’re crazy if you suggested I’d be a best man in anybody’s wedding, let alone yours; and two hours ago I would have said you’re crazy if you suggested I’d be atop a hill with you instead of chasing down the four single women who are Vanessa’s bridesmaids.” I popped open the beer, it’s contents exhaling with a giant whoosh that decompressed the can and sent suds flying everywhere. “Like it or not buddy boy, I’ve changed.”

Aaron laughed and nodded slowly, repeatedly. “I guess so. I guess we’ve all changed in certain matters of speaking.” He remained quiet and in thought. I let him have his moment to work out whatever gears needed to grind inside his head.

As he gently shook his can to determine how much of the beer remained, he said, “Thanks dude. Thanks for everything. Especially this – the ride up here, the beer, the bullshitting – I needed to get my head out of the wedding fog. I guess I was starting to feel the weight of it all, you know?”

“I hear ya,” I replied. “And thank you guys – you and Vanessa – for everything you’re doing for the bridal group and guests. You didn’t have to pay for the tuxedos and bridesmaid gowns, you know.”

“I know. It’s some Aussie custom or something. But picking up the tab for the hotel rooms was my idea.”

“Was the reception location your idea?” I asked.

“No, Vanessa wanted to have it at the Ritz Carlton, so it only made sense to get your rooms there. With a hosted bar you never know who will overdo it.”

“This is costing you a pretty penny, I’m sure.”

Aaron shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But some of the guys have a bet on how much they think it’s running you.”

“Yeah? Who is the closest to one hundred and fifty grand?” Aaron asked.

“Holy shit, is that the price tag?” I reached into the carrier and handed Aaron a fresh beer. “You’re going to need this,” I said, presenting it to him.

“Thanks. So you understand my nervousness. You don’t get a second run-through on these things. You get what you get, and then people go home and make their own memories and stories of it.”

I shook my head. “Nah, it will always be your story. Despite being best man I’m only the narrator.” I clapped him around the neck. “Don’t forget that, buddy. It’s your day. You can only attend to the people and details so much. That’s why you have a bridal party.”

Aaron cracked open his beer and eased his upper back onto the hood of my car, a big exhale emanating from him. You knew when Aaron was relaxed and in the zone, and it came always in the form of a heavy and weight-releasing sigh. Aaron had always been like a dog in that way.

“I love this car,” he finally said. “Don’t ever get rid of this car, Reed. We should enact a law requiring you to always keep this car. But if you do sell it, sell it to me.”

“You wouldn’t be able to afford it,” I countered. “You have a wedding to pay off.”

After a few extended periods of silence, Aaron piped up again: “Remember when we had just started school, before we really got to know all the little hotspots in town that were secluded? Before we discovered the happening places? We’d bring dates up here to admire the view, hoping this grand vista would get us laid. We were pathetic.”

“Speak for yourself. I was getting laid, nice view or not.”

“Bullshit! Talk about your revisionist history!” he shot back.

“I am serious,” I calmly replied after downing another gulp of beer. “I brought at most, three women up here, and all three got horizontal with me.”

“Yeah? Who are we talking about here? I want names; no hiding behind your suave ‘a gentlemen doesn’t name names’ crap.” Another gulp. “It’s not like you see any of them anymore, right? Just some names between friends.”

“Actually, one of them was Samantha – your fiancée’s maid of honor – so oops, there goes your quantum theory. But the other two were…” I admit I struggled to remember their names. “Bridget and Emma. I think.”

“You smooth son of a bitch!” said Aaron, swatting me on the middle of the back with an open hand. “That’s one thing you had over the rest of us. There was never a shortage of women for you.”

“Yeah,” I laughed, “and look how well that’s worked out for me now: I’m on a hilltop in the middle of nowhere sharing stories with another guy.”

We both laughed and took another swig in unison.

“Those glory days, they’ll pass you by,” Aaron said. “Springsteen was right.”

“We haven’t yet come into our own,” I countered. “The golden age isn’t upon us. Not yet.”

Aaron held up his beer can in a toasting position. “Then here’s to the glory days yet to come for all of us.” I smacked my beer to his, the dull crunching noise of aluminum cans sounding across the barren hillside.

“Remember when we were rushing ATO, and had to streak down (insert street name here) street between the house and Freebird’s?” Aaron wasn’t done reminiscing.

“God, I had blocked that from memory.” I crumped up my now-empty can and replaced it with a fresh cold one. “It looks like I’m going to need a few more of these in order to block it out once more.”

“We really had some great times – crazy times – in that frat. Hey, what was the worst hook-up you’ve ever had?”

“What is this,” I asked, “truth or dare?”

“Two guys a few years removed from college can reminisce about things, you know.”

I frowned.

“So who was it?” he again asked. “The one who the very next morning you thought ‘man, I have really sunk low,’ either because she was too ugly or fat or skanky or, something.”

I pointed at him. “I do not do ugly. No uglies, no fatties, no hard up cases where I have to fuck something. They have cold shower cures for that. It’s far better than besmirching your reputation.”

“Come on, there had to be one instance.”

I broke open my new can and took a long drink. “Okay, but you have to promise to not make a big deal of it.”

Aaron sat on edge. “This sounds juicy!”

I took another abnormally long pull from my beer can. “It was Courtney.”

Aaron sat for a moment or two completely unfazed. Then it hit him. “Courtney…OUR Courtney?” He jumped off the hood of my car and began pacing around. “You…and Courtney? Holy shit!” His mind was racing. “How is that even possible? You’re completely repulsed by her!”

“It just happened. It was a one-night thing and the details are hazy. I was drunk, she was drunk. We just started in on each other one night during one of their Delta Zeta parties and took it upstairs. I don’t remember any of it. I don’t think I was very good. I don’t remember her being anything special either. We both erased the incident from our memory banks.”

“But you hate her. I mean, she is a beautiful girl – we don’t call her the Hawaiian Barbie for nothing – but dude, this is earth shattering!”

I took another drink. “Thanks for not making a big deal out of it like I asked.”

“It all makes sense! This explains the years of animosity and why you jump down each other’s throat. Holy shit!” Aaron smiled with the satisfaction of an adventurer who had just made a grand discovery.

“No, you’re reading all kinds of things into what happened. Besides, I hate myself for what happened more than I could ever hate her. I don’t like her because she has no self-sensor button and doesn’t think through what she says or believes in. To her, people are there to serve her and the sun revolves only around Courtney. She’s just one of the many self-centered stuck up trust fund cunts we have in Los Angeles.”

“And you’re angry you spent the night with someone like that. You, of such refined taste and discretion fell in with someone like her.” He grinned.

“You don’t have to gloat about it,” I scowled.

“I feel for you, I really do. It’s just that it’s finally hit me now. I’ve realized something.”

“What?”

“No matter how well guarded your rep might be or how your highly regarded you come off in the public eye, nobody has a perfect track record. Nobody. All of us stumble from time to time.”

“Don’t I know it,” I replied. “It’s been five years, and I still realize it all the time.”

“Think anybody else knows?” Aaron asked.

“My guess is Michelle knows. After all, she and Courtney are best friends.”

Aaron nodded. “You’re probably right. Besides, women can’t keep quiet about anything. They always have to tell at least one of their friends.”

He saw I was staring at him with some question.

“But don’t worry Reed, I’m not going to say anything. If I did I’d just be looked upon as some married dolt who’s trying to vicariously carry on through the exploits of his friends. It’s funny how quickly you get dismissed as such. They don’t even wait until you are married to tag you with that label. It begins as soon as you move in together.”

“In a short while from now it will be official and everything will be new,” I said.

“And in quite another way,” Aaron said with a nod, “nothing will ever again be the same.”