Remember what I said previously about how being a best man was a thankless take-one-for-the-team act of charity? I was wrong, very wrong. It might be one of the best things a guy can do for his fellow chum. And the perks...I’m getting ahead of mysef. Let me explain.

The phone rang far too early, during the fleeting moments when the body knows it will soon be roused and yet manages somehow to get its best sleep. Those moments when REM cycles flash at a feverish pitch and the mind concocts visions both real and make believe. It was early enough that it was still dark outside, but presumably late enough for my phone to be ringing. I let it go a few times before reaching an arm out from under the covers to retrieve it.

“Mmm mmm,” I mumbled.

“We have a problem,” said a nervous voice on the other end. It was Vanessa, the bride-to-be who was getting married in only a matter of hours.

I shot up in my bed half expecting to find lying next to me one of Vanessa’s bridesmaids or a visiting relative from Australia who I’d scurried off to my room during the alcohol-filed haze of the previous night. Seeing nobody, I felt around the blankets and bedspreads to confirm the visual before responding.

“We do? What’s the problem?” I tried to sound horrified and concerned but what I was really felt was relief.

“My maid of honor is missing.”

“Come again?”

“Samantha is missing along with Anita, the girl who came over from home. They went out last night and they didn’t come back to the hotel this morning.” She was beginning to race through the words as if frantic, as if fighting off tears.

"Are you certain?"

“They’re not here and we need to go to the hair salon and then the makeup place and I don’t know where they are and nobody’s heard from them and they haven’t left a message with anyone, and, and”

“Let’s hold on now, Vanessa,” I began as I got out of bed and put on a shirt. “I’m sure they’re fine. I tell you what – I will grab Ken and the both of us will track them down, okay? Don’t worry. We'll will find them.”

Her breathing came through heavy and rapid on the other side of the phone, as if she was in a hyperventilating state.

“Okay...okay. Thank you Reed.”

“No problem. Best Man at your service.”

Before I hung up she urged me to wait. “Please don’t say anything to Aaron about this. Please. Everything has to be perfect today. Promise me.”

“Okay.”

When I called over to Ken I was greeted with an unceremonious “Jesus, do you know what time it is? Did you not notice we all drank tankers of booze last night?”

“I know. Believe me, I’d much rather be sleeping. We have an assignment.”

“An assignment? Who the fuck are we, The Untouchables?” responded Ken.

“It’s more reconnaissance,” I replied. “We have to find two AWOL broads from the wedding party.”

When I picked Ken up at the hotel he was wearing golfing shorts, a sweater and sunglasses. At 8 in the morning.

“This better be good,” he hissed as he opened the car door and poured himself into the passenger seat.

Just as I was about to pull out of the carport Aaron came outside and flagged us down. “Where are you guys off to?”

“Vanessa is missing a maid of honor.”

Ken leaned over the center console. “Yeah, we’re Holmes and Watson.”

Ignoring Ken, I said, “We’ll be back in a bit, I think I know where they are.” Just as I pulled away, I added, “Oh yeah, Vanessa didn’t want you to know that, so do me a favor and don’t mention any of this to her.”

One of the best kept secrets in all of the Santa Barbara area is a natural hot springs just outside of town and to the north of Goleta, halfway to the Santa Ynez wine country that's glorified in the book and movie Sideways. Most of the locals don’t know of the place and the weekend tourists certainly don’t know the springs exist as it wasn’t in any travel brochure or Sunday paper roundup of getaway vacation hotspots. The secret of the hot springs was one kept and guarded by UC Santa Barbara students, mostly because of the urban myths about the springs hosting impromptu hot tub orgies. Every year a new batch of students went hoping for a re-education in carnal knowledge, and every year they went away disappointed. But the springs were a good place to open up the pores and relax, and as early morning was the best time to hit the springs, I was fairly certain Samantha and her new friend stole away to help relieve whatever hangover they still suffered from.

“You really think that’s where they went?” Ken asked when he learned where we were headed.

“Pretty sure.”

“I was thinking maybe Samantha and this girl Anita were in some threesome with one of the guys from the bar.” Ken smirked as the visual flooded his head. “Yeah, I could go for some of that. I bet Samantha does that kind of shit, too.”

“Uh huh,” I said to placate him.

We parked the car by the road and hiked the hundred or so yards of path leading to the big oaks which shrouded the springs. We found Samantha and the other girl in the far spring, wading about.

“After all this time, still predictable,” I said, announcing our arrival. The girls looked up, startled.

“Don’t you keep your cell phone on?” I asked.

“Goddammit Reed, you startled us!” shouted Samantha in response. “And, can you give us a little privacy here,” she added, “we’re both naked.”

“Well then let’s get this party started right!” exclaimed Ken. “I didn’t get up early for nothing.”

Samantha shot him a death stare, a not-if-you-were-the-last-person-on-earth glare.

“Look, right now you have a very worried blushing bride-to-be waiting back at the hotel, whose cheeks are reddened with fury because two of her girls went sneaking away from camp on the day she needs you most.” I went over and picked up the towels draped over a nearby rock. "Let’s get out of here and back to the hotel, okay?” I tossed a towel in each girl’s direction.

Ken went to the edge of the closest pool to the road and looked out at the highway. “How did you two even get out here?” he asked.

The Australian girl spoke up. “My mum gave us a ride on her way in to town.”

“You might want to let her know you won’t need a ride back.” She nodded.

Inside the car Samantha had moved into Queen Bitch mode and continued the entire ride back.

“I don’t know why Vanessa is freaking out,” she began. “Really. It’s so early and the wedding isn’t even until four. There’s plenty of time to get our hair done and put up, and the makeup, and the nails, and the dresses. I don’t know what the big deal is. There’s still plenty of time left before the ceremony for pictures and...”

Ken shook his head from his spot in the passenger seat before leaning over towards me, away from Samantha.

“Bitches, man. Seriously, I swear,” he said with another shake of the head.
________________________________________________________________________________________

After dropping the group off at the hotel I looked at my watch and adjusted my schedule. By my calculations I would have enough time to gather up my things from my brother’s place and have breakfast with his family before having to move into the hotel for the night.

I quietly pulled the car up to the garage and gently opened their front door, taking special care to walk softly on the terra cota entry pavers that led down into the living room. No such luck; Marie was already awake and sipping coffee while she read the morning paper at the table.

“Are you just getting home?” she asked. “What was her name this time, or did you even get a name? Aren’t you getting a little too old for this?”

I waved my hand about. “No, this time it was honorable. The bride sent us out on an errand.” I took another look at my watch. “I was hoping I’d be quiet enough to not wake anyone up.”

“Not with your car, mister. I heard that thing coming up the driveway,” she replied.

Marie offered coffee, which I thankfully took before heading for the guest bedroom to pack up my things. Soon the whole household was in full swing and Tyler came in, dressed in his tae kwon do outfit.

“You will bow down to me!” he exclaimed in a deep, pseudo-heroic voice before kicking his leg upward and into me, narrowly missing my crotch. My niece Lena, standing in the doorway, squealed with delight. Kids never tire of the take-it-in-the-nuts comedy display.

“You’d better watch it with that foot,” I warned him.

“Pretty cool, huh? It’s a lethal weapon!”

“It’s a guaranteed way to get smacked is what it is.” I organized some clothes on the bed and felt around the end table for a gift I’d need later.

“Uh, Tyler? Where is the little package we picked up yesterday?”

“It’s in my room. Lena and I were playing with it.”

“Go get it for me, will you?” Tyler returned moments later with it and handed it gently to me. I looked at its dull shine, then examined it further when I noticed one section was more hazy than the rest.

“Jesus...Lena, were you putting this in your mouth?” I asked, holding it out in front of her. Between laughs she tried grabbing at it.
________________________________________________________________________________________

My phone rang at the same moment I burst through the doors of the hotel with the valet in tow. I should just wear the earpiece this morning, I thought.

“Hello?”

“We’ve got a problem.” This time it was Aaron.

I looked at my watch. It was barely ten thirty in the morning. What could have gone wrong now?

“In all of our preparations and running around taking care of the little things we forgot a very big thing.”

“Don’t tell me you left the ring at home, Aaron. Don’t say that.”

He laughed nervously. “It’s not that, but it’s almost as bad. We don’t have a song.”

“A song?” I asked.

“You know, a song for the bride and groom's dance, the first dance at the reception when we box step like fools around the parquet floor.”

Oh, that song. Aaron and Vanessa had often mentioned needing a song and that they had to set aside some time to find their perfect song, but that time never came. And now it was getting to be too late.

“Um...okay. I guess I can find you something,” I said with hesitation.

“You can?”

This time I tried sounding more resolute. “Of course I can. I know what you two like, I know what kind of songs get played at weddings.”

“Thanks man. We’d do it ourselves but there’s just no time.” He laughed. “I just realized we’ve been saying that for the past six months.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re in good hands.”

“Great,” he said. “Just don’t pick out anything like ‘Baby Got Back,’ okay?”

“Have a little faith. It will be fine. Unless I hear back from you I’ll meet up at the church at 2:30. Cool?”

“Cool. And thanks again.”

“Always a pleasure,” I replied before clicking off.

The valet, who’d heard the majority of the conversation, was not impressed. “They’re getting married today and they still don’t have their own song?”

“They’ve been busy,” I shrugged.

“Yeah, but still, what kind of dopes don’t decide on their song while they’re dating or at least while making all the wedding plans. That’s just, well...stupid.” He was making his tip evaporate right before his eyes.

“I guess not everybody has it as together as you will when your day comes, skippy.”

He frowned when he heard me call him that.

“Got any songs you can suggest?” I asked of him while he opened the door to my room.

“Hmm. Maybe 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight', or perhaps something by Chicago?” I turned back and looked at him to make sure he wasn’t laughing or making a joke. He was doing neither. I guess he was serious.

I handed him his tip. “Those are awful.”

Inside the room I gently laid out the Jill Sander tuxedo on the bed and opened up the overnight bag, fishing around for my iPod. It was lucky for me I traveled with 60 gigs of music. Furiously scrolling the wheel with steady pressure, I scanned the list of artists for a possible suitor. Etta James, maybe. Dean Martin, sure, but his songs were filled with double entendres that might offend the wrong person. It had to be the right song. Sarah Vaughn, Harry Connick – I was finding the right types but not the right match. I put down the iPod and picked up the phone, pressing the voice recognition button on the side.

“Aaron,” I announced loudly. The phone began dialing.

“I need the DJ phone number from you, Aaron.”

“Did you find a good song?” he asked enthusiastically.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First things first.” He said he’d have to call me back and within moments of putting down the phone and picking up the tuxedo to unwrap and brush, my phone began ringing.

“Here’s the number,” Aaron proclaimed. “And thanks again, buddy. I’ll see you at the church.”

After the tuxedo was brushed I tried the DJ, phone in one hand, iPod in the other. When he answered I explained the situation.

“If I gave you an iPod do you have the means to hook it up to your rig and play back a song?”

“Certainly, we do it often. Just tape a piece of paper to the back of your iPod with the name of the artist and song, and track number if it’s relevant. And thanks for letting us know. We can usually roll with the punches just fine but if we have advance notice there won’t be any problems pulling this off smoothly.”

I thanked him and hung up just as I landed on the perfect song. I smiled as a fleeting vision shot through my memory banks and I remembered the last time I had heard this song. One problem – it was a song meant to be for me and somebody else.
________________________________________________________________________________________

“These things always have a start time on the invite, but how often does a wedding really start on time?” The question was being posed by Ken as we sat in the church rectory with the rest of Aaron’s groom’s men, waiting for the groom to arrive. Ken and Mike tossed a tennis ball back and forth.

“Did you ever think Aaron would settle down with a girl like Vanessa?” asked Mike. “I mean, she seems nice and all, but almost too good for him.”

Ken scratched his chin before tossing the ball back to Mike. “I know what you mean. If you could go back to when we were all in school and see some of the women Aaron dated you’d really be amazed he found anyone worth settling down with.” He paused. “Hey Reed, who was the girl he dated with the dyed red hair and the tattoos running all the way down one of her arms? The one who screamed like a banshee when they'd have sex.”

Mike looked confused.

“We all lived in a frat house with paper thin walls so you either told the girl you were screwing to keep it under wraps, or else everyone would hear it. Hey Reed, what was her name?”

I was standing by the window playing lookout. It was 2:40 and Aaron was running late. Heck of a day to be late.

Turning from the window just long enough to answer Ken, I replied “Erica. No wait. Lorna. That was it, Lorna.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Lorna.” Ken paused. “What a train wreck she was. I think she had to transfer to a JC by junior year because of bad grades and s bad home life.” Ken caught a return toss of the ball from Mike.

“Come to think of it,” Ken continued, “Most of Aaron’s girls have been disaster shows. There was the one with the nose piercing who was all into the earth and naturalism but she pretty much just got high all the time; there was Kathy – that cunt – who emasculated Aaron and every guy she was around; there was that little tiny girl freshman year when we were still in the dorms, the one who was two-timing Aaron most of the time they were together, and even when he and Vanessa were dating early on there was that time"

“Do you think we can do without the play-by-play recap?” I interrupted. “This is supposed to be a happy day, a celebration. So let’s not bag on all the terrible relationships Aaron has been in. He’s not the only one.” I pointed at Aaron. “You’ve been there. I’ve been there.” I took the tennis ball from Mike’s hand. “Instead, let’s celebrate and congratulate Aaron on finding the one perfect girl for him, a girl he is wholeheartedly ready to spend the rest of his life with and make the sacrifices that come with it. Don’t pick apart and analyze his past fuck-ups; laud him for the one good choice he’s about to make.”

The guys muttered something in agreement before splitting apart to continue dressing in opposite corners of the rectory, finishing just as Aaron walked into the room.

“Hey hey, man of the hour,” Mike said from the back.

“Sorry I’m late, guys – my parents insisted they drive me here and they weren’t ready in time. Leave it to the parents to fuck with your shit all the way up to the last.” Aaron slung his clothes over a chair and began getting dressed. It was three o’clock and the guests would begin arriving in the next half hour.

When everyone was dressed, primped and preened, Aaron gathered us in a huddle and handed out the traditional groom’s men gifts – monogrammed Coach liquor flasks.

“I want to thank each of you for being my wingmen today. It means a lot to Vanessa, our families, and especially to me.” He clasped a couple of us by the shoulders. “I can’t think of a better group I’d want standing by my side up there.” He shook some hands and we bullshitted about in the rectory until 3:30, when the groom’s men made their way into the church to begin seating the arriving guests.

Aaron withdrew some at this point and sat in a lone chair in the middle of the room.

“I’d ask what’s on your mind,” I began, “but that would be a stupid question.”

He mussed his hair some and looked up. “What do you think, man? About all this?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what you think.”

“I know, I know. I love Vanessa, there’s no doubting that. And while I’m not nervous about marrying her, I am nervous about...” he waved his hand about in the air. “All this.”

I pulled over a chair, its wooden feet squealing some on the cold marble floor, and sat down next to Aaron. “I don’t think you are nervous about marriage either. I think you’re nervous because for the first time in your life you have to worry about someone other than yourself, and that’s a big step.” I started chuckling. “And you’ve succeeded in getting my opinion out too, so much for that.”

Aaron slumped in his chair and stretched out his legs. “Now that you’ve started you can’t stop. Do you think I am marrying the right girl?”

I cautiously approached the question. I held no ill-will against Vanessa; I never saw a red flag in her behavior to give me pause, yet I didn’t want to say anything Aaron could construe as a curve ball only moments before saying “I do.”

“Only you know the answer to that question, but I’ll say this: I don’t know two people better suited for each other than you and Vanessa. People romanticize marriage and forget it is a partnership, it’s a business. And you need the right partner to weather the stormy times. You couldn’t have come up with a better partner.”

“Thanks, Reed. That means a lot to me.”

“No problem. Best Man at your service.” I stood up and smoothed the wrinkles in my tuxedo. “Hey, look at the time,” I said, pointing at the clock high on the bland crème rectory wall. “It’s almost the witching hour.”

Aaron stood and in similar fashion adjusted his tuxedo. “We’d better get out there. How do I look?”

I brought my finger to my lips, balancing the elbow of my left arm in my right hand. Giving him the once over I checked off the list in my head: Boutonnière, check. Properly tied Windsor knot, check. Wrinkle free Jill Sander tuxedo, check.

“You got the ring?” I asked.

“I do,” he said, reaching into his pant pocket. “I suppose I should remember that phrase,” he added with a laugh before producing the ring and handing it to me.

“I think we’re all set,” I replied. “Oh, one thing – shoot your cuffs. You have no shirt cuff showing below the jacket arm. You look like Pee Wee Herman.”

He smiled and adjusted his sleeves. “You couldn’t shave off that beard,” he said, “not even for my wedding?”

“It’s not time. Besides, I did give it a trim. It’s cut back some and better groomed.”

“It still looks full and heavy. And ugly.”

“Now it’s less Unabomber and more Dan Fouts. Let’s go get you married, all right?”
____________________________________________________________________

“I want to introduce Reed, the best man, who will give the traditional first toast. Reed, come on up.”

The DJ/MC of the evening motioned for me from the makeshift podium placed at the center of the table. I’d been talking with some wedding guests, many whom I hadn’t seen in years when I was summoned to the front. Excusing myself with a smile and a handshake, I ran a hand through my hair, making sure it was acceptably styled and made for the podium at the center of the head table. As I approached I started to run through the game plan and quickly realized I had no game plan other than to open with a light and deprecating story about Aaron. The rest I hadn’t planned out, instead hoping I’d be struck by some divine inspiration at the last minute. The best parachuters learn on their first trip down.

The crowd looked warm and inviting as I looked into the eyes of what would be my audience and critic, and then took the microphone from the DJ’s outstretched hand. The microphone body was clammy and eel-like to the touch, its dull metal casing holding back all of the heat from the transistors within. Before moving the microphone closer to my mouth I cleared my throat, and with my free hand reached into my pocket to confirm my visual aid was still there.

“Good evening everyone,” I began with a warm and heartfelt smile. “Aaron and Vanessa along with their families want to thank you for sharing in such an important day. You flatter them by being here, and if I may say so Aaron, you flatter me by honoring me with the job of being your best man.”

I took a quick visual of the room and darted my eyes from one random person to the next, trying to gauge if the crowd thought I was sucking up too much too soon. My glances were met with smiles. I hadn’t lost them yet.

“When Aaron first asked me to be his best man, he told me that when it came time to give the toast I’d have to speak slowly and annunciate clearly,” I continued, “because Vanessa’s family would be here and they are from Australia.” I shot Aaron a sly grin. He looked a bit puzzled.

“That’s when I had to break it to him the Australians are known to speak English, quite often in fact.” Scattered chuckles started about the room. “That’s one of their commonalities that draws them to us.” More laughter. I paused and added as an aside - “Well, that and our shared love of Russell Crowe, who is so dreamy.”

The room laughed in unison and Aaron began turning red in embarrassment.

“I kid, I kid. When Aaron and Vanessa asked me to share in their special day I knew this moment would come – this one right now, with me up here speaking. And I didn’t know if I would have anything witty or insightful to say. I racked my brain trying to think of something, and then yesterday afternoon I found myself in my nephew’s room thumbing through – of all things – a collection of fairytales. And that’s when it hit me, the importance of this day.”

I took another quick scan of the room. They were still with me.

“A woman dreams of this day – this moment right here as we stand – as a little girl. The dress, the perfect moment and the perfect people here to share it with her. For her it’s the stuff that dreams are made of.”

I shot Aaron another look. He had a blank stare of utter confusion on his face.

“Guys, on the other hand, are a little slow to catch up. Our dreams consist of growing up to be a baseball player or a fireman or astronaut. A few of us even want to be rock stars. When we realize that we will likely never be a single one of those things, usually around age 18 or 20, we begin to look at the bigger picture and with whom we want to share it.

“Vanessa, your father told me something earlier in the week that provided a wealth of insight.” I paused and gave him a slight nod of reverence before I continued. “He told me marriage is something where you have to have each other’s back and be a team as you go through life. You need that kind of friendship, as you grow older. I think that’s beautiful and I want to thank him for sharing his wisdom.

“Now I’ve seen the receiving room and the stack of gifts already there, but I want to present you with what I hope is your first gift.” I pulled the item from my pocket and handed it to Vanessa.

“It’s a quarter,” she said.

“It is a quarter, yes. Leave it to the woman to know her money.” A flurry of laughs, mostly from the men, erupted around the room. I motioned to Vanessa: “Would you tell me what’s different about this particular quarter, Vanessa?”

She flipped it over a few times and examined its surface. “It’s got two heads to it,” she proclaimed.

“That’s right. I was out spending time with my nephew when I saw it in a shop window and it at once spoke to me about the two of you. About how you are two sides of the same coin. About how I have never met two individuals better suited for each other.”

A few “aahs” leaked out at the tables in front of us.

“And so, before I allow this to become any more sappy,” I concluded, taking the glass of champagne in my hand, “let’s raise a glass to Aaron and Vanessa. To this perfect team, to a long life of happiness and laughter, and to the stuff that dreams are made. Many happy returns.”

A scattering of “here, here” and the clinking of champagne flutes followed. When I put down the glass I caught the DJ out of the corner of my eye holding up my iPod as a reminder that the newlyweds still had their dance to get to.

I picked the microphone back up and when the toasting stopped, continued: “We made the horrifying discovery earlier today that Vanessa and Aaron didn’t have a wedding song to dance their first dance to. So we decided to take care of it for you. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give the newlyweds a little encouragement as they come to the center of the dance floor for their first dance as man and wife, huh?”

The crowd started clapping and whistling as Aaron whisked Vanessa from her hair, gingerly leading her by the hand to the dance floor. I looked over at the row of girls on Vanessa’s side of the table. They all looked incredibly beautiful, especially Samantha. There was always an unmistakable wow factor when Samantha wore a formal dress. She was definitely a head-turner.
I spun around to find the DJ shooting darts at me with his eyes. Unbeknownst to me I’d just stolen some of his MC thunder.

Once Aaron and Vanessa were on the dance floor and in position I continued: “This song is very near and dear to me, but consider it yours for as long you want it.”

I lowered the microphone and moments later the first strains of the song began: I’m gonna love you, like nobody’s loved you, come rain or come shine, began the plaintive moan of Frank Sinatra.

While Aaron and Vanessa danced around the floor of the ballroom I slipped towards the back where the bar was.

“You were pretty slick up there,” said the bartender, an early-twenties blonde with her hair pulled back in a ponytail while she shifted around bottles of Sierra Nevada in an ice tub.

“Thanks. I was starting to think I was rambling so I cut it short.”

“I think you could have talked for another five minutes and not lost anyone’s attention,” she replied, looking up to make eye contact and smile.

I returned the smile and was about to order when I heard a voice behind me. “So, can a girl buy a guy a drink at these things?” I turned around and Samantha was standing there, a hand on her hip and one strap of her dress starting to come off her shoulder.

“Hey you,” I responded, “pony up to the bar.”

She hunched over the bar and got comfortable. “That was a good toast up there. Still got the charm.” She called the bartender girl and ordered. “I’ll have a vodka gimlet and he’ll have a Scotch, neat.” When the girl grabbed a bottle of J&B Samantha added, “no no dear, single malt preferably.” She turned to face me and leaned against the bar.

“You remembered. I’m impressed.”

“I’m told I have that effect on people,” she replied nonchalantly.

“You forgot modest,” I added with a smirk.

When the bartender came back with the drinks and the tab, I instinctively reached for my wallet. Samantha waved me off.

“I said I’d pay for it. Consider it your keep for the good toast.”

I eyed her suspiciously.

“Seriously, put the wallet away. You men and your darned gender roles.” Samantha took a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching, and then shoved an arm down the front of her dress and came up with a $20.

“Awesome,” I remarked. “You keep Tic Tacs in there too?”

“Look at this outfit I squeezed into. Do you think there’s any place I can stow money away?”

“Oh, I’m looking. I could stare at you all night in that outfit.” I took the Scotch and brought it to my nose for a cursory sniff. “What can I say, you’re the bees knees.” I touched my glass to hers. “Cheers. And thanks again for the drink.” Samantha nodded in return.

Across the room one of the bride’s maids was motioning our way, at first we thought for Samantha, but then realized she was motioning for me and pointed towards where Vanessa was. They’d already begun the dollar dance. I excused myself and headed to the front of the line.

When I cut in Vanessa had been waiting for me. “You know, I’m starting to feel like I’m not the one getting the most attention here. I mean I am the bride and yet someone is stealing my thunder,” she said with her light Australian tone.

“Oh?”I said innocently.

“All my friends, instead of falling over themselves trying to congratulate me and take photos are instead asking about Aaron’s friend the best man, and whether he’s single.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And those are just the married gals!”

I tossed the idea aside. “It’s all puppy love. You’re still the center of the universe today.”

“You really hit it out of the park, Reed. It had everything – kids, fairy tales, companionship, Sinatra. Oh, thanks for that, it was the perfect song. I think you could have your pick of almost any woman at the reception after that toast.”

“How heavy is your dress?” I asked her.

“I am not one of those women, in case you haven’t noticed.”

I stuck out my tongue playfully. “No, I’m going to dip you. Let’s wait until the beat is right. 1,2,3, now!” I lowered her gently while sliding my hand down her back to cradle her waistline before popping her back into place.

“Let’s see Aaron do that!” I proclaimed.

“He’s no dancer, that’s for certain,” Vanessa agreed. “Let’s see you do what he does and balance the state budget in 10 hours while finding a windfall.”

“Uncle,” I declared.

Just then I felt a tap on my shoulder. We turned around to find Samantha.

“Mind if I steal him away for a dance of my own?” she asked.

“Ladies, ladies – I am not going to come between two women unless it means a tickle fight and I get the television rights.”

“Oh god,” Vanessa exclaimed, “Take him. I don’t think I can pump up his ego any more than it already is.”

“I’ll have to make due,” Samantha replied, leading me away.

“You’ve just pissed off several women, I’ll have you know,” I told her.

“Yeah? How many?”

“At least two. Maybe three.”

“I can take ‘em.”
_________________________________________________________________

The knock on the door came far too early, during those fleeting moments when the body knows it will soon be roused and yet manages somehow to get its best sleep. Those moments when REM cycles flash at a feverish pitch and the mind concocts visions both real and make-believe. It was early enough that it was still dark outside, but presumably late enough for someone to be knocking on the door to my room.

“Mmmph,” I mumbled in some gobbelty-gook.

“Go back to bed, I’ll get it.” She slipped out from under the covers and put on my tuxedo shirt and jacket before making for the door.

“Good morning guys.”

“Uh, hey, good morning Samantha.” It was Ken. “Is Reed in there?”

“Yes he is, but he’s still asleep. Do you boys mind if he calls you in a couple of hours?”

“Umm…okay, sure.”

“I’ll tell him you stopped by.” She closed the door and came back in, depositing the jacket and shirt on the nearby chair.

She sat down on my side of the bed and ran her hand across my chest. “I’m going to take a shower. Want to join me?” she coyly asked. With that she walked towards the bathroom and I watched her bare ass sway back and forth as she left the room. I got out of bed and walked over to the table where I had set my cuff links and watch the night before. There was a voicemail on my phone. Upon checking it I found out it was Stacy, who I'd met at the party in the Hollywood Hills a few nights earlier. She was calling to say she hoped we could get together sometime during the week, maybe for a small bite or a drink on the Promenade.

“Reed, you coming?” asked Samantha from the bathroom. I could hear the shower heads pulsating.

I listened to the message a second time before erasing it and running off to join Samantha. Best Man duties – it’s not all as bad as it’s cracked up to be.