"I've got you as my Maid of Honor. For bridesmaids I have Heather, Julie, Katie, Bridget... Jacks?"

Morgan scrunches her lips together and pulls at wayward hairs in her otherwise delicately shaped left eyebrow. On the sheet of paper in front of her are the names of our closest girlfriends. The process of wedding planning begins, apparently, with choosing bridesmaids. Or, more to the point, deciding which of your girlfriends would look best in tulle and taffeta in an ugly shade of sea foam green.

"Jackie might be an if," I say, reaching for the glass of water I've been sipping since I arrived at Morgan's. I still have a kicking headache from the previous night's celebration and a long day at work. I never want to see another shot again so long as I live. Or another week, at the very least. "She's gotten a little uhm... how do I say this gently?"

"Fat," quips Morgan.

I laugh, trying not to choke. "I was going to say she's obviously happy in her relationship. Obviously."

Jackie is still a newlywed, having only been married a few months. She met her souse chef husband on a dating website. She loves food so it was a match made in heaven. Soon after they met, it was "Matt this" and "Matt that" and "Matt asked me to marry him over the flame of bananas foster and I said yes and we're going to Vegas tomorrow." I'm sure she's packed on at least twenty pounds since meeting Matthew, which is odd because he's practically a stick. You know that saying, never trust a skinny chef? He's still on the Watch List, as far as I'm concerned.

"Yeah..." Morgan sighs, pushing the sheet of paper away. "I hate to be that bride, but do I want her in my wedding pictures?"

"Don't be that bride then. Do you want her in your wedding? That's the most important question. It's one day out of a lifetime."

Morgan shrugs. "I guess." And with that she picks up the pen and adds Jacqueline Ross-Cooper' to the list. Yes, hyphenated. Jackie is funny about her new name, a name she's only had for ten weeks, even though we all know her as Jackie Ross.

"Man, I hope you had stronger conviction when it came to picking your Maid of Honor." I swivel off of the stool I'm sitting on and hop down to the expensive ceramic tile floor that Morgan and Nick had installed a few years back. I aim for the refrigerator and pull open one side of the enormous stainless steel contraption to reveal a drink selection fit for a queen. "Let's see," I muse. "We've got some red stuff, some purple stuff... ooh! Sunny D, alright!"

Morgan giggles as I reach for the pitcher of lemonade and replenish my glass with it. I offer to fill hers and she slides her glass across the counter top to me. I grab it, refill it and replace the lemonade pitcher in the refrigerator.

Now perched atop my stool again, I broach the subject that is driving me out of my mind... has been since the night before. "What exactly are you and Nick hoping to accomplish by throwing JC and I together in this wedding thing?"

Morgan stares blankly at me and shrugs. "What do you mean? I thought we talked about this last night and you were on board. We want you guys to plan-"

"Yes, yes I know. Plan your destination wedding and add fun stuff that you and Nick are too uptight to think of. But... me and JC?" I shake my head. "You guys know this is a bad, bad thing, right? He and I-"

"Will do fine." Morgan smiles and pats my shoulder reassuringly. "I have faith that you two will be able to set aside this petty squabble you've been in-"

"Petty? I wouldn't call it-"

"-and work together to put on a really great experience for us and our friends-"

"-petty, I'd say justified, if we're talking about my point of view-"

"-and that's all we want... a memorable experience with no bickering and fighting and no being selfish and thinking of yourselves." Morgan interrupts, her usually sweet mousy voice loud and stern. "For once, it would be nice if the two of you would consider everyone else and how everyone else feels being in the middle of this shit.  Do us a favor and get along for a few minutes. You're our best friends. We want you to be a part of this and you owe us."

I bristle. We owe them? I owe them? For what? Putting up with JC for the last fifteen years? 

I sigh, realizing that she's right. I mean she's wrong, but she's right.  "Fine," I grudgingly agree, my arms crossed. "I just hope Nick is having this same ‘cant we all just get along' conversation with JC. I know you don't expect me to ignore him picking a fight over everything all the time."

"Of course Nick will talk to JC. Just... do your best." She perks up, claps her hands together and grins. "Now...let's talk dream wedding, shall we?"

**** 

For the second night in a row, I stumble through the front door of my apartment. This time I'm hauling an enormous bag of wedding swag that Morgan dumped on me before I left her house. Brochures, magazines, lists, books-my job was to sort through them all and figure out which resources would be the most help. I chuckle to myself, knowing full well I would dump this garbage heap in the corner of my office and log on to www.theknot.com. Morgan is a sweet, hopeful being but isn't the least bit tech savvy. She can just barely operate a mobile phone. It's a good thing she has Nick. And that he finds her adorable; always has.

I hear a faint chime coming from the bottom of my bag and groan as I dig for my phone.  Who would be calling at-I squint around the corner at the green numbers on the microwave installed above the stove-11:34PM?  I groan again, staring at the caller ID display. I don't even get one day of rest?

"What?" I say, picking up the line.

"What? That's how you greet the best wedding planner on the planet?"

"What do you want, JC? I'm about to head to bed."

"Liar. You just got home."

"Are - are you watching me?" My head whips around to check all of the windows in my eye line. The shades are drawn, as usual. I keep them closed to keep the sun from baking my apartment all day. "You fucking creep! Are you watching me?"

"No, psycho. I don't watch you. I don't care that much about you to watch you. I just left Nick and Morgan's and they said you left a few minutes before. Thought I would call you up and see if you got the lecture."

"What lecture?"

"Don't be dim. You know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah. I got it, so what? I take it you did, too."

"Yup." I hear the creak of a chair, as if he's leaned back and comfortable. "So, my friend... what are we going to do about it, is the question?"

"I don't suppose you're up to agreeing with whatever I propose and not arguing with everything I say?"

He laughs a hearty guffaw that hurts my ears as it comes through the receiver. "Not even close. I have good ideas. I know you know Morgan really well, but this wedding isn't going to be all sunshine and purple unicorns. The men get to have their part too-"

"And you're representing the men?" I snort. "Nick aims low. Okay, well great. You have opinions. So? They suck. Hawaii? Really, JC?"

"You know what, it was just an idea. At least I threw something out there instead of thinking about myself and whining about how you won't be able to go to the wedding and hit on every guy until one of them feels sorry enough to dance with you. Or fuck you."

I want to throw the phone against the wall at that last jab, but I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing he's pissed me off. Instead, I calmly say, "I'm not falling into this trap tonight."

"Aw I was just getting started." He pauses, chuckles in that... way... that I hate. All confident and knowing. He knows nothing. "We're just having some fun."

"You're having fun."

"That's right. And if you would unclench a little, you'd have fun too."

"We have different definitions of fun. For example, I like to sleep for fun. I have an early meeting with my client and-"

"Oh yeah, I forgot. We meet again, Miss Blake. Or is it Miz? What do you angry unmarried feminists call yourselves when you want men to respect you, but still want them to know you're available?"

"Counselor will do just fine, thanks."

"Counselor?! Hahaha!" His cackle makes the line sing, it's so loud. "That's a good one. You can call yourself Counselor when you finally beat me in a case. Until then, you're a lawyer. A low-rent, cheap ass lawyer working for a shitty firm. Honey, I am going to wipe the floor with you and your client on this one."

Before I can hang up on him, I hear a click and the line is dead.

And I am steaming. Infuriated!

My phone beeps a notification and a text message rolls down from the top of the screen. I'm almost afraid to look at it. 

Got so carried away I forgot to arrange a planning meeting. Me, you, Prime. Tomorrow, 8PM. Be there or I get to make all the decisions. 

I chuck the phone across the room with every bit of strength I have. It's a good thing it lands on the couch.

***

I have to chant calming phrases to myself as I park in my usual spot at Prime and gather myself to go inside. Calm, happy, I refuse to fight with him tonight phrases. I decide to give him an hour-we'll chat about initial ideas, make a to-do list and I can be home by ten o'clock. I have files to review and a brief to prepare before morning. He's already slapped us with a stack of motions an inch thick. For this reason alone, I don't want to look at him or be near him.

But I have to. For Morgan.

I heave a deep, loud breath and reach for the door handle. As soon as I turn my head, though, I scream.

JC's face is plastered up against my car window. 

"Oh my GOD!" I shove the door open, pushing him back against the car parked next to me and jump out of the driver's seat. "What are you, five years old?"

"Twelve," he answers, giggling. "Did I scare ya?"

"You scared the shit out of me, asshole!"

"Sorry," he says, still gigging and grinning, his smile wide, his teeth white, his eyes blue. I can't stand the guy but I have to admit he always did have a great smile.

"You're not sorry." I pout and slide the strap of my bag over my shoulder. "Are we ready? I don't have all night; I have work to do, as you well know."

"Yep."

JC falls into step beside me and follows me to the table we usually occupy when we come here.  It's our favorite, conveniently located far enough away from the bar and the kitchen that we don't get the noise or the hustle of traffic going through the restaurant, but close enough to the action so we're still a part of the scene. We've been coming to Prime since it opened ten years ago-the owner is one of our closest friends and of course we have to show loyalty.

I slide into a chair on one side of the table; JC sits in a chair opposite me after he removes his suit jacket and loosens what I can only assume is a silk tie. It's brightly colored and goes well with his attire.  His usually clean shaven face is darkened by a slight five o'clock shadow. His hair is perfect-not a strand out of place, gently cascading in waves and gentle curls from front to back. He clasps his hands and I notice that his nails are nicely clipped. Square. Shiny. He's the type to go to a spa for a manicure.

I'm not fooled by his suave demeanor, his sharp sense of style, his winning smile. I know what all those girls that just smiled at him as we walked through the bar don't know-this man is an enormous asshole.

"Let's get this over with," I say, pulling a clean notepad and a ball point pen out of my bag before setting it on the chair next to me. In neat penmanship, I write Nick & Morgan Del Ray Wedding across the top.

"What about dates? I talked with Morgan and she didn't have any preferences. How about Nick?"

I glance up at JC to find him not even listening-he's making eyes and faces at the same waitress from last night. Lucky girl, she might get that whole ‘have sex with him and then get treated like he doesn't know you' out of the way early. 

I clear my throat and tap my pen against the table. "JC?"

"Hunh," he grunts, but his eyes on the waitress across the room.

I snap my fingers in his face, grab his chin and turn his head toward me. "Hey. Horndog. Pay attention, here. Let's get this started so I can leave and you can pounce, okay?"

JC leans back in his seat, lounging, laying his arm across the top of the chair next to him. "Why the hurry? It's still early. Got a hot date?"

"Yeah, with some briefs that some asshole lawyer dumped on me today. Dates?"

"Can we get a drink first? Thirsty." He raises a hand and the waitress starts to make her way over to our table. I groan inwardly at the wide smile on her face.  "Yeah lemme get a vodka tonic and uh.... what do you want, Ev-" He pauses at my glare and rephrases.  "Angie. What would you like? My treat."

His treat? How generous. "I'll stick with water, thanks."

"Aw, come on. You can't sit in a bar and have water." He grins at the waitress. "Bring her a martini, something fruity or peachy or whatever. She needs to loosen up a little."

"I don't want a martini," I argue but my protests are futile. He shoos the waitress away and watches her ass as she walks back to the bar. "You're a pig. Can we do this please?"

"Sure, we can do this. We can do this all night." He winks at me and I want to hurl.

"Dates. Did Nick give you any ideas of when they'd like to do this getaway?"

"Nope. Said they didn't care. They trusted us to come up with dates that work."

"Then I think we're talking summer, maybe late summer? Bridget and Keith have kids in school."

They were our first set of friends to hook up and get married-everyone thought JC and I would be next. Oh, so wrong. They had two children one right after the other, and we hadn't actually seen them in awhile-after school sports and piano lessons and riding lessons and visits to Grandma and Grandpa in Jacksonville has taken up all their time. They seem happy, I guess. I mean, they look happy on Facebook.

"They'd never leave them for an extended weekend, which is what it sounds like Nick and Morgan want." From my bag I pull my phone and open the calendar app, forwarding the dates to the following year. "That gives us a good amount of time to plan, too."

"I don't need a lot of time. I don't need a lot of time to do anything."

I don't even look up at him when I say, "Yeah, I know all about that, I and I wouldn't brag about it if I were you."

I must have hit a nerve because JC sat up in his seat. "Oh, haha. I was fifteen."

"Yep. And you fucked like a fifteen year old. Hope your stamina has improved. Back to dates."

I flip through the months, back and forth from June to September.  "You know, the dates are all going to depend on where we choose to have this thing. If we pick summer it'll be hot as hell, or prime booking season and that's going to drive the cost up. Not that I'm worried about Dr. Nick's pockets but the less we spend on stupid stuff-"

"The more booze we can buy." JC finishes. Good point, though that wasn't exactly where I was going.

"I was going to say, the more we could spend on the more important elements. The Bach parties, the reception."

Our drinks appear before us and the place must be picking up because the waitress doesn't linger.

"So I have an idea," JC says, "About where. One of the partners at Perry hipped me to it." I grimace at the mention of Perry. "Just hear me out. Ever heard of St. Lucia? In the Caribbean?"

"Vaguely. Why?"

"It's just a nice place, I hear. One of the partners just got married at an all-inclusive resort out there. Booked a block of rooms, nice views of the beach. Lots of activities people can do like uh... snorkeling, rock climbing, water sports, bird watching. Plus they work with you to put together the ceremony and the after party."

"After party? Like it's a rock show?"

"Reception, whatever." JC rolls his eyes. "I can tell you want to argue with me, so go ahead." He lifts his glass to his lips and takes a few sips. I reach for the martini I didn't want but am so thankful for at the moment and do the same.

"It's not that I want to argue. I just think we should research a few places, get some information and prices and present them to Nick and Morgan and let them pick."

"I thought they put us in charge?"

"They did-"

"So then we get to pick where it's at. That's what that means." He sits his glass down and fixes his eyes on mine. For a long, long moment we just stare at each other. Until I become uncomfortable and drop my eyes to the table. JC chuckles and I curse myself. Does everything have to be a battle of wills with him?

"I'm not rejecting it right out. I think it's a good idea, but you know everything about it and I know nothing. Do you mind if I look it up myself?"

"Sure," he says, digging into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a brochure and sliding it across the table. "It's this place. Research your heart out."

I pick up the slick trifold and flip it open to what I have to admit is a beautiful panoramic photo of white sands, green mountains, blue water and an elegant resort hotel. My eyebrows seem to rise on their own as I run my eye down the package prices.

"A week's stay for three grand a couple?"

"Well, we'd have to book pretty quickly to get that price. That's their summer deal. Also the Del Rays would have to get married this year, since you have to use the deal before the new prices kick in next year. Maybe like... October."

I almost choke on my own breath. October? I was thinking we had a year to plan... not months. "JC it's June. And what if they don't want to get married that soon? And what if people can't get away in October? People have lives, you know."

"Then they won't go."

"Okay... okay. Back up. The point of us planning this is so we can coordinate with everyone so everyone can go and celebrate and have a good time. Right?"

"No. The point of us planning is so they don't have to. The main event is the wedding. The two people that matter are Nick and Morgan." He poked up two fingers and stuck them in my face. "That's it. They're going to get married whether or not everyone can make it. So we plan what's best for them and people can come... or not."

"That just seems so... harsh"

"That's why we're doing it and not them. Because they don't want to hurt feelings, they just want to get married. We plan it, tell them where to be and when to be there and they get to enjoy their destination wedding with no guilt."

JC is right. I'm great at planning-I've planned all of Morgan's birthday parties and cast parties and anniversary parties-so I'm a given. JC is the one person in our group that wouldn't give a shit about hurting someone's feelings. 

I glance through the brochure again, liking the destination more and more but not yet willing to admit it. "I think October is soon... but maybe we can make it work. I'll check it out and some other places and we can talk again. Okay?"

I add #1 to my list and write, Research St Lucia resort- dates, pricing.

"Whatever," JC says. "One other thing I wanted to bring up. I think the group should get them something. Like, all pitch in."

"Morgan said they're not registering. They have everything they need."

"Right, so we won't get any hints as to what we should get them. I just wanted to bring it up so you could maybe work Morgan and I'll work Nick and see what we come up with. Let everybody know so we can all be thinking about it. Write that down."

I start to do as he suggested, but stop myself, flip the page, rip a piece of paper off of the tablet and slide the pen across the table. "I'm not your secretary. Make yourself a list."

To my surprise, he picks up the pen and begins writing at the top of the page. #1: Call Angie - tell her to go fuck herself.  Pleased, he sits back and lets a laugh escape his lips.

"Cute," I say, slipping my note pad into my bag. "I trust you'll remember your task, then. I'm not going to be doing all the legwork here. We're both working on this, so you get a to-do list, too."

"Oh, I have a list."

I flick my wrist toward me and note, joyfully, by my watch that the hour I allotted to spend with JC is up. I push my chair back and stand, sliding the straps of the bag over my shoulder. "I have to go. I have a lot of work to do and you people have kept me out late all this week. I shouldn't be so happy to get home before ten o'clock."

"Cool," JC answers, stirring his watered down drink. "Hey, I think we should talk regularly though."

I shrug. "Well, you have my number. And I have yours. So we'll talk."

"Sure. Yeah." His eyes are already wandering the bar, no doubt looking for the waitress he was eyeing earlier. I roll my eyes and head toward the exit, out of the doors and in the direction of my car.

"Angie!" I hear. I stop and slowly turn toward JC's voice. He's wearing his jacket and jogging across the parking lot. "It's dark out here. I'll walk you to your car."

"I can see my car from here, JC. I'll be fine." I turn to keep walking, leaving JC standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

"That's probably why you'll never got married," I hear from a few steps behind me. "I was just trying to be nice. You wouldn't know a good man if he was standing right in front of you."

I want to ask him if he knows a good man but I decide not to take the bait.  I don't turn around; I keep walking toward my car. 

I expect him to keep shouting his arguments and summations at me but he doesn't. I don't hear the clicks of his shoes on pavement, so he's not behind me and he hasn't gone back inside. I get into my car, put the key in the ignition and turn it. My car sputters to life and as I drive away, I pass him standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, watching me leave.