Viva La Bachelorette!
VIVA LA BACHELORETTE!
RACHEL
As September folds into October, the oppressive heat suddenly breaks, the nights are cooler, the days become pleasant again, and the critters that want to kill you start to retreat into their hibernation zones. It would be my favorite time in Scottsdale if it didn’t signal the start of wedding season.
And here I was.
Without my plus one.
I had been the one to put a stop to our arrangement. It had been my dumb idea to go over to Cam’s house and create these new rules, and I had chafed against them from the moment the words left my mouth. Yet, for some reason, the radio silence rule had proved easy for us both to follow. We had not talked or texted since I left his house the day after Roman’s almost wedding.
Every day I missed him more, but I had no way of knowing if he felt the same. Although, my personal spy network, comprised of Laura and Foster, had informed me Cam had been extra mopey when they’d seen him.
When I mentioned the new rules to Sarah, Emily, and Laura at our final bridesmaid dress fitting, Laura flapped her hands and almost injured the seamstress who was pinning her.
“I can’t,” she said, waving her hands excitedly. “I can’t with these details!”
The seamstress, who was pinning under Laura’s arm, narrowly missed being swatted.
“You two are the definition of destiny. Seriously, this is like in movies where people agree to meet on a bridge, except the bridge is our rehearsal dinner,” Laura continued.
“Stop her before she has a full meltdown,” Sarah said with her arms outstretched.
“It’s too late,” Emily said, stepping down from the platform in front of all the mirrors. “She’s too far gone. Although, this does sound like an amazing story, Rachel.”
“Unless Cam finds someone else,” I added.
“Impossible,” Laura said, turning around. “He loves you. I know it.”
“He just needs to say it,” Emily added.
“I agree,” Sarah said. I hadn’t spent much time with Sarah up until these last few months, but Laura, Emily, and I had caught her up during our pre-wedding meet-ups.
I took a moment to admire all of us as we shifted around the dressing room area getting the finishing touches on all of our dresses. Laura’s dress was beautiful—a timeless strapless V-neck that ruched at her waist with a pleated side split and a layer of fabric that created a train off the back. For us, one-shoulder crepe dresses in dusty blue. We snapped a picture together before relinquishing our gowns for their final adjustments. We then flowed out into the parking lot, giddy to have checked another item off the bridal list and excited for what I thought was the best part of being a bridesmaid.
The bachelorette party.
Since Emily and I planned this glorious event, there would be tons of amazing food, incredible drinks, and a hell of a lot of dancing. My first rule of the night was that all cellphones needed to be turned off so the girls would not be tempted to text their significant others. Emily was in charge of taking photos since she assured us she could be away from Matt for a few hours.
“He’s the one that texts me nonstop when he goes out,” Emily said as we drove to our first destination.
“I think it’s sweet that he does that,” I said, pouring us all a glass of champagne. “Cheers to us having a wonderful night, and cheers to Matt, who rented us this car and driver to chauffeur us around.”
We clinked raised glasses and took a sip.
Laura held up her glass for another toast. “And cheers to my best babes. May we rock this evening without a fashion disaster and wake up hangover free!”
I laughed. “Yeah, I better start dissolving Tylenol in your drinks right now.”
“You know, I should try that,” Laura said.
“Pretty sure that would kill you,” Sarah replied.
“Let’s keep pills out of the evening,” Emily said, pulling out her phone. “And let’s take a before picture so I can document the after .”
We posed for a selfie and continued enjoying the rest of our bubbly.
The evening started with dinner at Mastro’s Ocean Club. Amazing seafood towers, quirky, but classy drinks, waiters in white coats, and the feeling that Frank Sinatra’s ghost probably hung out there. Usually, I would have been pounding cocktails in the spirit of the evening, but secretly, my heart felt heavy.
As I laughed and reminisced with my friends, the realization that they all had someone to go home to hit me hard. I sobered a little at the thought and slowed my roll. If I drank too much, I knew there would be no stopping me from wanting to pound on Cam’s door in the middle of the night. I couldn’t even look at the men who were drawn to us in our cute dresses and sashes that said Rowdy Bride and Bridesmaids.
None of them were Cam.
At Laura’s insistence, I perked up a little when we arrived at Toca Madera. This place spoke to all five senses. The décor was dark and moody, the drinks were out of this world. A few men tried to squeeze into our booth, but Emily shoed them away as the server brought us flights of mezcal shots. I gave some of mine to Laura and Sarah. Emily, the lightweight of the group, was taking it slow as well. When I noticed who was moving toward our table, I wished I hadn’t given so many shots away.
Sarah was about to start a bride Q&A game when Andrew Wentz appeared with about the last person I expected to be wrapped around his arm. They froze in front of our booth, and we all exchanged heated glances.
Then all hell broke loose.
Everything happened so fast.
I heard her yell, “You bitch!” and before I could reply, water was cascading down my face. Laura and Sarah both lunged out of their seats. Sarah answered by splashing a drink right in the face of my attacker. Screams, shouts, and pushing ensued. Emily got up to join Laura and Sarah after other patrons came to assist with the scuffle. All I could do was sit in shock with water dripping down my front. I snapped out of my trance when a server who had seen the entire thing came over with a towel and asked if I was okay.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
It was the greatest thing I’d ever seen.
Laura, Emily, and Sarah strolled back into the bar to a chorus of claps and cheers. Grinning at the attention, Laura threw her arms wide and called out, “Excuse us, we had to take out the trash!”
Sarah slid in next to me. “Rache? Are you okay? Who the hell was that?”
“Yeah,” Laura asked, flipping her hair as she sat back down. “Who was that crazy bitch?”
“That,” I could barely get the words out, “was Britt Matthews, Cam’s ex.”
“Wait,” Laura finally said. “That blond dumpster fire with who was here with your ex, Andrew, was Cam’s ex?”
A laugh burst out of my body. I couldn’t stop it. I buried my head in my hands.
“She’s lost it,” Sarah said, now also laughing.
“Are you laughing or crying?” Emily asked, patting me on the back.
“A little of both,” I squeaked.
Emily and Laura also started cackling, and we eventually toasted with another shot.
This one I downed.
“You took that like a champ,” Emily said.
“Honestly, this is the best possible scenario. I’m praying they stay together forever, which will mean that no one else will ever be subjected to their hideousness. Britt can come back here and throw a bucket of water in my face. It doesn’t matter. I still stopped her from marrying Roman. I still won!”
There was only one thing that dampened the situation, and it was the fact that I couldn’t text Cam about it.
Or could I?
This was important enough to break the rules, right? The second I pulled out my phone, a now drunk Laura admonished me, ordering me to put it away. It dawned on me then that I had so far been the one to set up the rules with Cam, and then would be the first to break them. I dropped the phone back in my bag and didn’t look at it again for the rest of the night.
After dancing for a solid hour at a different club, the car dropped us off one by one at our houses. We watched Sarah stumble up her driveway first, and Emily, who had sobered up during the dancing, was eager to get home to Matt after swatting men away like flies all evening.
Foster stood outside waiting when we arrived in their driveway. I had texted him once Laura had passed out on my shoulder during the ride around town.
“Looks like she had fun,” Foster said, opening the door. He tipped the driver and thanked him.
“Too bad she might not remember any of it,” I mentioned, sliding out of the car to let him in.
Foster laughed as he scooped Laura up in his arms while I carried her shoes, sash, and purse. “This might be you tomorrow night. Laura said your bachelor party is then.”
Foster shifted Laura in his arms as I helped him open the door. “Yeah.”
I couldn’t stop the flow of images of Cam that poured into my mind. I bit my lip, thinking of Hot Baker out partying and all the women who would be clawing at him for the entire evening. “So, are you going to a strip club or bar or...?”
I followed Foster as he carried Laura to their bed.
“Eww, no,” he said, laying her down gently. “Zach was the only one who wanted to go to a strip club. He was overruled, so we’re just playing poker at Cam’s.”
Oh, thank God .
A quiet night in. Hearing that put the perfect cap on my night.