6. Bryson
6
Bryson
Embry was unlike anyone I’d ever met in my entire life. He fully owned and freely broadcast every emotion, with zero fucks to give about what anyone thought of him.
He was incredibly enthusiastic, too. He treated a walk through the airport like a trip to Disneyland, absolutely delighting over something as mundane as a moving walkway.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t mundane at all. Maybe I was just jaded.
Once we were in the plane and it began taxiing down the runway, I was sure he was going to have a complete meltdown. He gripped my hand and yelled something about land animals, and I started wondering what I’d do if he broke free of his seatbelt and ran for the nearest exit. At least he was little, so I was fairly confident I could tackle him before he wrenched the door open.
But then the plane lifted off, and it was like flipping a switch from panicked to elated. He laughed and shouted, totally oblivious to the fact that the people around us were staring. After that, he twisted around so he could look out the window and narrated absolutely everything he saw for the entire flight.
It should have been annoying, but instead his enthusiasm made me smile. It was refreshing, and a welcome change from what the rest of my life was like.
I was so serious, all the time. Had I always been this way?
I wasn’t sure. I barely remembered who I used to be, before the last four years brought me to my knees.
When we landed in Las Vegas, Embry was surprised by how different the small airport was, compared to SFO. After collecting our luggage, we fetched our rental car. I’d gone with a bright yellow convertible, because I assumed Embry would enjoy that. His shriek of delight told me I’d made the right call.
I decided to stop at the “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign, because I figured my travel companions would want a photo op. I had no intention of getting in any of the shots, but Vee told me, “You have to be in the pictures! They’ll help build credibility for your fake marriage.”
He was right, it was a good idea, but it turned out to be challenging—not for Embry, who was his usual happy, smiling self. But when I tried to pose with him, I was as stiff as a mannequin. I started off standing rigidly beside him, and when Vee suggested some physical contact, I awkwardly draped my arm around Embry’s shoulders.
Vee lowered his phone with a frown. “This really isn’t working. How soon are you taking Embry to meet your grandfather?”
“They’ll meet at my family’s Christmas retreat, which is in about two weeks.”
“You’ve got a lot of work to do,” Vee muttered. “Absolutely no one is going to believe you two are a couple if this is what you’re bringing to the table.”
“You just need a little time to warm up to me,” Embry said, as he took several paces backwards. “I also think, instead of posing, we should take some action shots.” I had no idea what he meant by that. He stopped some distance away from me and asked, “Have you ever seen the movie Dirty Dancing?”
“Yeah, a long time ago.”
A smile spread across his face. “Can you guess what scene we’re about to recreate?”
He started running at me in a flat-out sprint as I shouted, “Wait!”
He didn’t slow down though, and when he reached me I did my best to grab him by the waist and hoist him into the air. For maybe two glorious seconds, we actually pulled it off. I held him over my head, he stuck his arms out, and both of us burst out laughing in giddy disbelief.
A moment later, I lost my balance and tipped over backwards, landing on the ground with an, “Oof,” as Embry crashed down on top of me.
He pushed himself up so we were face to face and exclaimed, “We actually did it!” Vee leaned in and snapped a photo, and Embry asked him, “Did you get a picture of our Dirty Dancing moment?”
Vee tapped the screen and turned it to face us. He’d captured an absolutely incredible shot of Embry and me at the pinnacle of that lift, laughing and triumphant with the Las Vegas sign directly behind us. I told him, “Great job! That shot is amazing.”
“I knew an action shot was the way to go,” Embry said, as he climbed off me.
Next up, I drove us down the Strip on our way to the Clark County Marriage License Bureau. Predictably, Embry was mesmerized by the huge hotel-casinos, and I was glad to see his reaction to the one I’d selected. “Look how cool that one is,” he gushed. “I can’t believe they have a full-size Eiffel Tower!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was actually half-scale, compared to the original.
Our destination was considerably less interesting. When we reached the county offices, we took a number, did some paperwork, and eventually left with a marriage license. On our way back to the car, I asked Embry, “Which themed wedding venue did you end up choosing?”
“I’m still working on that, but I’ll have something put together by tomorrow night.” He glanced at me and asked, “What do you want to do with the rest of today?”
“I figured you and your friends would want some time to hang out, maybe at the hotel’s pool or casino. But I’d like to meet up later for dinner, if that’s okay.”
“What will you be doing until then?”
“I brought a book. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
His friends were lounging in the back seat, doing something on their phones when we reached the yellow convertible. They both glanced at us as Embry turned to me and frowned a little. “So, even though you’re in Las Vegas, your plan for this afternoon is to hide in your room?”
He seemed disappointed, but I didn’t know why. I thought he’d be thrilled to get to go have fun with his friends, without me tagging along.
“Well, yes.” His frown deepened, but he let it drop.
I drove us back to the Strip, and when I pulled up to the valet parking station at Paris Las Vegas, Embry asked, “Is this where we’re staying?”
I nodded. “Is it okay?”
“It’s amazing.”
As the staff took care of our car and luggage, I held one of the doors for Embry, and he stepped through it and murmured, “Oh, wow.”
The casino began a few feet from the entrance, beneath a ceiling painted to look like a blue sky with fluffy clouds. It was fairly crowded, and the clusters of slot machines beeped, jingled, and played little tunes to attract attention, blending into a cacophony of sound.
The reception area was a bit calmer, even though it opened onto the casino. It was meant to resemble Versailles with its elaborate gold trim, framed artwork, and large chandeliers, though the row of modern self check-in kiosks tended to shatter the illusion.
Embry was enchanted, though. He followed me while Vee and Hal wandered into the casino, and he murmured, “It’s so fancy.”
After I checked us in, I handed Embry three key cards and showed him the room numbers. “My room is right down the hall from yours. If you need anything, either come by or call my cell phone.”
“You’re not going upstairs already, are you?”
He looked hopeful, so I said, “I don’t have to. Want to look around a little?”
“Yes, please.”
We started to make our way around the edge of the casino. Embry came to a stop when he spotted the roulette tables, and I asked, “Would you like to play?”
“I already am. Red.” The ball spinning around the wheel closest to us landed on red, and he smiled at me. “I won.”
“I’ll get you some chips if you want to play for real.”
“No, thanks.” The ball was set in motion again, and he whispered, “Red.” When it landed on red a second time, he clapped his hands delightedly and started walking. “I like that game. It’s just like in the movies.”
A few minutes later, Vee and Hal caught up to us. Each of them held two colorful frozen drinks in plastic containers shaped like the Eiffel Tower. Counting the straws jutting from the top, they were easily two feet tall.
Vee asked us, “Which one do you want? There’s Blue Raspberry, Margarita, Pina Colada, or Strawberry Daiquiri.” I didn’t understand what a “Blue Raspberry” could possibly be. It wasn’t the name of a cocktail, or a thing that occurred in nature.
Embry selected the bright red daiquiri, and I asked for the margarita, which turned out to be the neon green one. Then I asked, “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s our treat,” Vee said. “Least we could do after you brought us all the way to Vegas.”
“Vee and I want to hit the slots.” Hal gestured to the right with a tip of his head. “You two should join us.”
“Actually, I think we’re going to keep exploring. Good luck, though. I hope you win a lot of money. Oh, and here are your plastic key thingies, in case you can’t find us later.”
Embry handed over the key cards and recited the room number before our two groups went off in opposite directions. I took a cautious sip from my giant cup when Embry asked what I thought of the drink, and I told him it reminded me of a faintly boozy convenience store slushie. He nodded at that and said, “I think that’s what they were going for.”
After a while, we came across a shop that was meant to resemble a Parisian boulangerie. Embry gasped and ran over to the pastry case, and when I joined him he gushed, “Look at all the pretty colors! I wish I knew how to make macarons. I’ve tried, but they never turn out right.”
“I’ll show you how to make them when we get home. There are a couple of tricks to it, but once you get the technique down, they’re actually pretty simple.” I selected a rectangular box of macarons in a rainbow of colors and handed the cashier some money.
Embry turned to me with wide eyes. “You know how to make those? For real?”
“Sure. I had to take several pastry courses when I was in culinary school, and this is one of the first things we were taught. I always thought they were fun to make.”
When I handed him the box, he looked surprised. “For me?” I nodded, and he said, “Thank you, Bryson.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Would it be okay if we ate these now? I’m really hungry.”
“Of course, but didn’t you have lunch before we left San Francisco?”
“No. I was too nervous to eat before our flight.”
“Let me buy you a meal.” We’d passed at least five restaurants on our walk around the edge of the casino.
“This is all I want for now.”
We took a seat at a table outside the bakery, under a fake tree with teardrop lights on it that were meant to resemble rain. Embry raised the lid on the box and frowned. “I hate to mess up the rainbow, but I also really want a cookie. I guess I’ll eat the green one, since that’s my least favorite color.” He carefully split the cookie down the middle and gave me half. I tried to tell him he should have all of it, but he insisted. Then he took a tiny bite and murmured, “It’s delicious. I thought it’d be lime, but it’s not. Do you know what flavor it is?”
I ate my half and told him, “It’s pistachio. That’s actually the flavor I always bought myself at my neighborhood bakery when I was living in Paris.”
“Oh, wow. How long did you live there?”
“For seven months, right after culinary school. I got to train in two fantastic restaurants.”
“Do you speak French?”
“I’m a little rusty, but yeah. I studied it in school, and I also learned a bit from my French relatives. We stayed with them a few times when I was growing up.”
He murmured, “Paris must be incredible,” and ate another morsel of the cookie.
“Have you thought about visiting?”
I was surprised by the wistfulness in his voice. “No, because it’s something I know I can’t have. When I told you I’ve always been broke, I meant it. Even though seeing Paris would be a dream come true, it’s always been way out of my reach.”
He met my gaze and added, “I’m not complaining, though. I believe in focusing on all the good things in my life, instead of feeling sad about what I don’t have.”
“Maybe you can take a trip with some of the money you’ll get at the end of this.”
“As tempting as that is, and as amazing as it would be to see Paris, I need to be smart with that money. If I use it to launch the business I told you about and manage to make it a success, it’ll be a way to take care of myself for years to come.”
I almost told him I’d take him when I got my inheritance, but I stopped myself. What if we blew it and didn’t get the money? Or what if he hated me by the end of this? It would be awful to make a promise I couldn’t keep.
Once he finished his cookie, he broke the yellow one in half and shared it with me as he said, “Tell me about Paris. What were your favorite things about it?”
I told him a few stories while we sipped our huge drinks and finished off the cookies. I was afraid he’d find them dull, but he seemed fascinated.
After a while, a loud, boisterous bachelorette party paused nearby, while one of the women took off her stiletto heels and stuck them under her arm. It was early afternoon, but they were already pretty drunk.
Embry called, “Congratulations, beautiful bride! We’re getting married, too!”
The women whooped and cheered. Then a brunette in a red dress teetered over to our table and slurred, “Here, sweetie, you need this.” With that, she popped a tiara on Embry’s head and handed him her sports bottle, which was shaped like a huge, pink cock.
Embry exclaimed, “Yay! Thank you,” and raised a toast to them with the dick as they continued on their way.
“Maybe don’t drink whatever that is,” I advised.
He shook it and told me, “It’s empty.”
“Good.”
He gestured in the direction the women had gone. “That’s what we’re supposed to be doing tonight, having a… stag party? Is that what it’s called when the groom goes out and parties before he gets married?”
“That’s one name for it.”
“What’s a stag?”
“A male deer.”
“Are male deers known for partying?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“So, that makes zero sense.”
“Agreed.”
“Anyway, that’s what you’re supposed to do the night before a wedding,” he said, as he climbed off his stool. “So, let’s go find a bar.” I got up too and started to toss out my margarita, but he exclaimed, “You can’t throw that out!”
“But I’m done with it.”
“I’m done with mine too, but we have to keep the glasses.”
“Do we?”
“Yes. They’re souvenirs.”
It was easier not to argue. We moved to the nearest bar, which was pretty quiet at this hour, and Embry lined up both Eiffel Towers and the pink dick on the table as I asked, “What would you like?”
“Something fun.”
I didn’t see any waiters, so I went over to the bartender and asked him to make me the biggest, most touristy drink on the menu, along with a whiskey sour. When I returned to the table and placed Embry’s drink in front of him, his eyes lit up. Whatever I’d ordered was bright blue, in a huge fishbowl of a glass, and adorned with tropical fruit.
He hoisted it with both hands and clinked it against my much duller drink before taking a big sip. I asked, “How is it?”
“So good. Thank you.”
“You should call your friends, if you want to make this a proper bachelor party.”
“I’ll text them later. I’m having fun hanging out with you.” He took another sip and asked me, “What did you imagine your wedding would be like when you were younger?”
“I never wanted to get married.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged and swirled the brown liquid in my glass. “After watching my parents’ marriage fail spectacularly, I decided it wasn’t for me.”
“What went wrong?”
“I wish I knew. They met in college and got married a year later, and in pictures from those early years, they looked so happy. When I asked my dad, all he said was that they grew apart, which isn’t much of an explanation.” I tossed back the last of my drink and added, “My brother Fallon’s marriage seems to be going the same way.”
“I didn’t know you have a brother. Is he younger or older?”
“Younger, by two years.”
“Are you close?”
“No. He went to live with our mom when our parents split, and I guess he let her anger color his opinion of me. I think I mentioned she never forgave me for choosing to live with my dad, instead of with her.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Last Christmas. Our great uncle owns a vineyard in Sonoma County, and we all gather there every year. That’s where you’ll meet my grandfather and the rest of my family for the first time.”
Embry smiled at me. “I’m looking forward to it.”
I was struck with a strong, sudden urge to protect him. He was such a sweet person, and I already knew my brother was going to treat him like shit. It was one thing to treat me that way, but it absolutely wasn’t okay for Fallon to take his perpetual bad mood out on Embry.
Since I felt myself getting angry before anything even happened, I changed the subject with, “Same question. How did you imagine your wedding when you were younger?”
“I always thought it’d be pretty unlikely that I’d find someone who’d actually want to marry me,” he said. “But on the off chance I did, all I ever wanted was a simple ceremony. I’ve never understood why people turn their weddings into these huge, flashy events. What more do you need besides your future husband and a few close friends in a beautiful setting?”
I meant it when I said, “I hope your next wedding is everything you want.”
A few minutes later, Vee texted us to find out where we were. After we replied with our location, he and Hal showed up with five big, burly guys in tow. They stopped off at the bar for a trayful of shots, and when they joined us Vee was grinning from ear-to-ear. “We made some new friends. They’re part of an all-gay rugby team. How great is that?” He gestured at us and told his companions, “Boys, meet Embry and Bryson. They’re getting married tomorrow.”
A huge, red-haired guy with freckles raised a glass and exclaimed, “Awesome, a bachelor party! Let’s get wasted!”
Someone stuck a shot in my hand, and I muttered, “Why the hell not?”