Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
The Big Night
Brad squatted down in front of the fiction A-R section.
How could one whole row of bookshelves be completely devoted to Game of Thrones?
Sure, they were popular, but somehow George R.R.
Martin had done the unthinkable and transcended all the literary rules by getting everyone to read the series.
At least there was a demand for the books, which meant people must still be reading, not just waiting for the next season of the shows.
He snuck a copy of the first book and started reading the jacket blurb. Warring families, jealous monarchs, a hint of the supernatural—he got the appeal.
Reading the GOT blurb got him thinking about the first novel he’d sold.
The special display of his series was still up front, an embarrassingly life-size cardboard cutout of him beside the three novels in stacks, as many of them as there were of GOT, though he knew that was only because he was a local celebrity.
He dreamed of the day his books gained the worldwide readership of Martin’s, but he was more than happy with the response to them so far.
In the early drafting phases, his first book had been a fairly benign, some might argue boring, story. Brad stalled in finding a wrench to throw at his characters, anything he could toss in to keep them from getting what they wanted.
Then, bam! His sister’d caught Chris and Julia in a lip-lock, and his story—once a simple, crime-slash-romance—became a dark, twisted tale of revenge and heartbreak.
It was all of a sudden too easy to keep his characters from getting what they wanted, and he’d silently thanked Julia for her unknown contribution to his career, even though her likeness in the book hadn’t fared all too well.
He’d written the heroine as a manipulative, cheating woman named Jewel.
Jewel Thief was sold as a whole series to his publisher, along with the movie rights to at least the first three books, with the option to add the last three if Brad wanted.
Who knew heartache was the ultimate muse?
Peeking inside the cover of GOT, he wondered if Martin had the same problem straddling real life with the worlds he built on the page.
Just as he was opening up the first book to chapter one, he heard a deep, booming voice behind him.
“You’re not seriously reading on the job, are you?” Steve asked.
Brad turned around, smiling, even though he’d been caught. “Please. Why else would I work here, if not for those perks?” Brad joked.
“Yeah, sorry, buddy. I think that’s more something a bartender would say when he pours himself a shot at the end of the night.” Steve pointed to the book he’d just returned to the shelf. “You are full-on nerding out.”
“Don’t I know it. The thirties are nothing if not thrills, huh?”
“I know you’re joking, but I’ve still got some tricks up my sleeve. I’m going out with a twenty-one-year-old sorority chick tonight, I tell you that?”
“You didn’t. And tip for tonight? I don’t think they like being called ‘chicks.’”
“Probably not. So, anyway, why the emergency call?”
“Let’s head outside, and I’ll fill you in. You bring Joe’s?”
Steve held up a greasy white paper bag that Brad was shocked he’d missed, if for no other reason than the delectable aroma that wafted his direction.
Grilled onions, garlic, layered flank steak, and provolone emanated from the bag, causing Brad to temporarily forget about the reason he’d asked Steve to drop by.
“He says hi and that he wants your picture hanging on the wall of the shop so people know he’s friends with the famous author.
Maybe you could get him one of those fancy fake-Brads like you got up front there, holding a sign that says, ‘Joe’s a sellout.
’” Steve gestured to the cutout of Brad up front.
Brad laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Come to think of it, maybe I should do the same thing at the shop. It’ll go over like roses with the ladies.”
“Not a chance, bud. Plus, you seem to be doing fine with the ladies.”
“True,” Steve said. “So, what’s up?”
“Mind if we eat, then I’ll fill you in?”
“Not at all. I’m not gonna hear a word you say until I put this cheesesteak behind me anyway. I’ll follow you.”
Brad led them outside to a heated patio in the courtyard at the front of the library.
It was chillier now at lunch than it was at eight a.m. when Brad had arrived at work.
He didn’t care, though, because it was the sunlight he missed the most. He turned his face towards the sun, not caring about the rush of cold air that swirled around him.
Steve handed over Brad’s sandwich, and they wasted no time tearing them open.
The men dug into the food, both of them wiping the dripping oil from satisfied smiles when they were done. Not a stray pepper or sliver of steak was left on the paper.
“So, shoot, buddy. What’s going on?”
“Julia’s getting married.”
“Yeah, I know. I already drank you through that therapy session last month. So?”
“So, she invited me to the wedding. ‘They’ invited me.”
“You’re kidding me. She seriously had the balls to do that?”
“That was my exact thought.”
“I mean, you’re not actually thinking about going, are you?” Steve asked.
“I dunno. Maybe. I mean, they’ve both been my best friends for twenty years.”
“Yeah, best friends who slept together behind your back. While you were dating one of them for what six, seven years?”
“Eight as adults, fifteen informally, but who’s counting?”
“Right. And now less than a year after you caught their cheating asses, they invite you to their wedding? Besides, I thought she never wanted to get married.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want to marry me,” Brad admitted, his chin down, his eyes focused on something distant.
“Whatever, man. You’re good to be rid of that brand of crazy. I hate to tell you, but I never really liked her.”
“What? How come you never said anything?” This was news to Brad, even if it was just a friend being nice and picking a side.
Everyone except his sister loved Julia. He understood why.
On the surface, she was small-town royalty—blond, perky, said hello to everyone she met, and remembered not just their names, but their kids’ and husbands’ and dead grandmas’, too.
She was every bit the local politician. Turns out she was just as shallow as one, too.
“Yeah, ’cause that would have gone over well.
I dunno. I just always thought she felt like she was too good for you.
Something about the way she always looked like she’d rather be somewhere else when you brought her out with your friends.
Besides, she didn’t stop by once when Paige was sick, and that’s bullshit. ”
“She wasn’t very grateful that way, was she?”
Brad considered that. He’d spent so long trying to make her happy, he’d never stopped to think about whether he was happy.
Hindsight was 20/20, but part of him wished he’d had his eyes open more during their relationship.
Maybe he would have seen what a bad fit they were a long time ago and saved himself the embarrassment of infidelity.
“That’s beside the point. She’s Chris’s problem now. What’re you gonna do about the invitation?”
“Besides burn it in effigy?”
“Yeah, besides that. Are you gonna go?”
“I was kinda hoping you could talk me through that. I tried the pros and cons, but they came up pretty even. I need your unbiased perspective.”
“You mean my infinite wisdom? I’m happy to share. Whaddaya got?”
Brad took a deep breath. What did he have?
It’s not like it was a high school reunion where he might run into an ex-girlfriend.
This was the first love of his life’s wedding, barely a year after they broke up, on the day they had deemed their anniversary.
Going would set the record straight about how he was doing.
He was sick of the questions, no matter how well meaning they were, so he’d faked being late for a deadline the past three weeks, something he wouldn’t have to fake soon enough if he didn’t get back to the last novel and send his agent the manuscript.
He was how he was, and no amount of needling was going to change it.
On the other hand, his mom was of the opinion he’d treated Julia unfairly in print, and Brad couldn’t hide behind the “Jewel’s just a fictitious character” defense with her.
She knew every gory detail of his and Julia’s split, except the “why” of course; that was information his mom said she didn’t need, despite it being the reason for everything.
She’d once asked Brad how he thought Julia would feel to see her whole life’s mistakes written for the world to read.
Truthfully, he hadn’t cared—only those in his small town knew about Julia and could make the connection between her and Jewel. He only felt moderately guilty that his and Julia’s destruction had led to his fame and fortune. Moderately.
Oh well, she’d get over it. They both would.
“What do I got? Well, not much, truth be told. I know it might lend to some closure, seal the relationship in the past for me. Maybe help me move on.”
“You don’t think the wedding will do that whether or not you’re there for it?”
“See, this is why I need you. But actually, no, I don’t. I think seeing her happy with him is what I need more than just knowing she’s hitched, you know?”
Steve nodded. “I get it, man, I do, but there’s one thing you haven’t told me that might change whether I even let you consider going to this wedding.”
“What’s that?”
“Is there an open bar?”
Brad gave a throaty, deep laugh that echoed off the courtyard walls and broke the thaw inside him for the first time that day.
“There is. Why, you wanna go as my date?” Brad chided his friend.
“That’s not a bad idea, but we’ll come back to that. No, I mean the open bar might be the deal breaker. You and Julia and Chris and booze? Not a good mix.”