Chapter 17
17
Bert was lounging on a low brick wall outside the warehouse, smoking a questionable substance with Austin Winship. When they saw Cara approaching, they giggled in unison, threw down the butts and stamped them flat. Austin drifted down the cobblestoned walkway toward River Street, where yet another party beckoned.
“Heeyyyy, Cara,” Bert said, in a singsongy voice. “Is the reception over already?”
“It is for me,” she told him. “Do you want a lift back to your place?”
Bert looked off toward the river, where they could hear faint strains of loud rock music, and laughter, but Austin had already disappeared.
“I guess,” he said.
She left the van’s windows down for the short ride back to Bert’s apartment on St. Julian Street, which was only a few blocks away from her own place.
“I saw you talking to your favorite person,” Bert said, giving her a sly sideways look.
“Jack Finnerty? He’s not so bad.”
“Certainly not bad-looking,” he said. “Kind of a coincidence that he’d show up at two weddings you were working, two weeks in a row, don’t you think?”
“He knows a lot of people,” Cara said. “He went to school with Laurie-Beth’s brother. And he knows Payton’s brother too.”
“Interesting,” Bert said. “What were you two chatting about?”
“Nothing, really. Our dogs. He thinks his dog is depressed.”
Bert giggled. “Maybe his dog needs some puppy uppers.”
She rolled her eyes in the dark.
“So. Is he married? Seeing somebody?”
“Not married. Had a bad breakup with his girlfriend a few months ago. And before you start, Bert, I am not interested.”
He feigned a look of innocence. “I’m not saying a word.”
“You were thinking it,” Cara said. “I could hear you loud and clear.”
“Would it hurt you to have a life after Leo? To start seeing a nice, good-looking guy, who also happens to have a dog?”
“Yes,” Cara said crisply. “It would. Now let’s drop it, shall we?”
He waved his hands wearily. “Whatever. You’re the boss.”
She pulled the van alongside the curb outside his apartment. Bert got out and walked unsteadily over to the driver’s-side window and leaned in.
He lightly touched her shoulder. “Don’t be mad at me, okay?”
“I’m not mad. But you’re wasted. Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“I am not wasted. A little buzzed maybe, but definitely not wasted. So, I just want to tell you one more thing. And it’s going to make you mad at me, but I’m telling you anyway. The guy was watching you. All night. But not in a creepy way. I saw him looking around, during the ceremony, and when he finally spotted you, he got this dippy smile on his face.”
“You’re imagining things,” she told him. “Go to bed, okay?”
“Oh-kay. But remember, you heard it here first.”
She was a block away from Bert’s apartment, humming along to the radio, when she realized, much to her chagrin, that she had a big dippy smile on her own face.