5. Vivienne
Vivienne
The Hendrix is full tonight, but despite the last minute, we managed to snag our favorite table near the back. I’m pretty sure Shep slipped the host several crisp bills to make it happen, which was probably unnecessary, since he owns this entire building.
Old black-and-white photographs from the twenties hang on the walls, illuminated by sconces that give off just enough light to make the place feel cozy and intimate while actually being rather loud.
Dark red velvet booths and tufted chairs encircle the round tables, candles flickering in the center of each one.
We settle into our usual seats, waving away the offer of menus.
Bash is the only one who hasn’t arrived yet, but my brother prefers to swoop in with the appetizers, always managing to grab several goat-cheese-stuffed dates from the platter that’s just being delivered as he sits down with the rest of us.
“How’s the wedding planning going?” Marlowe asks. She’s sitting between Shep and Cassian, wearing a champagne-colored slip dress and nursing a dirty martini. Her blonde waves hug her bare shoulders like a shroud.
“Good,” I say, setting my wine down on a napkin. “I had no idea how much went into it, though.”
As if on cue, my phone vibrates in my bag. I glance down at a text from my mother.
I made an appointment for you at Caroline Spencer's tomorrow at 2 for your fitting.
I stifle a sigh and slip the device back into my purse.
“Apparently, I’m going to a gown fitting tomorrow,” I say. The engagement party was less than two weeks ago, and Mum’s already reneging on her promise to let me handle the wedding.
“Want me to come along?” Marlowe asks.
“No, it’ll be fine.” I take another drink. The only thing worse than spending several hours with my mother in a dress shop would be spending them with my mother and Marlowe. The two of them do not get on, and I would be forced to play peacemaker and bride.
When I look up, Cassian’s eyes are on me, dark and unreadable. I glance away before memories of those lips begin haunting me.
Shep cracks his knuckles and nudges Marlowe with his elbow. “You just can’t stay away from a catfight, can you?”
“Watch it, Manalo. I know where you sleep,” she says.
He leans back in his chair and plucks at his cream-colored Henley. “It’s a great bed, isn’t it?”
Sighing dramatically, she picks up her cocktail. “It’s passable.”
“If you two are going to start discussing your sex lives, I might actually start drinking,” Sutton says beside me. I slide my wine over to her, but she dismisses it with her hand and reaches for her Perrier.
She finally recovered from her massive hangover from the engagement party, which only strengthened her resolve to stay away from alcohol—a relief for Marlowe and me, since we’re the ones who had to sit with her while she puked up her guts for three hours.
She’s done the same for us plenty of times, though, which is one of the greatest things about being roommates with your best friends.
“Just because your vagina looks like my granny’s attic doesn’t mean the rest of ours need to,” Marlowe says.
Cassian winces and lifts his tumbler to his lips, the rings on his hand gleaming in the light. “Some people have a thing for cobwebs.”
Scrunching up the dainty nose she paid thousands for, Marlowe wads her napkin and throws it at him. “That’s disgusting.”
As if a remnant of a long-forgotten habit, Cass’s eyes flick to mine again, and I catch the remaining dregs of his grin, but he quickly looks away. After all this time, the pinch in my chest is tiny, barely even noticeable.
“Speaking of cobwebs,” Marlowe says, turning to me. “Have you and Landon finally . . . ?” She gives me a suggestive look and takes a large sip of her martini.
I choke on my wine, quickly setting it back down before I spill it all over my dress. My cheeks burn. “That’s hardly appropriate conversation for the dinner table.”
She scoffs. “We’re all friends. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”
Except for the fact that you and Sutton have both slept with plenty of guys, including my brother, and I’ve slept with no one, including my fiancé.
“Is he good in bed?” Marlowe leans forward in anticipation of all the juicy details I wouldn’t be providing her with even if Landon and I were having sex.
Cass pushes away from the table, his face stormy. “I need to take a piss.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and heads toward the bathroom.
Marlowe continues staring me down. “I want all the details.”
“Well, you’re not getting them,” I say, lifting my glass to my lips.
“Oh my god,” she says, loud enough for several patrons to glance over at us. “You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?”
“Would you keep your voice down?” I hiss. “God.”
“Just because you exhibit sluttish behaviors, Mar, doesn’t mean everyone at this table needs to,” Sutton says, reaching over to pick a piece of lint off my silk blouse.
Marlowe rolls her eyes. “At least I get some. When’s the last time—”
“If you two don’t stop bickering, I’m going to tie you together.” Shep flicks his wrist to look at his watch. “Where the fuck is Bash?”
When Cass returns from the restroom, he takes his seat without looking at me. My face still feels warm, and I press my ice water to my cheek to cool it off.
“Here come our apps,” Sutton says as a server heads our way from the kitchen.
Shep glances over his shoulder toward the door. “Which means our pretty boy should be here any second.”
“How does he always find a way to arrive as soon as the food shows up?” Sutton grumbles, sinking back in her chair.
“The eighth wonder of the world,” I say.
“He’s your twin. Don’t you guys share a sixth sense or something?” She’s tearing her cocktail napkin into thin ribbons and letting them fall onto her lap, which is barely covered by the bright blue tennis skirt she’s wearing.
Scoffing, I rest my arms on the table. “Hardly.”
Our server sets the giant plate of bacon-wrapped dates in the center of the table. Before he’s even backed away, Cassian and Shep dive into them with the ferociousness of pit bulls.
“God, you’d think the two of you hadn’t eaten all year,” Sutton says. “Maybe leave a few for the rest of us?”
“Just getting our fair share before Bash shows up.” Shep shoves an entire date into his mouth.
“Well, I’m here now, and I heard that.” Bash claps his hands on Shep’s shoulders.
Shep’s mouth is too full to reply, so he reaches back to whack Bash on the arm.
Grinning, Bash drops a kiss onto Marlowe’s head before moving around to his chair.
As he does, the person standing behind him becomes visible.
I almost don’t recognize her. It’s those big brown eyes that finally make the pieces click into place: the server from the engagement party.
She’s wearing a dusty-pink sweater and a short plaid skirt, and her soft brown hair falls in loose curls around her face.
She’s stunning, and I’d love to say she’s not my brother’s type, but unfortunately, he doesn’t have a type.
Or rather, his type is simply female. The more besotted they are with him, the better, although I’ve seen him charm even the prickliest cactus into giving him her number.
“Everyone, meet Briar,” Bash says, extending his arm so he can pull her against him. “Briar, these dipshits are my friends.”
She smiles sweetly at each of us, giving Cassian a small wave. I glance at him in time to see him return the gesture. A weird pang travels through my chest.
With a flick of his hand, Bash has a server bring another chair, and we all scoot closer together to make room for one more. Briar takes the seat next to me.
“I’m Vivienne,” I say, giving her my most welcoming smile. “Bash’s sister.”
She lights up, and I swear the entire room gets a little brighter. “He’s told me so much about you. You’re twins, right?”
“Yes, but I got the better half of the deal, trust me.”
She gives Bash a teasing look as he sits down beside her. “I’d have to agree with you.”
He narrows his eyes at her. “What are you saying?”
“Extoling your virtues, what else?” she says.
His gaze flashes to me. “See why I like her?”
I shoot him a droll look as I take another drink. “You have always needed a cheerleading section. Remember when Nanny Phoe—”
“Yeah, yeah. No one wants to hear that story,” Bash says.
“Actually, I would love to.” Briar angles toward him.
“Trust me, you wouldn’t. It’s nothing but lies.” He brushes his hair from his face, and the three-inch scar running through his eyebrow becomes visible. “I could eat a horse.”
Leaning over, I whisper to Briar, “I’ll tell you later.”
She beams at me. “Looking forward to it.”
“Sorry, no horses on the menu tonight,” Cassian says, launching one of the cheese-filled dates at Bash. He opens his mouth to catch it, but it hits his chin and falls onto the table. “You’re off your game, mate.”
“Me? That was a shoddy throw. Do another.”
Cass picks one up, but Briar cuts in. “My turn.” She waves to indicate he should toss it to her instead.
We all watch as the date arcs through the air and Briar catches it deftly in her open mouth. The guys cheer, while Sutton and I give her a round of applause. Marlowe sips her martini with a faint smirk on her lips.
“I love your sweater, Briar,” she says when the noise dies down. “Is it from Versace?”
Briar glances down as if she’d forgotten what she’s wearing until now. “God, no. I thrifted this a few weeks ago.”
Marlowe looks as if she’s just swallowed lukewarm champagne.
“It’s lovely,” I say.
Briar smiles at me sweetly, then inclines her head to Bash when he leans over to whisper in her ear. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she tells him.
I suck air between my teeth. “Not sure I’d recommend that. His tastes tend to run a little—”
“Diverse,” Sutton cuts in. “He once ate casu marzu.”
Briar lifts her brows. “What’s that?”
Marlowe snorts. “Directly translated? Maggot cheese.”
Clapping a hand over her mouth, Briar gags and turns back to Bash. “Tell me she’s lying.”
He reaches for Shep’s rum and takes a swig. “She’s not. It was delicious. Very soft and creamy.”
“There is something very wrong with your head,” Sutton says.
“You let me kiss you.” Briar pretends to retch again.
“Oh honey, if you only knew the places that mouth has been,” Marlowe says.
Briar shoots Bash an accusatory look, but he simply grins and tucks her back under his arm.
She melts into him immediately, as if they’re two pieces of the same puzzle.
They look happy, and they’re certainly cute together.
I hate that Briar will probably be walking away from this with a broken heart.
“How did you two meet anyway?” Marlowe asks, using her teeth to slide an olive off her cocktail stick.
“Funny story,” Briar says, glancing at me. “We actually met at your engagement party.”
I do my best to look surprised. “You were there?” I can feel Cass’s eyes on me, but I keep my gaze on Briar.
She takes a sip of her Diet Coke. “I pick up the occasional catering job. That happened to be one of them.”
“What a crazy coincidence,” Marlowe says.
Bash shoots her a weird look. “Yeah. Pretty crazy.”
I get the sense someone just walked over my grave, and I don’t even believe in that kind of thing. Whatever is going on here is going to have some nasty repercussions one of these days.