Chapter Two
Daisy
The drinks arrive and alongside the five blue shots are five taller glasses with neon green drinks. A shade I feel should never be ingested. The rim of the glass is coated in green sugar, and it is decorated with slices of kiwi fruit and mint leaves.
“I don’t think it’s green enough,” I say dryly, which gets a round of laughter.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but it looks disgusting,” Harriet says, reaching for one of the drinks and taking a mouthful. “And yet it tastes fantastic.”
I pick up one of the glasses and take a wary sip, but Harriet is right. The drink tastes of lime and lemon with an under taste of mint. It might be a bit on the tart side, but the sugared rim counteracts that and makes it a damned good drink.
“Cheers,” I say and raise my glass. The others follow suit, and I take another sip, a bigger one this time, now that I know the drink doesn’t taste as poisonous as it looks.
The others try their drinks, and we all agree they are much nicer than they look. By unspoken agreement, we leave the shots until Rachel arrives, which isn’t much longer. She comes hurrying over to our table. She’s wearing jeans, red satin heels and a red lacy top, and she looks amazing as always. Her hair is down, and she’s straightened it. It looks good – sleek and shiny – but I prefer it natural, in the beautiful big afro style curls that look like an explosion around her face.
“Sorry, sorry,” she says in the way of a greeting, grabbing a stool and putting it at the end of the table. She could have squeezed in one of the sides with two of us, but this is probably more comfortable for us all.
Now that Rachel is here, and we’ve all done the small talk, Leah hands out the shots. We all clink our glasses together and down the small drink. It burns on the way down, but it’s a good burn and I savor it for a moment before I sip my normal drink.
“So, I know I said we all needed to catch up, and we do, but I do have an ulterior motive for asking you all here tonight,” Leah says. “Dean asked me to marry him. And I said yes.”
She excitedly thrusts her left hand into the center of the table and shows off her ring. I’m younger than her by two years, but I’m too shocked to react right now. I was so sure she was about to say she was free and single, but I couldn’t have been much further from the truth.
I realize I’m the only person not to have said anything and I can feel the eyes of the group on me, and I smile widely, hoping to hell it looks real. I take in the ring, which actually is lovely and doesn’t look cheap, something I would have worried about if I had known in advance Dean was going ring shopping.
“It’s beautiful Lee,” I say. “Congratulations.”
It is beautiful and it’s perfect for Leah. The band is platinum gold, and the main stone of the ring is a sapphire, Leah’s favorite gemstone. The sapphire is surrounded by a cluster of diamonds, yes, real diamonds, and I know the ring has cost Dean quite a bit.
Even though he got the ring right, I know I don’t sound as enthusiastic as the others, and the truth is, I’m probably not. I think Leah deserves better than Dean and everyone knows it. And I’m not one to fake a reaction and get all squealy over something I’m sure is going to end up with my best friend getting hurt. Besides if I had shrieked like the others, they all would have known it was fake. Leah could have been marrying a man I hand picked out as her soul mate and I could be the happiest person in the world for her, but the screaming girlie thing isn’t me at all. Instead of trying to be Excited Barbie, I do what I do best in these situations.
“I’ll get the next round of drinks,” I say.
I shuffle along the booth seat and squeeze past Rachel and head to the bar where I ask for a bottle of champagne. The bartender gives me three choices and I go for the middle one. It’s a couple of hundred dollars a bottle, but Leah is worth it and to be honest, I would have been more than happy to get the expensive one, but I don’t want to make any of the others feel bad if they can’t afford to do the same. I’m still not going to force her to drink the cheap one though. What kind of a best friend would do that?
While the bartender is filling the ice bucket, I sense someone moving up beside me at the bar and I turn my head to see Leah slipping into place next to me.
“Do you want some more shots or something?” I ask.
She smiles and shakes her head. “No. I wanted to talk to you,” she says. “Just us.”
I nod for her to go on and she does.
“I know you’re not Dean’s biggest fan,” she says. “But I love him, and I really need you to be happy for me Daze.”
“I am happy for you,” I say.
“Tell your face,” Leah jokes.
I snort out a laugh. “Seriously though, I’m happy if you’re happy. And it’s not that I dislike Dean as a person. I think he’s funny and kind and there’s no doubt he treats you well. But he lacks ambition, and you want to climb the career path. I’m afraid one day you’re going to end up at a point where he resents you for working long hours and you resent him for not doing enough. Basically, I’m worried you’re settling because Dean is a safe option.”
“I’m not settling. I promise you that. I love Dean and I don’t care if he owns a bar or if owns a whole chain of bars. It’s a job, that’s all. Dean isn’t particularly ambitious when it comes to work, but he has dreams and goals that make sense. Like retiring early and seeing the world. Like spending time with loved ones rather than slaving away at work all the time. That probably makes us opposites in some ways, but opposites attract, and I know he will never stand in my way if I want something. He supports me one hundred percent,” Leah says.
I force a smile that I hope looks real.
“Well, you obviously know him better than I do and if you say he’s for real, then that’s good enough for me,” I say.
“Good because your opinion matters to me the most,” Leah says.
I shake my head, but she nods hers.
“Of course it does. You’re my best friend,” she says.
The bartender filled the ice bucket, opened the bottle of champagne and set it inside the bucket. He plonks it down on the bar in front of me. I give him my card and he runs it through and hands it back.
“How many glasses?” he asks.
“One,” I say with a straight face.
The bartender tries his best not to react, but one eyebrow lets him down and I smile.
“Joking,” I say. He looks relieved and he lets out a small laugh. “Five please.”
“You think that’s bad, when we were at college if she ordered a bottle and they asked how many glasses, she would say just a straw,” Leah puts in.
“Yes, but I’m older and classier now,” I reply.
The bartender puts five glasses on the tray and makes sure I’m ok to carry it. I say I am, and I go to pick it up.
“Wait,” Leah says. “There was one more thing before we go back to the others. Will you be my maid of honor?”
“Of course, I will,” I say, and Leah flings her arms around me in an enthusiastic hug.
I’m glad I said I would do it. It doesn’t matter what I might think of Dean and the long-term prospects for this relationship. I have voiced my concern and Leah has reassured me all is ok, and even if I don’t think it’s necessarily the case, she’s my best friend and I will be there by her side whatever she wants to do, and I won’t risk falling out with her by keep telling her I don’t like Dean or don’t think she should marry him.
We go back to the table, me carrying the tray, which is a lot heavier than I anticipated it to be. I reach the booth and set the tray down on the table to a round of whoops and cheers.
“Somebody’s bringing out the big guns,” Harriet says when I lift the bottle from the bucket, and she sees the label. I shrug.
“My bestie is only going to get engaged once and we’re going to celebrate it in style,” I say.
Leah beams at me and I beam back, and I tell myself that wasn’t a lie. Her and Dean are in love, and they are going to stay that way and grow old together. Leah and I get back into our seats and we are all drinking champagne and chatting and laughing. We have toasted several times, and I’m starting to feel a bit tipsy – champagne always goes straight to my head. We finish the champagne and Rachel orders us another round of cocktails. They come quickly and they are fruity and delicious.
“How did Dean propose, Leah? Was it romantic?” Harriet asks.
“Well, it probably won’t sound much to anyone else, but to me, it was perfect,” she says and everyone except me says “aww”. I try to join in and end up sounding like a damned echo. “I was waiting for him to finish work, and when he got rid of the last few customers, I knew he would want to cash up the till and that kind of thing, so I picked a trash bag up and figured I’d make a start on collecting the trash. He tried to get me to stop but I didn’t and then he starts playing my favorite song ever …”
She pauses and looks at me and I grin.
“Bed of Roses by the ever-talented Bon Jovi,” I reply and Leah nods enthusiastically and then she goes on where she left off as there had been no pause.
“On the jukebox. He told me to come to him because he wanted to talk to me and when I did, he took my hands in his and started to twirl me around. We danced and when the song was nearly finished, I reminded him that wasn’t talking and he said, no, but this is. And then he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.”
Another round of “awws”, but this time, I’m quick enough to join in so that it doesn’t look like an afterthought. Again, Dean has nailed it. Leah has always said if anyone asked her to marry them, she would want a lowkey proposal, just the two of them. And that’s exactly what she got. I hope it’s because Dean knows her well, not because he couldn’t be bothered to do anything more special.