A Friend of the Bride's

It was over.

* * * * *

I don't know how long I laid there thinking about Amy, but it bothered me that even the ecstatic feelings I'd felt for Carlotta that morning did little to bring me out of my funk. There was no way I should be thinking about Amy, knowing that Carlotta was the girl for me. She was, wasn't she?

At last I looked at the alarm clock and shot to my feet. The rehearsal dinner was in twenty minutes! I hurried to the bathroom and took a quick shower, again turning up the heat as high as I could stand, trying to put the events of the day into perspective. As the hot water seared my flesh, I began to come to grips with what had happened over the course of the last few hours.

The passion that Amy and I had unleashed on each other had been very real and devastatingly powerful, but what I had felt seeing Carlotta for the first time was impossible to ignore.

I'd had two separate revelations about how I could feel for a woman in the same day. If I'd had to choose between them I might have been in real trouble, but since Amy was out of my reach, the choice was already made. I'd have to find a way to begin a more conventional relationship with Carlotta.

I was long over any queasiness over her injuries and was desperate to tell her how I felt about her. I just had to find a way to tell her that I loved and accepted her as she was. I didn't see her disfigurement as an obstacle, but Carlotta was obviously letting herself be ruled by it more than she should. With a little bit of care and understanding, maybe I could break through to her.

By the time I stepped from the shower, my attitude was looking up. I was going to make this work.

Stepping up to the sink, I pondered how I might best introduce myself to Carlotta tonight. Should I just pretend I didn't know she had been here? Or maybe I should approach her as if I knew her. After all, I hadknown her in the biblical sense.

No, I'd best act as if I didn't know she'd been here. I had promised Amy to keep the secret and I would never,ever break a promise to her.

As I pondered the options, I fumbled my comb and it fell to the floor. As Murphy's Law dictated that it must, it clattered back behind the toilet, next to the floral design trashcan. With a resigned groan, I got down on my knees and felt around back there. I didn't immediately find my comb. What I found instead was an empty single-use ampoule of personal lubricant. What the... Well, maybe it was from a previous occupant I told myself hopefully. It could have been hidden back there for a long time. I ran my finger over the snapped off spout. It was still moist.

The severity of Carlotta's crash became more real to me, but I was more determined than ever to make her mine.

* * * * *

I was one of the last people to arrive at the hotel's restaurant. The before-dinner soirée was ending and people were already starting to sit down at the tables. Unfortunately, Carlotta's table was already full. Argh! I was too late again. How was I ever going to talk to the girl?

I snagged a seat with the five groomsmen. At least my seat faced Carlotta's table.

"Hey Timbo," Steve said with a big, friendly grin on his lean face. "I thought having a headache was the excuse to use toavoid doing the wild thing!" The rest of the guys laughed good-naturedly. After the kind of stuff that had gone on at the bachelor party, I had indeed been expecting to catch some flack about my lame excuse for skipping golf.

"Wait just one second here," I said in mock indignation, "I never left my room."

"Yeah, and Carlotta never made it to hers," laughed the best man, Bruce, Clint's older brother.

"Huh?" I said with a straight face, doing my best to not give the game away.

"Yeah, we heard she had a headache right after the rehearsal and was going up to her room while the rest of the girls went out shopping together. Amy's mom went to check on her later and no one answered the door."

My defense of Carlotta – guessing that she had been asleep and hadn't heard the knocking – fell on deaf ears. It just got worse from there. Their accusations got a bit raucous and I saw Carlotta look over. I'm sure she had gotten the gist of what the guys were saying because the un-scarred portion of her face was blushing a deep red. She was so beautiful to me that my heart nearly stopped. I gave her a quick smile, but she dropped her eyes and turned away.

"Guys," I said, pretending to badly conceal mock laughter, "I swear on my grandmother's grave that I haven't seen Carlotta since the rehearsal." I was being technically honest here. "As a matter of fact, I've never even spoken to her."

Bruce slapped me on the back. "Okay, Tim, we believe you," he said to the guys with a stage wink. "Lord knowswe'd never do anything naughty with another member of the wedding party!" They all laughed.

The rest of the meal went like that, with ribald accusations and suggestions flying across the table in all directions. I gave as good as I got. By the time we got done, each of us had been romantically linked to at least three of the five bridesmaids.

At last the dessert dishes had been whisked away and the wait staff was busily serving up coffee. The meal was almost over and I was starting to get desperate. I just had to find a way to talk to Carlotta. The way things had been going, I might not get a chance at the wedding or reception.

Just then I heard the tinkling of a spoon on a champagne glass and Clint and Amy dutifully kissed for maybe the tenth time since the meal began, still much to the crowd's approval. Then the maid of honor got to her feet and raised her glass.

"I know that the toasts are supposed to be said at the reception, and I've got a nice long gooshy one planned..." The crowd groaned. With a dramatic pout and a dismissive wave, she went on.

"I'm going to keep this one short, though." Everyone cheered. She faced the bride and groom.

"One behalf of thefemale side of the wedding party," she said, with a quick heads-up glance over toward best man Bruce, "I'd just like to say how much we all love you both and how we think you're just perfect together."

"Hear, hear!" the crowd erupted to the clinking of glasses. The maid of honor looked expectantly over at our table, but Bruce was three sheets to the wind by now. I could tell he wasn't in shape to even attempt a toast. Steve and the other guys all had deer-in-the-headlights looks on their faces, so I got to my feet to hold up the male end of this thing.

I almost staggered a bit myself and realized that I'd had a lot more to drink than I'd remembered. Oh well, too late now. I soldiered on.

"Amy and Clint," I said, holding up my glass, grateful that the drink hadn't noticeably slurred my speech, "I'm sure that I speak for all of themen here when I wish you both all of the best things this world can give a couple who are so obviously very much in love."

I lied like a dog, but Amy kept her game face on. She evidently wasn't going to show any of her doubts in public.

"Hear, hear," the chorus went up. While the glasses were clinking, a revelation burst into my head. I suddenly knew how I could get to Carlotta! I glanced over at her. She was giving me an approving look for my modest speech. Her gentle smile (and probably the copious amounts of alcohol) gave the courage to carry on. I would have to break a promise, but our future together was on the line.

I held my glass up again, and the crowd quieted down.

"I hope you'll indulge me, but I have something to say on a more personal note." Their expressions said they'd be happy to.

"Before last night I'd only met a few of you, but you all have made me feel so welcome that I can honestly say I can't imagine a young couple having a better, more supportive bunch of family and friends."

There were a lot of smiles at that. Okay, I was really going to do this. The next time Carlotta and I made love it was going to be face to face, just the two of us.

"I would like to especially thank one particularly beautiful young woman who I met under the most unusual of circumstances this afternoon." The guys at my table tittered, but I ignored them.

I turned to Carlotta's table. Unaccountably, she looked puzzled. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Amy's eyes were huge. She was desperately motioning for me to stop, but this was my big chance and I wouldn't be denied. A personal declaration of my acceptance of her might be just the thing Carlotta needed.

"So here's to you and I hope I get to know you alot better in the future, Squeaky," I said, using the nickname that Amy had used for her in the hotel room.

I was expecting Carlotta to blush again, but instead her hand came up and covered her mouth in shock. Until that moment, I hadn't noticed the two gold rings – one with a large diamond – on her left hand.

Married? But the way she had looked at me the first time she saw me, how could she be married? This didn't make any sense. Suddenly dead sober, my mind raced through the events of the morning from this new perspective. Finally, and devastatingly, the reality of the situation made it's way through my thick skull.

The disappointment of seeing how good Amy and Clint looked together and the realization that I could never be the kind of man that he appeared to be had put me into a funk. I had been way too receptive to the possibility of another woman taking Amy's place in my heart.

My own lust and desire for Carlotta had blinded me to the patently obvious – her look and gasp while walking up the isle hadn't been 'The Thunderbolt' – it was star-worship, plain and simple. From experience, I knew the expression well. She had recognized my face and reacted in a perfectly normal way to the lust she had seen on it. My obsessive personality had gotten the best of me again. My heart was ripped in two as I realized that there was nothing here for me

As bad as this was, it suddenly got infinitely worse. I realized that there were soft murmurs of shock coming from all corners of the room and as one, all heads turned to the figure sitting next to Carlotta. It occurred to me that I might have been the only one in the room who didn't know the figure as 'Squeaky'.

I could feel my face burn and I suddenly wished the earth would open up and swallow me. My shame was matched only by my revulsion. With all eyes on her, the old crone leered at me with a lecherous smile and a sly wink.

* * * * *

I laid awake most of the night, cursing my idiocy. How could I have been so wrong about what was going on between Carlotta and I? When I analyzed my feelings for Carlotta now, I still felt an unreasonably strong physical attraction, but the feelings of love and desire were fading fast. 'The Thunderbolt' had been a flash-in-the-pan.

I couldn't even begin to be upset with Amy for my embarrassment. She had been telling the truth the whole time. From her friend seeing me for the first time at the rehearsal, to the loss of her one-time beauty, to the inability to get pregnant, even the need for the lubricant – it all fit her great-aunt like a glove.

I debated whether or not I should even show my face at the wedding. True, even among the people who had been at the dinner, few would guess what the whole exchange had been about, but that was little comfort. It would be so easy to slip away and not have to deal with this whole mess.

Eventually though, my work ethic kicked in. I had promised to sing at the wedding and the show must go on. One thing was for sure though; I didn't want to spend even one more minute in this podunk town than absolutely necessary tomorrow. With the resources available to me, I knew of a couple of things I could do to help on that score. I'd be making some phone calls first thing in the morning.

* * * * *

Amy and Clint's wedding day dawned as perfect as a fairy tale. A cool breeze was blowing in from the gulf, providing welcome relief from the heat. The sky was an unbroken blue and the church was festooned with glorious finery.

The pews were filled to overflowing with family and friends. Everyone seemed to be in festive spirits, all except for the dour Secret Service agents accompanying Clint's great-uncle, on vacation from Massachusetts and his duties in the US Senate. I was relatively sure that there would be no smiles among those Ray-Ban'd gentlemen today.

Amy was getting her perfect white wedding; Clint would be getting her cherry tonight.

Carlotta didn't meet my eyes as she came up the isle with Steve. I felt so horrible about how I had embarrassed her yesterday; I could barely look her way as she took up her position on the chancel. At least she probably had no idea of the mischief I had suspected her of.

Then, when Clint lifted his bride's veil,she wouldn't look my way either; she only had eyes for him. Even when I sang her song, Amy never glanced away from Clint. I sat down when I finished and the service continued. At last, the pastor got to the part that probably struck fear into Amy's heart.

"Does anyone here have any reason why Clint and Amy should not be wed? Speak now, or forever hold your peace." He paused.

At last, Amy's eyes met mine. The pastor had spoken the lines as a mere formality of course, but the look Amy gave me told me just how much she feared I might make it something more. After last night's incident, I couldn't blame her. She had admitted that she'd loved me once and there was no telling what I might do now.

Not to worry though – I'd had my fill of public humiliation. I was going to slip away and get out of town as quickly as I could.

The opportunity for objections passed without incident and the pastor went on with the ceremony. Then they got to the part where they would exchange rings. Bruce fished Amy's ring out of his breast pocket with a flourish and Clint slipped it on her finger smoothly.

Amy had more trouble with his ring though. Whether the ring had been sized improperly or Clint's fingers had swollen up since then, the ring just refused to go on his finger. She gamely kept after it fruitlessly for ten or fifteen seconds until finally there were some chuckles from out in the pews. This evidently spurred Clint into action and he reached in with his other hand and shoved it home. The rings now safely placed, they turned back toward the pastor.

Amy had a blush on her face, but Clint's expression was something quite different. The pastor was looking down into his book and was starting to speak again, but then unaccountably, he came to an abrupt stop, turned and looked at me. For a moment I wondered why, then I realized it was because I was standing. How had that happened?

"Excuse me," I said, the words seemingly coming out of a mouth totally unconnected to my own, "I have just one question for the bride."

There were murmurs rippling through the congregation, but they were somewhat restrained. Perhaps they figured that this was somehow a poorly staged part of the wedding. Even the fellows with radios in their ears didn't appear overly concerned.

The pastor's eyes were huge, though. I'll bet this was the first time that anyone had ever interrupted one of his weddings. He couldn't have been any more surprised than I was, though.

I hadn't planned this in the least, but I was committed now. I walked closer and looked Amy right in the face. Some instinct told me just what I should say to her.

"Amy, do you love him? Look me right in the eye and tell me that you love him."

The microphone on the alter was live and the whole congregation listened in stunned silence.

Amy looked outraged and it was clear to me that she was going to profess her undying love for Clint, but then, unbelievably, she paused for just an instant. It wasn't for long, but she definitely did pause. Finally she gathered herself to speak, but Clint beat her to it.

"Howdare you! Of course she loves me, you little show biz pris," he murmured under his breath in justified outrage.

"Then let's hear her say it," I persisted, marveling at my uncanny ability to screw up on such a colossal scale.

"You love me, don't you, Hon," Clint said, looking at Amy. It wasn't quite a question; it was almost more of a demand. Even through my cloud of embarrassment, I didn't like that tone at all.

She was standing there with a stricken look on her face, not saying anything. Clint took her by the upper arm, gripping her tightly. I thought he was being more forceful than was warranted under the circumstances. I knew she had been about to say it, but the way he was treating her seemed to give her pause.

"Well Amy,tell him!"

Desperately, like an animal in a trap, she looked back and forth between Clint and I. Even with almost four hundred family and guests there, you could have heard a pin drop.

Clint's face was turning red with rage. This was an aspect of Clint that Amy either didn't know about or hadn't wanted to mention to me. He was obviously used to people immediately bending to his will, but his bride was being recalcitrant. I was completely taken by surprise though, when he spun her toward him and shook her.

"Damn it, Amy, you tell him!" he screamed at her. His voice echoed off of the stone walls. Her face contorted in pain from the strength of his grip. I could see that she was terrified by his reaction.

"Hey, you're hurting her," I said, stepping toward them and reaching for his arm.

Even then, the last thing I would have expected him to do was exactly what Clint did. He shoved Amy aside, letting go of her, then swung his fist at me. I was so surprised that I didn't have time to take any conscious action, but my childhood instincts kicked in for me. I had been beaten so many times by my mom's various boyfriends that I'd had to learn to duck blows at an early age. Clint's wild roundhouse was poorly aimed and I easily dropped under it.

Instinctively, I stepped forward and connected with a hard right hook to his jaw. His head snapped to the side and the look in his eyes went distant. It was a classic knockout blow and he went down in a heap. No one was more surprised than me. A lucky punch, I guess.

Now the agents went into action, smoothly jogging in from the sides and placing themselves between the Senator and the crazy singer in the tux. The crowd's shocked silence lasted for maybe another two or three seconds. Then a single piercing scream went up from somewhere in the back and the whole place erupted.

Amy was standing there over her groom in her eight thousand dollar wedding dress with a shocked look on her face. For better or worse, her storybook wedding was not going to end with 'and they all lived happily ever after'. I held my hand out to her.

"Come with me."

I was amazed by the sheer audacity of my words. The chances of her actually running away with me had to be about zero. After all, in the last eighteen hours I had broken a solemn promise to her, created a major scene at the rehearsal dinner and had just ruined her life-long dream of the perfect wedding. There was also the small matter of having decked her soon-to-be husband. It was more likely that she'd shoot me than leave with me.

Amy looked at me with an expression I couldn't begin to read. For a moment, I was sure that she was about to slap me, but then, unbelievably, she slid the rings off of her finger and handed them to the flabbergasted pastor. She grabbed my hand in a firm grip and looked at me with a steely glint in her eye.

"Let's go."

Hand in hand we ran for the side door, leaving complete pandemonium in our wake. I'm not certain, but I think there was the slightest trace of a smile on the face of the federal agent who held the door for us as we left the sanctuary. There wasn't any doubt, however, about the thumbs-up he flashed us.