Modern day, real life. And he’s still got my back.
“Uh… Well. I know all the suppliers too, Rhys,” I explain to him, the tapping of a keyboard audible from his side.
“I don’t mean to—”
“Done!” he says with a tone of triumph. “Just tell me where you need it, and it’ll be there within the hour.”
Not even pretending to fuck around now.
Mission accomplished.
I give him the location of the site automatically. Like coordinates on a map which he registers with a low grunt. Already making things happen from his end.
“Now… About the pre-rehearsal,” he reminds me, chuckling as if it’s priority one over several tons of foundation we need to pour within the next few hours.
“Alright, buddy,” I sigh. Shaking my head.
I’ll be damned.
Rhys Conner does it again.
The Marines lost one of their best to injury but the world gained a true hero.
And I got to keep my best friend.
Ya got me. I’ll scratch your back now. Fair’s fair.
“You don’t need the suit or anything, it’s just a run-through of the ceremony. Meet n’ greet with the padre. That kinda thing. Real casual,” Rhys tells me, in a low tone.
Starting to sound more like he’s outlining a black ops mission instead of a wedding ‘pre-rehearsal’.
It’s just the way he describes semi-serious stuff sometimes. Yet it still makes me laugh.
“Oh! Almost forgot,” he adds quickly, sounding like he’s suddenly pressed for time. I check my own watch out of habit.
“Clara’s daughter will be there as a bridesmaid and Clara’s friend, Denise, is the maid of honor.”
I feel my eyebrows furrow.
“Just tell me where and when, Rhys,” I clip, realizing I have more than a foundation to pour before my day’s done.
“It’s tonight. Seven o’clock, remember? Did you even read my text and emails?” he chuckles.
My face knots a little harder.
My memory these days. It’s not as good as it used to be. One boom or bang too many over the years, I guess.
“Just don’t go mouthing off is all,” Rhys cautions me, knowing I’ll be there, come hell or high-water.
“Me? Mouth off?” I ask, feigning offense, but taking it as a compliment.
“Clara’s kid, Piper. You remember her? She’s still being fitted for her dress, so just don’t go saying anything about her being the only one all dressed up.
Piper?
The name rings a bell.
I haven’t seen Clara for years, only kept tight with Rhys.
I think I remember her daughter now. A kid the last time I saw her.
“She's the one who—” I begin to ask, but Rhys butts in, talking over me quickly.
“Yeah, yeah. She’s the one who puked on you on the rollercoaster that one time. Glad we sat in front of you two.” Rhys reflects with another dry laugh.
“I’ll see you at seven,” I clip, knowing we both have plenty of other things to do beforehand.
“And don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance from Pukey Piper,” I add.
Not realizing for a second just how one simple thing, something as strange as a ‘pre-rehearsal’ for my best buddy’s wedding could change my life forever.
SEVEN FIFTEEN P.M.
A Marine is never late.
Late, or even early. Both can mean you’re dead when you have orders and timing is a factor.
Seven-fifteen means seven-fifteen. On the mark.
But today it seems everything is in my way, holding me up or back from getting to Rhys’s pre-rehearsal on time.
I call and text him on the way, but I get no reply.
Sorry, buddy. I’m on my way.
I prepare myself for ‘the look’, maybe even a few words of disappointment from him. I have to suck it up though and just do my best once I get inside.
Finally finding a parking spot after circling the block a half dozen times.
It’s in a local church, quiet inside the foyer until my already agitated, big body pushes the doors open way too hard, making the whole place echo like I’ve just detonated a grenade.
Bannon ‘The Cannon’ has arrived.
There’s Rhys, spinning on his heel at the sudden noise. Always ready for anything.
Clara cranes her neck and scowls at me. Her friend giving me daggers too.
The priest makes a clicking sound and breathes out heavily through his nose. Eyes looking over the rims of his glasses, instantly vexed by my entrance.
All of this echoes through the church like a giant speaker.
But the only thing I can really focus on?
The one thing in the whole building, this whole day that has my attention, is the incredible blonde standing next to Clara.
From behind she’s…well… let’s just say she has the kind of hips and ass that a man my size could truly appreciate, given half a chance.
Her natural golden blond hair is up in a ponytail, and she’s in a fancy dress.
Like a wedding dress, but no train or whatever they call it.
All that shit that drags behind it.
She takes her time to turn, giving me some time to do some more of my own reconnaissance of her curves and smooth skin.