Page 193 of Bridesmaid for Hire
Beep.
“Oh fuck, she texted you back.” I shoot off the couch and run around in a circle. “She texted back. Oh fuck.” I pick up a throw pillow and hand it to Gary before taking a seat back on the couch, reaching for Patricia’s phone.
She smacks my hand away and says, “Pull it together or I’m not reading this text to you.”
“You’re right. Sorry.” I take a deep breath. “Go ahead, I’m calm.”
She eyes me for a few seconds before she unlocks her phone and flashes the text to me.
Maggie:Vacation was great. Thanks.
“That’s it?” I ask. “That’s all she’s going to say? What about…oh I don’t know, the man she slept with multiple times a night for—”
“What is private parts?” Gary shouts. “Come on, man.”
“I’m sorry.” I drape my arm over my head. “But…that’s all? It was great? I would have at least thought she would have said…orgasmic.”
“Leave,” Gary says, pointing to his front door.
But I don’t leave. I just melt onto the floor where I fucking pout for the rest of the night.
THREE DAYS LATER…
“I don’t think I’m cut out to do this dog walker thing,” I say as I take a seat on the couch next to Gary and Patricia.
“You did it for one day,” Gary says, his irritation growing. I noticed it this morning when I told him we were out of yogurt and that I would add it to our grocery list.
“One day was enough for me. The dogs didn’t like me. I was not the alpha in the pack.”
“Probably because you’re a sad sack of a man,” Patricia says. “I mean look at you, Brody. You’re wearing Gary’s cotton shorts and tube socks. You haven’t shaved in God knows how long, your hair is a disaster and, not in a good way, and you wore a freaking fanny pack today. A fanny pack. Do you really think that you’re going to win Maggie back by wearing a fanny pack? You’ve immersed yourself into full-on Gary mode.”
“Hey,” Gary says as he straightens out one of his tube socks. “I take offense to that.”
“Sweetie.” Patricia gently holds Gary’s shoulder. “Gary mode is perfect for you because that’s who you are, it’s what makes you so lovable. But on Brody, the one who, no offense, is supposed to be the cool, stylish, put together one between the two of you, it does not look good. He has hit rock bottom, and I’m not going to sit here and enable him any longer.” Patricia looks me in the eyes. “It’s time that you leave and go back to your apartment.”
“I can’t,” I say.
“Um, you can, actually. It’s easy—you just get up and leave.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I haven’t…I haven’t figured out how to fix things, and I need to fix things. I need to make it better.”
“And how does being here help you fix things?” Patricia asks.
“Because you’re my in with Maggie. If I stay here, there’s a chance. If I leave here…my chances diminish.”
“Dear God,” Patricia says, turning to her husband. “Gary, I love you and I’m so glad you have a best friend like Brody, but for the love of God, get rid of him. I don’t care what you have to do, just get rid of him.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Gary asks. “Call Maggie and tell her that Brody is pathetically living with us?”
“Not a bad idea,” I say, perking up. “But instead of saying that I’m living with you, just, you know, mention that I stopped by and apologized for hurting her. See what she says.”
Gary shakes his head. “I’m not—”
“He’ll do it,” Patricia says as she picks up Gary’s phone and hands it to him. “He’ll make the call.”
“Babe, she’ll know.”
“Fine, who cares, let her know. I don’t care. Just bring me peace. I want peace. I can’t have two Garys in this house.” In a deeper, scarier voice, Patricia says, “Bring me peace.”
