Page 136 of Shades of Grey & Gold

“Fuck it,” he says it with an exaggerated sigh and reaches behind the bar.

He grabs two short glasses with one hand and a bottle with clear liquor with the other and sets a glass in front of me. He pours the tequila into both glasses and hands one to me.

He raises it in my direction and shoots it back.

“Let’s go finish this shit, Maxie.”

My chest feels like it might just cave in, but I feel a small smile touch my lips before it falls again. I take the shot and walk back with him to the table while the bride and groom share their first dance.

Click.

I hold it together for two more hours.

Through dinner and through the first dance and through speeches that last way too long.

I hold it together long enough for Nico to allow the waiter to bring me champagne while also forcing water into my system.

Click.

I hold it together enough to almost listen to the stories these strangers at our table are telling.

Click.

It’s dark outside but the pretty lights strung across the reception area cast an ethereal glow on all the guests.

A woman I don’t know across the table has just started telling us a riveting story about getting robbed while walking the streets of Rome last summer. She recounts that the man held her at gunpoint and took all her rings, purse, and her Chanel sunglasses.

“Then what did he do?” Nico leans forward, taking a sip of the whiskey he has been nursing all night since our tequila shots.

“What do you mean?” The woman laughs like Nico is being funny.

“What did he do after he made you give him your sh—stuff?” He catches the curse before it comes out.

“He ran off, of course.” She shakes her head and looks distraught at recalling the loss of her things.

“Well, that’s a lame ending,” Nico mumbles out the side of his mouth just for me. “Didn’t pistol whip her or anything.”

I choke on air and the laugh that comes out of my throat startles both Nico and me.

I slap my palm over my mouth and Nico smiles—the first one of the night. And if I had a few more tequila shots, I might be able to pretendhe was his brother.

Click.

“I think that’s a wrap.”

Nico announces it like he’s the director on set, telling the actors they can leave for the night. He claps his hands once, stands and, with all the fanfare, throws his hand out to me and helps me up.

He twirls me once, catching me with both hands and dipping me.

Click.

I stand and he salutes the table. “Thanks for the story, Susan, lucky you didn’t run into me in that alley in Rome. Definitely don’t come to the east side of Providence anytime soon. Night, fellas.”

If I bite my bottom lip any harder to hold the laughter in, I might draw blood.

He ushers me up the path and we pass the table with an ornate guest book laid out. Nico pauses, grabs a white pen and scrawls something quickly. I don’t see what he writes but the lights are still glowing and the man with champagne walks past us towards the tables again. I lift my hand and he stops.

“Nope,” Nico says to the man, before reaching in his pocket to grab three one-hundred-dollar bills out of his gold money clip. “For you, though. Because fuck man, these people suck.”