Page 7 of Shopping for a CEO's Fiancee
“Wait a minute,” Shannon says, taking the phone from her mother and making the picture bigger. “Hold on. That’s not Jessica Coffin.”
“It looks just like her,” Marie protests.
“But look. She has huge feet. And she’s taller than Andrew.”
I’m 6’ 3.”
“Even in heels, Jessica isn’t taller than me,” I note.
“And does Jessica have a shoulder tattoo?” Shannon asks, pointing.
“No,” I respond quickly.
Amanda frowns. “You know an awful lot about Jessica Coffin’s body.”
Declan shifts uncomfortably.
I give him a look that says, Don’t say a word.
My oldest brother, Terry appears. We might as well recreate the reception at this point. Jason stands and moves another table over to our crowd and I notice the big, white to-go cup in Terry’s hand.
Grind It Fresh!
Traitor.
“Amazing coffee, Dec! You’ve got a winner on your hands.” Coming from Terry’s deep voice, it sounds like an announcer at a sporting event.
He turns to me and says, “You were hilarious last night, Andrew. How late did you party with the drag queens?” Terry’s wearing a tie-dye shirt, shorts, and Birkenstocks. It’s like he’s trying to piss off Dad just by being.
“Drag queens? I kissed a drag queen?”
“You kissed about eight of them.”
“Maybe that explains your orange face?” Shannon asks. “Makeup?”
“No, we know the source of the orange,” Amanda mutters, then whispers in Shannon’s ear.
Shannon reels back. “Not drag queen makeup. Got it.” She stares intently at my mouth, then says to Amanda, “But wouldn’t it hurt, putting them inside you?”
Amanda pales.
“This video has gone viral by now, right?”
“Not this exact video, but—”
My phone buzzes.
It’s Dad.
“Oh, hell.” I ignore it.
“He’ll just have security track you down,” Declan chides.
I go cold.
“So what?” I jut my chin up in defiance. I am five years old. Damn it. Dec makes me feel like the helpless little brother, mercilessly under his thumb.
You cage someone too many times and they become feral in anticipation of being caged again.
Declan scoffs. “Don’t try that so what crap on me. You know damn well you care about Dad’s opinion. A little too much, Mr. CEO.”
“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?” I snap.
“Jealous? Of you? Jealous of a guy who can’t break away from the one and only world he knows? Jealous of a guy who lives in fear of—”
“Of what?”
“Of everything.”
He’s such an asshole most of the time, but he’s also my best friend.
Which is the definition of brother for most guys.
“You are out of your mind! I’m not afraid of anything!”
Amanda and Shannon clear their throats simultaneously.
Feral, remember?
“Why would you be afraid of anything other than losing out on this fabulous time?” Terry asks, his voice in falsetto, waving my phone around, making Marie, Shannon, and Amanda giggle. I know what he’s doing. Dec knows what he’s doing. This is what Terry does.
Terry hates conflict.
Terry makes silly jokes.
“I remember seeing you at the gift table with Amanda, and you grabbed a bottle of homeopathic wine that was just sitting there,” Terry says, eyes lit up with amusement. He looks so much like our mother for a moment that I have to look away.
Shannon’s oldest sister, Carol, appears, smiling at Marie, carrying a coffee from—oh, hell, they’re all just drinking coffees from Dec and Shannon’s new chain.
Grind it in, why don’t you.
Grind it nice and fresh.
“Where are Jeffrey and Tyler?” Marie asks. Carol’s sons are ten and seven, I think. Not sure. Something like that. I’m not their uncle, and all kids look a lot alike to me. I assume that changes when you have your own. It’s like buying a new car. You don’t really notice all the identical makes and models until you have one you call mine.
And one you have to maintain to make it function properly.
Carol jerks her head toward the pastry case. “Deciding which sweets to get for the flight home.” They share a tired smile.
“The wine. We asked Marie for permission!” Amanda interjects, looking at Shannon’s mom. “You told us we could take the wine!”
“So you’re the one who grabbed the bottle,” Declan says.
“We’re not pointing fingers.” I’m defensive, suddenly, and want to protect Amanda. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
“Just locking down details,” Dec replies, eyes narrowing as he thinks. “We had a few people give us bottles of wine as wedding gifts.”
“Who?”
“Terry.”
“I had mine sent to your wine cellar back in Boston,” he clarifies.
“Okay,” Dec says. “I think Jed gave us one.”
“That was Champagne, and we drank it as the first reception toast,” Amanda says. We share a look.
“I remember that,” I say with a touch of acid. “I don’t remember much after that, though.”
“And then there was Lüq,” Marie adds.
“Lüq?” Declan and Shannon look at her.
“You know. He runs the spa at Litraeon?”
“Mom,” Shannon groans. “Hu. Not he. Hu is gender fluid.”
“Yes. Hu came to the reception and delivered a lovely bottle of wine in a basket with some sort of herb designed to help Shannon’s ovaries turn into blossoming wildflowers.” Marie drinks the rest of her latte. Her eyes cross and she lets out an intimate moan I wish I could unhear.
“Why would I want flowers in my ovaries, Mom?”
“I don’t know. But the basket was so pretty, and Lüq spent ten minutes reading my past lives. Hu said I ran a brothel in Paris during the Revolution!”
“What about the wine, Marie?” Dec asks.
“What about it?”
“What happened to the bottle?”
“I put it on the gift table after Lüq gave it to me. You and Shannon had just left when hu appeared.”
“And I hope you enjoyed it,” says a voice with an accent I can’t put my finger on. We turn to find Lüq standing next to us, wearing a Scottish kilt, knee-high riding boots, and a dashiki-like dress thing. He has a goat on a leash.
No one says a word about the goat. I wonder if it faints.
In his other hand is a Grind It Fresh! to-go cup.
Declan hired Lüq a few years ago, sniping hu from one of the top Parisian salons. I’ve met Lüq twice before. You don’t forget hu.
Dec stands. “Thank you for the wine,” he says, gracious and smiling.
“You are most welcome.” Hu holds up his coffee. “And the coffee company you gave to your wife is outstanding.”
Dec gives me a look but says “Thanks” to Lüq.
“I hope that you enjoy the wine someday. It is my own blend.”
“You’re a vintner?” I ask.
“No, although I do perform cleansing ceremonies for the grapes from time to time in Napa. I blend my own vintage for those who need to explore the many layers of love that we leave untouched.”
I frown. “What does that mean? Blend your own vintage?”
“I take the superior wine and enhance it.”
“Enhance?” My eyes dart to catch Amanda’s.
Enhance? she mouths.
“For centuries,” hu intones, eyes going soft, voice taking on a dreamy quality, “mankind has—”
“Oh, brother,” Dec mutters.
“—sacrificed the very best of the past for the short-term hustle bustle of the now. We forget that our bodies are etched with the scratchings of the past. Our relationships form layers of centuries that must be explored if we are to live in the here and now as full and complete lovers.”
“What does any of that mean?” I mutter to Dec.
“Hell if I know, but hu gets people to pay $25 for a latte in the spa and the profit margins are insane.”
“You put something in the wine?” Jason asks. It’s the first time he’s said a word. The guy is Marie’s lapdog, but his question is the most cogent sentence I’ve heard since Lüq appeared.
“Of course.”
I tense. “You put ‘something’ in that bottle of wine? A blend of more than one wine, you mean?”
“Non non non. I enhanced the transformative properties of the already sacred and made it more in touch with—”
“You spiked my daughter’s wedding gift?” Marie hisses.
Lüq glares at her. “That was a special bottle of wine designed and made specifically for the bride and groom, for a ritual to bring their body-spirits together on a different plane of existence.”
“It was Three Buck Chuck with a bow and some glitter paint on it,” Marie says with an eye roll.
“I told you it was entheogenic!” he hisses. “Seventh-century druids died to make that wine.”
“Did they die from disbelief?”
Entheogenic. Entheogenic? There’s an SAT word if I’ve ever heard one. I dust off my ancient Latin lessons and start to dissect the word.
“I haven’t heard that word since college!” Amanda says in a tone of marvel. “You added hallucinogenic drugs to the wine?”
