“I ask because the blushing bride was not there. The towheaded groom was nowhere to be seen. The bride’s father was not in attendance. And the maid of honor, Blake’s sister and her fiancé, well…”
Picture on screen of Alexandra Sharp in gray cords, a cross-front, ribbed green sweater with matching shawl-style cardigan and side-notched, D’Orsay styled, low-rise black booties standing next to John “Rix” Hendrix in a black cashmere sweater over which was a weathered canvas jacket atop dark-wash jeans. They’re at the 9/11 Memorial looking solemn.
Cut back to Elsa.
“They seemed to have better things to do. Though, this isn’t a surprise, considering Mr. Hendrix’s former occupation. And if I had been invited to this brunch, which sadly I was not, and I’d known that neither bride nor groom would show, I might also find something else to do that better serves my time. Thus miss the twittering of the guests wondering what could possibly cause the happy couple to be no-shows at their own gathering. Or perhaps, I wouldn’t miss the twittering. Because, of course…”
Photo on screen of Chad Head at a party with a party girl in his lap. Chad is ogling her breasts.
Cut to photo on screen of Chad Head pouring a bottle of clear liquor on the mostly naked body of a woman laid out on a bar. Chad’s face is very red, his eyes are very bloodshot, and his mouth is wide open, appearing like he’s shouting.
Cut to picture on screen of Chad Head looking quite sweaty, sloppy and disheveled while grinding against a woman on a dance floor.
Cut back to Elsa, who is now leaned toward the camera.
“We all know, twittering is one of my favorite things to listen to.”
Elsa leans back.
“Now, do tigers change their stripes? Do little boys ever grow up? I can promise you, wonderful watchers, I will keep my ear to ground and let you know the answers to those questions the moment I find out.”
Elsa hops in her seat and claps.
“I just knew this week would be interesting. Now, until our next exchange, keep it positive. Elsa is signing off.”
The branded Elsa wink and blowing of kiss.
Sign off.
Rix
They were in yet another limo.
This one, though, was sent by Jamie to pick them up for dinner.
Alex was being quiet, and it wasn’t her usual quiet, nor was it the reflective quiet they’d both lapsed into after going to the Memorial.
Rix had wanted to make a pilgrimage there since he knew he was going to New York, and thought he could step out some time during their visit, maybe when Alex was getting ready for one of the events.
But with their time freed up, he’d told her that was what he wanted to see, and although, being a native New Yorker, it was a pilgrimage she’d already taken, she took him.
Once there, he wished they hadn’t gone.
Not that the Memorial wasn’t thoughtful. Fitting. Moving.
It was.
It was just that there were too many people and the majority of them acted like it was a tourist attraction, hustling around, elbowing in, posing for pictures and smiling for selfies.
Doing all of this standing on a site of unimaginable tragedy.
He was physically sickened by it.
Alex noticed and took him to the museum, which had a more appropriate somber feel.
But they didn’t linger after they left the museum.
No, now she had something on her mind that was making her quiet and Rix knew what it was.
“Don’t take on his shit,” he ordered.
She turned her head to look at him.
“Sorry?”
“Your dad and that horseshit about abandoning him. Don’t take on his shit.”
“Rix—”
“Give him time, then ask him what he meant. Don’t sit on that. Don’t try to figure out what was behind it. The only way you can know is for him to explain it.”
“That’s easier said than done,” she pointed out.
“I know, but it’s still horseshit, Al. He should never have laid that on you then walked away. What the fuck was that?” Rix shook his head. “Christ, your family is all about drama.”
“I have to admit, with the morning we had, I cannot deny that,” she mumbled.
The morning they had?
Try the life her family lived.
“The morning we had and a rooftop terrace in October and a brunch with fucking hats,” he reminded her. “It’s fucked up.”
In the muted city lights coming through the darkened limousine windows, he saw her lips twitch.
But he didn’t get a full smile.
It disappeared fast, and she asked, “Did you catch that thing about Mum dropping all pretense?”
Oh yeah.
He did.
He also caught Alex catching it.
“Don’t sit on that either, sweetheart. Give him time”—he leaned toward her—“then ask him about it.”
She nodded.
He leaned in more and brushed his lips to hers.
He then sat back, took her hand and turned his head to look out the window at the city gliding by.
That was, until the limo stopped, then started moving again.
Christ, he didn’t get it. Why so many people lived there.
Rix had traveled a lot. Though he’d never been to NYC, he’d been to a number of cities. Phoenix. LA. San Fran. Seattle. Denver. Dallas. Nashville. New Orleans. Miami. Boston. But he never stayed long in a city. He’d go to do something specific or see something specific, staying a couple days, and then getting the fuck out.
Usually when he went somewhere, the spaces were wide open, and the population was sparse.
He felt the vibe in New York. It was cool. He saw the bustle. That was cool too.
But he was understanding his girl way more with each passing second in this fucking place.
The crowds…everywhere, which sucked. Lines to get in. Lines to get seated. Lines to get served.
You looked up, and what little you could see of the sky, it didn’t look like a sky.
It was a gray-white canopy of nothing.
When he’d see a tree, or any green, his eyes would unconsciously latch onto it, like it was proof that the forests and the plains and the mountains and the valleys and the farmland were still out there. No need to panic. The earth was still doing the things it was meant to be doing.
Rix had never found it surprising, considering Alex’s habits and hobbies, that she got out of the city.
But being here, it all clicked into place in a way that was unexpected.
Especially with that house.
The room she grew up in.
The way she poured coffee.
Oh yeah, he got off on Society Alex in her tight skirt and stiletto heels.
Her grandmother had taught her well. She was so good with camouflage, she was a goddamned chameleon.
And fucking that Alex in a dress that was stunning, but still totally her, how she had a lock on who she was even in an entirely different element, was hot.
But he was glad in a few days they were going home.
They stopped and started a good twenty more times before they stopped for good.
He knew that when their driver said, “We’ve arrived.”
“Thank you,” Alex replied.
But the driver was making a move to get out so he could come around and open their door for them.
“Stay put. We got it, man,” Rix assured. “Thanks. We gonna see you on the return?”