The bachelorette party in the back row has also been pregaming it pretty hard, and from what I’ve overheard of their conversation, they started with tequila shots at the swanky tapas bar next door. That and the half-empty bottles of rosé on their table are a good sign that this is just a pit stop on what’s going to be a long night.
There’s a round of high-pitched cheers from their table as one of the bride’s girlfriends pulls a rhinestone-studded plastic tiara out of her purse for her, then hands out plastic wine goblets with the words “Bride Squad” printed on them to everyone else. Someone makes a giggling toast, and more cheering ensues. I laugh to myself because even if I’m committed to staying single for a while, I think everyone deserves to have friends in their life who will always show up to celebrate your best moments. Good girlfriends make the world go around—and in this case, those same friends are also going to show up when you need them to hold your hair back later.
I give the group another look and decide to use them as inspiration for my playlist choice. Besties & Bachelorettes on Cloud Wine is the one.
I queue up the playlist and then clip the ridiculous mic I have to use for classes this size to the collar of my shirt, and slip the sound system’s remote into the back pocket of my jeans. Fergie’s “Glamorous” starts playing and—no surprise here—the bride squad approves. Squealing ensues just as I step up onto the platform at the front of the room.
I’ve taught paint and sip before, so I know that there’s only one way to teach a class, and that’s by giving it everything you’ve got. High energy equals big tips when it comes to this sort of thing and since I’m making minimum wage, every extra dollar someone leaves at the end of the night is a big deal. I take a deep breath, call up my inner performer, and give the audience a big smile.
“Hello, ladies!” I call out. “Welcome to Wine, Wonder and Whimsy! I’m Anya and I’ll be running this little show tonight. I hope everyone is in the mood to have some fun, because that is our only objective here. Just think of me as your cruise director, because I’m here for whatever you need to make this a great night. I’m going to walk you through tonight’s painting step by step, plus I’ll show you a few tips and tricks to make your painting uniquely you. But the most important thing to remember is… ” I cock a hip and sweep my hand toward the long bar top on the retail side of the store. “I’m also your bartender.”
Just like I knew it would, declaring myself the pourer-of-fun means that the bride squad is all in, throwing their hands into the air and shimmying around on their barstools like they’re already a little too tipsy to stand up. Here’s hoping they have a designated driver like the Golden Girls do.
I let them all settle down as I adjust the two easels set up on the platform, one is a blank canvas I’ll work from, while the other has a completed painting on it.
Tonight’s painting is a winter wonderland acrylic with chubby cartoon-style penguins frolicking on a snowy hillside and even though it’s the exact opposite of my work, there’s something I love about this stuff, no matter how silly it is. I cut my teeth on these sorts of illustrations as a kid, so even though it looks like something straight out of a Christmas TV special, I’m probably going to enjoy doing this one as much as the paint-and-sip newbies.
I point to the canvas like a game show hostess.
“All right, ladies, let’s get started. Tonight’s painting is called ‘Northern Lights and Arctic Delights,’ and it’s a-dor-able, right? Now, I know it looks like there’s a lot going on here, but don’t worry. When you’re done, you’ll be amazed at how it all came together, I promise. And even if it doesn’t, it won’t matter. Do you know why?”
Thirty or so faces look back at me and I let a slow grin creep over my face.
“Because if all else fails, we’ll just drink more wine.”
Fifteen minutes later, nearly everyone has stopped chattering to focus on their paintings and most of them have just about finished their backgrounds. I walk around the room, weaving between the tables to help anyone who already looks totally panicked. Once everyone is ready to take on their first penguin, I make my way back up to the platform, add a few finishing touches to the instruction canvas, and then plop my brush into a rinse cup. After grabbing a new brush and loading it with the next color, I go to flick my mic back, only to stop when I spot the front door of the shop swinging open.
A guy strides in, quickly scanning the retail area before lurching to a stop just behind the bride squad’s table. He locks his eyes on me and for a second, I can’t understand what’s happening.
It’s JT, but he doesn’t look anything like the hot jock-sexy Marshal guy I’ve been sleeping with for the past few weeks. The man in front of me looks a little too much like a male model to be that JT. This guy doesn’t belong in a place like Wine, Wonder & Whimsy. He belongs on a freaking runway, in Milan.
But here he is, anyway. Standing there in a suit that fits perfectly across his broad shoulders, against his chest, and down his torso, every inch of the dark navy fabric looking like it was designed with JT’s body in mind. Even the dress pants seem tailored to him specifically, in a slim fit that’s trendy without trying too hard. Thankfully, he’s avoided those trendy high-water pants that I absolutely hate. Seeing too much of a man’s socks isn’t a good look on anyone—even JT.
No tie, and his shirt is open at the collar, but the whole look still works. That’s probably because then nothing competes with the view of his white dress shirt stretched taut over a set of washboard abs. And I’m lucky enough to have seen those abs up close. That’s easy to do when your mouth is… well, when your mouth in a spot where a guy’s abs are just a few inches north.
Unfortunately, I’m not the only one in the room who’s currently drooling on their paint palette. Everyone has their eyes on JT, openly gawking at the male model who just strolled in like he owns the place.
The bride squad is not only gawking, but giggling and elbowing one another, too. And when the bride shoots a look around the table and pins her girls with a look that says you didn’t, I cringe and close my eyes. Please tell me that this isn’t about to turn into something absolutely mortifying—not for me, but for JT.
Because if you take one bachelorette party, add in the unexpected appearance of a hot guy, and multiply it by copious amounts of wine, then the conclusion is obvious.
Male. Stripper.
I groan inside. Unless I’m nuts, or just projecting my own very dirty thoughts on the situation, then some of the women in this room are entertaining the theory—or the hope—that JT is a stripper who’s been hired by the bride squad.
I can’t blame them, really. JT definitely looks like the kind of man you want to see take his clothes off and right now, Ginuwine’s “Pony” is blaring out from the sound system above. Add in some strobe lights and a little baby oil, and the whole fantasy would be complete.
Instead, JT just looks at me and says nothing. For a second, it’s like everything around us fades into the background, leaving me a little unsteady on my feet. I did expect to see him tonight, I just never imagined this version of JT would show up.