Chapter 23: Chapter 23

“Man, that’s bullshit,” Hank was saying as he and Bree walked home. The streets were a little crowded around the club, but once they got closer to the resort, there were less people, and Bree felt herself sobering up with the beach air in her lungs.

“I mean, I guess I can’t blame her for being upset. I’d be upset if my fiancé was dancing with someone else, too. I guess.”

“No you wouldn't, not if it was a friend from high school. Besides, it’s not like Monica doesn’t dance with other guys.” He muttered something under his breath that Bree didn’t understand, but she thought he said something along the lines of “and worse.” She didn’t question it, though, because she felt like Hank was more upset about the situation now than she was.

They walked a bit further, the streetlights casting a glow on the sidewalk and street making them shine, as if it had rained, though Bree knew it hadn’t. It was a pleasant night outside of the club. She shouldn’t have even gone, but Hank had been so insistent. “Do you think… do you think she knows?” Maybe it was the alcohol that made her courageous enough to pose the question. Once it was out of her mouth, she wished she hadn’t asked. She didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Knows what? That you wrote the song she’s requested you sing at her wedding for her fiancé? Come on, Bree. No one is dumb enough to request you sing a song you wrote for their fiancé at their own damn wedding. No, she doesn’t know.”

Bree rolled her eyes as they walked through the entrance to the resort. “No, I mean, do you think she knows that I have… had feelings for Trent?” Again, she’d have to blame the booze for that mess up. Maybe Hank was too drunk to have caught it.

No such luck. “Was that present tense or past tense?”

Not wanting to answer the question, she said, “I’m just saying, Monica doesn’t seem to like me much. For someone who is allegedly a fan and wanted me to sing at her wedding, she seems a little put out that I’m even here.”

Hank let out a soft chuckle. “No, that’s just how she is.”

“To everyone?” Bree questioned, headed up the walkway to her room. “I don’t think so. I’ve never seen her talk to her bridesmaids like that.”

“That’s different. Those two are also models, and she has a different level of respect for them than she does all other human beings.”

“Models or aspiring models?” Bree didn't mean to sound rude. It was just her understanding that Monica hadn’t quite made it to that level yet, the “professional model” level she was reaching for. Not that Bree was one to talk. She hadn’t made it big yet either.

“I think Monica’s doing pretty good for herself. She’s done a lot of shoots, just not at a national level. She’ll make it, though. Not only does she look and act like a model, she’s determined, and that goes a long way.”

It wasn’t lost on Bree that Hank was defending Monica, though he wasn’t sure why. None of this was making much sense to her. She decided not to say any more to him about her, though. “Are we still going to the beach tomorrow? Volleyball at eight?”

“Hell, yeah. It’s only a little after twelve. We still have time to drink in the room a little while and get enough rest to kick everyone’s asses tomorrow.”

Bree laughed politely, but she hoped he didn’t mean he wanted to come into her room to drink. She hadn’t checked to see if there was anything in the mini-bar she’d even want to drink, but even if there was, she thought she’d had enough to drink for one night. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you bright and early then. There’s no… breakfast or anything?”

“Not that I know of. I figure I’ll call room service. Wanna join me? Around seven?”

“Gosh, I think I’ll just eat a protein bar or something,” Bree said, hoping she didn’t hurt his feelings. She didn’t want to eat a heavy breakfast and then go out on the hot sand and try to move around. She’d never been much of an athlete anyway, so playing volleyball was going to be a struggle as it was. Hank was a personal trainer, though, so it would be nothing for him to eat a huge meal and then go out to the beach and play sports for hours.

“All right. Well, if you change your mind, give me a call.” They were at her room now, and Hank wrapped his muscular arms around her before he turned to go.

Bree went into her room, certain she wouldn’t change her mind, and thinking she needed to talk to someone about how oddly Hank had been acting--but who? She’d been so busy with her career in the last few years, she hadn’t had time for friends. Obviously, Lilly was busy and too close to the situation to be objective anyway.

It suddenly occurred to Bree who she should call. Most people wouldn’t be up this time of night on a weekday, but she had a feeling this person would, and she’d have good advice, too. Bree dug her phone out and sat down on the sofa across from her tropical view, dialing, and hoping she didn’t reveal too much or say anything rude about Monica, though at this point, she had no idea what might come out of her mouth. There was something evil about that woman--she could feel it in her bones.

“God, Bree--do you have any idea what time it is?”

Christy’s voice sounded in her ear, and even though she was annoyed, Bree was just happy she’d answered. At a time like this, when she needed to talk to someone who knew the background and was capable of saying the things she needed to hear, Christy was her go-to girl and had been ever since high school.

“Sorry, hon. Did I wake you up?” Bree asked, thinking Christy didn’t sound groggy--just irritated.

“Hell, no. But I’m in the process of switching clubs. What’s up, bitch?”

That had Bree giggling. While everyone else their age who wasn’t at an event like Bree happened to be, was home, sleeping, preparing for work the next day, Christy was on her way to a different party. “I just hoped I could talk to you for a few minutes, but if you’re busy, it’s okay. I can call you some other time.”

“No way. You’re at that swanky wedding in Gulf Shores, right? I mean, of course I’ve got time to listen to that. Besides, I’m in an Uber. What’s going on?”

Bree took a deep breath. “Well, first of all, do you have any idea who the groom is?”

“Uh… yeah. So I guess you do, too, huh?”

“Wait, what? You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

She could hear Christy shrugging over the phone. “I thought you knew.”

“Then why did you say, ‘that swanky wedding’ and not ‘Trent’s wedding’?”

“Because, it’s not like he’s the only one there I know. Hank is there, right? And Trent brought Matt and Dwayne over to my house a couple of times on breaks and stuff, so I know them, too. I know Lilly because she used to be your roommate, and Monica’s been in some fashion shoots and shit, so I recognized her.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Bree hoped she didn’t sound too mad, but she was a little mad. Why would Christy not tell her what she was walking into? “Why aren’t you here?”

“I’ll be there Saturday. So will Abs and everyone else. You think Trent didn’t invite us to his wedding?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t invite me.”

“Well, there’s a reason for that, isn’t there? And yet, there you are, soaking it all up. How is that, anyway? How is it knowing he’s gonna marry someone else? I mean, I’ve always speculated that you wrote that song for him.”

“I didn’t write it for him. I didn’t write anything for him.” Now, Bree was lying to the very person she’d called for help. Still, she felt betrayed that all of these people knew she was walking into a firestorm and hadn’t warned her. “It’s… weird, though. If I had known it was his wedding, I would’ve said no.”

“God, Bree, I’m sorry. I guess I should’ve told you he was getting married when I first found out. I just figured you were better off not knowing, especially since she’s a model and all. I mean, not that you’re not gorgeous--just as pretty as she is--it’s just… who wants to hear the guy she used to have a crush on is marrying a model, you know?”

“I know.” Bree let out a hot blast of air. “That’s actually not why I called, though.” She heard Christy talking to her driver and getting out of the car, and in the distance, she could hear the beat of the music coming from the club.

“What is it?” Christy asked, and Bree hoped she didn’t mind standing outside for a minute while she told her the real reason she’d called.

“It’s Hank. He’s not himself--not the Hank I remember from high school, anyway. He doesn’t want to go anywhere without me. One minute, it seems like he can’t stand Monica, and the next, it’s like he’s her biggest fan. It’s so weird. He’s kinda mopey, too. I haven’t seen him act this way ever--except for that one time at your birthday party. The last one I came home for.”

“Hank was upset at my birthday party? I don’t recall that.”

“Well, you were a little inebriated, to say the least. Yeah, I was upset because I’d just seen Trent at the convenience store with some girl, and he was upset because he liked this girl at school, but she wouldn’t date him because he was going to be a personal trainer, and she was looking for someone more ‘professional,’ or something. Apparently, she was screwing him but wouldn’t date him date him. What did he say her name was?” Bree asked herself. She couldn’t remember. It was something weird. “Anyway, he’s acting a little bit like that, like he’s broken-hearted but doesn’t want to dish any details. Do you have any idea what’s going on with him?”

“I’m not sure,” Christy admitted. “I do remember that chick, though. She was such a bitch. She’d swing him along, make him think he had a chance, and then cut him off until the next time she needed a quick screw, and then she’d call him. Stupid bitch. I wish I knew who she was so I could slap her in the face. Anyway, Hank has known Monica for a long time, too, you know? They went to college together. Maybe he’s just thinking of her like a sister or something--where you get mad at someone and then you’re cool with them again.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. This seems different somehow.” Bree couldn't quite put her finger on it.

“He might be mad that Monica is spending so much of Trent’s money, too. That wedding isn’t exactly Trent’s style.”

Bree didn’t think that was it either. “Hank said something weird to me at the beach, though. What was it exactly?” She thought back to what he’d said when they were sitting on the beach and it suddenly came to her. He’d slipped it in so quickly, it hadn’t quite stuck, but now, she thought it was significant. “He said this isn’t quite that easy on him either. Why would he say that?”

“The wedding?” Christy questioned. “I have no idea. Is he afraid he’ll lose Trent? I mean, if Monica makes him move to New York City or Paris, he will.”

“Maybe.” Again, Bree didn’t think that was it. She had an odd feeling in her gut; something wasn’t quite right with Hank. But Christy hadn’t ended up being the help she’d wanted, and now she was getting tired. “All right, sister, I’m gonna let you go. I’ve gotta get up early to play beach volleyball.”

“Beach volleyball? You? Lord, have mercy.”

“Hey, I can do it… maybe.”

“At least maybe there will be hot guys without their shirts on. I mean, other than Trent and Hank. Are Matt and Dwayne still hot?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t spent that much time around them.”

“You don’t know if they’re hot? Girl, you have still only got eyes for Trent.”

“Oh, stop! I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later.”

“See you later,” Christy corrected, and then her friend hung up.

Bree set her phone aside and realized Christy could read her like a book. She hadn’t thought about seeing Trent without his shirt on, though it had crossed her mind that her little petite self would be wearing a bathing suit next to Monica and her friends who were seventy-five percent legs. Bree would look like a twelve-year-old girl next to them. At least Lilly wasn’t as statuesque as her sister and her friends either.

Again, she blew out a deep breath, realizing she was screwed. She had to go to the volleyball match because she’d told Hank she would. Chances were, she’d end up embarrassing herself by bouncing a ball off of her head or falling on her face.

“This is going to be epic,” she said, shaking her head. Hopefully, she wouldn’t dream about face planting or otherwise making a fool of herself. How bad could her dreams be when her life was already a nightmare?