The BACHELORETTE Project (The Project: LESLEE Series) (38 page)

I laugh. “I can bust a move when necessary, even though the last time I found myself dancing, I ended up in the hospital.”

“Yes, Russ told me about that. Sounds like you had an interesting night,” he says as we finally reach my front door. I begin to get a little nervous. I guess I should kiss him? Why do I not know this?

“This is my door,” I say nervously. Why is he so calm, cool, and collected? I hate men. I wish I could be as calm as he is in this moment.

“Thank you, Leslee,” he says. “We should do this again soon.”

“Definitely,” I say. We both look around then at each other. “I’d better get inside.”

“Yeah, it’s cold,” he says smiling as he gazes into my eyes and I want to melt. He leans in towards me and I plant a very soft and innocent kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Carter,” I say walking into the front door.

“Goodnight, Leslee,” he says and smiles once more. It is the perfect ending to a perfect ni
ght: a night that I never want
to end.

“Where the
hell
is my veil?!” Karen screams as the bridesmaids scurry around the dressing room. It’s the big wedding day and everyone is walking on eggshells around the bride. “Where is my maid of honor?! I’m gonna kill Angelique for being late!” I sit in the beauty chair and say nothing. The hairdresser has been doing my hair for the past hour, straightening, up-doing, and adding tiny Swarovski crystals to give me the elegant “royale” look Karen’s been going for. Most women would love to be pampered and primped like this, but it feels like we’ve been doing beauty stuff all day. From the manicures and pedicures that took hours during the morning and early afternoon to the random eyebrow plucking and leg waxing in the mid-afternoon and now hair and makeup, it’s been a never-ending beauty spree all day which should be nice, but Karen’s attitude doesn’t make it so. “Somebody call my cousin! Where the hell is my mother?!” she yells.

“She’s outside getting some fresh air!” Vanessa yells from the other side of the room as Alisha hel
ps her get into her bridesmaid g
own.

“What does she need fresh air for?!” Karen yells back. “She needs to get dressed!”

“She’s dressed already,” Alisha tells her. “Her hair and makeup are done, and Vanessa and I …” Alisha zips up Vanessa’s dress quickly. “We’re ready to go!”

“Alexis?!” Karen yells at the hair and makeup artist. “Are you almost done with Leslee’s hair?” she asks. “She still has makeup to do.”

“I’m placing the last crystal on her hair as we speak,” Alexis says rolling her eyes. “Done! Now onto the makeup.” At that moment, the door bursts open revealing a fully ready Angelique holding the missing veil.

“I’m here!” she says cheerfully and Karen’s not at all amused.

“You’re late!” Karen yells.

“Fashionably late,” Angelique corrects her. “I told you that my friend was doing my hair and makeup at her salon.”

“Whatever,” Karen replies. “Just give me the veil.” She snatches the veil out of Angelique’s hand. “Alexis still has to put this thing in my hair!”

Angelique laughs. “Calm down, cousin,” she says. “You’ll be fine.”

Alexis finishes my makeup and I stand up from the chair. I take a quick glance in the mirror: perfection. I almost didn’t recognize myself. My hair is absolutely phenomenal and my makeup, with flawless emphasis on my eyes, is almost whimsical. I look like something straight out of a fairytale. I look like Cinderella at the ball.

Angelique helps me put on my dress and shoes.
I’m missing something,
I think to myself. My mouth drops in agony.
Shit!

“What’s wrong?” Angelique asks me. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”

“I forgot my jewelry at home,” I whisper to her and she begins to shake her head. “Do you think she has an extra set?” We both look at Karen who’s actively yelling at Alexis about the veil.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t even dare to ask,” Angelique says.

“What should I do?” I ask.

“Walk out quietly and go get it,” she says. “Where do you live?”

“Rittenhouse Square,” I tell her. “Karen’s gonna kill me. I left it on my dresser. I knew I was forgetting something.”

“I’ll take you to get it,” Angelique says. “She can’t start with both of us being gone, and I’m already on her shit list for the veil thing.” We both look at each other, then ease our way to the door quietly hoping that Bridezilla won’t notice. She does.

“Where the hell do you think you two are going?” Karen says and we freeze. Angelique and I look at each other with worried looks on our faces.

“Um …” I say.
Think, Leslee, think!

“Bathroom!” we exclaim in unison and rush out the door before Karen can react.

We make a mad dash to Angelique’s car strategically striding through the parking lot in our open toe heels. We get into the car and Angelique floors it as I give her directions and pray that the traffic isn’t bad. Thank God we make it to my place in nine minutes flat. I stumble out the car and run through the front door with Angelique trailing behind.

“Slow down!” she yells at me. “I’m gonna mess up my hair running after you!”

“Thirteen minutes!” I say. “We have thirteen minutes before the wedding starts!” I unlock my door and bolt into my room. There is the jewelry sitting in a long, white box on my dresser labeled “wedding jewelry.” I quickly take it out the box and put it on. I look in the mirror.
Finally!
I think to myself.
My bridesmaid look is complete.
I take a deep breath and head out into the living room. “I’m ready,” I announce as Angelique is too busy looking at the books and pictures on my bookshelves.

“These are cute pictures of you and Karen,” she says taking one off the shelf. “When was this?” I look at the picture and laugh. Karen and I were all dressed up and making funny faces in the photo.

“College,” I tell her. “Senior formal … pre-Bridezilla days.”

“I wish I went to college,” she says. “They make it look like so much fun in the movies.” Angelique sighs and places it back on the shelf. “You ready?” she asks and I nod. As she walks away from the bookshelf, the picture of Karen and I falls to the floor and scatters into pieces. Angelique mouth drops. “Oops,” she says staring at the glass on the floor. “I am so sorry, Leslee. Let me clean this up for you. I’ll pay for it.”

I stare at the many pieces as Angelique tries to gather them in a small pile. I can’t help but to notice the other picture that I had put in the same frame behind me and Karen’s picture. Angelique’s little accident exposed another college photo of Eric and me at the Museum of Art. I pick up the photo in my hands and smile. I remember this day like it was yesterday. He was carrying me up the museum steps pretending that he was Rocky and I was laughing and smiling. I was happy. I remember it being cold that day. We were wearing our Temple sweatshirts and jeans. Karen and Russ were there with us, but they weren’t in the picture because Karen was the one who took it. I begin to get lost in thought.

“Who’s that?” Angelique asks me. I come back to reality.

“Oh, just a friend,” I say. “From college … Eric.”

“That’s Eric?” she asks. “The one who couldn’t make the wedding?”

“He’s not coming?” I ask, confused.

“Karen said that Russ got a call from him this afternoon saying that he was stuck in California for some Internet business thing,” she informs me. “He tried to get a flight back, but couldn’t.”

“Oh,” I say and place the picture back on the bookshelf. I sigh. “We better get going before the bride throws another tantrum.”

“That’s probably a good idea if we want to continue living,” Angelique says and I agree. I look at the mess on the floor. Maybe the mess is symbolic for my messy love life, even though it hasn’t been too messy since meeting Carter. We’ve already gone on three dates and he couldn’t be anymore perfect for me.

I nod my head. “I’ll clean this up later,” I tell Angelique. “Let’s go.” We run out of my apartment and into Angelique’s car. She starts up the vehicle and begins to drive faster than she did on the way to my place. I clutch onto my seat p
raying that we make it back safely and soon
.

After about six blocks, our worst nightmare comes true:
traffic
! Arriving back to the Atrium is a task within itself. With the limousines taking up part of the street, traffic goes from bad to Hell. We find the closest parking garage, park the car, then run to the wedding like there’s fire under our asses.
Just in time!
I think to myself as we enter the building. Everyone is already lined up and ready to go. Angelique and I jump into our place. Alexis hands us our flowers and takes our purses.

“Where were you?!” Karen hisses at Angelique.

“The bathroom!” Angelique hisses back. I keep a tight lip.

“Where?!” Karen says. “In fuckin’ Africa?!”

“No,” Angelique says and smiles
calmly. “In Rittenhouse Square.
” Karen clinches her teeth together.
She knows!

“We’re starting!” someone says and the music begins to play. I look at the groomsman standing next to me: Carter. I smile.

“Hi,” I mouth to him. He smiles then links my arm with his.

“Ready?” he asks as we’re the next to walk down the aisle. I nod and we begin walking. I gracefully stride down the aisle with Carter by my side, smiling as the camera flashes almost blind me.
When will I ever get married?
I think to myself.
Always the bridesmaid and never the freaking bride.
I sigh as I reach to the top of the altar. I watch Karen shed a few fake tears as she walks toward her future husband. Everyone gushes at how beautiful this moment is. Angelique rolls her eyes.

“She’s so dramatic,” Angelique whispers to Alisha. Jen and Vanessa begin to cry.

“It’s so beautiful,” Vanessa says.

“I love
love
,” Jen adds.

“I can’t wait to see them break the glass and jump the broom,” Alisha says. “I’ve never been to an African/Jewish wedding.”

“Ladies,” Cheyenne says and we all look at her, “why don’t you just shut the hell up? This is a wedding, not a damn social hour,” she hisses at us. We all turn the other way.

As Karen and Russ exchange their vows, Carter and I glance at each other and smile. Maybe this is some sort of a sign. Maybe one day I’ll marry Carter, and if he’s Jewish, he can break the glass, too. But I would want to be absolutely sure that he’s the one for me. Maybe I’m just an idiot. My mind begins to wander.

Russ stomps on the glass that is placed on the floor, and then Karen and Russ jump over the African broom on the floor. “You may now kiss the bride,” says the wedding officiate. Karen smiles as Russ dips her into a Hollywood pose and he plants a very long kiss onto her lips. Everyone claps and smiles at the new marrie
d couple. Happily. Ever. After.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DING! DING! DING!
Angelique taps her champagne glass and stands. After taking what seemed like hundreds of photos in various locations in various poses, we have finally landed at the reception. Ladies and gentlemen, we have made it
to the home stretch of wedding H
ell. Life just got a little bit easier.

“The best man has a few words for the newlyweds,” Angelique announces as the guests quiet down. The bridal party is seated at the front of the Crystal Tea Room at a long, royally decorated table. Russ and Karen sit in the middle, bridesmaids and maid of honor on Karen’s side of the table and Russ’ best man and groomsmen on his side of the table. I, of course, choose to sit next to Angelique because let’s face it! I owe her my life for saving me from Bridezilla today. I may never have lived to see the reception if it wasn’t for her taking me to get my jewelry.

“On this beautiful night in this beautiful city,” the best man starts, “Karen and Russ have joined lives through their love and respect for each other.” He continues with his speech and I tap Angelique on the shoulder.

“Who is this guy anyway?” I whisper to her.

“He works with Russ,” she tells me. “He’s boring as all hell, but he’s cute.”

“True,” I agree as Karen falls onto Angelique’s shoulders with an extremely giddy look on her face. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Oh, nothing,” Angelique says, smiling. “I just gave her enough champagne to keep her inebriated for days.”

My mouth drops open. “The bride’s not supposed to be drunk on her wedding day!” I hiss. “It looks bad!”

“Well, think of it
this way,” Angelique starts, “p
eople are either really funny when they’re drunk or complete assholes. I figured she couldn’t be any more of an asshole, so I took the chance and got her really fucked up.” Angelique takes a sip of her own champagne. “Aren’t you thankful that she’s a funny drunk?”

I shake my head.
Shameful, but smart.
“I’m speechless,” I say.

“You’re welcome,” Angelique replies.

“And I wish these two the best in their future together,” the best man says raising his glass. “Mazel Tov!”