Dragged to the Wedding
Andrew Grey
Chapter One
“Damn! Hell! Crap! I am so screwed,” James muttered under his breath, running out of swear words he could use while thinking about his mother. There was no way out of this. He was just going to have to take his lumps.
“God,” Randy said as he slipped into the chair across from him. “What has you throwing the world’s biggest pity party? Did your dog die? Wait, you don’t have a dog. It can’t be that damned bad.”
James Petika lowered his hands and raised his gaze slightly. “Screw you.” James knew Randy would give him shit—it was part of his annoyingly quirky personality. “Why are we friends again?”
“Because you love me, and your life would be dull and dreary without my brand of fabulousness.” Randy motioned to the server, who hurried over. “I’m just parched. Could you bring me a dry Sapphire martini, two olives, with a glass of water?” He gave her his signature smile, then leaned toward James. “What are you drinking, darling?” James hadn’t even had time to think about it. “He’ll have the same thing.” Randy added a few watts to his smile and then turned back to James. “You weren’t going to order one of those awful beers you keep in that apartment of yours, were you?” He leaned over the table, lowering his voice, as if sharing a secret. “I know you’re a police officer and all, but there is no excuse for drinking Miller Light.”
James actually felt his lips curling upward. “You are such a snob.”
Randy glared across the table. “Do not confuse good taste with snobbery. It’s just gauche.” He sat back in his chair, thanking the server when she returned with the drinks. He took a sip, then flashed her another smile. “Perfection.” Randy handed her his credit card. “Please start a tab. I think my friend over here is going to need a bit more fortification.”
“Of course,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She left the table, and James took a second to look around while Randy made sexy noises over his drink.
“Have you been here before?” Randy asked.
James shook his head. The Grand Riviera Club was not the kind of place that James would think of stopping by for a drink. The bar was rich wood, the tables polished, the chairs plush and comfortable, and the prices steep as all hell. “Have you?”
“A few times. Mostly with clients I’m trying to impress. After I got your call for help, I figured you deserved a little spoiling, so here we are.” He motioned around. “I really love it.” He sipped his drink once more and slipped an olive off the pick with his tongue. “Okay, dish. Tell me what has you so broken up.”
James sighed, a finger tapping the stem of his glass. “I have to go to my sister’s wedding in three weeks, and my mother is expecting me to bring a date.”
Randy set down his glass. “What kind of date?”
“The only kind my mother would expect—a female date. One that’s suitable for my sister’s vision in white wedding perfection in Missoula, Montana.” Just thinking about it made James’s stomach churn. He could stare down a suspect without flinching, work a crime scene, and collar a suspect on the run. As an officer on the Schaumburg police force, James had been in numerous firefights, and had even been called in to back up the Chicago PD. But the thought of facing his mother’s disappointment was making him ill.
“You mean to tell me that your family still doesn’t know you’re gay?” Randy asked, his mouth gaping open.
“Of course not. Have you ever been to Montana?” James drank some more to steady his nerves. “I love my family, I really do, but they have expectations... Well, my mother does.”
“I’ve heard the stories,” Randy told him, completely relaxed. “So what did you tell her? Did you promise to bring someone with you?”
James hated feeling like a little kid in the principal’s office. “Not in so many words.” It was hard to explain without getting into the screwed-up details. And James hadn’t had enough alcohol for that. “I told my mom I was with someone named Terri a couple of years ago. I thought it would make her happy and keep her off my back. And I never specified if Terri was male or female, but I knew what she’d assume, so I let her.” He was so screwed six ways from Sunday. But this was all his fault for opening his damned big mouth.
“Okay. So, your mother is expecting Terri to be at the wedding?” Randy was having way too much fun at his expense. “Only you would get yourself in this kind of bind.”
“No. But she is expecting me to bring a date. I asked all of my single female friends. Stacey agreed to go with me because her wife, Phoebe, was going to be out of town. But she tripped over one of Phoebe’s dogs and broke her foot. Apparently she’s going to need surgery, so that leaves me out in the cold.” James finished the martini and was tempted to order another, but it was only four in the afternoon, and starting on a good drunk this early probably wasn’t a good idea.
“Just tell them. Rip off the duct tape from your closet door and be done with it.” He shrugged as though that were the answer to everything.
“How long have you known me? You met my parents, remember? Four years ago. You came with me to my grandmother’s funeral. How do you think they’ll deal with the fact that their son is gay? Do you expect us all to go skipping merrily down the Yellow Brick Road?” He knew he was being flip, but it was true. “Besides, it’s for six days. If I can find someone to go with me, Mom will stop worrying about me being alone forever, and I can come back to my life here. It’s that simple. Or it would be, if I could find someone to go.” James ate his olives, enjoying the alcohol mixed with the brine. “Maybe I could tell them that my date got sick or something. But—”
The smile slid off Randy’s face. “That will probably get you a pass at the wedding, but it won’t keep her off your back for long. She’ll want to meet your girl eventually, and if you don’t come through, she’ll start fixing you up.” Randy understood the situation better than James thought he would. “I can see her signing you up for ChristianMingle.com or something,” he added, finishing his martini. Then he leaned back and stared up toward the ceiling.
“What are you doing?”
“Thinking.” He waved his hands, which told James he wanted him to be quiet and just sit prettily. James drank his water and reached for one of the snack menus.
Randy pulled it out of his hand. “That stuff will sit on your hips and take root.” He leaned back once again, then scratched his head and grinned. Pulling out his phone, he sent a message, stood, and held up a finger to say he’d be right back.