My Brother's Best Man

Every time we talk, I’m lying to him, even if I don’t mean to. By not telling him about Ben and me, about his best man, I’m betraying him.

As I approach the entrance to the restaurant, I hear voices raised in the lobby. The host is a tall thin man, his lips turned into a deep frown, his demeanor defensive. It’s a look I recognize from working as a waitress when customers decide to cause a hassle.

The customer in question is even taller than the waiter, wider, with a stocky tough look about him. He’s bald, and the back of his head is covered in tattoos.

I walk up behind him, folding my hands across my middle, getting ready to wait.

“You’re telling me you have no tables?” the man snaps. Drunk by the look of things.

“Yes,” the host says. “We’re fully booked.”

The drunk man turns, looking for support, and since I’m the only other person in the lobby area, his gaze settles on me.

“Can you believe this?” he says.

I shrug, repressing a snappy response. Maybe I’m more on edge than usual, owing to the Alex situation, but I don’t have the patience for this crap today.

“Well?” he snaps, staring at me.

“I don’t know. I just got here.”

Hoping that’s enough, I keep staring at the floor. But then he goes on.

His words are slurred, collapsing into each other, and all I can think is how I don’t want to have this kind of interaction. Maybe he’s a nice person when he’s not drunk. But right now, he has a nasty glint in his eyes.

“So you’re telling me they couldn’t fit a single fucking table in that room, huh? Is that what you’re telling me?”

I raise my hands, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

The man nods. “That’s right. You don’t know. So shut your bitch mouth.”

I sigh, knowing there’s nothing I can say that won’t make him worse. It’s like in high school – secondary school anyway – when cruel kids would make comments, and I was forced to take it.

People will always get a sick thrill from making others feel small.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Ben snarls from behind me.

I turn, taking in the scene quickly, my mouth falling open as I realize what’s happening.

Alex and Tiffany stand in the doorway, Alex holding the door open for her. They’ve just arrived, and Ben was a little ahead…maybe he didn’t want to be too close to Alex, the guilt weighing him down.

Whatever happened, they’re all here now, Ben wearing a dark blue suit, his shirt open at the top, showing a glimpse of his powerful chest. He looks like a giant as he strides over to the tattooed man.

“Did you fucking hear me?” he snarls, his temples pulsing.

Stop, a part of me screams. You can’t do this. Not like this. You can’t give the game away.

But Ben isn’t thinking about that. He’s only thinking about defending me.

My heart gives a warm flutter as Ben looms over the man.

“You have no right to speak to her like that,” he snaps. “You’re lucky I don’t break your goddamn nose. She’s my woman, and if you don’t apologize, goddamn, stranger, you’re going to have a serious problem.”

The man gazes up, suddenly unable to speak.

Finally, he pushes some words out.

“You’re Ben Bradshaw.”