It Should Happen To You. Kathleen O'Reilly

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СКАЧАТЬ lenses, as if that was the problem. “It’s the dress. The color is a little off for me.”

      “I think it looks great on you.”

      Mickey’s mouth twisted into a pale imitation of a smile. “Yeah, I do, too.”

      This stupid dress was more than half of the problem. They had Jessica’s bachelorette party right after the last fitting. Oh, Mickey, you should wear it out. You look fab!

      Mickey didn’t wear dresses that showed more than the requisite one-third of her breasts. And she didn’t normally drink more than four beers in one night. And she didn’t normally have one-night stands with horny college interns who threaten blackmail.

      The panic attack started all over again.

      “Are you sure you’re okay?” Beth asked.

      “I think I just need to sit down.” Mickey managed to choke the words out, and then collapsed onto a nearby folding chair.

      “Want some water?”

      “Yeah, that’ll help. Thanks.”

      Beth came back with a paper cup and handed it over. “I know this has been hard for you.”

      Mickey stared in confusion. How did she know? “What?”

      Beth tilted her head in Jessica’s direction. “Jessica. Adam. The wedding. You know, you’re not losing a best friend. You’re gaining a whole new conduit to eligible bachelors.”

      The sad thing was, Beth was completely serious. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Mickey said, completely honest.

      “I know we kinda made this bachelorette pact promise, but we were kidding, right?” Beth blinked hopefully.

      The Bachelorette Pact. Almost twelve months ago the four college friends had made a promise to revel in their single status. Free of men, free to do whatever they wanted. Oh, yeah, paradise. Right now the free-of-men part sounded great, because today her priorities were getting the tape, of a night she didn’t even remember—much. Then she could concentrate on the galaxy density differentiation presentation for Dr. Heidelman. Her ticket to fame and fortune in the scientific community. Well, not really fortune, but definitely fame among the Astrophysical Journal set. And maybe even respect in the eyes of one Dr. Andrew Coleman, MD, the man otherwise known as Dad. If Dad ever heard about that tape, or anyone at Astrophysical Sciences Research Center for that matter, she’d be pretty much astrophysical toast.

      The day after the Bachelorette Party, John Monihan had approached her with vague references about their evening before. Apparently he was one of those video aficionados, just her luck. Now he had the tape of their night, and he wanted payback. Actually, he merely wanted more sex, which was very frustrating, because Mickey just didn’t remember it being that great.

      Beth pulled up a chair next to her. “You know, we can do stuff together, too. I mean, if you want to.”

      This time Mickey’s smile was legit. Beth, at her most earnest, couldn’t be denied. “Sure, Beth. Maybe we can go out after the reception.”

      “Brick’s for a beer?”

      Beer? Not in a million years. Still, there were always the uncharted waters of new territories, like, say, martinis. “Sure.”

      The music cranked up from the chapel, and the wedding planner rushed them out into the foyer. Mickey walked over to where Jessica was standing in front of the mirror, twisting around to see her back. When Jessica spied her, she gave Mickey one last hug.

      “Break a leg,” Mickey whispered.

      “You’ll be next,” was all Jessica had to say.

      Oh yeah, right. Slimeball antimatter was definitely prime husband material. Mickey held her tongue.

      The ceremony was beautiful, she had to say that. White lilies, classical music and barely controlled tears that hung stubbornly at the corners of her eyes. When Adam kissed Jessica, Mickey nearly lost it.

      Jessica smiled at her from under her veil, a tremulous smile completely ruined by the steely glint in her eyes that said, “You’re catching the bouquet.” That was Jessica. Always the woman in denial.

      The exit music started, true love conquering all, a journey to a new life, yada, yada, yada.

      Mickey sighed, grabbed the arm of the best man and followed the happy couple down the aisle and out the door. The best man smiled at her, a harmless, unpretentious smile, and Mickey just nodded curtly.

      He was one of the enemy. He was a man, and right now she had little patience for human beings with an extra appendage. She’d been shot down by those flyboys one too many times.

      “I bet you have a video camera,” she whispered under her breath, a reminder that harmless, unpretentious smiles could hide the nefarious heart of a debauchee.

      “As a matter of fact, I do,” he said. “It’s in the car. Should I bring it in?”

      Mickey didn’t answer, just gave him the patented Coleman growl, guaranteed to intimidate any man, woman or Department of Energy inspector. So was this a testosterone-laden man or merely an invertebrate munchkin? The age-old question reared its head.

      He shot her one frightened look and that was the end of the conversation.

      Mickey buffed her nails on the shoulder of the polished-silk dress. The man was nothing more than Milquetoast in a tux.

      WHILE CASSANDRA DECORATED the getaway car with all sorts of suggestions and advice for every newly wedded couple, Mickey supervised. Eventually the wedding party—sans bride and groom, who were probably off doing the rumpy-pumpy—had managed to completely eliminate any possibility of driver-side visibility.

      All in all, it was great bawdy fun.

      But all good things must come to an end. The reception was winding down, the sun was starting to set, and finally the happy couple appeared, a telltale flush in Jessica’s cheeks. Sex had definitely been involved. Jess threw the bouquet at Mickey, who dodged and bobbed. In accordance with Murphy’s laws on weddings and other damned affairs, the thing hit her smack on the chest.

      Using lightning-fast reflexes, which she’d never before possessed, she tossed it off to Beth.

      Eventually Jessica’s Porsche pulled away from the curb. Mickey waved goodbye, wiping away her tears before anyone noticed. Her best friend was married. So why couldn’t she be happier for her?

      It wasn’t as if she wished divorce or death on Adam; she just wished that things wouldn’t change. But already she’d noticed the little differences. Jessica tried hard, but she was becoming a clock-watcher when they went out. And worse, only once had she participated in Cassandra’s favorite sport, the ten-thousand meter, manly-man ogle. To top it off, she compared the subject in question to Adam—favoring Adam, of course.

      It was all depressing.

      In order to dispel some of her depression, and forget the whole tape-sex-blackmail-I-have-shot-my-career-to-hell debacle, she met up with Beth and Cassandra at Brick’s that evening.

      Saturday nights СКАЧАТЬ