“Caroline, you forgot to bring Colin’s champagne,” Jenny says in her brusque manner.
“No I didn’t. It must still be in Brad’s car.”
Then, like the ninja that Jenny is, she whips out her smart phone and expertly hits Brad’s number, which is saved in her favorites list. “Bring up Colin’s champagne.” One sentence only, and she doesn’t wait for his response. Brad and I will have a field day making fun of her the next time we’re alone.
Chelsea and Liza are on the balcony drinking what look to be mimosas. Checking my watch—which matches Colin’s—I note that it’s 10:30. I guess my girls are starting early.
The parade is supposed to pass by our hotel in fifteen minutes. I rush over to my bag and grab the camera that Colin bought me for Christmas and quickly snap a picture of Marley playing dolls. Colin will get a kick out of it. Then I point my lens at Chelsea, Liza, and Janis (who now has a drink in her hand) and yell for them to cheers while I take a couple of shots. Even Jenny plays along, flashing me a forced grin, when I aim my camera at her. Her hair is a lovely shade of Dallas Cowboy’s blue right now. It’s fabulous.
Next, I catch Brad as he walks into the hotel room, holding two bottles of sparkling cider. Brad’s embraced the glasses trend, and is sporting a rather attractive pair of fake lenses. He stops when he sees my camera and strikes a male model pose straight out of a high-end fashion magazine.
Then, he grabs my camera and turns it on me. I throw my arms up in the air in a very silly dance move. He snaps away while I make funny faces.
When he realizes I’m still in my street clothes, he cocks an eyebrow and drops his chin to his chest as he hands me back my camera. “Do you plan on staying in faded jeans and a sweater?” He checks his watch. “You know the festivities are about to begin.”
“Nope. I’m just about to change. You know me. I like making you sweat,” I reply with a wink. He rolls his eyes and mutters that I’ll be the death of him.
My camera goes back into its protective case, and I place it carefully in the tote that I brought with me. As I’m slipping into the hotel’s bathroom Chelsea yells, “Let me know if you need some help.”
Brad quickly admonishes Chelsea. “That’s my job, sister friend.”
I close the door to block out their bickering. Brad’s truly become the brother that we all missed out on. He’s the best kind of brother, though. One day we’ll be lucky enough to get a brother-in-law instead of a sister-in-law that will just have to fit in with the Collins’ ladies.
I unzip the dress bag and stare at the garment inside. How did I let Brad talk me into this? It’s really hideous. All I want to do is stay in my comfy jeans, but Brad convinced me that Colin would love it. Sometimes, I need to trust my gut instincts instead of listening to my flamboyantly gay assistant.
I slip off my rose-colored wool sweater and faded jeans, and then haphazardly stuff them in my black tote bag. Next, I remove my chocolate-brown Ugg boots that have been my uniform for the last couple of months and replace them with my cowboy boots. They’re literally Cowboy boots. Some famous boot designer made them just for me. The tops are Dallas Cowboy blue with a white star, and Colin’s football number—eight—displayed artistically. The bottoms are cinnamon-brown leather. It was a very kind gesture, but they’re just not my style. Brad pointed out that this is the perfect occasion for me to wear them. He’s right, as usual.
Finally, I slide the dress on over my head and shimmy it down, making sure that my backside is covered. There are women that would kill for this dress. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them. Turning to look in the full-length mirror, I roll my eyes. I’m the picture of a fangirl.
I can almost hear out loud the music that’s playing in my head. Wonk… wonk… wonk…
Cautiously, I make my way towards the balcony where everyone has congregated—even Marley. She spots me first. “Ohhhhhh Auntie Charlie. You look silly.” Out of the mouths of babes…
Then, the rest of the girls and Brad turn around and inspect me. “It could be worse,” Liza offers. My stylist friend, Liza, created this work of art for me.
I spin around on my boot heels and head back towards the bathroom. “I’m changing,” I announce to the group.
Lots of “no’s” and “don’t do it” and “you look great” fill the air.
Then, I hear Jenny’s voice above the rest, “Colin will love it.”
That stops me. For some reason, hearing Jenny’s opinion means more to me than the rest of the gangs’. Sometimes her constant honesty is refreshing.