Justice(2)

I’m out of the hot seat as the three adults begin talking about the wedding, and I tune out, slowly inching myself to the back wall and hopefully out of their attention. I really want another drink, but three glasses is my limit when I have to drive home. I could go to town and crash in one of the seven guest rooms, but I’m sure they’re staying here tonight and I can only take so much perfection before my head explodes.

I didn’t give Rebecca much thought when he introduced us twelve months ago. Sure she was gorgeous and a talented doctor, but Justin always dated the talented gorgeous. He’d done the billionaire playboy thing since he was seventeen, with the usual models and actresses or a lawyer or businesswoman thrown in for good measure. I’d met a lot of them, so I just assumed he’d keep his MO of three months, just enough time for them to fall in love before he’d give them the polite boot. The jerk even complained about how hard it was having all those women fall head over heels for him. If only he knew. It took all my strength not to sock him in the jaw.

Then they passed the three month mark. The fourth. We didn’t see each other for weeks at a time, and when we did she’d be there. At the shooting range. At dinner. Instead of sailing, we’d meet at a playground and watch Daisy swing. No more bars, only restaurants with mechanical mice singing. No more jetting off to see a football game on a moment’s notice. Then she called me. And called again, insisting we meet for lunch. Shopping. Facials. The best and only advice my mother gave me years before rang in my ears.

“Never make him choose. Remember, he’s a man and he’s fucking her. Who do you think he’ll pick?”

It was important to Justin, she was important to Justin, so I agreed. Even attended Daisy’s ballet recital with them.

I could feel it coming, and I did my best to prepare for it. The engagement. But when he called me to the house, and they were both grinning like mental patients, not so subtly pointing to the diamond on her finger, I had no idea my reaction would be so severe. I saw that ring, and it was as if all the joy and peace I ever had or ever would feel was sucked out of every one of my cells.

I have no idea how I got through the following ten minutes of congratulations and champagne, but I managed to smile and hold off the tears until I got off the property. Then I got drunk. Very drunk. It was a miracle I didn’t end up in the hospital with charcoal in my stomach. That miracle came in the form of my boss Harry, who the bartender at Neptune’s called and then saw me home. Another man saving me from myself.

I know I’m a horrible friend, I know this. When your best friend finds the love of his life, and is blissfully happy, and you’re trying to figure out the best way to frame his bride for drug possession, this becomes abundantly clear. Mind you, I do get some points for not actually doing it, but just the thought makes me feel better. It’s me. It’s all me. I am the asshole in this situation, I am fully aware of that. If I gave her half a chance I’m sure I’d love her just like everyone else on planet earth. The green-eyed monster who lives inside me just won’t allow it. And I don’t have the energy or strength to kill the fucker.

Not that they’d ever guess my ire. A combination of that ecstasy bubble, and my stellar lying skills, have shielded me from any awkward questions or situations. Except in the case of Justin’s Aunt Lucy. She cornered me in the hall one day and threatened to have me killed if I did anything to ruin the wedding. I very politely told her where to shove her threat. We’ve never been best friends.

Lucy sits on the other side of the room, her nose in a book. She’s allowed to be anti-social. The first moment I saw her on that bridge I was reminded of a strict nun who wouldn’t hesitate to smack me with a ruler for sneezing during prayer. She’s in her late fifties with short salt and pepper hair, face stretched across sharp cheekbones and pointed nose, and gaunt body always in chic black. She hasn’t changed much in twenty years. Still just tolerates me. She’s not even trying tonight.

“Isn’t that right, Joanna?” Rebecca asks, pulling me out of my head.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“You’ve met Justice, haven’t you?”

“I’ve had an encounter or two,” I say, not hiding my distaste.

“He helped you on the Corona case, right?” Rebecca asks.

“How frightening,” Marnie says. “I can’t imagine having to be near, let alone chasing after a super. It must be so dangerous.”

“It happens less often than the press would have you believe,” I say. “Most of the time I deal with the usual. Gangs, domestic violence, drugs. When supers fight, it’s usually just with other supers. We, sadly, just handle the collateral damage.”