The Bridesmaid's Best Man. Susanna CarrЧитать онлайн книгу.
it is my party.” Brittany flattened her manicured hand to her chest. “I am a personal shopper for an exclusive clientele and they’re here.”
Exclusive? Angie wanted to snort at the word. She had worked with some of the most accomplished and talented women in the Seattle area. The women here at Brittany’s invitation were sloppy drunk and out of control. She was pretty sure one of them had tried to bite a stripper.
“Not only do I have to look good,” Brittany said, “but so do my bridesmaids.”
Angie glanced down at her clothes. She wore a glittery black tank, dark skinny jeans and—with great reluctance but her mother had insisted—strappy heels. There was nothing strange or offensive about her outfit.
She scanned the room, taking note of the other women in the upscale strip club that had been reserved for Brittany’s bachelorette party. The guests were not like the flannel-shirt, thick-framed-eyeglasses and designer-boots crowd she knew. They weren’t even the yoga-pants and organic-coffee group from the suburbs. The women wore flirty dresses and skintight miniskirts. The outfits were wild and sexy.
Oh. Those were two words that wouldn’t describe her. Ever. Angie sighed and fought the urge to hunch her shoulders. Once again, she had dressed all wrong. She thought what she had worn was sophisticated and trendy enough that she would blend in. Instead she looked like a dark giant among the sugarplum fairies.
“I mean, really, Angie.” She tossed her hands up with frustration. “What’s wrong with showing a little cleavage?”
Now Brittany was really beginning to sound just like her mother. “Nothing.” Angie shrugged. And it was a good thing she felt that way, since she was going to flash the whole world when she wore her bridesmaid dress. It was tight, shiny and barely covered the essentials.
“I give up. Just try to look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Brittany said as she marched off.
Angie froze at those parting words. She had made a valiant effort to get into a party mood but she was bored. And that was cause for worry. Actually, she hadn’t been interested in any man since Cole walked out of her life. That was months ago and yet, watching these gorgeous men had left her cold. Why couldn’t she enjoy watching a man dance? It didn’t make sense. She was young and healthy. What was wrong with her?
“Don’t listen to Britt.”
Angie peered down and saw Brittany’s assistant at her side. Cheryl, a petite and curvy blonde who usually wore jeans and animal-print tops, was dressed in a leopard-print tube dress and skyscraper heels.
“She gives unsolicited fashion advice all the time,” Cheryl said with a weary smile. “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me,” Angie assured Cheryl, but the woman was already trailing her boss.
And it didn’t bother her that much. She heard the complaint so many times that it had become white noise. Boyfriends had always wanted her to wear revealing clothes and well-intentioned friends kept trying to give her a makeover. No matter how much they insisted, she wouldn’t give in. She knew she would never meet their expectations. What would be the point of trying?
She had learned to resist this type of help from a young age. Her mother used to make her go on shopping expeditions that felt more like death marches. Despite her mother’s perseverance to create a girly look for Angie, it never stuck. Angie preferred the hand-me-downs from her brothers rather than the ruffled dresses and makeup.
But maybe she had gone too far. Her mother thought Cole had lost interest because Angie didn’t work hard enough on her appearance. Her friends weren’t quick to shoot down the idea, either.
She didn’t want to believe it. When they had first met at a gym, Angie hadn’t been dressed to impress. She had been sweaty and in desperate need of a shower after an intense workout. And yet Cole couldn’t stop flirting with her.
Even after that Cole never asked her to dress up and he didn’t make any complaints about her customary ponytail or lack of pretty lingerie. He didn’t suggest that she needed to wear tight clothes to reveal the hard work she put in exercising. He thought she was strong and sexy.
But maybe she hadn’t been sexy enough....
“Angie!”
Angie cringed when she recognized the maid of honor’s voice. She looked for an escape route but she was stuck unless she wanted to get on stage with the strippers. That wasn’t going to happen. Angie sighed with defeat and watched Heidi approach.
Heidi was tall, rail-thin and her short dark hair made the most of her dramatic features. Her blue one-shoulder dress and stiletto heels would have gotten Brittany’s stamp of approval. Just being near Heidi made Angie feel drab and frumpy. The only thing they had in common was the gold bracelet they had received as a bridesmaid gift.
“You need to keep me away from Robin,” Heidi declared.
Angie wondered where it was written in the bridesmaid handbook that she had to be the referee? Heidi and Robin might be Brittany’s sorority sisters but they hated each other. It was as if they were in competition over who was Brittany’s favorite. Why anyone would spend energy on that was beyond Angie’s imagination. And from what Angie could tell, Brittany seemed to genuinely enjoy pitting the two against each other.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t surprised by this side of Brittany and wished for the millionth time that she had found a good excuse to get out of being a bridesmaid. But Patrick was the groom and her best friend since kindergarten. It was important to him that she was part of his wedding.
“I couldn’t stand her in college,” Heidi continued. “And she’s even worse now.”
“I admire your restraint,” Angie deadpanned. “You’re really doing everything you can to keep the drama out of Brittany’s bachelorette party. That’s a true friend.”
“I know, right? I couldn’t believe that Robin said the bridesmaid dresses are tacky. How could she say that? I love Britt’s sense of style. I think the dresses are sexy and colorful.”
Colorful? Angie bit down on her lip. Bile-green was a color, so Heidi was technically correct.
“And you can wear them again,” Heidi informed her.
Angie nodded slowly. “Sure.” But why would she want to go somewhere that required her to wear a bustier dress?
“Of course, Robin can’t let anything other than designer touch her skin.” Heidi crossed her arms and looked over her shoulder. “I think she’s just bitter because the dress didn’t come in vanity sizes. Her dress size is in double digits.”
Angie gritted her teeth. This was exactly why she preferred hanging out with the guys. She was tempted to put Heidi in a headlock and tell her to grow up. It always worked on Patrick but she had a feeling it would cause a meltdown for Heidi.
The strip club plunged into darkness and the spotlight zeroed in on Brittany. “Oh,” Heidi squealed as the DJ asked the bride-to-be to go on stage, “the strippers are going to give a special dance for Brittany. Go find a seat.”
Angie watched Heidi run to the edge of the stage, teetering dangerously on her silver stilettos. She took a deep breath. So what if she wore the wrong clothes? Who cared if she was too shy to grope a man? It didn’t mean she was sexually repressed, right? She could smile, clap and make sure everyone was having a good time. She was going to have fun tonight even if it killed her.
“What did she say about me?”
Angie jumped as Robin stood beside her. The woman’s orange beaded halter dress was so short that at first Angie thought it was meant to be a shirt. “Heidi? She said the strippers were going to dance for Brittany.”
“She was talking about me, wasn’t she?” Her sleek black ponytail bobbed as she nodded her head.
“No,” Angie lied.