Finding My Reason Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Hudson

  May 24th, 2003

  “Jesus Fucking Christ,” I groan as my phone blares out “Highway to Hell.” Must be Brody’s fiancée calling about something or other. I take a swig of water from the nightstand next to the bed of my hotel suite to make me sound less hungover. Scratch that—less drunk.

  “Hello?” I try to sound pleasant for her.

  “The wedding photographer is arriving in forty-five minutes. Brody’s phone is off. Where is he?” Claire snaps.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetheart! Slow your roll. It’s not even...,” I glance at the alarm clock, cursing under my breath at how late it is, “...three yet. Brody’s almost ready. We’re just putting some last minute touches on his suit. You know, something borrowed, something blue.”

  “That’s for the bride, nitwit.” Claire doesn’t buy my poor excuse at all.

  “That’s not true,” I grasp at straws. “Us Italian men have a long-standing wedding tradition of hiding thick handkerchiefs in our coat pockets so we can dab away tears in private.”

  “Really?’’ There’s a definite swoon to the woman’s voice that lets me know I’ve tricked her into calming down.

  “All right,” she relents, “but if he isn’t dressed and down by the garden in thirty minutes, there will be hell to pay. Capisce?”

  “Aw, you see? You’re picking up our culture already.” Sealing the deal with a compliment should tie her over for now. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

  “Just get his ass here.” She disconnects the call. Damn, too far on the pleasantries, I guess.

  I sit up, wondering where the groom is this time. Brody’s been my best friend for nearly five years now, and I still can’t trust myself to go out partying with him. He’s a functional drunk and an enabler of stupid ideas. Scanning the room, I spot him reclining in a chair on the balcony. Most likely passed out only hours before his big day.

  I reach for the minibar, grabbing two cans of beer and walk around Brody’s unused bed. Normally, I’d be a little pissed about him leaving the back door open all night without at least closing the bug screen. Plus, the view of the Rockies is something I’ll never get tired of beholding. But this only makes it easier for me to vigorously shake the can in my left hand. I set down the unshaken can.

  I wave my hand in front of Brody’s eyes. No response from behind his sunglasses. I’m always a little concerned he’ll turn a weekend at the Ritz into Weekend at Bernie’s, so I check for a pulse on his neck. The fucker is alive but apparently my hand pressed against his throat isn’t enough. Time for drastic measures. I shake the beer still in my hand one more time, place it directly above his head, crack the can open, and voilà. Instant beer shower for the twenty-seven-year-old who still gets fucked up like he’s nineteen.

  “The fuck?” he yelps as the cold beer oozes down his face. He stares up at me in shock, then rage. “What’s your problem, Drago?”

  “You’re my problem, Golini.” I snort in amusement. “Your ‘blushing bride’ gave me an earful about you making it to the photo shoot.”

  “Shit.” He panics, practically falling on his face as he scrambles off his seat. “How much time we got?”

  “To get you presentable or sober?” I inquire while I shove him inside the shower and start the water.

  “Fuck you,” he blurts as the cold water washes the night before from his body.

  I get out, shutting the door behind me and heading to my bathroom to take a quick shower and put on my suit.

  “Where is my tuxedo?” He asks as I fix my tie.

  “Front closet.” I point to the door across from the bathroom toward the front of the room.

  “What are you doing bumming around then?” he barks before rushing to the closet. “Help me get into my fucking suit. I’m not sober enough for a damn fashion show.”

  “All right, dear, keep your panties on,” I mock him. Brody can be such a pain in the ass when he’s drunk. I take the suit bag from him before he can ruin it somehow. He might be a pain in the ass, but at least my friend—the usually sober lawyer—had the foresight to rent a room for the night before at the same hotel where he was about to tie the knot. Thirty minutes to get his sorry ass downstairs with a hangover cure in hand? No problem.

  “Hey, can we stick a flask in my jacket?” he requests as I fix his tie.

  “Sure.” I look for what’s left of our booze stash under the bed. “If your bride asks,” I holler over my shoulder, “tell her it’s a handkerchief. She’ll understand.”

  • • •

  Eventually, the wedding shoot got done. I always think it’s funny to see Claire posing in pictures next to Brody. Despite his expensive taste in clothing, he looks like a white loser next to his stunning, elegant bride who’s easily eight shades darker than him. Her gorgeous dark skin and tight curls are completely out of place next to his Great Clips buzz cut and spray tan.

  The ceremony went off without a hitch. It was dusk as the sun rolled down over the mountains on a cobblestone patio at the back of the lodge. Miles of flowers, candles, and twinkling lights decorating it. Everything, even their families, seemed to go on for miles. All dressed in fancy dresses and expensive suits. Claire and Brody exchanged vows, and the tears rolled as he promised to show her that she is everything to him. Tears, Kleenex and a few ‘awe’ filled the atmosphere with love. Once he pronounced them husband and wife, they kissed. I’m not overly sentimental, but I think if I ever got married, I’d do something like this. Simple and beautiful.

  We proceed to the ballroom the couple booked through the hotel. It is nice enough, and there are more of those twinkling lights on the ceiling and wildflowers on the tables. Like a well-orchestrated symphony, the food was served just as the last guest took its seat. Wine bottles are uncorked, and as the last plate from the five-course dinner is cleared, the toasts began. From Claire’s mother, aunt, cousin and Brody’s parents to finally the bride’s and groom’s party. Don’t get me wrong; it’s all fun, but these speeches are taking too long. After the matron of honor delivers her speech, everyone claps while the bride clears a few tears. I take a deep breath. This is it. Now it’s my turn to look like an idiot as I give a speech to end all speeches. I hope these people all have great senses of humor. I clink my champagne glass a few times to settle the dinner guests down.

  “Excuse me,” I begin. “It’s time for the obligatory best man speech. Now, for those of you who don’t know, Brody and I have been best pals for most of my adult life. When I moved here six years ago, doe-eyed fresh out of college, I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. Just that I had to get out of Jersey, as I’m sure many of you can sympathize.”

  I get a few chuckles from Brody’s aunts, uncles, and grandparents. This is a good start. “I ended up at a large law firm as an IT guy. It wasn’t a great job, but it paid the bills. Three weeks into this job I ma
de my first friend in Colorado. This son of a bitch—” I gesture to Brody at the head table, “thought his computer was broken to high hell. He was some intern starting law school in the fall, and he thought he was going to get fired for damaging company property or something. Well, it took me about five seconds to realize he hadn’t even plugged the damn thing in.”

  His cousins laughed extra loud at that. “Typical Brody,” one of them barks.

  “Anyway, he tries to tell me to keep it down as I’m practically suffocating from laughter. Then he thinks it’s a good idea to try to knock me around a bit, to shut me up, you know? But I’m actually from Jersey. We didn’t go down easily. Fifteen minutes later his boss comes in, and Brody’s on the floor. I’m underneath him, and he’s gripping my collar for dear life. We’re behind the table of the conference room, for Pete’s sake. Brody gives one glance to his supervisor, must be thinking this is it for him and does the only logical thing he can come up with—he kisses me.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Right on the lips, too. It wasn’t even a peck you’d give your grandmother. It was a full-blown ...advance. Me, being the stupid kid I was, didn’t stop it either. We made out in the conference room of our office. His boss let us off with a warning because she didn’t want a discrimination lawsuit on their hands.”

  Most of the crowded event hall thought this was funny, so I kept going. “Which I wouldn’t take it back for the world. This man and I have been through thick and thin. And now, in front of all of your family, I want to say I can’t lie anymore. Brody Golini and I have been secret lovers for the past five years.”

  Shouts of outrage and murmurs of confusion flood the airways. Some of Claire’s younger cousins wolf whistle in jest. That’s probably a good sign.

  “I refuse to keep our love a secret anymore. What Brody and I have is magical, sacred. The way he sticks his micro-penis into my ass sends me to new heights. His five thousand dollar teeth and remarkable ability to hide his beer gut under Armani suits is breathtaking. In fact, I have proof of our whirlwind love. Cue the lights!” I shout to the other groomsmen who have a projector and tarp all ready to go on the right side of the stage. A video begins that I’ve been saving for far too long. The scene is of a twenty-four-year-old Brody with a scruffy brown mop of hair leaning against a toilet of our dingy old apartment. I shudder at the thought of its yellow kitten wallpaper. Puke is dribbling from his bottom lip in the shot.

  “Hey, Brody,” I hear younger me say from behind my old phone. “What are you gonna do now that you’ve passed the Bar?”

  The intoxicated young man smiles dumbly, his eyes half-lidded. “I’m going to Diz...Disney Whirl.”

  “Disney World?” I egg him on. “Gee, pal, how are you gonna get there?”

  “I’m...” His face scrunches up in contemplation. “I’m gonna ride your ass.”

  “You’re going to ride my ass to Disney World? Buddy, I don’t have the gas mileage to get there.”

  His face blossoms into a bright pink. I can’t tell if he’s mad or embarrassed or both. “Goddammit, you’re supposed to be my ass-man.”

  “Don’t you mean your wing man?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” The brunet chuckles. “You give me your wing, so I can fuck you in the ass.”

  “What about your girlfriend?” I reprimand him.

  “She doesn’t like anal,” he confesses mournfully.

  “No, jagweed, don’t you wanna go with your girlfriend to Disney World instead of me?”

  “S’course I do...I wanna do ‘erything with her” The drunken idiot smiles blissfully. “She’s my little chocolate goddess. Hey, Drago, you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I think ‘m gonna pass the Bar, take Claire to Disney World, and marry ‘er.”

  “You already passed the Bar, Brody,” I remind him.

  His face lights up brighter than a beacon. He shoots up from the floor in sheer excitement. “Woo! What the fuck are we doing in the bathroom? Let’s get fucked!”

  The camera follows Brody as he runs out of the bathroom of our bachelor pad and straight into the front door. The picture abruptly fades to black.

  The house lights turn back on, everyone’s eyes turned to me, here in the present. Good thing they didn’t invite any kids to their wedding or I would’ve been forcibly removed by now. Time to seal them in with my charm.

  “You might ask, why did I show you this video.” I smirk charmingly “Because the guy who makes a living off of screwing other people has been in love with his wife for years. I’ve seen him flirt and schmooze his way through almost any situation. And whenever Brody looks at Claire, I can tell he is where he’s actually happiest. Ever since they started dating, he has become a better man, responsible, and full of life. As my sappy friend say, Claire completes him. If I ever decide to search for someone, I hope she makes me half as happy as Claire makes Brody. So, if you’ll please all raise your glasses. To Brody and Claire, may your marriage be long and full of the same love present here today. Cheers.”

  A resounding round cheers echoes through the room. I’m about to step down when I add, “By the way, my amateur video business is available for birthdays, bar mitzvahs, and wedding weekend hookups. I’m both single and heterosexual. I’ll be at the bar all night, thank you.”

  As I saunter off stage, I stop in front of the head table. “Congratulations again, you guys” I kiss Claire on the cheek, trying my hardest not to get her veil stuck in my mouth. Her demure smile tips me off that she won’t kill me for that speech, tonight. As for Brody, he extends his hand out so we can shake hands. I accept his, and he draws me into a bear hug. Albeit, a bit awkward considering I have to bend down to his sitting height.

  “You’re so lucky she liked that video, ass,” the groom grits through his clenched teeth, feigning a smile.

  “Only the best for you two.” I laugh, unfazed by the clear threat.

  I make good on my promise, heading to the bar. It’s open, so I know I’ll be nursing a drink all night. The girl behind the counter is surprisingly attractive. She’s petite, got this round face and huge brown eyes that are easy on my own. She clearly isn’t a natural blonde, but it suits her light bronzed complexion. She looks Polynesian mixed with something else I can’t define. The point is, she’s handling a crowd of barely legal kids—like her—when her face turns to meet mine. I’m taken aback. I never knew a face could intrigue me as much as hers does right now.

  “What’ll it be?” My body freezes when I hear her melodic voice; my eyes fixate on her mouth. I feel a twitch. My dick is waking up from a nap, and I work hard not to groan as I imagine her lips wrapped around... “Or are you hiding from the angry mob?”

  “What do you recommend?” I half-shout so she can hear me over the dance music that’s begun playing in the background.

  “If you’re asking me what I think you want...” She assesses me up and down for a moment. My eyes concentrate on her pouty mouth a bit too long. “Then I think you want something stiff, but you don’t know how to get adult beverages.”

  I snort at the superiority in her voice. “Is that so? All right, then, give me whatever you think I’ll like and we’ll see if I tip you.” I’d probably tip her regardless, but maybe if I keep things interesting, I’ll invite her back to my room later. She turns away from me to face her workstation, and I get a good long glance at her supple ass in a tight skirt while she throws my drink together.

  Without me really noticing, she turns around and hands me my drink. It looks like straight whiskey to me with a garnish, but I can’t be too sure.

  “Just try it,” the bartender urges with a confident smile, arching one eyebrow as she waits for me to drink.

  I throw caution to the wind, downing the whole drink in one gulp. It’s smooth, better than any whiskey I’ve ever had. It still leaves a warm sensation as it drops down into my stomach.

  “No, no, no,” she squares her shoulders chiding me. “That wasn’t some shot of cheap whiskey. That was apple bourbon in an
Old Fashioned, and you just wasted it.”

  “My apologies, Your Highness.” I bow to her dramatically. “I bequeath to you, show mercy unto me and recreate this magnificent beverage I promise to treat it with the utmost respect.”

  She laughs. It’s almost a cackle, but it suits her. “Fortunately, after your speech, I figured you were the type of guy to need a second drink fast.” She hands me a near identical drink from the counter in front of her.

  I smile tightly at her jab. “Thanks.” I sip this drink, slowly. It’s actually pretty great. “So how long have you been bartending?”

  “A few years.” She scoots over to talk more casually. “I used it to put me through school when waiting tables wasn’t enough, and I turned twenty-one. Now I just do it here and there for fun.”

  “And you think bartending at some idiots’ wedding is fun?”

  “Well, one of them is a fool, and the other is my cousin,” she admits with a broad smile.

  “Really?” I stare back to look at the bride and groom now on the dance floor. “Which one?”

  The blonde puckers her lips amused at my confusion. Her expression is mildly stoic, but it cracks under a shit-eating grin. Man, her smile is gorgeous. “Claire.”

  I feel like a giant douche. “Wow, I’m sorry, I don’t see the family resemblance.”

  “Don’t be.” She shrugs before taking someone else’s cup to do a refill. “I’m adopted. I don’t even know what I am. I could be a fairy, or from another planet and my family would still love me. Isn’t that right, Ben?” She pats the man, who looks to be about my age, on the cheek.

  Ben, with his three inches on me, turns to size me up. He sneers a little bit before turning back to the bartender. “Seriously, Jade? Stop talking to lover-boy.”

  Jade leans over the bar to punch him square in the chest. It looks a little painful, honestly. “I’m just doing the job you volunteered me for, Ben,” his sister growls. “Take your shitty IPA before I find Mom and tell her to set you up with one of the single girls with her in the choir.”

  Ben visibly pales, scurrying off in a flash toward a cocktail table in the back.

  “Ouch! Not the choir girls. That was rough.” I look back at her, biting the laugh. Jade’s still glaring in his direction.