Before The Boys Say No Part 18

I really didn't want to be part of this, but my dad forced me to come along. Here's the deal. Brody's parents were having a fundraising party at their house for some charity. Let me be specific. At their ginormous, fancy country club house. It was an April Fools Day event, so I really felt like we were the fools to agree to this.

I'm not one to judge anyone--okay, maybe I am on some things, but not on houses and money. It's all overrated. But Brody's house is different. I mean, Brody is almost family to us, so to think of him having really rich parents is--it's just really weird.

Somehow, Brody convinced my parents to cater the party. Dad said all hands on deck since Dean and Aunt Roma were working in the restaurant. That left Mom and me to help him at the party. I tried to get Aunt Roma to change with me and let me work at the restaurant, but she adamantly refused. I was even willing to give her the amazing pink pumps, but my foot is almost two sizes larger than hers.

Uncle Ernie joined us at the last minute. He had gotten some white chef clothes from some contact of his so he and Dad really looked official. Mom made me wear black slacks and a white blouse since we would be serving the guests.

We arrived at the house early. Brody came out to greet us, full of smiles and hugs. His parents were nowhere to be seen. He mumbled something about them being on the golf course. I didn't care. It just meant Brody could spend some time with us in the kitchen.

I really tried to control the gasp when we walked into the kitchen. It looked like it was ripped from the pages of a celebrity's home in one of those magazines. Mom couldn't hide her appreciation either. She ran her hands along the very long granite countertop. I could read her. She wasn't feeling comfortable. Dad, on the other hand, felt right at home. His motto has always been "a kitchen's a kitchen."

As soon as they unloaded the van, we all jumped in to start preparing the food. Even Brody. Mom tried to shoo him away, but he insisted. He had really gotten good at cutting food and checking the meat to know how long to cook it. Dad put him in charge of all the chopping, while Mom and I started making sauces.

We spent three hours preparing the food and still no sign of Brody's parents. I looked at the clock on the wall. The party started in half an hour. I was surprised they hadn't come in to meet us and check on everything. I guess they trusted Brody to handle everything.

With ten minutes to spare, Brody reluctantly left us to get dressed for the event. Mom made me take off my ap.r.o.n and put on lipstick. I was so dreading this. I suffered her putting a fresh ponytail in my hair. She always made them super tight, grabbing all my loose hairs in the rubber band.

I stumbled back into the kitchen. We could hear guests starting to arrive and Dad wanted us out there with hors d'oeuvres. I took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on my face. Mom placed a tray in my hands and warned me to keep the smile on while I was serving people.

I followed her down a long hall toward double doors to the left of us. The sound of gla.s.ses clinking and muted voices floated toward us when we paused at the doors. Balancing the tray on one hand, Mom opened the door and I followed her in.

This is what pure luxury is all about. The room was huge with a ma.s.sive crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling. Ornate gold and white furniture adorned the room. I felt like I must have stepped into Cleopatra's boudoir.

Mom immediately started moving among the guests with the tray. They hardly paid any attention to us. It was like we were invisible. I didn't mind that all. I wanted to disappear into the walls. Except, I couldn't.

Brody walked into the room from the opposite end. He was dressed in a suit. I had never seen him so dressed up before. For the first time, I realized his cast was off. We had just spent three hours together in the kitchen and I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed. His eyes searched the room. He looked at me and smiled really big. I was about to smile back, but someone turned around and b.u.mped my tray. I felt bruschetta slide off the tray and right onto my white blouse.

n.o.body in the room seemed to notice. Certainly not the man who had b.u.mped me. But Brody had seen. He strode to me with a concerned look. He took the napkin that I had draped over my arm and was going to wipe my shirt, but blushed and immediately handed it to me to clean. The sauce was right on my b.o.o.bs. I felt the heat rising into my cheeks, too.

I turned around and walked right back out the double doors to the kitchen. Dad looked up and did a double take.

"Are you kidding me?" he bellowed. "Do you have a shirt to change into?"

"Nope," I said, wetting a towel and frantically swiping at the sauce. I only succeeded in smearing the sauce into my blouse.

"I can get you one of my shirts," Brody offered. He had followed me into the kitchen.

I looked over my shoulder at him. "I can't promise it will survive stain free."

He laughed. "I'll be right back."

Mom came hurrying into the kitchen. She had handed out all her hors d'oeuvres and was coming for more. "I need you, Bea. People are really starting to arrive now."

I turned and pointed to the stain on my shirt. He face fell. "Brody's getting me one of his shirts," I told her.

She rolled her eyes and filled up her tray again just as Brody ran back in. He handed me a couple of shirts to try on. I wasn't sure if any of them would fit. I mean, let's face it. b.o.o.bs do make a difference when trying on clothes.

I darted into the bathroom to try them on. The b.u.t.ton down shirt didn't work because my b.o.o.bs popped the b.u.t.tons open. The T-shirt definitely wasn't dressy enough. My best option was a white ribbed sweater. I pulled it over my head and snuggled into its softness. I had never seen Brody wearing it, but I could imagine it stretched over his chest. I had to roll up the sleeves because they were too long.

I walked back into the kitchen and filled up my tray. Dad shot me a look, but didn't say anything. I know it looked big, but Mom needed help. Besides, the guests didn't pay any attention to me anyway. At least no one did until I walked back in.

Lanie was standing by the fireplace with Brody when I took the tray in. Almost as if I were a magnet, her head swung toward me and we made eye contact. I saw her expression change from one of sweetness to pure fury. She turned her angry eyes to Brody and asked him something. He frowned and responded; probably trying to defend why I was there.

I wanted to get out of the room as fast as possible so I practically forced the guests to take a piece of bruschetta. With my tray cleared I walked a s fast as I could out of the room. There was no way I was going back in there.

Dad noticed me breathing hard when I got back in the kitchen. "You okay, Bea?"

"I'm not doing this, Dad," I said firmly. "There's a girl out there who hates me. It's bad enough that I have to deal with her at the restaurant and school."

Dad moved swiftly from one task to another, plating food and stirring sauces. "It's not like you to hide out in the kitchen," he remarked.

"Yeah? Well, I do it all the time at the restaurant when she comes in with her perfect, skinny friends."

Dad didn't say anything. He was so busy I don't think he was really paying attention to me anyway. I went to the stove and started stirring the marinara sauce. Mom whisked in, humming. She only hummed like that when she was nervous. I felt awful leaving her out there alone. Dinner was about to be served and she would need my help.

The formal dining room was further down the hall. I grabbed some baskets of garlic bread and made my way to it. I should have been prepared for the opulence. But I wasn't. The longest gla.s.s table I had ever seen in my life was being set by a maid. She turned to smile at me as I placed the baskets on the table. Mental note. Do not trip and fall on the gla.s.s table. All kinds of bad stuff could happen, like I'd crack the table or smear handprints all over it or-- "Bea? Go grab some more bread," Mom said from the doorway.

"Can you believe this place?" I murmured as I pa.s.sed her. She just sighed in response.

I darted back to the kitchen and stacked some baskets of bread so I could carry more. Good thing my dad always thought to bring extra of everything. I was about to walk out the door when Brody appeared with a man and woman. His parents.

"Dad, Mom, I just wanted you to meet everyone I work with," Brody said with forced cheerfulness.

His mother was wearing a white dress and gold accessories. She probably dressed to match her environment. She was a pet.i.te blonde woman with perfectly manicured fingernails. She flashed a fake smile and remained in the doorway. His dad, an older and larger replica of Brody, actually came into the room to meet us.

"I'm Jim" he said, shaking my father's hand. He seemed unconcerned about getting his tailored suit dirty.

Dad hurriedly wiped his hands on a towel before offering it to the man. I lay down the bread baskets and shook Jim's hand too.

Brody crossed over to me and grabbed my arm to pull me to his mother. "This is Bea," he said, obviously not aware of her stiffening her back as I came her way.

"h.e.l.lo, Bea," she said in a soft voice. "So you're the one Brody works with. Hmm."

I wasn't sure how to take that "hmm." By her body language, I would think it wasn't a good response. I smiled cheerfully anyway and was about to say something pleasant when her whole face suddenly took on a shocked expression.

"Is that your sweater, Brody?"

"Mom," Brody said between clenched teeth.

"Why is this girl wearing your sweater?"

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I spilled sauce on my blouse so Brody let me borrow this."

"As long as you don't stretch it out," she said pointedly, looking right at my b.o.o.bs.

Brody's face went through several shades of red from embarra.s.sment. He was speechless. He looked at me with apologetic eyes. I smiled, even though I know my own face was red.

"I'll make sure I'm careful with it," I told her. I moved away from her back to the security of the kitchen.

Jim coughed really loud in the dead silence. He looked around the kitchen and gave a short, embarra.s.sed laugh and said something about getting back out to the party. He pushed Brody and his wife out the door. Dad had stopped everything. The sauce bubbled over on the stove, but he didn't seem to notice. Papa Bear's baby girl had been insulted. I shook my head at him and moved to turn down the heat on the stove.

"Everything's fine, Daddy. Let's just get this done and go home."

We served dinner without any mishaps. Mom pretty much did everything. I stood at the door and ran back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room when she needed anything. It wasn't long before the sweat started beading up on my forehead. I kept a napkin clutched in my hand to wipe at it every time I left the dining room.

Dinner had just finished so I darted back into the kitchen to start serving Mom's tiramisu. I know I looked flushed from thick sweater combined with the heat in the kitchen. Dad looked at me with concern.

"How you doing there, Bea?"

I frantically fanned my face and shook the sweater to get some air. "I'm okay. Just burning up in this thing."

I sliced the tiramisu and placed some pieces on small plates to take out and serve. Mom rushed in with an armful of dirty plates.

"Help me get the dirty plates off the table first, Bea," she said briskly.

I walked out the door and came face to face with Lanie. She had been waiting for me. The smirk on her face gave me chills up my spine. If she wasn't one of the popular girls, she would never have bothered me. Too much Italian blood in me to put with her att.i.tude.

I tried to step around her, but she moved in front of me and stuck her finger in my face. "I don't know why you keep coming around Brody, big girl, but you better back off. You're making a fool of yourself."

I took a deep breath. "Look, Lanie, I just work with Brody. I don't know why you feel like you have to be so mean--"

"I see the way you look at him. Not that you have a chance. I mean, if you think Brody would ever like someone as big as you, then you need to crawl back into bed and keep dreaming."

"Fine," I said dismissively and tried to step around her again, but she moved with me to stop me.

"Don't you talk to me like that fatsy--"

"I know you're not talking to my daughter like that."

It was Dad. We both looked at him standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. My father was not happy. I recognized that look. His b.u.t.tons had been pushed too far. Lanie backed away from me and started to turn and walk away, but Dad's voice stopped her.

"My daughter has put up with a lot from you out of respect to Brody. No more. No one calls my beautiful Bea fatsy. You think being attractive is having your bones stick out? Real men don't like that. They want a real woman. My daughter is a real woman."

Lanie's eyes were wide. I'll bet no one ever talked to her like my dad just had. I wondered if I should stop him, but for once in my life, I wasn't embarra.s.sed by my father's words. I moved closer to his protection.

"She keeps trying to make moves on Brody--"

"Make moves on Brody?" Dad's voice echoed down the long hall. "Brody is almost a part of our family. He works with Bea. She wouldn't know how to make moves on a boy."

"Fine," Lanie shrugged. "I'll drop it."

"Yes, you'll drop it or I'll call the police on you for hara.s.sment," Dad said in a threatening tone.

Lanie's mouth dropped. "Oh, please, I'm not hara.s.sing her." She looked at me and I saw uncertainty from her for the first time. "I wasn't hara.s.sing you."

I just looked at her. Oh, a big part of me wanted to open my mouth and let her have it, but that didn't always stop a bully. My dad had made his point. I bet Lanie never thought about the consequences of her actions before now. Here she stood alone in front of my angry father and there was no one to support her mean behavior.

"I'm--I'm sorry," she said shortly. She turned and almost ran back to the dining room.

Just like that a big Italian man caused the great and mighty Lanie to apologize. Something I thought I would never hear from her lips. Dad winked at me. I saw the smile playing around his lips. I think he rather enjoyed that.

"Bullies come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes all it takes is someone else to stand up for you, Bea," he said quietly.

"Thanks, Daddy." I hugged his arm and walked back in the kitchen with him.

Uncle Ernie looked up from the sink where he was washing dishes. His gla.s.ses were steamed up from the hot water and had slid to the end of his nose. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"I think everything's going to be just fine," Dad said.

Mom had stayed in the kitchen and had a tray full of tiramisu ready to take out. She gave Dad an approving nod. "Dessert time," she sang out.

"I still need to grab the dirty dishes from the table," I said, rushing out the door toward the dining room.

Mom sat a plate of the tiramisu in front of each guest as I cleared away the remaining dirty dishes. Lanie didn't even look at me. She sat with her arms crossed over her chest and a sullen expression on her face.

Brody gave me a warm smile when I removed his plate. "Thanks, Bea," he whispered.

Thankfully, I made it back to the kitchen without dropping the armload of dishes. Ernie groaned when I unloaded on the counter. I don't know where the maid had taken off. I kind of thought she should be helping us out.

"Okay," Mom said in a loud voice when she reentered, "one more tray of desserts, then clean up, then out we go."

We were all pretty tired by the time the last dish was dried. Dad and Ernie loaded up the van while Mom and I made sure the kitchen was back to its impeccable state. Brody walked in just when we were heading out the door.

"You leaving already?" he asked.

Mom looked at him with surprise. "Was there something else you needed us to do, honey?"

"No," Brody said hurriedly. "I was just hoping you could hang out for a while."

"I don't think your folks are much into hanging out with us," Dad's voice said from the door. He and Uncle Ernie came in to pick up the last box of restaurant items sitting by the door.

"They just need to get to know you--"

"I don't think so, Brody," Dad said curtly. "Between your mom and your girlfriend, I think we've had enough insults in one day."

"Girlfriend?" Brody asked with a frown.

"Lanie," I said quietly.

"Lanie's not my girlfriend," Brody protested.

"She sure thinks so," Dad said.

"She's not," Brody retorted. "My parents seem to like her a lot and she lives right beside us so I hang out with her. She's definitely not my girlfriend though."

"But you went to Homecoming with her--" I began to say, but Brody broke me off with a wave of his hand.

"That's because the girl I really wanted to take wasn't interested."