thousand dollar buy-in and tossed it to Otis. “Did you blow up Anderson’s phone?”
“No. Where the hell else is he going to be? This is his house.” Bryan rocked in his chair like a toddler sitting in front of a birthday cake filled with lit candles.
I smiled at Otis. We both exchanged subtle nods with Eric. Since the first day we met, Bryan lacked any sort of poker face. He had something big to share, and we all knew it.
“Bryan, we are not going to spend another poker night talking about what Faith thinks about everything.” Otis stared as he set the final stack of chips in front of Eric. Both he and Eric leaned back in their chairs with their arms across their chest.
“What are you talking about?” Bryan rubbed his hands together.
I smiled and shared a knowing glance with Otis and Eric. “I mean, she has been your favorite since you started seeing–”
“I asked Faith to marry me.” Bryan blurted out and laid his head on the edge of the table in front of his seat. He continued when no one else in the room spoke.
“She’s the one. I asked her last weekend. She said yes, of course. The reps are working on how to push this out so it has the biggest tailwind. She’s super understanding about it.”
“Ummm.” I looked over at Eric while he searched for words. Next, I looked at Otis and wondered if my face was making the same expression of ‘why the hell would you do that’ that I was positive he was making. “Congratulations. Bryan, this is a surprise, but we are happy for you.”
The emphasis in my voice slapped the others into an over the top session of congratulation and well-wishes. A moment of sadness coursed through me at the realization I may not be able to attend my college friend’s wedding. Privacy was a commodity that we all valued, but my need to stay out of Page Six was one of my highest priorities. While Bryan and Otis needed the press to further their careers, my need to remain out of Page Six had become a primary focus. The wedding of a Grammy-nominated artist was going to be news. I wasn’t going to be added to that juicy news story.
We sipped champagne and listened as our friend of a couple decades relived the night he proposed to his Faith. Bryan’s usual quiet demeanor was even more animated than when he’s on stage. After he finished the retelling, I headed back down to the wine cellar for a second champagne bottle.
“So, who had August?” Otis asked as I retook my seat. He scrolled through his phone. “Anderson. Are you kidding me?”
A slow grin crept over my face as Bryan’s eyes bore into me. “You motherfuckers.”
Eric was the first to toss a few hundred-dollar bills in my direction. Otis checked the notes on his phone before digging out three hundred from the stack of cash lying next to his chips. Flipping the bills and shuffling them into a neat stack, I couldn’t have said what month I’d chosen back when Bryan started talking more and more about Faith. Otis had laid out the terms of the wager right after Bryan asked if Faith could meet us all for dinner. She was the first girl any of us risked the secrecy of our group on.
An alert sang out ‘we’re getting married’ in what sounded like Bryan and, what one would assume was, Faith’s voices singing. Embarrassed, Bryan dove for the phone in his pocket. “She’s in NY.”
We all nodded.
‘We’re getting married,’ rang out from Bryan’s phone again. “She’s eager to hear how you guys took the news.”
“Tell Faith, I said I’m thrilled with the news.” I patted my winnings.
“I’m going to call her. You guys don’t mind if–”
Otis raised his glass, “Go make Page Six, Bro.”
We raised our drinks in Bryan’s direction. It was going to be a shit show once the two of them made their media debut. We all agreed back in college that we’d never get caught on Page Six with someone until it was the one. I argued that it was hardest for me as I was on everyone’s shortlist of who’s who for landing a catch in NYC.
My text alert sounded.
Jurnee - Hope Rover is doing better. Thanks for everything. This is Jurnee Messer BTW
“I thought your nightly candidates weren’t allowed to text after six,” Otis commented as I reached for my phone.