Page 5 of Hitched at Randy’s (Diner Days)

Five

Cam

“ S o, what’s the plan for this evening?” I ask. “A little gambling? Some drinking?”

Evan eyes me like he’s not convinced.

“Oh, come on. We’re in Vegas, we need to at least play some slot machines or something,” I complain. “Don’t make me gamble alone.” I blink my eyes at him and give him my best pout.

He laughs, shaking his head at me. “You’re terrible. Fine, fine. Let’s hit the slots.” We head to the lower level of the hotel, taking seats side by side on machines. It’s only a few moments later that a woman shows up asking if we’d like something to drink.

“I’ll take a strawberry margarita,” I answer.

“Vodka soda,” Evan says. “So, what happens after all this?” He asks, turning to look at me. “When we go back to our real lives?”

“Nope, no time for that. Look, our drinks are here.” I shut down that line of thought. The whole point of this little getaway is to ignore the reality. We aren’t talking about what happens next. We’re enjoying the right now. I take my drink and immediately lift it to my lips. The strawberry puree is sweet, overpowering the tequila, but it still burns on the way down. Perfect.

Evan follows my example, taking a healthy chug of his drink. “Alright, then what are we talking about?” he asks.

My machine hits a small combo, coins pouring out. “Yes! Oh, uh, …” my mind blanks. I try to think of something to talk about, but for whatever reason I flash back to last night when I was holding Evan. It probably wasn’t fair of me to ask him to let me hold him, but we were both restless, and it felt right at the moment. Innocent enough. Of course, I can’t say I don’t have feelings for Evan. We’ve been best friends since junior high school. We even went to prom together. Sure, it was only as friends, but things were … complicated then. I still hadn’t came out to my family, but Evan knew. He always supported me being myself. “What are your plans for the summer? You get it off, right? You’re not teaching summer school or something?”

“No, I took the summer off.” Evan cuts off his words like he’s about to say more, but I get it. He took the time off to be with his new wife. I take another drink. We’re not talking about that. “I was thinking maybe I’d come home, visit you and the family.”

Home. Even after all this time, he still thinks of Boston as home, and that says something. Maybe he isn’t as attached to California and Viola as I thought. Or maybe I’m grasping at straws, hoping that there’s some way this all magically works out. I take another drink, emptying my glass. “Can I get you another?” A woman asks, popping up out of who knows where.

“That’d be great, thank you. Oh, and one for my friend, too.” I wave my hand at Evan’s half full drink. “You should,” I tell Evan. “I mean, come visit. I’m sure your family would be thrilled.” I leave it unsaid that I’d be happy to have Evan visit too. It’d be nice to spend more time together.

I’m handed another drink. Then another. Time seems to fade, hours blend together. Gambling. Lots of laughter. At some point, we leave the casino. I can’t remember what happens next. How’s it go? One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor …

My head is spinning, throbbing with a hangover the next morning. I barely make it to the toilet before I’m puking my brains out. I lift my hand to my temple, rubbing at the tightness. That’s when a glimpse of metal catches my attention. I move my hand closer to my face, everything blurry without my glasses, looking at the ring on my hand that wasn’t there before. A University of California ring. Why is Evan’s class ring on my finger? I barf again. That’s a thought for when my head isn’t on fire.

“Cam, you okay?” a voice calls.

“I’m good.” I wipe my mouth. “Remind me why we drank so much,” I try to joke. “I need some water.”

Evan appears next to me, holding a cup. Maybe I’m still a little drunk or maybe my head just isn’t thinking clearly yet. I don’t question it as I take the cup of water, swishing it through my mouth before I spit in the toilet. “Thank you.” He helps me stand up, and I lean on Evan as I take a sip of water.

“Why are you wearing my ring?” Evan asks.

“I was hoping you’d know,” I say with a laugh. “Ow, no laughing. I’ve got a killer hangover.”

“Fuck, guess that wasn’t a drunken hallucination. I think we, uh …”

“We what?”

He walks to the other room and laughs. “Oh, we look great. My mom will love this.” Next thing I know, Evan is shoving his phone in my face. There’s a picture posted on his Instagram of the two of us side by side and me flashing his ring. The caption says: Just Married.

Fuck.

I’m starting to put the pieces together, but I can’t believe this shit is really happening. “Can you delete that?” I ask.

“I would, but, yup, too late. My sister’s seen it, and it’s got thirteen likes.”

“But this can’t… is that even possible? We got married?”

“Guess this really is our honeymoon now,” Evan says with a grim face.

“Ha, very funny. Let’s just get some breakfast and coffee. I can’t think about this right now.”

“I deleted it, but …” Evan sighs. “I’ll order room service. How’s pancakes sound?”

I give a thumbs up and take another sip of water. How much did we drink to have thought getting married was a good idea? Evan hands me a cup of coffee when room service arrives. The sweet caffeinated goodness clears some of the fog from my head. “We can fix this. It can’t be legal right? We were drunk. Really drunk.” My phone chimes, and I grab it, noticing my own slew of notifications, including messages from Ashley.

Ash

Hey, just checking in to let you know Donnie is doing well.

How’s the trip going?

Why are there pictures of you and Evan saying ‘Just Married?’

Does this make you my brother?

Leave it to Ashley to make light of the situation with a joke.

“What is it?” Evan asks. I hand him my phone, and he shakes his head at his sister’s antics.

I take a bite of the pancakes, and slowly my mind is clearing up. Little bits of memories of last night filter through: the ceremony, taking selfies with our phones, kissing Evan when we said I do . At least we were too drunk to do anything more, or I’d be dead from humiliation. The last thing I need is to drunkenly offer myself to my best friend.

“Even if it’s legal, we can still clear it up,” Evan says. “We can get a divorce or an annulment or something.”

“How are you so calm? It doesn’t bother you that Ashley knows?” It’s not the question I want to ask, but I can’t bring myself to say it. It doesn’t bother you that you married a guy?

“ It’s Ashley, she’s been planning our wedding since we were thirteen,” he says with a laugh. “I just hope Vi didn’t see it.”

Right, we should be worried about his fiancée’s reaction. It’s one thing for Ashley to find out, but a whole other thing for the woman who ditched him and might think all this is real. Evan sets his hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. I take a deep breath and try to shake off the hundreds of thoughts in my head. “Right,” I say softly. “We’ll uh, sort it all out. Maybe we can go down to the wedding chapel and make sure it’s all legal first.”

“That’s a good idea,” Evan agrees, shoving a bite of pancakes into his mouth and following it with black coffee. “Let’s finish this up and figure out which wedding chapel we went to.”

“I do,” drunk me slurs on the recording.

“So you see, it’s totally legal,” the officiate says, pausing the video.

“We were drunk,” I complain.

“You were sober enough to read the papers and sign. Sorry about your luck, but we do have a business to run here.”

Evan grabs my arm, keeping me from raising it. “Thank you,” he says, shifting to herd me toward the exit. “Cam, it’s going to be okay. We’ll just talk to a lawyer and get a divorce. How much longer were you planning on visiting? Do you want to go back home with me?” he asks.

“I’ve got a few jobs I need to finish, and I should check in with Ash. She’s watching Donnie.” I raise my hand to rub my temples.

“Donnie?” Evan asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Donatello, my turtle,” I explain, realizing I guess I never told him. How many other things do Evan and I not know about each other? We’re still best friends, but with how long we’ve lived in different states, I guess we don’t tell each other everything anymore.

Evan grins, holding back a laugh. “Of course, that makes total sense.”

“Don’t hate on Donnie,” I warn. “You’re his honorary other dad now that you married me.”

Evan’s eyes light up, and this time he can’t hold back. He bursts out with chuckles. “I’ll do my best to be a good stepdad to your turtle.”

“What if you came to Boston with me?” I ask. “We can sort it out just as easily there as we can in California.”

“I guess that works. I’ll still need to head back to my apartment and pack before we go. At least we can talk to Ashley in person that way, hopefully keep her from spilling the beans to anyone else. Come on, we should head back to the hotel and figure out a better travel plan.” He flags down our Uber driver, and we get in the back of the car. Evan places his hand on my thigh, probably meaning to comfort me, but this whole thing has my mind going other places. Part of me likes the touch more than I should, and I wish he’d touch me for real.

“You think your mom knows?” I ask, hoping to distract myself.

“If she did, I’d have gotten an angry phone call. She’ll be pissed that I got married, and she didn’t get to see it,” he says.

“How are you so calm about this?” I ask.

“Would it help anything if I wasn’t?” he asks with a laugh. “If anything, I find the whole thing a little funny. We went to Vegas with my honeymoon tickets, and we’re coming home married. Seems like some weird karma for trying to enjoy my honeymoon trip without my fiancée.”

Evan’s phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket, giving me a view of the caller ID. It’s Viola.

“Hey Vi,” he says, his hand tightening its grip on my leg. I can’t make out what she says, but Evan bites his lip. “Yeah, I’m doing great, but uh, I’m glad you called.” He pauses again. “Actually, I wanted to let you know I’m going to Boston. Might be out there a week or two. Just want to take some time to visit my family over the summer.” His grip on me loosens. “Glad your show is going well … I’ll talk to you later, Vi. Love you.” Evan lets out a sigh as he ends the call. “She didn’t see it,” he tells me.

I know that should be a good thing, but oddly, it doesn’t make me feel better. I don’t want to ruin Evan’s relationship, but none of this feels right… and I can’t help the little pang of jealousy when Evan tells Viola he loves her.