Page 95 of No Funny Business

He takes a beat then it clicks. “Oh, yeah. Right. I forgot.”

“You okay?” I ask. “Those nicotine patches going to your brain?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe. C’mon, let’s play some poker.”

“Wish me money!” I say, and we exit the auditorium.

Nick and I make our way over to the poker tables in the nonsmoking section. “How ’bout some Texas Hold ’Em?” he asks in his best West Texas accent. But it’s the worst.

“How ’bout you leave the accent up to me, cowboy?”

Just as we find an open table and place our bets, the guy sitting to Nick’s right stares at us. He’s wearing Nick’s Buh-Bye shirt—fresh out of the box with folded creases and a blue collar poking out beneath it. “Hey, we just met you guys.” He points to each of us and we greet them (again).

“I’m Chuck and this is my fiancée, Amy.”

Amy stands over his shoulder with a pink cocktail in her hands. “Your bridesmaid bit was so funny. Is that true, you’ve never been a bridesmaid?”

“Sad, I know.”

Amy pouts her lip. “Oh, bless your heart. Ohmigod!” The woman squeals so loud my ear’s ringing. “I have a great idea. We have an appointment at the chapel tonight, and we don’t have any witnesses.” She looks to me. “How would you like to finally be a bridesmaid?”

“Are you serious?” I say, then look to Nick.

“Yes! You can be my maid of honor and Nick can be the best man. What do you say?”

We said no more funerals but we didn’t say anything about weddings.