Page 115 of Sweet T
Twenty-Four
Evan was watching Titus and Pedro pretend-say their vows from the rear of two hundred white folding chairs. Others were up there with them under the enormous white arbor–Tucker, Shelly, Barb, Alden Abernathy, and the minister. He couldn’t really hear them, though, for the piano/cello duo practicing on a small riser just to the right of them. Evan just strolled along the rear aisles peacefully, taking everything in.
Each seat was assigned with a gold-embossed place card affixed to the back. His seat was with family and friends on the front row–stage left–between Cassie and Ben. But Evan was wandering the section for lesser guests and their plus ones, searching for a specific name. It was a name he would recognize and, like a tombstone tourist meandering a sunny graveyard, he felt compelled to locate it.
He had ventured into enemy territory, or former enemy territory, or formal rival territory, as Tucker would have put it. Many of the chairs in the next-to-last row bore the name Barksdale. Nearer the aisle was the patriarch and former mayor of neighboring Morehead, Milton. Seated next to him was presumably his wife, Camille. Following them came Mason, the current mayor, and–
Evan was trying to remember. Tucker had given him the run-down at one time, but it was a lot to remember, and a lot of the same initials.
If Mason was the current mayor of Morehead, then he was Titus’s age, which meant he was once-upon-a-time the wannabe paramour of Tucker’s mother, Violet. Titus had been the victor of that fray, aided by a surprise pregnancy—Tucker. Alas, poor Violet. She had died young, barely knowing her husband, much less her son.
It really was like going through a graveyard–the history, the drama. Only, in less than twenty-four hours, these seats would be filled with the living counterparts of their linen cardstock inscriptions.
Evan continued down the aisle. Apparently, a woman named Elizabeth had won Mason’s heart following the Violet debacle, because a chair bearing her name followed. Next to her was one for a Montgomery Barksdale.
Mason’s son? Had to be. Evan seemed to remember Tucker mentioning a Monty from school. Yes. Tucker had said that he and Monty were not rivals at all, just acquaintances, that family discontent had mellowed generationally.
Following Monty was Prudence “Pru” Walker, formerly a Barksdale girl and Monty’s sister. Evan remembered that name for sure because it was next to the grave–seat–he’d been looking for all along.
Emmett Walker.
Evan wasn’t sure why he was obsessed with Tucker’s former love, but he was. Deep down, he felt a primal stir regarding the man–the only man who had been intimate with Tucker other than Evan. He told himself he was being ridiculous. How could you be jealous of someone you’d never known?
Because you want to be the only one.
It was true, and in a way, he was. Emmett had certainly not been devoted, stringing lovelorn Tucker for years to satisfy an itch more than an ache. Emmett had stolen a vital piece of Tucker’s youth for his own gratification, further undermining his confidence and abandoning the wreckage.
Evan had filled that space left empty, and he was certain Tucker had moved on since their meeting.
But still.
Evan sat down in Emmett’s chair. Titus, Pedro and the wedding party looked small from this distance. They may have given the Barksdales an entire row, but it was definitely the cheap seats.
He heard a chord strum behind him and glanced back to where a larger platform had been erected for the reception and dance area near the pool. Members of the band Hootie and the Jets were assembling on the stage, tuning instruments, checking levels, and, of course, preparing to rehearse. That’s what the day was for, after all.
Evan had to admit, from this vantage, he could see everywhere in the Shepherds’ enormous backyard. He had a feeling Titus wanted the Barksdales to see it all, too–the grand old farmhouse, the guest house, and the pool. There was also a newly installed twenty-five foot flagpole in the side yard, its rainbow flag flying high. The surrounding bed was filled with Pedro’s favorite multi-colored lantana bushes.
The entire property was abuzz for the wedding tomorrow, a ceremony that wouldn’t have been possible had it not been for the gay marriage ruling one month ago to the very day. Even as he considered this, Evan saw more vehicles entering via the gated driveway, including Chuck and Brody, with a van reading Buddy Jordan Florist leading the caravan.
Evan smiled. It was going to be a big, traditional, Southern wedding with a twist. The movie Steel Magnolias came to mind, but he quickly dismissed it, not wanting to taint the occasion with the sadness of a character’s—Shelby’s—death.
No, he thought. This is a happy story.
* * *
The rehearsal dinner was actually a late lunch strategically planned by Pedro. Titus had originally wanted a pre-wedding party with a DJ playing late into the night, further reinforcing that their marriage would be—in his words—the event of the century. However, Pedro had put his foot down, reminding Titus that they were taking part in a lengthy celebration the following afternoon, with a two-hour drive to Atlanta and a flight to Mexico after. If Titus insisted on a party the night before, he would attend sans Pedro.
It took little to convince him that Pedro was right. So, as he often did, Titus conceded to his better half’s wishes. If there was one person in Spoon that Titus answered to, it was Pedro Torres.
So, they made plans for Saturday evening to be a quiet, restful one at the pool with immediate family only–Tucker and Javy. Evan, of course, would now replace Javy in the scenario and both boys would join them for a nightcap following the play’s close.
The rehearsal luncheon was held at the Twin City Country Club. Old Charlie Avant and his young male entourage serving. The meal was composed of your typical Southern fare. The wedding party and their guests gorged themselves on fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, crowder peas, collard greens, buttermilk biscuits, broccoli casserole, some delicious cheesy cabbage dish with crispy bits of bacon and buttered breadcrumbs for a topping, and chocolate or coconut cream pie to choose from for dessert.
And plenty of sweet tea.
After the rehearsal lunch, Tucker dropped Evan off at the Black Sheep and headed for the tavern. As Shelly predicted, the evening was a slow one for a Saturday, with many of their regulars having crashed the cast party the night before. They closed the kitchen early. Tucker joined Emily and Beth for a half-hearted game of darts while Ben and Shelly focused on the bar... and each other.
At eight-fifteen, when the dartboard flashed their second game over, Shelly hollered, “Tucker, get the fuck out of here! Clearly, Ben and I can handle this. It’s Evan’s last show.”