Page 4 of The Fundamentals

I twisted around to see and the hairpins gave up. My updo tumbled down and I swiped it back, brushing the strands out of my eyes.

“Oh, damn. I think you had paint on your hands…”

“Is it all over my face?” I asked.

He nodded. “On your cheeks and in your hair. No, don’t—”

I’d wiped my eyes without thinking as tears had started to fall.

“Yeah, it’s there now, too.”

I cried more. “I can’t go back into the hotel like this,” I sniffed out loud. “I must look like a clown.”

“No, clowns have big, red, round noses. You didn’t get any paint there yet, and you have a nice, little nose.”

I looked up at the man. “Thank you,” I told him, and he smiled. For someone so big, he didn’t look at all scary or threatening, like I should have been afraid to be alone at night on this loading dock with him.

“I’m Bowie,” he introduced himself.

I fought back the tears, which never did anything except ruin your makeup. “I know,” I said. Everyone at the wedding knew who he was, or at least, everyone from around here in northern Michigan knew. He was Garrett Bowman, “Bowie” to all his fans and admirers, and he was one of the professional football players who was going to make this wedding go viral with his giant presence. He was the guy with the short blonde ponytail who’d been watching me as I shamed myself on the platform with the microphone.

“You’re Aubin’s sister?” he asked me.

“Sissy,” I agreed.

“I thought you introduced yourself differently.”

“Oh, right. Lissa,” I said, and automatically held out my hand. The big man looked at my red palm and I put it behind my back. “Never mind. I forgot about the paint.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lissa. I heard your speech just now.”

“I’m sorry about that. It didn’t go as I’d planned.” I looked down again and studied my newly striped dress under the illumination of the bulb above the newly painted door. “I guess I should try to get this off. The marks, not the gown,” I clarified. “I made fun of this outfit but that was so rude of me. Maybe I really will have another occasion to wear it like Aubin said. If I go to a fancy event in the winter, I won’t need a coat or heat in the car if I have this on. She hired a makeup artist, too, and I know it was expensive and it looked so good. Everything looked really nice before I made a terrible speech, cried, and then put paint on myself.” I tried to use a clean part of my hand to wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to…what were you doing out here?”

“Just getting some air. That ballroom is packed with people and I take up a lot of space.”

He sure did. I bet he’d have to turn sideways to fit his shoulders back through the opening into the building. I started to say again that I would leave him in peace, but as I opened my mouth, the door flew open for a second time. Garrett “Bowie” Bowman moved quickly out of the way so he didn’t get painted too as my boyfriend, Ward, emerged from the hotel. He looked at the Woodsmen player and then he looked at me and the sides of his mouth drew down in an angry frown.

“What the hell is going on? Sissy? What are you doing with him?”

“No, Ward,” I said quickly. “You’re getting the wrong idea again. I came out here, and then this gentleman did, too. Separately. We don’t know each other at all.”

“Really,” my boyfriend commented.

“Really,” I answered earnestly. “It was a coincidence.”

Ward shook his head and his body wobbled a little with it, because he’d been partaking from the open bar, too. “Liar. You’re a fucking liar, Sissy. I know what you’re doing with him. This is what comes of you cheerleading,” he told me. “This is what comes of you dancing around like a whore to get attention from these guys.”

“Well, hold on there,” Bowie interjected. “That’s not true and it’s not the way to speak to a lady.”

It would have been easy to get the wrong impression of Ward from what he’d just said, but it was only that he was drunk and angry. I rushed in to explain his behavior to the Woodsmen player. “Ward gets upset because I’m a Wonderwomen cheerleader, I’m on the sidelines at your games and he thinks that men are, you know, leering or whatever because the outfits are revealing. But this dress certainly isn’t,” I reminded my boyfriend. “No skin at all. And I’ve never given you any reason to think that I would cheat, have I?” I reached to touch his face but then remembered the paint on my palm and stopped with my hand in the air.

He grabbed my wrist. “We’re leaving, Sissy.”

“Hold on there,” Bowie repeated. “Let her go.”

Ward jerked my arm. “Stay out of this, asshole.”

“That’s no way to speak to me, either.”