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“Jenny, right?” the nasal voice causes the woman in the blue dress to jump and spin in her seat, her skin crawling.
She knows that voice.
“Gina Linetti? Hi! How’re you?” She shifts over in her chair as the other woman drops into the seat next to hers.
“Like you couldn’t have guessed; obviously, I’m still what everyone aspires to be. But,” she says, leaning forward, chin propped in her hand, “That’s not what this is about. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what this is about.”
Jenny’s eyebrows draw together, “I’m sorry?”
“Jake,” Gina says, blowing air at Jenny’s face, “This is about Jake.”
“Jake? Jake--”
“Jake Peralta. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”
A look of vague recollection crosses Jenny’s face after a moment; “What about Jake Peralta?”
Gina lets out a long-suffering sigh. “He’s probably going to ask you to dance, and we can’t have you saying yes to that. It simply won’t do.”
“What business do you have in who I choose to dance with? Why should I listen to—”
“Look, Jenny, I’ve got a lot riding on this. A lot. Like fifteen hundred on this. And you’re not going to blow it for me, understand?” She pauses for a second, “Or for him. He’s got more riding on this then he knows.”
“What if I do?” Gina’s eyes narrow and she leans further into Jenny’s space, nose-to-nose. Jenny wants more than anything to pull back, but she’s got nowhere to pull back to, and she’s Jenny Gilderhorn, dammit! She doesn’t have to back down—
“I’ll destroy you.”
Gina’s face is suddenly out of Jenny’s, and Jenny is left alone once more.
Jenny Gildenhorn decides to back down.
***
“Um, excuse me, are you Jenny Gildenhorn?” asks the small, slightly sweaty man who has materialized at Jenny’s side a scant fifteen minutes after Gina Linetti had left.
“That would be me. Who’re you?”
“Charles Boyle, at your service!” The small man—Charles—sticks out his hand; when she shakes it, she finds it to be surprisingly not clammy.
She lets out a small laugh. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m the groom’s son. You’re Gina’s mom’s friend’s daughter, right?” she gives a nod, “Well, I have a small favor to ask, really. It’s a very small favor.”
“What is it?” the edges of her mouth drag down at the mention of Gina’s name.
“See, I have this friend who I think you know from when you were younger. You dated him in middle school or something? Jake Peralta. He’s really great, and he can be really hard to say no to. He’s pretty awesome, this one time he—”
“What’s the favor?”
“Oh! Right! Sorry, I’ve been told that I tend to babble sometimes. Anyways, there’s a chance he might ask you out, and it’d be great if you could let him down gently—”
“Great, you too? What’s with you guys, thinking that I can’t choose who to dance with or date. What’s so bad about this guy, anyways?” Charles’s face falls at this.
“Dammit, Gina talked to you already?”
“More like threatened me. And I have no idea why. Can’t somebody just explain this to me? Is this guy even here?”
“He actually just left, right after the ceremony, but he’ll be back. He’s helping his partner right now—” Her eyebrows go up.
“Wait, his partner?”
“He’s a detective now.”
“Oh.” He’s a cop now. Interesting.
“Anyways, here’s the thing. Him and his partner, well, they’re like Monica and Chandler. I’d say Ross and Rachel, but they’re better than those two. Plus, they’ve got that whole won’t-admit-it-to-each-other-but-it’s-there-they-just-need-a-push thing going on. Do you get it?”
“Oh! He is here! I can’t believe this!”
“Where?”
“There.” He nods his head in the direction of a couple on the dance floor.
Jenny watches them for a minute, watches this guy—Jake Peralta, she corrects herself—dancing with a pretty brunette. He laughs at something she says, his head going backwards a little, adam’s apple bobbing. The woman grins at him, red lips stretched into a proud smirk that he returns.
“Is that her?”
“Huh? Yeah, that’s Santiago.”
“She’s pretty,” Jenny murmurs. She watches the two of them as a slow song comes on and they (somewhat awkwardly) move into those positions.
“Yeah, I get it. For what it’s worth, though, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Boyle grins at her.
“Thanks! Now, I’ve got to go teach some people about the proper way to eat shrimp. Care to join me? No? Okay, I’ll see you later!”
He bounces away.
***
Six years later.
“Jenny Gildenhorn,” wheezes a voice Jenny would recognize anywhere.
“Gina, hi,” she says as she turns from her place at the counter, “What are you doing here?”
“Buying coffee. What, is that too mundane for you and this whole,” she wiggles the tray of coffee in her hand at Jenny’s form, “thing you got going on?”
Jenny blushes, adjusts her overalls “I’m painting in my studio right now, I just had to step out and grab some joe, same as you.”
To her surprise, Gina lets out a laugh at this.
“So,” she says as she waits for the barista to return with her coffee, “did you ever get your 1,500 bucks?”
“Yeah, just last month,” Gina leans forward conspiratorially, her eyes scanning the area around them to make sure no one hears, “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Just last month? But I didn’t dance with him, like, six years ago—”
“I know, my fabulous self does know how time works, Jenny. I didn’t get the money until last month because that’s when they got married, duh.”
“Did you bet on when they would get married?”
“Yeah. I had it down to the month. I’m just that good.”
“Well, congratulations to them, I guess.”
“Yeah. I’m just glad they stopped making secret heart eye emojis at each other.”
“What?”
“Well, this has been boring. Toodles!”
And with a flick of her hand, Gina is gone and Jenny is left waiting for her coffee in peace.