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It was Eddie’s idea.
Robin sits straight-backed on the barstool, painfully aware she is the only woman in a suit among demure floor length gowns.
“Look, there’s a wedding reception,” shouts Eddie. The swanky hotel they pass dazzles in the late evening light. The sandwich board outside boasts The Cunningham-Carver Reception . “We should crash it! Rich people, open bar, We could have an even greater evening, Buckley.”
Robin raises her hand out at a passing bartender. “Can I have a glass of white wine?”
A man approaches from behind. “And I’ll have a sparkling water, thanks.”
“We cannot gatecrash a fancy wedding,” whispers Robin. “Those are what, black tie? And what about us screams black tie?” Robin’s suit is understated, but a suit nonetheless, and Eddie’s suit looks more at home on a zombie extra for a B-movie.
“It’s easy. It’s all in the performance. These rich fuckers might not know us, but you can sure as hell make them think they know our parents.”
“I’m a terrible liar! You’ve seen me spew word vomit. I’m not good under pressure.”
“Confidence, Buckley!”
The man sits down next to Robin and holds out his hand. “Steve Harrington.”
“Robin Buckley.” He doesn’t do that thing guys do where they crush your hand for dominance. Wait. Should she have given him a fake name?
Steve raises an eyebrow. “Of the publishing Buckleys?”
“Yep.” The bartender drops off their drinks. Robin clutches the bowl of the wine glass. “The publishing industry is really—.” Robin takes a drink.
“Your parents didn’t let you in on the family business, did they?”
Robin grimaces. He hadn’t caught her in a lie, technically. “Is it that obvious?”
Steve gulps half his water down. “Only to those who are in the same boat.”
“Oh, so—“
“I’m daddy’s little failure? He thinks so.” Steve stares down at the bar. “Couldn’t cut it at Emory. He’s not a fan that I’m starting over at a junior college. Thinks it’s beneath the Harrington name. Jackass.”
“Are you always this open with strangers?” asks Robin.
Steve laughs and turns to face her. “No, but I almost broke my fucking sobriety, so everything’s kind of,” he sends his hand into a nosedive makes an explosive noise. “I can stop. I know I’m too much.”
And Robin has heard that echo in her own head too many times for her to ignore it. “No, no, you’re fine. Really.” She pushes her wine glass to her left. “Should I?”
Steve shakes his head. “I try to avoid it, but alcohol wasn’t my problem.” He thumbs his nose. “Should have expected the fucking coke in the bathroom, but it’s been awhile since I’ve been to a shindig like this.”
“What do you mean we can’t be seen together?”
“It’s simple math,” says Eddie. “If they see one of us, they can pass it off as someone’s eccentric offspring. If they see both of us together, well then clearly we don’t belong.”
“I think that’s the wine from the gallery opening talking.”
“No, it’s my former career as a caterer that’s telling me there’s caviar on little toast in there. Have you ever had caviar on little toast?”
“ Nyet. ”
“Well then Buck, let’s get you some goddamn caviar on little toast.”
“I’m crashing the reception,” blurts Robin. She sends a telepathic apology to Eddie, but Steve’s out here with his heart bleeding on the bar and she’s been lying —by omission, but nonetheless, lying— to him all night.
Steve blinks. “I know.”
Robin’s stomach sinks.
“There are no Buckleys in publishing. It’s just, you looked alone and overwhelmed.” Steve rubs his shoulders. “I was just a kid when I started coming to things like this, but I remember the feeling. And I just needed someone who would see me and not see the Harrington failure.”
Robin wants to wrap Steve up in a hug. “Normally I’m the one who overshares, so honestly this is a nice change of pace. And hey! You stuck with your sobriety. That totally counts for something.”
Steve blushes. “Thanks. You don’t have to be nice to a random stranger.”
Robin knocks her shoulder against his. “I don’t think we’re strangers anymore.”
“Buckley!”
Robin looks away from Steve and sees Eddie around the edges of the crowd with a strawberry blonde in a lilac bridesmaid dress in tow. He stops in front of them. “This here’s Chrissy. She’s also a friend of Dorothy.” Eddie punctuates his sentence with a heavy wink.
Robin heats up. “Nice to meet you, Chrissy.”
Chrissy wraps her arms around Robin. “You too! Eddie’s told me a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope?” asks Robin.
Eddie sits down next to Steve. “Sorry, Buck. Only the worst.”
Robin rolls her eyes. “Eddie. Chrissy. This is Steve.”
Chrissy lets go of Robin and hugs Steve. “I thought that was you, Stevie. I’ve missed you.”
Steve looks stunned. Robin doesn’t know their history, but he doesn’t look upset. She glances at Eddie who shoots her a confused look. She mouths “I don’t know.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Steve grins, his smile a touch wobbly. “I was hoping to see you here.”
Chrissy unwraps herself from Steve and sits on Robin’s lap. On instinct, Robin puts her arms around Chrissy’s waist to keep her steady. “This is the first moment I’ve gotten to myself all evening. We should do something fun.”
“Our apartment isn’t far,” says Robin. “We can go there.”
Eddie loops his arm around Steve. “That is an excellent idea. Going too, Stevie?”
Steve looks at Robin. She gives him a subtle thumbs up. “I don’t see why not.”
They pair off —Steve and Robin, Eddie and Chrissy— and escape out the back of the hotel. Robin catches Chrissy’s hand in the alley and gives it a squeeze.
Chrissy beams —sunny in the dark evening.
And Steve? Robin turns and catches Steve eyeing the silver bat fangs that hang from Eddie’s ears. She might have made a new friend tonight.