Travis stood on the corner, wishing that he didn't give a crap about what he wore.
After all, if he didn't give a crap about what he wore he wouldn't have come out tonight in just jeans, a T-shirt and a thin leather jacket. The tee even had holes in it where the seams were wearing away after countless washes and being worn to innumerable gigs and shows. But it was vintage, as was the jacket, and the jeans and sneakers might not have been but they completed the outfit.
And he wanted to look good tonight, he wanted to look the part.
But Jesus Christ it was starting to snow! A nice thick winter coat wouldn't have gone amiss.
Or, then again, he could just bite the bullet and go into the hotel.
He looked up at the blandly impressive cream and gold complex that he'd driven out to and fought to control his shivers. This wasn't really a part of town where anyone he knew had ever lived. It was all upmarket urban apartments, miniature shopping malls with half a dozen boutique stores, and luxury conference complexes like this one.
He eased his cell phone out of the tight denim of his pocket and checked the time. Ok, well if he was going to do this, then...
- - -
Inside, the lobby was a fairly ugly combination of tasteful minimalism and gaudy flourishes. Everything was cream and gold. Travis was a dark smear - denim, leather, tattoos and hair gel. The man behind the counter glanced at his feet as he approached, as if he expected to see dirty black footprints tracking off behind the rockabilly spook. He didn't look too snooty though, and even Travis himself had to admit that he looked a little out of place there.
"Hi," Travis smiled, used to the raised eyebrows and slight pauses, "I'm here for the Thompson-Frost wedding... thing. What suite is that...?" He tailed off, hopefully leaving the tall, healthy looking guy something to work with.
"I should call up first," the clerk smiled, in a kind of 'no offence' tone of voice, "What's the name?"
"Travis Hart, just... Travis. They'll know who it is." He turned back to look again at the lobby and the people passing through it. It was weird how things like this made him so nervous when he'd done so many stupid, crazy things risking life and limb that hadn't made him bat an eyelid. Actually no, that wasn't so crazy was it? That was just who he was and, in a way, why he was here.
He didn't see anyone he knew - no members of Ali's family that was. The wedding itself wasn't until tomorrow though, they'd probably all be arriving then. He wasn't invited to the wedding of course, and he was still kind of fuzzy as to why he'd been invited (maybe 'summoned' would have been better) tonight. Tonight he guessed they were going over the finishing touches, and then there'd be hen night and the stag night. This was fucking depressing.
"Sir?" Mister Healthy-Complexion broke into his reveries with a light cough, "That's fine, sorry to keep you. They're in the Plumtree Suite on the second floor. You can go right up. Turn left after you come out of the elevator." Travis nodded his appreciation and headed towards the row of gleaming gold elevator doors.
It came as no surprise to Travis that there was a handsome, formidable, middle-aged woman waiting for him when the doors opened on the second floor. She regarded him warily - as if he might try to make a break for it and dash past her at any moment.
"Hello Travis," she greeted him with a smile - tight but not without some warmth.
"Hello Elaine, how's things?" Travis felt like he had been dropped unknowingly into some kind of game of wits, and that possibly he had to defeat this boss before he could advance to the next level.
"Wonderful. My daughter's getting married tomorrow." Elaine was a little too much sometimes - too shrewd or too intense - but she was clearly a good person and a great mother. Travis had no intention of trying to put anything over on her. Actually, he strongly doubted that he could. He smiled to see the unlit cigarette she was clutching in her hand. Same as always.
"I think that's why I'm here," Travis shrugged, "I got her message."
"I like you Travis, but don't get stupid." Elaine stepped forward, and Travis almost stepped back instinctively. He managed to stand his ground against the slight woman though, which was some small victory at least. She was almost a good foot shorter than him. "I think she wants to clear the air with you before she moves on to the next - happy," this she stressed excessively, "phase of her life. Don't mess things up for her."
"Elaine come on," Travis appealed, "I'm not going to do anything to make her unhappy... y'know, anymore." The quip fell flat, and Travis himself winced at the terribly pitched attempt at humour, physically apologising for it to the tense mother in front of him. "I mean, I almost didn't come but I figured - if it would make her happy..."
"Well, good." Elaine never seemed to take any notice of his appearance, and he liked that. Even when she had first met him she had only been interested in the kind of man he was, not the kind of clothes he wore. "I have to pick up Charlotte from the house, apparently she decided to start the hen night drinking without the hen and she's too drunk to make it out here alone. I'll be back as soon as I can with her..."
"I see..."
"So, you'll probably want to be gone before then," Elaine looked at him significantly as she stepped past him to call the elevator. She might still have some respect for him, but Ali's sister Charlotte hated his guts. Running into her would be a real mood killer for everyone.
"To be honest, I'd like to get this over as quickly as possible," he answered, a little ruefully as Elaine stepped into the elevator's cream interior.
"Good luck in the future Travis, don't say anything stupid tonight." The doors slid shut and Travis couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips - first level complete.
He found the Plumtree Suite and, still feeling hideously out of place and scuffing his dirty sneakers nervously against the deep shag of the carpet, he knocked three times.
"Come in." Ali's voice, clear and relaxed. He couldn't help but smile as he opened the door.
"Hi, it's me," was his stadium-worthy opening gambit, though it almost died on his lips when he saw her. She was a vision, a Hollywood wedding-movie dream in a dress so pure white that it made the cream walls look a dirty tan brown. Her blonde hair wasn't fixed properly he guessed, it was just pinned up behind her head, but still she was beyond radiant. The dress itself was gorgeous, off her shoulders and curving over her bust beautifully, managing to be both simple and spectacular at the same time. The bustier was elegant and minimal but the dress exploded out at the waist into a gravity defying cascade of silk and lace that bloomed out for what looked like several feet in every direction.
She was truly beautiful - and of course it hurt.
"Trav!" The warmth of her smile stung too. They had broken up so long ago now that it didn't hurt bady, it didn't make him want to break things and people like it used to, but he couldn't see her without being stabbed by knives of regret. "I didn't think you'd come!"
"You look amazing Ali," he said as he walked into the room. Only now did he notice the other girl - someone from the hotel or the dress shop that was making last minute alterations to the work of art she was wearing. The girl did a slight double take at his appearance, but smiled at him, and quickly continued her work. The room itself took a few seconds to come into focus too - it was something like a big meeting room, with a long table stretching away to his right that was covered in myriad boxes and wedding ephemera, and a large clear area near the door where they were standing.
Travis had wondered what he would do when he saw her; whether he should give her a casual hug or a quick kiss on the cheek, but it looked like he wouldn't really get a chance to do either. Her dress was so big it looked pretty difficult to navigate around. It was a shame, he'd been greedily looking forward to that moment. He wondered how her fiancee was going to handle it at the altar.
