The Red Flapper

The processional of bridesmaids at a wedding was like a buffet line for men. Single, taken, gay, straight, it did not matter, they would be ogled. The wedding of Cam Lynn and Lukas Sabo’s fusion wedding: New Year’s Eve; roaring 20’s bash was no exception. Guests were requested to dress in their finest 1920s themed attire and arrive to National Commercial Bank in Albany, New York.

In the ceremony space the vaulted ceilings acted as a natural speaker for the harpist, who plucked an upbeat tune. As much as a harp could be up- beat. The downward glissando led into a few notes that JP Mary thought sounded like theme song to Toy Story. You got a friend in me. He sang in his head.

He and twenty other clean shaved, broad shouldered men sat in reserved rows from college water polo years with the groom. The speedos worn through four years of college were traded in for a suits and ties. As a financial analyst for the state department of Tennessee, JP felt normal in formal wear. He watched the processional of flappers saunter down the red carpet. Every girl wore a slight variation of a mauve knee length dress with various sequin patterns, except for the last girl. Her dress was a muted red with black sequins running the length of the gown to the floor, where her black shoes peaked out as she walked. The sculpt of her toned thighs rounded into perfectly into a pleasing view from behind, once got to the end of the isle, where JP saw the groom wink at her before she walked behind the retro golden mic.

The red flapper fixed her gaze to the back of the isle from whence she came. She swayed slightly and her mouth puckered ever so slightly, as if biting the inside of her cheeks. The harpist plucked the strings very intently. The red flapper took a deep breath.

“I’ve seen the world, done it all,” She started to sing. The melody slow and deliberate. The breathiness that she sang with seemed to add a sense of mystery, even though JP knew what was happening. The harp intensified and the red flapper raised her hands slightly, her bouquet still in one hand, as she sang. The audience stood.

“Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful?” She asked. She smiled and sang the question again. Yes. JP answered her. He almost forgot to look at the bride walking past him. The red flapper continued to sing until Cam and her father stood before Lukas and their officiant.

“I know that you will.” The red flapper finished singing. She joined the rank of maid-of-honor for the rest of the ceremony. JP fought his urge to clap. He shook his head to release himself from this enchantress, but in vain. He wanted the red flapper’s name.

***

During the wedding reception, the red flapper’s name was revealed. Her name was Aian Bui and she would deliver the maid- of- honor speech. JP prepared himself to witness yet another blubbering bridesmaid beyond excited to articulate anything coherent. How many inside jokes would there be from their slumber parties of yore? If it amassed more than a chuckle he would be impressed. She leaned coolly on the couple’s sweetheart table with a mic in one hand and a folded paper in the other. She and the bride exchanged words, before the DJ killed the music.

“Give it up for the maid of honor, Aian Bui!” announced the DJ.

“Hi y’all, I’m Aian. And if y’all aren’t already thinking it, I’ll say it. These jerks and their Tuesday wedding, am I right? Nothing like making sure single people know they are bringing 2020 alone. But hey, there is a gorgeous wedding cake here. I heard cake makes you forget your relationship status.” She said. She winked in jest. Admittedly, JP found himself amused throughout her endearing roast of the couple. She captivated him, even more so with the use of the word y’all and slightly elongated vowels. He felt kindred in the red flapper’s accent.

JP waited for the bride and groom to make their rounds over a piece of cake. The deep chocolate layers separated with a light chocolate whip tasted like a mocha latte. The red berry jam interrupted his taste buds with an enjoyable tartness. He shoveled in bite after bite, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked behind his shoulder, seeing a party of three.

“Cam...Lukas...Congrats my friends. Even if it is a Tuesday.” JP said. He swallowed his bite quickly. The groom gripped JP’s hand and pulled him in for a brotherly hug. JP placed a kiss on Cam’s cheek while watching Aian, who cocked her head to the side, raised her glass to him, and winked.

“I’ll be here all night.” She said.

“I’m JP.” JP introduced himself. He extended his hand.

“Dancing.” Aian said in a suggestive tone. She smirked and placed her hand in his open palm. Her nails were smooth to the touch. He closed his hand around hers and they walked to the black and white tiled dance floor. The disco lights in varying shades of green speckled their skin as they danced, darting their way across the tiles until midnight. He wanted that midnight kiss with this red flapper.

***

JP awoke inside a luxury room of the Morgan State House. The floor to ceiling curtains betrayed him by letting the early morning sun rays peak through. He needed to get up anyway to get to the airport. The plush, down duvet rose up and down next to him. Long black tresses that flowed across the pillow framing Aian’s face. Her eyeliner smudged beneath the fake eyelashes she forgot to pull off before passing out. Hopefully, he was better than the chocolate cake.

A small vein by his temple pulsed followed by a sudden pounding headache. He squinted looking around the room. Like a beacon, the green glass Bankers light that had never been turned off spotlighted a bottle of water. Sluggishly, he shuffled towards the desk, to see a notebook. He opened the notebook. His eyes focused harder on the bold bubble print on the college ruled paper. Drug Baby Bill: for Aiden and Bella. He switched to the paper folder that ripped from the spirals of the notebook. He scrunched his nose and lips up and felt his head tilt. The first page in this stack of papers showed a middle-aged man with graying sideburns, perfect teeth, and a dimple in his chin.

Jacob Mary, Budget Director, State of Tennessee.

“Dad?” He whispered. He pulled the chair out silently. All too familiar memories of late-night binge studying in his underwear rushed in, as he sat down at the desk chair. The issue she wrote “Due to their long-standing institutionalization, many of the government systems that have been in place should be revamped and are long overdue for reform at the local, state, and even federal level.” The bubbled writing continued for pages. Behind the picture of his father’s contact information more articles, statistics, and other research on government finances were marked highlighting points and scribbled with questions and opinions. This was the start of a bill proposal in favor of taking away personal rights.

“I see you have found, my evil plan to stop over-population.” Aian said. She laughed in the back of her throat. JP spun around, slamming the notebook shut. She stood behind him, staring at him with a slight smirk.

“Do you believe that anyone would consider what you’ve wrote?” JP asked, in a scoff.

“Do you believe that you’re here by coincidence?” She asked. The smirk faded from the red flapper.