Family And Other Catastrophes. Alexandra Borowitz
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he said with a smirk. He could never let comments like that get to him. Then he would be just as emotional and self-centered as Christina, or any other woman for that matter. He had to remain stone-cold and keep his alpha game tight.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just trying to get through this party without having to talk to anyone.”
“This attitude is going to stop being cute when you’re older.” He had to keep the smile on his face or else he’d just seem mean. The goal was to be cheeky—rude, maybe even arrogant and slimy, but never antagonistic. He felt a tap on his shoulder and a man’s voice. “I implore you to leave her alone, good sir.” The accent was vaguely British, like the generic old-fashioned accent used in gladiator movies.
He turned and saw an overweight man in his early twenties. He looked as if he were in a community theater production of The Matrix, complete with a shiny black trench coat lightly coated in sweat and giving off the fishy, chemical smell of synthetic leather.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I am Nathan, good sir, brother of the groom.”
“Wait, I heard about you. Are you the one who got banned from the live-action role-playing group for scaring those women with your sword?”
“Even LARPers can’t always appreciate true historic accuracy,” he said a little defensively. “In bygone days, females appreciated valiant warriors, and I never intended to fight a lady. In fact, I wasn’t fighting anyone—merely displaying my sword-fighting skills for the womenfolk to behold. My plan was to throw my handkerchief to the most beautiful one once my performance was done...but next thing I knew, the police were there, and I was being asked not to return. Chivalry is dying in this society, verily.”
“Damn,” Jason said, taking another sip of beer. “You couldn’t just talk to the girls?”
“Good sir. Do not try to debate me on the importance of chivalry. I implore you to step away from the lady.”
Jason almost laughed but then realized he wasn’t joking. “I’m sorry, I’m a friendly guy. I was just chatting with her.”
“I am the protector of her innocence.”
“Nathan,” Maddyson groaned. “For the last time, I’m not a virgin! Both of you, go away!”
“Nonsense, milady.” He turned to Jason. “You, sir. Be gone, unless you desire a duel in the arena of intellect. Care to discuss Descartes?”
“I don’t want any trouble, buddy.” He paused. An idea. “See that woman over there, man?”
He pointed to Christina, who had moved on from Joss and was now sipping some sauvignon blanc with Susan, laughing as she plopped a plastic ice cube into her glass. He could only hope she wasn’t talking about him and his “constant infidelity” or “alcoholism.” Women would complain to anyone who would listen, and Susan seemed like enough of a chump to fall for Christina’s whole self-pitying routine.
“Yes,” Nathan said. “The fair blonde lass.”
“You want to intellectually duel someone? Duel her. She loves being told when she’s wrong. Makes her hot.”
Nathan smiled smugly, as if Jason had just made an embarrassingly basic grammar mistake.
“What?” Jason asked. “What is it now?”
“A gentleman cannot duel a lady. For if he did, he would no longer be a gentleman.”
“Oh, brother. How about this? I promise to leave your sister alone if you—”
“Stepsister.”
“Okay. I promise to leave her alone for the entire night, if you go and talk to that blonde lass. I hereby beseech you to flirt with her, serenade her and defend her honor.”
“But why? I don’t know her.”
“Look. I know her. She loves guys like you who are romantic and old-fashioned and whatnot. So if you’re looking for a girlfriend, go talk to her.”
“Intriguing.” Nathan nodded and tipped his fedora. Then, with a whoosh of his trench coat, he headed for Christina. Jason sat back on one of the patio chairs, put his beer to his lips and prepared to enjoy the show.
Nathan
Nathan took a deep breath as he approached her. The closer he got, the older she looked, but she was still pretty. She reminded him of how he always imagined a miller’s wife or tavern wench would look in the books he read—a bit weathered compared to her much more attractive eighteen-year-old counterparts, but comely still with clear blue eyes and flaxen locks. Below her loose-fitting top he could make out a relatively ample bosom.
With all the aplomb he could muster, he bowed deeply, removing the fedora from his head with an elaborate flourish. “Milady...” he said, staring at her feet. After sufficient time, he straightened himself and made eye contact. She looked frightened. Perhaps she had never met a true gentleman before.
“Um...hello,” she said. His stepmother had vanished. For all her faults, she always knew when to make herself scarce.
“What is your name, sweet lass?” he asked, taking her hand. She had a dry, freckled palm like a farmhand, but her fingers were small and delicate.
“Christina,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m the mother of the flower girl. And you are...?”
“Nathan Porter. Best man and second in line to the country seat of Portershire.”
She looked past him to where Jason was sitting. “Okay. Be honest with me. Did my jackass of an ex-husband tell you to come over here?”
“I know not the man of whom you speak.”
“Okay. That’s what I thought. Go back and tell Jason this shit isn’t funny, and if he wants to see his daughter at all this week he’s going to need to act like an adult.”
“Milady, is it so difficult to believe that a gentleman of my age would be interested in you? I value more than just looks, you know, and besides, you’re like a seven at least.”
She sighed. “Go away. Tell Jason to quit it. Bye, Nathan.”
He marched back to Jason, fixing his stare on the balding slob, who was drinking beer before sundown like a tavern drunkard. Nathan stood before him and put his hands on his hips. “Jason,” he said. “That woman is your ex-wife!”
“Yeah, guess I left that out. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”
“She knew you sent me over. You have disrespected me in mine own home. Now prepare for that duel.”
Jason began to laugh. “Take it easy, buddy. I just wanted to have some fun. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I was trying to mess with her, not you.”
That was more of an apology than Nathan had expected. Back in high school, the popular boys would play similar pranks on him, like the time they told him there was a sword fight tournament being hosted in Gym A, and Nathan didn’t realize that was where the Womyn’s Empowerment Club was having their “safe space” sexual assault discussion group. He was the one who got suspended for a week after that, all because he arrived brandishing a sword and wearing a Guy Fawkes mask. Some people took political correctness much too far.
“I appreciate your apology, good sir,” Nathan said. “But I need assurance that you will not exploit me for your merriment again.”
Jason got up from his seat, wobbling slightly. “Sorry if I took advantage of you. It was just such a perfect opportunity to piss off the ex. You know how it is.”
Nathan nodded. He had never had a girlfriend, but that had not stopped him from plotting his revenge on other women. Already he had