CHAPTER SIX – PARTY TROUBLES

As a fresh array of cocktails appeared - a bright scarlet blend of rhubarb and gin for Charlotte - the atmosphere lightened considerably. With the earlier tension broken, the bachelorettes swapped stories and reminisced about shenanigans from their childhood days. Raucous laughter rang out with each comically embellished tale or dramatic reenactment involving their various status-obsessed maternal figures. "Oh my god, do you remember that time Tanisha Wentworth's mom saw us all climbing down the fire escape of that seedy little West Village bar we used to sneak into?" Skylar gasped through wheezing peals of laughter. "We all had to sprint barefoot for blocks in those Freakum heels to escape!" "And then dear old Mrs. Wentworth tried bribing the bouncer outside like he was a bellhop at the Carlyle!" Jessica cackled, having to wipe tears of mirth from her eyes. "With a hundred dollar bill and everything!" The drinks kept flowing as easily as the riotous anecdotes, each more outrageous than the last. At some point, Skylar made a grand pronouncement to "shake the dust off this popsicle stand of a party" and promptly ordered a ridiculously overpriced tower of champagne shooters delivered to their table. Giggles and fizzy bubbles soon had the air sparkling with conviviality that Charlotte hadn't experienced with her friends since before making her real debut into high society's archaic social waters. By the time they stumbled out into the night air in search of late-night slice joints and, as Jessica insisted, "a dank party we'd never catch our husbands at", Charlotte's face fairly ached from smiling and laughing so hard. She linked arms with Skylar on one side and Jessica on the other, relishing the familiar closeness. "You know..." she began, pausing to hiccup slightly from the night's overindulgence. "For a while there, I didn't think this was going to be anything like the wild last hurrah I wanted it to be." Skylar draped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing affectionately. "Oh hush, you know we'd never let your bachelorette life end with a whimper." "Even if we have to get down and dirty like total commoners to give you one last epic night," Jessica crowed, prompting a fresh peal of laughter from the group. As they swanned their way down gritty side streets in search of the perfect post-party spot, Jessica abruptly tugged Charlotte back against her slight frame. Her expression had softened, the usual bravado and swagger dimmed. "For real though...I am happy for you, Charli. You and that pretty boy fiance of yours." She tucked an errant lock of hair behind Charlotte's ear with uncharacteristic gentleness. "And I'm sorry for being so petty lately about the stupid maid of honor stuff. I think I just always assumed we'd be joining the wife club together, you know?" Charlotte's heart clenched at the wistful longing in her friend's voice. For all her blustering, she knew Jessica was privately terrified of being left behind while everyone else "settled down". That their charmed days of youthful misbehavior would soon be grinding to a halt in favor of family obligations, societal duties, and the relentless march into adulthood. Pulling her into a fierce hug, Charlotte murmured fiercely, "Don't you ever change, Jess. Not for anyone or anything. Your wild spirit is what makes you so incredible." "Now who's being sappy as hell?" Jessica forcibly extracted herself, though her grin softened the teasing rebuke. "But for real, you deserve the absolute world, Charlotte Jones. I'll always have your back, no matter how many snoozeville Bridgerton-wannabe parties you throw down the line." "Thanks, Jess," Charlotte replied simply, letting the depth of affection and history between them imbue the two words with meaning. The rest of the night passed by in a glittering whirlwind blur for Charlotte. Popping into an underground rave where Jessica shamelessly flirted with the chalky-haired DJ while Skylar found an "acceptable" booth away from the raging mosh pit. Splitting fistfuls of dollar slice pepperoni pizza at a fluorescent-lit hole-in-the-wall, seated beside giggling Lower East Siders who looked at them like they were aliens. Even a detour into the Lower Manhattan financial district where they collapsed in tipsy hysterics under an iconic bull sculpture, taking selfies for prosperity. As dawn's first pale streaks began lancing across the sidewalks, the party finally reconvened at Charlotte's townhouse, spilling through the door in a riot of tangled hair and smeared makeup. But she didn't think she'd ever felt lighter, giddier, or more content as she watched her friends claim spots around the sitting room with mugs of coffee and cocoa. The light, airy decor of the Met Grill's private event space gave no hint of the storm clouds brewing beneath its elegant veneer of white linens and soaring glass ceilings. As Charlotte smoothed the folds of her silk cocktail dress, she allowed herself a fleeting sense of giddy satisfaction at the culmination of over a year's worth of planning and preparation. All their hard work - her and Alexander's, as well as the seemingly endless negotiations between their respective families - had finally led them to this evening. The calm before her dream wedding day, the rehearsal dinner serving as one last hurdle to clear before she could start her fresh, new chapter as Alexander's wife. A warm glow of affection bloomed in Charlotte's chest as she caught sight of her husband-to-be standing across the room, looking devastating as ever in his impeccably-tailored tuxedo while fielding a stream of well-wishers. He must have sensed her eyes upon him, for he turned and offered a roguish wink that made her heart skip a beat. Yes, she decided resolutely as she crossed the space to join him. Tonight would remain joyful and celebratory, no matter what pockets of animosity or tension might exist amongst the gathered relations. She would ensure the vitriol of others didn't overshadow this significant moment. "My stunning bride," Alexander murmured, pulling her into a tender embrace and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. "I must say, I'm enjoying this already." Charlotte rolled her eyes in playful exasperation but couldn't wipe away her contented smile. "Down boy, we've a whole evening of family politics to navigate first." Extricating herself from his arms, she turned to face the mingling crowd. "I just hope with enough champagne flowing that certain people can stay on their best behavior." "Charlotte! There you are, darling!" Lillian Jones swept across the event space towards them in a shimmering cloud of turquoise silk chiffon, arms already outstretched for an embrace. "Oh, you both look simply exquisite this evening! Classic and refined, just the aesthetic we were hoping for." "Of course you'd think this tired old backdrop meets your high expectations mother," came a familiar sardonic drawl from behind them. "You Joneses wouldn't even attend a backyard barbecue without insisting it be as stuffy as a debutante ball." Charlotte's jaw clenched as Marcus strode up to their cluster, trademark smirk firmly in place and Scotch glass in hand. Trust her eldest brother to start in on the acerbic commentary before the night had even truly begun. "Marcus, darling, must you always reduce every occasion to schoolyard taunts?" Lillian scolded, though her long-suffering tone made it clear she'd expected nothing less. He simply winked at Charlotte before knocking back his drink with a theatrical flourish. "Ah loosen up, mum. I'm only doing my sacred duty to give my baby sister a delightfully inappropriate sampling of what she's signed herself up for by marrying into this rancid bucket of bad blood." "I'll thank you not to refer to my wife's new family as anything of the sort," Alexander cut in, his tone deceptively mild even as his jaw tensed slightly. "We're meant to be celebrating a fresh start for everyone tonight." "Of course, of course," Marcus replied, sloshing another glass of scotch from a passing tray. "Though from my table out in the hinterlands, it appears the malignant social clubs from both sides are already gathering their respective airs for the evening's theatrics."