Dog Tags

CHAPTER 2

“YOU’RE ANDY CARPENTER, RIGHT?” The man speaking is four inches shorter than me and at least forty pounds heavier. That makes him short and fat. He is standing in front of large platters of shrimp and crab. I’ve been eyeing them for a while, until he came and blocked my view.

I nod confirmation. “That’s me.”

I reach out my left hand to shake his, which is the only hand I have available. My right hand is securely in my right pocket, which is where it has been for three hours, ever since I got dressed.

That hand isn’t just hanging out in that pocket. It is holding on to the ring that Kevin Randall, the junior partner in our two-lawyer firm, will be slipping onto Kelly Topfer’s finger in about twenty minutes. I’m a little paranoid about stuff like this, and as the best man I want to make sure that when the minister says Kevin’s ready for me to provide the ring, I don’t come up with air or pocket lint.

Kelly and Kevin met only five months ago, and for Kevin it’s a match made in heaven. He is the world’s biggest hypochondriac, and Kelly is an internist. If it were left to Kevin, the couple would have registered for gifts at an online medical supply store.

The wedding is being held at the Claremont Hotel in Closter, New Jersey, thirty-five minutes from my house in Paterson. The pre-ceremony cocktail party has been an hors-d’oeuvrian challenge for me. If you don’t believe me, try to take the tail shell off a shrimp with one hand while standing. And even if it were possible, how do you dip it in cocktail sauce? And what do you do with your drink?

“Eddie Lynch. People call me Hike” is how he introduces himself.

The name Eddie Lynch rings a bell somewhere in the recesses of my mind, but since there are already two bloody Marys sloshing around in there, I’m not thinking too clearly.

“You a friend of Kevin’s?”

He shrugs. “We were roommates in law school.”

The name clicks into place. Kevin has told me about him a few times, describing him as the smartest lawyer he knows. Since I’m also a lawyer whom Kevin knows, I half pretended to take offense, but Kevin wouldn’t back off his assessment.

“You’re the best man, right?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say in a solemn voice. “I am. By far.”

He shakes his head. “I’m glad he didn’t pick me. I’d probably lose the damn ring.”

The conversation, not exactly scintillating up to this point, takes a turn for the worse, as we both just stand there with nothing to say. It’s getting uncomfortable, so I pipe up with, “They make a great couple, don’t they?”

He shrugs again. Shrugging seems to be his movement of choice. “If it works out. But when was the last time one of these worked out?”

I’m a life-half-empty kind of guy, but “Hike” is making me look like Mr. Sunshine.

“Let me guess,” I say. “You’re not married.”

“No way,” he says. “Not me. I’d beat them off with a stick if I had to.”

“Have you had to?”

He takes a step back and holds out his hands, palms up, as if inviting me to look at him. “Not in this lifetime,” he says, then laughs a surprisingly pleasant laugh and walks away.

A few moments later Laurie Collins, better known as the love of my life, walks over. She has a small plate of food in her hand, and watches Hike as he walks away.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“The Prince of Darkness.”

She decides that isn’t worth a follow-up, so she asks, “Have you eaten anything? The shrimp are wonderful.”

“I haven’t been able to figure out how to get the tails off with one hand. And then there’s the dipping-them-in-cocktail-sauce problem.”

“Why can’t you use two hands?” she asks.

“Because I’m holding on to the ring in my pocket.”

“Isn’t the pocket supposed to hold it? Isn’t that why pockets exist?”

“You’re talking philosophy and I’m talking reality,” I say. “I’m afraid if I take my hand out I’ll drop the ring.”

“Why would you do that?” she asks.

“It wouldn’t be on purpose. It might slip out and fall on the floor, and then what the hell would I do?”

“You could pick it up.”

“It might fall down a drain.”

“A drain in the carpet? You’ve got serious mental problems, you know?”

Just then the lights flash on and off, signaling that it’s time to head into the other room for the ceremony. “It’s showtime, Mr. Best Man. Get the ring ready.”

I squeeze it a little tighter in my pocket. “It’s under control,” I say.

We start to leave the room, and I cast a glance back at the shrimp. “You think they’ll still be here later?” I ask, but Laurie just frowns a look of disgust.

I take that as a no.