See Jane Date by Melissa Senate Page B

Morgan, if you have any questions or want to know how I’d handle something, just come ask me, and I’ll—”
    â€œI learned how to read in first grade, Jaaane,” Morgan said. “I think I’ll manage just fine on my own.”
    Asshole.
    My phone rang, and Morgan disappeared.
    â€œJane Gregg.”
    â€œHi, Jane, it’s Karen! Dana’s maid of honor! How are you? I’m doing just great! I’m calling because I’m finalizing the plans for Dana’s bridal shower, and I’d like to set up a meeting with the bridal party to go over the little details.”
    Like what? Who would clean up all the wrapping paper? Who would make Dana her stupid bow-encrusted shower hat? Who would take home all the disgusting, wilted deli meat and cookies? Dana’s shower was a bunch of women sitting in a circle in Karen’s gigantic Forest Hills apartment, watching Dana shriek “Omigod, I love it!” each time she opened another gift. The theme was French Kitchen, since France was where Dana and Larry were going on their honeymoon. How many dish towels with the Eiffel Tower on it did one couple need? And how often was I going to have be in the insufferable presence of Dana’s friends before I spontaneously combusted?
    Karen was a replica of Dana, only with light brown hair and bigger boobs. They’d been best friends since the third grade at P.S. 101. Karen was the kind of person who slowly looked you up and down. Twice.
    â€œA meeting to discuss final details?” I said, checking my e-mail. “Don’t you think that’s overkill?” The shower itself was the Saturday after next. The bridal party had already gotten together a month ago to plan the shower.
    Silence.
    I felt a little guilty. “It’s just that things are really crazy for me right now, so…” I clicked open an e-mail from Amanda. She wished me luck on Blind Date #2, which was scheduled for tomorrow night. Andrew Mackelroy. He was supposed to call me today to make a plan.
    â€œWe’re all busy, Jane,” Karen snapped. “And the shower’s on the fourteenth—that’s, like, in two weeks. The meeting will only be an hour or so. Look, if you don’t want to be involved, just say so.”
    I don’t want to be involved.
    I rolled my eyes instead. “Of course I want to be involved, Karen. Just tell me when and where, okay? My other line’s ringing.”
    â€œSaturday, at eleven-thirty at my place. First we’ll meet, and the bridal party will head over to A Fancy Affair for our final dress fittings. Don’t forget to bring your shoes.”
    How could I?
    â€œSaturday at eleven-thirty,” I repeated. “Can you give me your address again?”
    She mentioned an address near Station Square.
    â€œOkay, well, see you there.”
    I hung up and scowled at my wall calendar. I’d been hearing about Dana Dreer’s wedding plans for the past two years. Why such a long engagement? Because of the waiting time to book a ballroom at the Plaza, of course. Getting married at the Plaza was more important to Dana and Larry than getting married. But now that the “big day” was two months away, I’d be hearing about it every second.
    What did I have to look forward to for the next two months, besides working with Gnatasha Nutley and Morgan Morgan? Let me flip open my date book and share:
    Note to self: cross off peach peau de soie shoes with two-and-a-half-inch princess heel. Got ’em.
    Saturday, June 6: Wedding Shower Finalization meeting and Bridesmaid Dress Fitting #2, which meant spending another entire afternoon with Dana’s insufferable bridal party. Did I mention that the dress cost me two hundred and twenty-five bucks?
    Saturday, June 13: Wedding Shower. Which meant spending yet another entire afternoon with Dana’s insufferable bridal party and Larry Fishkill’s female relatives. It also meant buying an