The Boyfriend Job

And so it begins.

"I'm getting married!" Sera called into the house, shoving open the front door and letting her voice echo throughout the entirety of the old, Italian Renaissance.

Our home wasn't small; the volume she would need in order to be heard in any room was close to that one would have when speaking into a microphone. My sister was talented in the art of being unnecessarily loud. Her other talents included: mocking me, being surreptitiously bitchy, and aiding in the world's plot to destroy my life. Oh, and let us not forget her greatest gift of all: the mastered skill of such flawless lying that our parents altogether failed to see how heinous she was. How could someone so wretched be engaged? Who in their right mind found anything in my sister that could be called lovable?

The only logical answer here was that this man was not in his right mind.

I unwillingly trotted down the tall, slightly wound staircase; if I even attempted to get out of such an "important conversation" my mother would undoubtedly have my head. There Sera was, standing in front of the doors she'd left hanging open with her arms crossed over her chest and a beautiful, yet perpetually faking-looking smile on her face that I'd always said felt more like it was stained there out of obligation than put there by choice.

"Cosette," Sera smiled haughtily. She took pleasure from using my full name when I'd asked from age 13 onward to be addressed by the nickname Cozy. "It's too childish for someone about to graduate high school," she'd told me not long ago when I'd confronted her about it. Again.

"Serafine," I replied blandly.

"Well don't just stand there! Come give your big sister a hug and take a look at this ring!"

When I say I moved toward her begrudgingly, I'm not exaggerating. In fact, I may actually be lessening the fierce intensity with which I did not want to be near her. To put it mildly, Sera and I had a distant relationship. Nothing I did was impressive enough for her.

Nonetheless, Sera threw her arms around me as if we were the closest of friends. Then she pulled away and held out her hand as if it were on display. "Look at the ring Weaver bought me!"

I mentally prepared a disparaging remark, but when my eyes found the rock on Sera's finger, I realized that no matter what I said, it wouldn't make the huge diamond any less gorgeous. "It's beautiful," I gasped involuntarily.

At that moment, my mother came flying into the foyer, father in tow. "Oh darling!" she was cooing. "Tell me everything, show me the ring! We must get started on the planning right away!"

With that, the awe I'd been in when I'd seen the ring vanished and I felt the need to hurl at my mothers' excitement. My father, bless his soul, was excited in a quieter, calmer way. "That's wonderful sweetie," he smiled, giving her a regular old Dad hug; the kind only your father could give you.

"Oh Mama, Daddy, I'm so excited!" Sera squealed. She began pulling them into the parlor and gushing about how Weaver had proposed to her the previous night. I just shook my head thinking, That poor fool has no idea what he's just gotten himself into. Still, I understood that this was a big deal, so I followed out of respect for my parents, whom I knew would be disappointed if I didn't bother to include myself.

We stepped into the parlor; a room with high-vaulted ceilings and a large bay window on the far side, with lush, wine-colored chiffon drapes only partially drawn. Mom and Sera sat together on a loveseat of Italian leather, while Dad took his seat in a large, velvet armchair that crunched softly when he sat. I perched myself on the arm, next to him.

Weaver had, as very cliché as it was, taken Sera to a fine restaurant where he'd had a waiter put the ring into her champagne flute. When it was delivered to the table, Sera immediately saw it and fawned over it, sipping her champagne as quickly as she could to retrieve the ring from the bottom of the glass. I knew, of course, that when Sera said she'd sipped it, what she really meant was she'd downed it in a matter of seconds. My sister wasn't shy about her alcohol intake. Besides, she must've been quick about it seeing as Weaver had gotten down on one knee and started in with the usual pre-proposal speech all men give and slid it onto her finger mere minutes later.

"Darling, you simply must invite Weaver and his family over for dinner tonight," Mom demanded.

"Oh Mama, the whole family? How about just Weaver? His mother is sort of....well, she has a very A-type personality and I don't mesh very well with her. You know I'm very A-type, myself." Then Sera wrinkled her nose. "Not to mention that brother of his. Such a delinquent, that one."

Mom sighed. "Fine, fine. I suppose I can wait to meet the family until a later date. But now it's time to show Weaver he's a part of the Graziano family! Oh I can't believe you won't be Serafine Graziano anymore," my mother frowned. "It's so sad."

Sera took my mothers' hand and patted it gently. "It is. But marriage is a matter of tradition. I simply can't stay a Graziano forever."

"I suppose you're right, dear," Mom sighed.

Sera turned to Dad next. "Daddy, do you remember that song you used to dance to with me and Cosette? I'd just love for that to be the Daddy-Daughter dance at the wedding," she chirped.

I stood, angry at that. "Sera! You know that's what I planned on for my wedding!" I all but shouted indignantly.

Sera only shrugged. "Baby sister, we can't always get what we want, now can we? After all, I'm the elder sister and seeing as I'm getting married first, there isn't much you can do about it, I'm afraid. I've made up my mind about it, and that's final." She turned away from me and continued chattering on with my mother, who'd done no more than give me a stern look, her mouth turned down into a sharp frown as if she was appalled I'd say such a thing.

I turned to Dad, but we both knew there was nothing that could be done. He did, however, give me a sorrowful look. I'd been saying for years I'd wanted to play the song at my own wedding, it was no secret. He knew full well it had always been my plan and that Sera had never once mentioned it. I felt hot tears wetting my eyes. I didn't want to give Sera any inclination that she'd won, so I stormed out of the parlor and back up the stairs to my room.

I slammed my door, causing the great, dangling ceiling fan to totter dangerously, threatening to clatter to the floor any moment. I'd had it installed years ago in place of a chandelier that had once hung above my bed. I may have come from a fair amount of money, but I had no interest in it. I was practical; a chandelier did nothing for me. A fan would keep me cool when I was hot and it didn't cost the money that using the air conditioner would. Not that it mattered; my parents probably periodically bathed in money. However I didn't take for granted what we had. I planned on getting my own apartment just as soon as my 18th birthday rolled around in a couple of months, so I had to get used to not having everything I wanted.

I flopped onto my bed, snatching my phone from my nightstand. It was a simple wood piece, polished and with a set of three drawers on the front. On top sat my lamp, one of those twisting types that you could adjust to your liking, and my latest book. I quickly dialed in the number of my greatest -and gayest- friend, Gabe. He answered before the first ring was even done.

"The wicked witch of my life just got engaged," I said without preamble.

"Oh dear god," he cried, playing his role as gay best friend well. He wasn't nearly that flamboyant, but he loved to act like it when it came to Sera. Only drama seemed fitting for her.

"She's using The Song," I hissed. Gabe knew everything about me; we'd known each other since elementary school; since before he knew he was gay. What he also knew was how important that song was to me. My father was the only person in my family I had any kind of close relationship to and I adored him. Sera was Daddy's Little Girl because she thought she was supposed to. I was Daddy's Little Girl because I actually loved the man who'd taken part in giving me life.

"That b***h," he seethed, scandalized. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I moaned in anguish. "She's made up her mind, she said. And you know when Sera makes up her mind, she doesn't change it."

I studied my room as if somehow it would give me an idea or perhaps one of the nooks or crannies held the answer I needed. But none of the band or movie posters on my wall were of any help. Nor were the books on my floor-to-ceiling bookcase that sat against the wall directly in front of my bed. I kept scanning the room with my eyes; the tv mounted on the far wall from the door, a small couch and a handful of beanbags sitting around it, the door a few yards from my bed that led to my bathroom, the sliding glass double-doors next to my entertainment area that led to a small, personal balcony.

"Why don't you have a secret, torrid affair with the groom, then leak the secret to someone whom you know will reveal it when the priest asks if anyone has a reason why the two should not be wed? No way will she marry a dude that cheated on her with her sexy little sister," Gabe suggested.

I pulled a face even though he couldn't see it. "Uhm, how about no? I don't want her to have her dignity, but I'd quite like to maintain mine, thanks." Then, "Hold on, there's someone at my door.

Before I could get up and see who was there, Sera popped her head in. "Cosette, sweetie, I do hope you'll invite Gabe to the wedding. Gay men have the most wonderful sense of fashion and," she paused to glance around my room, then give me an obvious once over, "I doubt you'd be able to find a man to agree to date you before my upcoming nuptials. Unfortunately, you just cannot come to the wedding without a date. Do ask him soon; we plan on having quite a short engagement." With that piece of sisterly love hanging in the air between us, she shut the door.

"Ugh!" I growled in frustration, throwing myself back onto my queen-sized bed once more. "Did you hear that?"

"I wouldn't be caught dead at that b***h's wedding," Gabe replied, implying he'd heard all, or at least enough of the one-sided conversation my sister had just pretended I was a part of.

"Gabe, come over. We can binge watch Desperate Housewives on my Netflix, then play some Halo," I offered, suddenly lit up with an idea.

"Oh!" he perked up. "Your 360 is working again?"

"Yes, it i-"

"Since when?" he piped in, interrupting in the way he always did.

"Since yesterday," I rolled my eyes. "That's not the point. I need a date to this wedding. One that will blow Sera away. To get me said date, we need a plan, and I think I might just have one."

Author's Note

Seriously. Any helpful ideas, any pointers. I know the basic plot but help NEVER hurts.