Variation on a Theme, Book 7
Copyright© 2026 by Grey Wolf
Chapter 7: Wife and Wife
Saturday, July 19, 1986
As was entirely predictable for summer in the Bay Area (partly why they’d chosen this date, of course), today dawned sunny and clear, with the forecast calling for continued beautiful weather the entire day. If there was anything to complain about, it was that it was slightly cool. But most of the California contingent was used to the weather, while those of us from warmer climes were generally happy for the respite. And it would be plenty warm enough even for the girls by the afternoon.
All of us wore casual clothes to breakfast. The service was set for three in the afternoon, so we had plenty of time to change and no desire to risk messing up our nice clothes.
The hotel restaurant was full of wedding guests. The Collinses and Vintons, of course, but some of the bridesmaids and bridesmen were here, too. So were Gene, Sue, Amit, and Sheila, and we made sure to greet them warmly. The new Reagan connection didn’t come up. It didn’t feel like the time for it.
Meg and Steffie, along with Steffie’s husband Ryan, walked in about ten minutes after we’d been seated. That set off a wave of hugs, naturally. Tom Myerson walked in before we sat back down, so we greeted him, too. The only real difference was that he got a handshake from me rather than a hug. We caught up with them a bit, naturally, but got back to breakfast quickly.
There were more interruptions, of course. Anne and Natalie came in ten minutes later and needed their own greetings. That was funny, in its own way. Anne and I had been ‘teammates’ much more than ‘friends’ in debate. And that was still true, more than not. But we were closer now than then. I hadn’t known Natalie at all. Fortunately, she was the sort of person who could be comfortable in situations like this.
After breakfast, we wound up hanging out in the lobby for more than an hour, telling ‘remember when’ stories. Dalton Hastings and Peter Jenson, two of the bridesmen, wound up joining us, as did Carrie Saunders and Suzi Yang. As they finished eating, Gene, Sue, Amit, and Sheila joined, too.
Both Carrie and Suzi told stories about dating men, so they were either straight, bi, or had changed teams. Hard to tell, though. Peter Jenson was definitely with a guy, now, but mentioned taking a girl to prom, and didn’t make a reference to wishing PROMISE was around then. None of them mentioned any current romantic entanglements.
That didn’t stop Jas from nudging me when Carrie mentioned ‘her ex-boyfriend.’ Nor Cammie elbowing me when Suzi said, ‘Back when I was dating Henry... ‘
I stared each of them down a bit, but they just gave me innocent looks. Now, to be fair, I wasn’t completely opposed to the ‘you should nail a bridesmaid’ plan. It was just ... me. I couldn’t just ‘nail’ them. There would, inevitably, be talking. And talking — in my limited knowledge of the subject — could head off one-night-stands before they even happened. That limited experience was entirely from fiction, though.
Who knew? If it happened, it would happen. If not, it would hardly be the only time I would be around bridesmaids. There were many weddings in my future.
Darla arrived while we were hanging out. Unexpectedly, so did Hank, holding hands with her.
“Surprise!” she said, heading toward us.
I rose, of course, and shook hands with him, then hugged her. The order mattered, given the sort of relationship they were trying to build. Jas went with the other order, hugging Darla first, then Hank, but that made sense for her.
“I am indeed surprised!” I said.
Hank said, “We made the plan a while ago, but wanted it to be a surprise. Partly because I could always step back from flying out. It felt like less pressure.”
“And pressure sucks,” Darla said. “Also, Mom does not know. And isn’t to know.”
“It’s a wedding,” Jas said. “There will be pictures.”
“As long as Mom doesn’t see them for a while, we’re fine,” Darla said, giggling.
“It won’t be from us. Of course,” I said.
Hank smiled and nodded.
We talked for a bit. It felt like their relationship was doing well. Still new, still a little tentative, but solid. They had separate rooms. Whether this would be ‘weddings make girls horny’ or not remained to be seen. If it was, would it change plans with Darla for the rest of the summer? I was fine with that, of course, if things went that way.
After a while, Meg, Steffie, and Ryan came through the lobby. Angie, Paige, and Jas headed over to Steffie, while Cammie and I headed over to talk to Meg. Gene, Sue, Amit, and Anne joined us as they could, while Sheila headed over to Steffie’s group. Ryan, meanwhile, headed upstairs. I liked him well enough, but he was largely a fifth wheel in this sort of setting.
Meg, Cammie, and I talked for a bit, telling a few ‘remember when’ stories of our own. After a bit, Meg said, “Nearly seven years ago, a young woman with a chip on her shoulder turned up in my class. Then — a few minutes late to class — another young woman who wore everything on her very pink sleeve exploded into the room. A year later, it was a quiet brunette.”
She grinned at Cammie.
“And, five months later, a surprisingly unquiet boy. One who somehow became friends with all three of the others within a month. And the four of you became the best CXers I’ve ever had, thus far. More importantly, the four of you are among the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of calling my students.”
“High praise, Meg,” Cammie said, smiling. “High praise indeed.”
“Very high,” I said.
“Tom, Steffie, and I agree. This really is why we do this. Oh, Steffie and I need the money, and it’s what we’re qualified for. But it’s also ... some of you will be extraordinary, and that matters. Amit, Sue, Gene, from your year — they count, too. Anne does, certainly. Jasmine and Paige, but Steffie gets the credit there. And, mostly, for Angie.”
“I’ve thought about it, too,” I said. “From my perspective: take the same people, but replace you with debate coaches I’ve met, talked to, and even learned from, and the results might be wildly different. Not to mention someone like Sue’s old coach.”
She snorted.
“Some people shouldn’t do this! Good lord!”
Then she grinned.
“By the way, I heard Reagan’s been cribbing from you again, Steve.”
I chuckled.
“So it appears.”
“How many times am I going to have to tell future students about you? ‘That guy? He spent three and a half years in this room. Those are some of his trophies in the case.’”
I shook my head.
“Dunno, Meg. I would have said not many, but ... now? Who knows?”
Cammie giggled and added, “Many, for him. The question should be: how many of the rest of us will you also need to cover?”
Meg grinned.
“Plenty, I hope! As long as it’s for good reasons.”
She paused for a second, then added, “Funny thing. Seven years ago, I would have said Ted was the most promising student I’d ever had. Then he nearly ran off two of my best and spent much of the rest of his time being a lone wolf. If all you two had done was be good teammates for Lizzie, Janet, and encouraged everyone else to be good teammates, that alone would have made each of you one of my favorites. But you both went so far over and above that!”
Cammie smiled.
“Steve more than me, about teammates. It mattered to me, but ... he went above and beyond.”
I’m sure I was blushing.
“As far as I was concerned — and still am, for that matter — it may be an individual, or pair, event in competition, but everyone is part of the team, and that matters,” I said.
“We’re sticking to that, too,” Meg said. “But it took several years of focus. Now, it’s part of the culture.”
She looked at her watch.
“Gotta go change. And I’m sure you both do, too!”
“We definitely do!” Cammie said.
“It would not do to be late!” I added.
Meg laughed.
“No. No, it would not!”
We hugged, then separated. Meg and Steffie went off together, and the six of us headed to our rooms, which were all close together.
As we were in the elevator, Mel teased Cammie about there being one bridesmaid who met every criterion for me. Save one, of course, and we all knew exactly what that one was. Any ‘nailing’ of Cammie would require extensive discussion, particularly because she’d put it on me to say ‘no’ even if she was adamant about saying ‘yes.’ Cammie rivaled only Candice in the ‘only after a long, elaborate set of discussions.’ The difference was that Cammie did want to be able to say ‘yes.’ She just knew it was, almost certainly, a terrible decision for her.
I changed completely, dressing in my kilt and jacket. Jas insisted I change my underwear, just because. Once I was done, she told me I looked like a proper Scotsman, and referenced the shopkeeper who had verified that underwear was, in fact, compatible with a kilt. I would have worn it in any case. Tripping and falling while dancing with Lizzie would be a disaster, no matter why it happened. Doing so as a ‘true Scotsman’ would up the ante to a ridiculous level.
Jas, meanwhile, changed into her maroon ao dai. She’d brought matching lingerie, and joked about nailing a bridesmaid herself. I doubted she would get involved with any married couples, but that left some options. Cammie was, of course, no more of an option for her than for me, and quite possibly less.
Cammie and Mel would go to bed together. Of that, I had no doubt. Angie and Paige? They’d been teasing about trying a threesome with ... someone. At some point. Somewhere. So ... who knew? Probably no one.
When we met up with the others, Angie and Paige had changed into complementary pink and green outfits, as they often did. It was particularly appropriate for a wedding. Mel wore a smart-looking dark red pantsuit. It felt like she was trying something new. With Cammie’s full support, naturally.
Cammie herself was wearing a t-shirt and jeans.
“All of the bridesmaids are changing there,” she said, giggling. “I’d tease Steve about us, plus Janet — but not Lizzie — all nearly naked and trying not to fall over each other, but ... it would just tease all of you.”
“Even me!” Mel said.
“Even you,” Cammie said, giving Mel a kiss on the cheek.
“I notice you didn’t include yourself,” Mel said.
Cammie giggled.
“You know I’ll be looking. And being looked at.”
“Looking is always fine, love,” Mel said, hugging her.
“Thank God!” Cammie said, giggling.
They kissed again, after which we headed out to the car.
Once we arrived, it turned out there were, indeed, various jobs just waiting for big, strong men. They had professionals for the major wedding jobs: photographer, videographer, florist, and so forth. But there was no wedding planner, nor were there dedicated decorators. That left a certain amount of decorating to the bridesmen and other members of the wedding party.
Mostly, it was setting up for dinner. The ballroom needed some decorations. We had tablecloths in blue and burgundy, a relatively small amount of glitter (apparently a compromise between the brides), candles, and other things to get set up. There was nothing in any of it that screamed ‘lesbian wedding!’ No linked female symbols or the like. No rainbows, either.
Things continued in that vein until around one-thirty, when Suzi Yang, wearing a burgundy dress that was otherwise identical to those of the other bridesmaids, came and found me.
“Lizzie would like to talk to you briefly.”
She gave me a grin.
“This is not ‘We need to talk,’ lest you worry!”
“I live in a house with seven women. Eight, for the summer. If I worried every time one of them wanted to talk, I’d be a nervous wreck,” I said, grinning back.
“Touché!” she said, grinning. “Lizzie thinks the world of you, you know.”
“And I think the world of her.”
“A man of very good taste! Seriously, we’re all glad you’re here. All of us have our own stories, and several of us could have used a Steve in high school. A guy we could trust absolutely to be on our side and never waver, nor try to take things in the wrong direction.”
I shrugged and smiled.
“I’ve always believed in standing by my friends. Lizzie was a friend very quickly. And ... people are who they are. The other thing about having that many women living in my house is that all of them really know me. Let’s just say that, if I was a cad to anyone, at all, and they found out, ‘We need to talk’ wouldn’t even begin to hint at the trouble I’d be in.”
She laughed loudly.
“I can imagine!”
She stopped at a door with a paper sign saying, ‘BrideL Changing Room’.
“Janet insisted on ‘Bride-El’ for Lizzie. That way, hers is ‘Bride-Al’.”
“That ... works. Surprisingly well! And very unsurprising for Janet.”
“Janet is awesome!”
She knocked at the door, then said, “You decent? Steve’s here.”
“Ready!” Lizzie called.
When I went in, she was wearing a white tuxedo shirt and black tuxedo pants. A burgundy bow tie and cummerbund were waiting, along with a black jacket.
She waved her hand and said, “Janet insisted. Basic black. Let the accessories do the work.”
“You’re likely looking at most of my wedding attire,” I said.
She looked me up and down and said, “That suits you even more than I thought it would. You wear that like you belong in it. Which ... also suits you. You, Steve Marshall, are ... not fearless, because sometimes that’s idiotic, but ... a truly formidable man, and one whom I’m very happy to call my friend.”
“You — and Janet! — are most formidable, too. And wonderful friends.”
She suddenly had a few tears in her eyes.
“Good thing I’m not doing much makeup!” she said, grabbing a tissue.
After making sure nothing she was wearing got smeared, she said, “I have a request.”
“You know I’ll do my best.”