Bachelor Party
Patrick Mahoney took the news of Chase Tyneham's engagement with the proverbial grain of salt. An inveterate womanizer, the one-time college football hero had neared the precipice of matrimony before but always stopped short of taking the plunge. What did surprise Patrick was Chase's father's request that he organize the bachelor party.
"Why me, sir?" he asked Edison Tyneham, who headed the law firm of Tyneham and Tyneham, for which the two former classmates worked.
"Because you're my son's best friend."
"In college, yeah, but that was almost fifteen years ago."
When I didn't know any better, he added to himself.
"You still see him every day."
"Only because we work here together. It's no secret to anyone that we had a falling out," Patrick explained. "Can't Lorne do it?"
"In the case of my sons, blood is not thicker than water. Besides, I've assigned Lorne to a high profile murder case. Even if he wanted to throw his brother a bachelor party, he wouldn't have time. No, you ought to be the one to do it."
Although what the father said was essentially true, he was using his son's heavy workload as an excuse. The siblings had never been particularly close growing up. Now that they were both adults, the rift had widened considerably.
"Look, I've got to be in court in fifteen minutes. I need an answer now."
How can I turn down his request? Patrick asked himself. He's the senior partner. No one ever says "no" to him.
"I suppose I can put something together."
"Good. Maybe you could talk to Brynn and see if the wedding planner she's working with has any suggestions. Don't worry about the expense. I'll foot the bill. So, go ahead and make it as grand an affair as possible. After all, our family has an image to maintain in this community."
Going to see Brynn was out of the question. Although the two frequently ran into each other—they lived in a small town, and he and her fiancé worked for the same law office—they rarely spoke to each other. In fact, he usually tried to avoid her at all costs.
"I'll see what I can do, sir."
After returning to his own office, Patrick pressed the intercom button on his phone to speak to his secretary.
"Can you come in here a minute?" he asked.
"What's up?" Meg Dowding inquired when she walked through the door.
"Have a seat and shut the door behind you."
"Should I be worried? Am I about to lose my job?"
"No," the lawyer laughed. "I've been asked to handle a rather ... unpleasant matter, and I need your help."
"What is it?"
"Our esteemed senior partner has requested that I organize a bachelor party for Chase," Patrick announced.
"You? Doesn't he know how you feel about his son?"
"I'm sure he does. But to him appearances are everything. He likes to pretend that Chase is still the local football hero, admired and envied by all his friends."
"And adored by all the women," added Meg, who had her own regrettable history with the Tyneham heir apparent.
"What did they do for your husband's bachelor party?" Patrick inquired.
"Nothing big. His friends took him out for drinks. But we're not exactly in the same income bracket as the Tynehams. You know they're going to want to give the scion a big sendoff."
"You make it sound like he's dying," Patrick laughed.
"I did hear Chase say he considered the upcoming event a funeral more than a wedding."
"How like him! Well, if you can think of anything, I'm open to suggestions."
"I'm all for the wake!" Meg laughed and then went back to her desk.
That evening, as Patrick waited for a traffic signal to turn green, he recalled the conversation he'd had with his secretary earlier in the day.
So, the damned fool regards his wedding as a funeral. Isn't that just like him. He never appreciates anything he's got. Why, I'd give both my arms and legs if Brynn ....
At that moment, his eyes fell on the large Victorian home on the corner of Main and Third. It had once belonged to the current mayor's grandfather. Now it was a funeral parlor. That was the moment the idea came to him.
If Chase wants a funeral, I'll give him one.
* * *
When Patrick Mahoney shared his ideas with Meg Dowding the following day over lunch, she was more than eager to assist him.
"I only wish I could be at the bachelor party to enjoy Chase's reaction."
"Maybe I can arrange to have you smuggled in with the caterers."
They then made a preliminary list of items they would need.
"I can order most of this stuff on Amazon," Meg said.
"While you do that, I'll search for an appropriate venue."
"Can I help with the decorations?"
"Sure."
They put their plans into motion that same afternoon.
"How many invitations will you need?" Meg asked the next morning when her boss arrived at the office.
"Do we need those? I thought I'd just send the word out over the grapevine."
"You said this was to be a big event. You ought to have formal invitations."
"You're right. I'll put together a guestlist this morning. I'd say we'll need roughly fifty to sixty at least, maybe more."
"I'll make it an even hundred, just in case you want to invite more people."
"Good idea."
By the end of the week, the boxes bearing the Amazon logo began piling up in the Dowdings' apartment. Meanwhile, Patrick had searched the real estate ads and found a house for sale one town over. Marketed as a "handyman's dream," the towering three-story Italianate mansion, which had seen better days, had been on the market for more than a year. It was easy for Patrick to convince the elderly owners, who were retired and living in Florida, to let him rent the house for a week.
"Why a week?" Meg asked.
"I want to send someone in to clean the first-floor rooms. Then we'll need to decorate it. That ought to take a full day or two. And no doubt, there'll be a major cleanup afterward. You know how messy we men can get!"
The following day, Patrick and his secretary drove to the vacant house to oversee the cleaning operation and direct the placement of the furniture. Meg borrowed her sister's minivan to transport all the Amazon boxes to the venue.
"This is perfect!" she cried, when she caught her first glimpse of the decaying mansion. "It reminds me of a haunted house."
Every room on the first floor was cleaned—floors, walls, ceiling, furniture and windows. Even the kitchen, which would be used by the caterers, was gleaming when the cleaning crew was finished. Despite the lateness of the hour, Meg was eager to begin decorating.
"I don't know about you, but I'm hungry," Patrick announced. "It's almost seven, and I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. Do you want to go and get something to eat or would you prefer I have food delivered here?"
"Let's get delivery. I want to start opening these boxes."
"You're like a kid on Christmas morning," her boss laughed.
"Considering the surroundings and these macabre decorations, it feels more like Halloween."
* * *
"What the hell is this?" Lorne Tyneham asked when he received the white envelope with the thick black border that was hand-delivered by messenger to his home on a Sunday afternoon.
He opened it and found an invitation to his brother's bachelor party. The card, in the shape of a coffin, was somber to the point of being morbid. When he read the clever witticisms that compared marriage to death, he finally got the joke.
"They're holding a wake for my brother," he laughed and handed the invitation to his wife to read for herself.
"A surprise bachelor party, huh?" she said when she handed the card back to him. "Too bad it won't be a real funeral!"
Chase's sister-in-law was not the only one to express a scathing opinion about the groom. There were many others, both male and female, who felt the same way. The former college football star and philanderer was disliked by most people who knew him. It was only due to his family's money and his father's standing in the community that anyone treated him with a modicum of respect.
"I'll have my secretary RSVP tomorrow morning," Lorne announced as he and his wife sat down at the dinner table.
"You're not honestly thinking about going, are you?"
"I have to. He's my brother. I was lucky enough to bow out of being in the wedding party by claiming this murder trial would take up most of my time, but I can't not go to the bachelor party."
"It's hypocritical. You don't even like your brother!"
"It's only one night. I'll put on a false smile, have a few drinks and then leave early. Besides, I have a feeling this shindig is going to turn into a roast, and I want the opportunity to get in a few barbs of my own."
Given just how unpopular Chase Tyneham was, it was surprising that no one turned down the invitation to attend his bachelor party.
"Everyone is going to attend? They can't all be that hard up for a free meal and an open bar," Patrick said when Meg showed him the finalized guestlist.
"I suppose most of the people are going just to please his father," the secretary opined. "And then there are others like me who want to see Chase's reaction to the whole funeral theme."
"I have to confess," Patrick admitted with a mischievous grin, "I'm looking forward to this party myself."
"Did you arrange for me to go in with the caterers?"
"Yes, I did. Wear a pair of black pants and a white, button-down blouse, and they'll lend you a red apron. You'll fit right in. I doubt the guest of honor will recognize you in that outfit."
"Don't worry about that! That creep stopped noticing me after he took me out to dinner that one time."
"Be thankful it didn't lead to anything."
"Oh, I am. Brynn has my sympathy. He's never going to be faithful to her."
At mention of Brynn's name, Patrick lost his good humor.
"Let's get to work," he said, heading back to his office. "I've got to take a deposition this morning, and I need to prepare for it."
* * *
The long-awaited night of the bachelor party arrived. Edison Tyneham had devised a suitable ruse to get his elder son to the Italianate mansion where the party was being held.
"There's a potential client who wants to meet with both of us," the father lied.
"Sorry. I have plans," his son said cryptically.
He did not want to go into detail since his plans were to meet up with a woman other than his fiancée.
"Break them. This is important."
Although he bristled at the command, Chase did as his father demanded. In the law office—as throughout most of the community—Edison's word was like God's. When he spoke, people obeyed.
"I don't know why this client wants to meet with me," the son complained as he got in the back seat of his father's Rolls. "You're the head of the firm."
"Maybe he remembers you from your football days and wants to meet you."
The senior Tyneham knew just what to say to appeal to his son's ego.
"He probably watched my touchdown pass during the Rose Bowl game.
A nostalgic smile appeared on Chase's face. His four years at college were the happiest of his life so far. He loved football and had hoped to make a career out of the game; however, his father insisted he turn down the NFL's offer and work for the family law firm.
"Where is this guy supposed to meet us?" the son asked with scorn as the chauffeur headed to what some people referred to as "the wrong side of the tracks."
"It's not far."
The Rolls then stopped in front of a large, gloomy house with a FOR SALE sign on the lawn.
"Here?" Chase asked with disbelief.
"This appears to be the place."
The driver opened the door, and the two men got out of the back seat. Although the lights were on in the rooms of the lower floor, the place looked as though no one had lived there for some time.
"Come on, let's go inside," the father suggested.
"Maybe I should have gotten a tetanus booster first."
They strolled up the walkway, careful not to trip over the broken pavement. Chase was the first to see the ring of flowers, interwoven with black ribbons, placed on the front door.
"What's with the wreath?" he asked. "It's not Christmas."
"It's a mourning wreath," his father explained, suppressing a smile of amusement. "It means there's been a recent death in the household."
The older man stepped forward and loudly knocked on the door. The younger one was astonished when his former friend and business associate opened it.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Patrick Mahoney said. "Thank you for joining us on this mournful occasion."
A second man appeared, a paralegal from the law firm, who took the new arrivals' coats and placed a black arm band on the senior partner.
"What's all this?" the son demanded to know.
Moments later, more than seventy coworkers and family members—no one went so far as to consider himself a friend—jumped out from doorways and behind furniture to shout, "Surprise!"
"It's your bachelor's party," Edison said. "You can thank Patrick and his secretary for putting it all together."
One of the servers from the catering company handed the groom a glass of champagne, which he promptly drained. Meg Dowding, dressed as a server herself, observed his behavior from the kitchen doorway.
"I'll have another," he said.
"The party is in here," Patrick announced and led his former friend to the living room.
The furniture had been rearranged for the occasion. There were several rows of chairs, taken from various rooms in the house, all facing front where an empty coffin was placed on an elaborate antique catafalque. The entire wall behind it was covered, floor to ceiling, with black crepe. Sprays of fresh flowers, many bearing ribbons that read REST IN PEACE, were placed around the casket.
"A funeral-themed bachelor party!" the groom laughed. "I gotta hand it to you. It's original!"
"Think of it as an Irish wake," his brother Lorne said, downing a shot of Jack Daniels.
The groom looked around the room, taking note of the décor.
"You did this, Mahoney?"
"Guilty."
"You didn't miss a trick. All the curtains are drawn; the clocks are stopped; the mirrors are covered. Candles, arm bands and black crepe draped over the tables. I'm impressed."
"Just wait until you see the other surprises we have planned for tonight. But first, why don't we all go to the dining room and partake of a funeral feast?" Patrick suggested.
"I suppose we ought to eat something before we commence with the drinking!" Chase added.
When the guests lined up at the buffet table, Meg pressed the PLAY button on the stereo, and organ music was piped throughout the lower rooms. Debussy's Clair de Lune was the first song on the playlist. As each man took his plate and went in search of a seat, he was handed a small white package held together with a daub of black sealing wax.
"What are these?" Lorne inquired.
"They're funeral biscuits," the caterer explained. "It's an old Victorian tradition."
"Nice touch!" the groom's brother told Patrick. "My father was right in asking you to organize this party."
"You haven't seen anything yet. The night is still young. You have to wait for the pièce de résistance."
Then he quickly excused himself when he saw Chase making his way toward an empty chair.
"That's not your seat," he declared. "You're the groom. You have the place of honor."
His former college friend paled when Patrick led him to the front of the room.
"In you go."
"You expect me to get in that coffin?"
"Come on," Lorne urged. "Get in the spirit of the evening."
"I'm not getting into a coffin!"
"What's the matter, are you afraid?" his brother goaded him. "I'm sure you did worse things than that at those wild frat parties when you were in college."
It looked for a moment as though an ugly scene was about to unfold between the siblings; however, their father stepped in and put an end to things.
"This is all in good fun, son. Get in."
As usual, Chase yielded.
"Someone hold my plate," he said, and then took off his shoes and climbed into the casket. "Do I have to lie down?"
"Not yet," Patrick answered. "You can sit up while you're eating."
For more than an hour, the guests traveled back and forth between the dining and living rooms, refilling their plates and glasses. After the men had their fill of food, Meg raised the volume of the music. This action served as a cue to three women who then entered the room. Dressed in Victorian era mourning gowns and heavy veils, they were covered from head to toe in black.
"Ladies, I'm glad you could join us," the unofficial host greeted them. "Let me introduce you to the dearly departed, Chase Tyneham."
The three women crossed the room and stopped in front of the coffin. As the first woman raised her hands and removed one black glove, the tempo of the music changed. The other two women likewise removed their gloves. None of them stopped there. The veils came off next, revealing the three attractive young dancers Patrick Mahoney had hired for the evening.
"This is more like it!" the groom laughed, lying back against the large satin pillow in the coffin to enjoy the show.
The women were well versed in their art, knowing just how slowly they should remove their garments to whet a man's appetite. The heavy black dresses came off. Then the corsets and petticoats. When they were down to their drawers and chemises, they removed their shoes, stockings and garters. Several of the men, their ebullience fueled by alcohol, began to cheer and chant.
"Take it off! Take it off!"
Naturally, Chase joined in.
"Take it off! Take it off!" he laughed.
The dancers obliged. The linen drawers and chemises were tossed onto the large pile of black clothing at the foot of the wooden catafalque. The well-endowed women, wearing nothing but G-strings and pasties, then paraded around the room as the more boisterous guests hooted and clapped. Each of the women took the hand of one of the faux mourners, led them to the front of the room and began to dance with them.
As the tempo of the music increased, the dancing became more spirited. The strippers encouraged other guests to join in. Eventually, more than thirty drunken men were clumsily gyrating in front of the "deceased." Patrick, however, took no part in the merriment. Instead, he watched from the kitchen doorway with his secretary.
"Enjoying yourself?" Meg asked.
"Not really. You?"
"Frankly, I wish I had stayed at home tonight with my husband."
"Why don't you leave then? There's no reason for you to be here. Your work is done."
"I don't know. It's silly, but I feel like I need to stay. It's like when you pass a bad accident and you don't want to look but you can't turn away."
"A bad accident! That's as good a description of Chase as I've ever heard. I wonder if Brynn knows what's in store for her."
Meg placed her hand on her boss's shoulder in a gesture of empathy. He had lost the woman he loved to his supposed best friend more than five years earlier, and it still hurt him deeply.
"If it makes you feel any better ...."
Whatever words of comfort the secretary had to offer were suddenly drowned out by a loud crashing sound. Patrick turned to see that one of the drunken celebrants had knocked over a five-foot-tall candelabra while dancing. The six lit candles ignited the pile of mourning clothes on the floor.
"Quick! Someone get an extinguisher!" Edison shouted when he saw the burning garments.
"From where?" his younger son asked. "I don't see any."
The flames quickly spread from the clothes to the antique wooden catafalque. By the time the man inside the coffin realized the danger he was in, he had little time to act. Given his inebriated state, it proved to be an impossible task. As he clumsily tried to climb out of the casket, his sleeve caught fire. He screamed and fell back onto the satin pillow. Sparks from the blazing wood set the coffin lining ablaze, sealing the guest of honor's fate.
Chase's screams of agony were matched in volume and intensity by his father's cries of fear.
"Someone help my boy!"
For once, no one heeded his command. As the crepe-covered wall behind the coffin went up in flames, the guests gave little thought to their careers, the owner of the law firm or his doomed son. Their only concern was for their own safety.
Had Patrick Mahoney not had the good sense to take out his cell phone and call the fire department when the conflagration began, no doubt the entire house would have burned to the ground and more lives would have been lost. However, due to his diligence, only two men lost their lives that night: Edison and Chase Tyneham.
* * *
As was the case in the royal houses of Europe down through the centuries, primogeniture dictated that Lorne, the last of the Tyneham men, take the helm of the law firm after the death of his father and old brother. To his credit, he recognized his own limitations. He was simply not capable of running such a large firm. As he had in the past, he called on Patrick Mahoney for assistance.
"We both know you're more suited to the job than I am," he said. "I think you ought to be senior partner."
"But I'm not a Tyneham."
"Then we'll change the name on the building and letterhead to Tyneham and Mahoney, Attorneys at Law."
"It does have a nice ring to it."
"Then you'll take the job?"
"I'd be a fool not to."
Not only did Patrick move into the prestigious corner office, but Meg Dowding moved up in the ranks as well.
It's only fair she be rewarded for her loyalty and hard work. In a way, I owe all my recent good fortune to her, the new senior partner thought, as he drove his Mercedes to Brynn's house to console the grieving woman. Had she not told me that Chase viewed his marriage as a funeral, I would never have come up with the theme for his bachelor party. And without the funeral trappings—the antique wooden catafalque, the Victorian mourning clothes, the satin-lined coffin and, most importantly, those tall candelabras—he would still be alive. I wouldn't be senior partner, and, worst of all, Brynn would be Mrs. Chase Tyneham.
But the ill-fated bachelor party changed his life forever. Call it fate, karma or just good, old-fashioned dumb luck, but the man who had once ruined his chance for happiness was gone. Now that the former college football hero was in his grave, Patrick had gotten the position that was meant to go to the deceased and, within six months, he would win back the love of Chase's former fiancée.
Salem once auditioned for The Bachelor, thinking the show's producers would throw him a bachelor party, proving once again that he'll do anything for a free meal!
