Invisible String

Chapter Four- Time, Mystical Time

Jennifer wasn't ever one to sugarcoat and he likes that about her, appreciates it. Most of the time.

"I know, it is. It really is. I'm just, I dunno, going through it, I guess. It's been a shit show."

"Exactly. Which is why you're going to relax in Venice. Few more days, buddy, that's all. And you won't think about work or anything else. I won't let you."

Inwardly, he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "The wedding."

"You forgot, didn't you? Okay, guess I could choose be really insulted, but since you've had a lot on your plate lately...I can forgive you."

"Sorry," he apologizes sheepishly. "I'm an asshole. I didn't forget, I promise...just didn't realize it was so soon."

"You need this break, bud. I know you, though. Don't feel guilty about leaving Griff, okay? Your mom is really excited about coming down to spend some time with him while Abby's working and it's only for a week. Win-win."

What he doesn't tell her is how the guilt doesn't just stem from being away from his son. The pressure he's put on himself to finish the script is momenumtal and taking an entire week off doesn't seem quite right.

He's trying, though, so it goes unsaid that he'll do his absolute fucking best not to work the during one of the most important times in one his closest friend's life.

"Oh!" Her voice rises two decibels, same way as it always did whenever she was excited. "Did I fucking tell you who's singing at the fucking wedding? I'm shitting myself."

He chuckles. "You didn't, but I'm assuming someone pretty incredible if you're shitting yourself."

"Lady fucking Gaga!"

His brow furrows. "Okay..."

"The singer, asshole! C'mon, Bradley... really? Weren't you guys on SNL together?"

His memory sucks and Jen knows it.

"We didn't really get to meet, though. I know who she is... partially. I wouldn't know her if I bumped into her."

He's definitely mortified now and Jennifer's clearly having a field day with it.

"Well, old man, for those of us who live in the 20th century, she's the shit and she's coming to sing at my. fucking. wedding!"

Bradley knows her well enough to tell she's doing a little dance of triumph and he laughs again.

"I'm happy for you," he says sincerely. "Do you know what she's singing?"

"Bradley. Please," she deadpans. "You don't tell Lady Gaga what to sing, man! You let her do whatever she wants because it's gonna be incredible. I haven't even met her yet, but we spoke on the phone last night and I'm obsessed already. I'm gonna fucking fan girl so hard."

"Hey, hey, take a breath. She's just a person, like you and me. It'll be fine. I'm glad she seems nice, though."

"You'll get to see her again, too," Jen sing songs teasingly, "you guys can catch up."

"What are you, 12?"

"Takes one to know one," she says sweetly. "Anyway, I've got so much shit to do, I probably won't get to talk to you til you land. Text me when you get to the hotel, alright! And for fuck sakes, Brad, at least pretend to be happy." Her tone softens, "for me?"

"Of course I am. You're getting married to a good guy. You finally found someone who can put up with you, what's not to be happy about?"

He can see her on the other end of the line, flipping him off and the image is so clear, he can't help but grin.