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Married. To an employee. A veritable stranger. With no pre-nup.
It’s my worst nightmare come to life.
The doors open on the lobby floor and I stagger out.
I puke two more times before finally getting a room.
11
THOMAS
‘Not good enough.’ Wedding over, I adjust my stance to make it seem as if I’m a part of the reception’s activities while I listen to my lawyer give me rational and logical reasons why my annulment will not be instantaneous despite the large retainer I pay him. ‘I’ll be home tomorrow morning. We’ll talk then.’ A flash of blue catches my good eye, moving across the white marble floor of the Bellagio’s Michelin-starred restaurant, Lago.
When he reminds me that tomorrow is Sunday, I hang up. If he wants to keep said retainer, he will damn well meet me on a Sunday.
‘What did I tell you?’ Chase claps me on the back, making me nearly drop my phone. ‘The wedding was great, wasn’t it? Not tacky in the slightest.’
I make a non-committal sound and slide my phone into my pants’ front pocket. A tux that neither I, nor Susan, approved. It seems my brother was more aware of the wedding details than we thought.
Chase’s hand moves to my shoulder, giving it a squeeze before dropping. ‘Even you have to admit that the chapel room was beautiful.’
‘Indeed.’ The Little Vegas Wedding Chapel was beautiful – after I paid the owner to allow Susan and me to nearly gut the place before Bell and Chase’s afternoon’s ceremony. Due to the tasteful renovations, it looked less drive-thru nuptials and more like an actual house of God than any other chapel in a twenty-mile radius of the Strip. But I keep that to myself. No need to burst Chase’s Vegas bubble.
And yet, even with my expensive and careful planning, things still managed to escape my control. Things more glaring than this tux.
Like my black eye, which is more technicolor and grotesque today than it had been last night and rivaled the new stain glass window I’d had installed as the most colorful object in the chapel. And how the Elvis officiant, whom I vetted via an image attached to his résumé, was ten years and one chin past the picture he’d sent. Or, most unnerving – the bridesmaid dress Alice is wearing.
As my eyes follow the cool, white neon lights that run along the angles of the lacquered walls and various architectural reliefs, I pause on Alice cradling the ring bearer in her arms as she talks to my new sister-in-law and the maid of honor across the room.
I point to my brother’s demonic cat, nuzzling the far too revealing neckline of Alice’s dress. ‘That isn’t tacky?’ The feline had changed out of his ceremonial silk bow tie and into a teddy bear onesie.
‘That’s not tacky, it’s meaningful.’ Chase smiles as only a man in love can. ‘That was the outfit Mikey wore when I—’
‘Begged Bell for forgiveness when you acted like an ass – yeah, I know.’ I remember all too well how unmanned and destroyed my carefree brother had become when Bell ended things with him. Rightfully so, but still. It was just another reminder on top of the pile of reminders my parents have given me over the years, that love is the catalyst for chaos.
Chase shrugs, unrepentant, and eyes the hotel staff I had stationed near the food with fire extinguishers in hand. ‘At least no strippers were harmed in the creation of this reception.’
‘Hmmm.’
Bell laughs at something Leslie says while Alice’s bare shoulders shake.
I’ve seen Alice smile before, and even in my drunken haze last night I observed her giggling, but I’ve never seen her laugh without reserve.
Checking to make sure Chase is occupied with ogling his bride, I tug my Leica out from my interior jacket pocket to capture the moment.
Right after I snap the picture, my brother’s cat has had enough of being shaken and jumps out of Alice’s arms, making the most of his freedom by weaving around the base of the bar as if trying to decide how best to conquer his Everest – a cocktail shrimp tower.
Alice, hands on hips, shakes her head at the beast. In fact, everyone seems amused.
Except me. I almost drop my prized Leica on the high-polished marble when my brain registers what I’m seeing. Or rather, what I’m not seeing. And therefore, what everyone else is not seeing.
I had thought, based on Susan’s written notes, that Alice would be wearing a custom Vera Wang cerulean silk slip dress – same as the other bridesmaids. But now, without the bouquet in front of her like it was during the ceremony, or the feline dressed in bear drag in her arms, it appears she’s wearing two scraps of fabric, barely sewn together, rather than a completed dress.
‘Aren’t the bridesmaid dresses Susan chose for the girls just stunning?’ Mother steps between Chase and I, encircling her arms around us.
A waiter offers Alice a glass of champagne and she shakes her head, revealing a beauty mark on the inside of her left breast as it plays peek-a-boo with each twist of her body.
‘Stunning.’ I repeat the word, testing it out. I would’ve gone with revealing, unchaste, obvious… but stunning seems to work just as well.
