Don't Kiss the Bride: An Age Gap, Marriage of Convenience Romance

by Carian Cole

  “That’s exactly what I need. I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask you to do this earlier. How’s the camera on your cell phone?”

  My heart sinks a little when I pull my old phone out of my pocket. “Um, not good. My screen is cracked. I don’t know if that will—”

  She holds her hand up, smiling. “You know what? I’ve been thinking of getting a new phone. Mine is old, too. Tonight I’m going to stop at the mall and get two new iPhones. My sister says the camera is amazing. I’ll give one to you.”

  “Oh, Rebecca. I can’t let you do that. Do you know how expensive those are?”

  She’s nonplussed. “I can write it off for the business. It would be a big help to have you take this over. You can have access to the accounts, use those cool filters, and reply to any comments or questions people leave. It can be a new part of your job, if you’re interested? I’ll give you a raise.”

  A new phone, new responsibilities, and a raise? I feel like I just scratched off a million-dollar lottery ticket.

  The urge to hug her is huge, but that’d probably be unprofessional and awkward since she’s my boss, so I resist. “Oh,” I say, fighting back happy tears. “Thank you. Of course I’m interested. I’ll do a great job, I promise. I’ll research hashtags. I’ll do that cool color-coordinating thing that all the popular accounts do. Maybe we can do a giveaway with a box of your famous cookies.” My brain is already spinning like a top with ideas.

  “See? You’re already way ahead of me. You can come in this weekend and start taking photos. Just keep track of your time for me.”

  Things finally seem to be looking up.

  Chapter 4

  Jude

  This past week felt like the never-ending week from hell. My plan was to cut out of work early today since it’s Friday, but nope. Didn’t happen. The homeowners caught me as I was leaving three hours ago and wanted to go over more details and minor add-ons. At least they’re happy with the job so far. I think I would’ve jumped off the roof if they weren’t.

  As soon as I get in my truck, I pour some of my water onto a paper towel and wipe my face, neck, arms, and hands. The heat and humidity lately have been brutal, the dust sticking to me like a gritty second skin. All I want to do is get home, take a shower, and relax on the couch with Cassie and a good movie.

  About three miles into town, I see a girl walking on the sidewalk, a backpack with a glittery skull printed on it dangling from her thin shoulders. Realizing its Skylar, I hesitate, debating if I should offer her a ride again. It’s hot as balls out, but it’s not raining, and it’s not dark out yet.

  A gnawing deep in my gut reminds me it wasn’t dark or raining when my little sister disappeared.

  Sighing, I pull my truck over a few feet ahead of her and open the passenger side window.

  She approaches the window with a grin on her face. “You stalking me, Lucky?” she teases.

  “You still don’t have your wheels back?”

  “Do you think I’d be walking in this hellish heat if I did?”

  I reach across the car and open the door for her. “Hop in, Sparkles. I’ll give ya a ride.”

  “Maybe you should work for Uber,” she says after she climbs in. This time she puts her stuff on the floor between her feet, not between us.

  Glancing in my mirror, I pull back out into traffic. “You’re the only one I’ve been giving rides to. I might just end up being your personal chauffeur.”

  Laughing, she says, “I see no problem with that.”

  “Any word on the car?”

  “You were right. It was the fuel pump. He’s giving it a tune up, too, since it’s there. I’m picking it up Monday when my friend can drive me over.”

  I nod. “Good deal. You going home now or someplace else?”

  “Home, please.”

  “Mind if I go through the drive-through on the way? I’m starving.”

  “Not at all.”

  “It’s almost seven. Where are you coming from?”

  “I work part time at Belongings Boutique.”

  “Rebecca’s store?”

  She turns in her seat to face me. “You know her?”

  “Sorta. We went to school together.” We knew each other, but we weren’t friends. She was part of the cool crowd, and I was part of the cooler crowd.

  “I didn’t know you went to my school back when you were young.”

  The way she says when you were young makes me feel old. I’m thirty-four, not seventy.

  I nod. “It’s a small town. I’ve lived here my entire life.”

  “Me too.”

  I pull into the lot of the burger place and merge into the drive-through line. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  She shakes her head. “No, just me. I have a cat, though. How ’bout you?”

  “A sister.” I can’t bring myself to say have a sister or had a sister. “And a dog.”

  “What kind of dog?”

  “A little brown-and-white fuzzy thing. A shit zoo, I think.”

  She laughs. “It’s Shih tzu.”

  “Guzunheidt.”

  She smiles.

  I pull up to the glowing menu and recite my usual into the speaker before turning to Skylar. “Do you want something? My treat.”

  Blinking, she stares past me at the menu. “Um. Just a bottle of water. And a hamburger with no hamburger or stuff on it.”

  “Very funny,” I say, shaking my head. I order her water, then move up to the next window to pay before pulling into a parking spot.

  “I don’t like to eat while I’m driving,” I explain as I take my food out and hand her water to her.

  “Thanks,” she says quietly, looking down at the bottle in her lap.

  Taking a bite of my burger, I hold my cup of seasoned waffle fries out to her. “Want some?”

  She shakes her head, still not looking up.

  “What’s wrong?” Nobody ever turns down waffle fries.

  “Nothing.”

  “Spill it, Sparkles.”

  She takes a deep breath. “You didn’t get my bun.”

  I swallow my food and stare at her. “What? I thought you were kidding. You seriously wanted just a plain hamburger bun? With nothing else?” Why?

  “Yeah.”

  She’s dead serious.

  “Stay put,” I say, putting my burger and its wrapper on the console.

  She starts to say something, but I don’t hear her because I’ve already jumped out of the truck and shut the door behind me. If she wants a damn hamburger bun, I’m getting her one. I trudge inside the restaurant, stand in line for ten minutes, and ignore the crazy look I get from the kid behind the counter when I order a plain hamburger roll with no burger, no cheese—nothing.

  “I don’t even know how to charge for this, so just take it,” he says, handing me the bag.

  I throw a dollar into the tip jar. “Thanks.”

  “Jude, oh my God, you didn’t have to do that,” Skylar says when I get back in the truck. “I feel bad…”

  Handing her the bag, I say, “Don’t. I offered to get you something to eat, and I fucked it up. Now I made it right.”

  Her face lights up with a shy smile that could probably stop traffic. “Thank you. For a badass-looking dude, you’re actually pretty nice.”

  I almost choke on my fries. “You think I look badass?”

  “A little, yeah. You’re very colorful.”

  A deep laugh rumbles out of me. “Annnnd that’s badass how, exactly?”

  “Okay, that’s a bad description. It’s just all the ink.” Her eyes scan over my arm and then back up to my face. “The muscles. The hair.”

  At least she’s not petting me, like people do. They always want to touch my tats and my hair, and it creeps me the hell out.

  “Why do you just want to eat bread? They have salads, chicken, fruit cups, milkshakes. I hope you didn’t get that to be cheap. I can afford to get you a real meal.”

  Her shoulder lifts slightly. �
�This is just what I want.”

  “Okay… As long as you’re happy.”

  Hey, who am I to judge? I used to mash up peanut butter and jelly in a bowl and eat it with a spoon—sans bread.

  “I got a raise today,” she blurts out as she picks the sesame seeds off her bun and puts them in the paper bag. “I’m kinda excited.”

  “Congrats. What do you do there?”

  “Usually I work the register, rotate the displays, that sort of thing. But now, Rebecca wants me to manage the store’s social media. She’s buying me a new iPhone to take pictures of the products and post online.”

  Wow. Rebecca’s little boutique must be doing well to be handing out brand-new iPhones to a part-time, teen employee. “That sounds like a helluva lot more fun than working a register.”

  “Right?” she practically squeals, excitement bursting into a big, dazzling smile. “I’m starting this weekend so I can pay for my car.”

  It’s cute to see her so excited about her job. I used to sell dope back in high school to pay for stuff, but I’m not going to tell her that, so I just nod. That past should stay exactly where it is.

  Stopping to eat and driving Skylar across town gets me home way later than I planned, and Cassie goes into a fit as soon as I walk through the front door. I’m sure she’s been staring at the door for the past three hours, pacing the house, getting herself all worked up.

  “Calm down, girl,” I say as she runs circles around my feet, her furry tail wiggling. Bending down on my knee, I pet her head, and she does her little raspy bark and paw stomp, telling me off like she does.

  Someone has to keep me in line. Might as well be a cute dog.

  After I walk her in the yard, I head straight upstairs, pulling my shirt off as I go, with the dog on my heels.

  “We’ll watch a movie after I shower,” I tell her, and she tilts her head at me in anticipation, because she knows the word movie means sit on the couch. That probably says an embarrassing amount about my life and social status.

  I stand in the shower, breathing in the steam, until the hot water turns cold. My mind drifts back to dropping Skylar off at that creepy, dark house. As I was pulling away from her driveway, I glanced in my rearview mirror and caught her climbing through a window.

  Can’t help but wonder what that’s all about.

  My sister used to sneak in and out of windows, too. To meet boys. To party. Who knows what else?

  When she went missing, we put posters up in a hundred-mile radius. I didn’t work for a month—searching nonstop for her. Sixteen-year-old girls don’t go missing in this small town. There was even a search party with special sniffing dogs and a helicopter. Two weeks later I received a text in the middle of the night:

  Erin: Stop searching, Jude. I’m not missing. I left.

  Me: Where the fuck are you? Come home.

  Erin: Just stop. Okay?

  Me: Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. I just want you to come home.

  Erin: Please stop looking for me. I have to go.

  I never heard from her again, and her cell number was deactivated shortly after. It’s been ten years, and there were never any leads or sightings. The case went cold. The cops basically wrote her off as a runaway, especially after I showed them the messages. I’ve never known if I should believe it was her who sent those texts. That last line I have to go bugged me. We were close, and I can’t believe that’d be the last thing she’d say to me. She’d either say something funny or say love ya. Was she being forced to go? Did someone kidnap her and send it from her phone to throw us off? She could be dead. Or sold to some psycho. My blood chills just thinking about it. Or, maybe she really did run away and is out there in the world living her version of her best life.

  I hope she is.

  Later, when I’m stretched out on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and the dog curled up on my feet, my phone pings with a message:

  Skylar: Just wanted to say hi, and thank you for the ride and dinner.

  Me: A hamburgerless bun isn’t dinner.

  Skylar: Anything can be dinner ;-)

  Me: True.

  Skylar: Here’s me and my cat right now.

  A photo comes through of her and a furry, gray cat sitting on the floor. Her hair is up in a huge, messy bun.

  I snap a quick pic of me and Cassie and send it back.

  Me: Here’s me and my shit dog.

  Skylar: LOL. She’s cute.

  Me: Have a good weekend. Enjoy your new job stuff.

  Skylar: Thanks! Hope you get some rest.

  Earlier I gave her my cell number in case she needed a ride to pick up her car. I wasn’t expecting her to start sending me random messages. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have given my number to her. I don’t want to become a personal taxi driver or get crazy messages riddled with emojis night and day.

  But I can’t deny it’s kinda nice to get a message from someone who isn’t asking for something or bitching about something, and who was just thinking about me and wanted to say hi.

  Nail, meet coffin.

  Chapter 5

  Skylar

  Unsurprisingly, I’ve never had a new cell phone. The three I’ve had have been hand-me-downs from my mom, and always came to me sticky, dented, and cracked.

  But this new iPhone from Rebecca has me shook.

  It’s like a work of art. Nestled and glimmering in a sturdy, pristine white box. Perfect, shiny black screen and—oh my God—the prettiest lavender-purple finish.

  I’m almost afraid to touch it. It’s that beautiful.

  “Skylar?”

  I look up to meet Rebecca’s questioning eyes, and I have no chill. I can’t control myself. I throw my arms around her and hug her, not caring if it might be unprofessional. Thankfully, there are no customers browsing the shop right now.

  “Rebecca, thank you so much. It’s stunning.”

  Laughing, she hugs me back, then slowly pulls away. “It’s just a phone. But I’m really happy you like it. I thought the purple suited you.”

  “Like it? I love it. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever had. I promise I’ll take care of it. And if you ever have to fire me, I’ll give it back. I won’t wreck it. I’ll get a really good case for it.”

  “Skylar, it’s yours. You don’t ever have to give it back. I have no plans to fire you. I’m excited for you to get started on all this social media stuff. I’m curious to see if it brings in more sales.”

  “Me too.” I press the power button on the phone. “As soon as I have it set up, I’m going to load the apps I read about last night, then I’ll start taking photos.”

  She smiles. “Have fun. Don’t worry about the register today. I always work up front on the weekends. A lot of regulars come in just to chitchat anyway.”

  She takes a few steps toward the front of the store, then pauses. “I made fresh cookies and blueberry muffins. You should grab one before the customers gobble them up.”

  Smiling, I nod. “Okay.”

  My stomach is growling from the scent of the bakery items, and I’m sure they’re delicious, but I just can’t eat any of them.

  I spend the day taking pictures of the products in the shop. Most of the items are already placed in photo-ready positions—the sweaters are neatly folded on top of a shabby chic dresser, the candles sit on distressed wooden shelves, handmade teddy bears are cozy in cute wicker baskets. I arrange necklaces, bracelets, and rings on the wood floor, snake a purple ribbon around them, and use the features of the phone camera to subtly blur out the items in the background.

  Glancing through the notes I took on How to Make Instagram Product-Photos Look Amazing, I bring the photos into the editing app, add the filter I’ve chosen to apply to all of the photos to make our brand look cohesive, and wow… My heart does a little jump. I don’t think anyone will be able to tell an eighteen-year-old with zero photography experience took these. They actually look professional. I even have that cool bokeh light thing going on in the backgrou
nd of a few shots, and a tiny glint of sparkle on one of the gemstone necklaces.

  “How’s it going?” Rebecca asks when she finds me at the small table in the kitchen.

  “Awesome. I’m just planning out a schedule so two pictures will be automatically posted a day, one in the morning and one later in the day. I’m going to post short videos in the stories section, like a little virtual tour of the store.”

  “Great idea!”

  “Look at the pictures, let me know if you like them.”

  She takes the phone from my hand, and the expression on her face says it all. Her eyes widen, her mouth drops open, and then she breaks into a huge smile.

  “Skylar… these are better than I could’ve imagined. This looks like we had a professional photo shoot done. I can’t even tell you how excited I am about this.”

  I try not to smile too big. “Me too. Tomorrow I’m going to grab some of those fall and Halloween decorations you have out back and take some photos with those so we have them ready. I think we should put a cute little sign by the register, telling people to follow you online to see new items, sales, all that stuff.”

  She hands the phone back to me, her earrings swaying as she shakes her head a little. “Keep this up and you’ll end up being my marketing guru.”

  “It’s actually really fun and interesting. I can’t wait to see which photos get the most likes.”

  “I’m glad. Enjoying your job is the absolute best. If there are any words of wisdom I can pass down, it’s to make sure you enjoy what you do.” I can’t help the proud grin I give her as she heads to the register. “I’ll be up front if you need me.”