by M. Leighton
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
Trick shakes his head. “Whatever. You want a beer?”
“Nah,” I say, suddenly feeling tired. “I think I’m going to bed.”
Trick drains his beer. “Yeah. Me, too. Tomorrow, my suffering will come to an…explosive end.”
“Too much information, dude!” I mumble as I walk away. “Too much information.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN- Jenna
Spending the entire morning being lavishly pampered, scrubbed, buffed, massaged, made up, curled and dressed with my best friend on her wedding day is a ridiculous amount of fun. And memories of Rusty last night, his hard body between me and a mechanical bull, only make my mood that much lighter.
Once we are as perfect as professional hands can make us, we move into one huge room full of mirrors to get dressed. I pull on my dress, zip it up and spin in front of the mirror.
“You really are the best friend ever,” I tell Cami.
“I know, but what did I do to make you say that this time?” she asks with a mischievous grin.
“Only the bestestest friend in the whole world would take such pains to pick a bridal color that suits both her and her best friend’s complexion, especially when they’re basically polar opposites.” Cami has dark red hair, blue eyes and fair skin, while I have black hair, dark eyes and olive skin. There are, like, ten colors out of a zillion that would look good on both of us. Yet Cami picked one of them to use on arguably the most important day of her life.
Cami shrugs. “I can’t very well have you looking all washed out, standing up there behind me, now can I?”
She winks, but I know that had nothing to do with her choice. She’s just that kind of a person—caring, considerate, selfless. Even on her wedding day.
The royal blue dress complements my coloring surprisingly well. My skin glows like bronze, my eyes sparkle like drops of onyx and my lips needed very little red stain. And the cut of the garment is superb. The pencil slim design makes my waist look narrow, my ass look round and my boobs look like they’re tucked up under my chin. On top of that is my sexy hair-do—black curls pulled up on the sides with tendrils dripping down to kiss my shoulders. All in all, I can’t wait for Rusty to see me.
After my confession last night, I feel the need to knock his socks off. For my self-esteem’s sake as much as anything else.
As we are being herded out of the salon toward the curb, I see the familiar face of Trick’s mom, Leena, hovering at the edge of crowd of giggling girls. I look to my left to find Cami, only she’s not beside me anymore. I turn to find her stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Leena.
“Come on,” I say, reaching back to take her hand. “It’s your wedding day. You can do this.” Her wide eyes dart to mine and I can see in them that she’s not convinced. “You won. Just remember that. You. Won.”
I tug on her hand, pulling her behind me as we make our way to the waiting limo. All the other girls pile in and, before we can duck inside, Leena makes her way to Cami. I start to let go of Cami’s hand and get into the limo to give them some privacy, but she tightens her grip, urging me to stay. So I do.
Leena jumps right in, not giving Cami the chance to say anything. “Cami, I’m not trying to ruin your wedding day and I’m not trying to make your life harder by showing up like this. I just…I just wanted to talk to you beforehand. Without Trick.” She pauses and I see her take a deep breath, like she’s gathering courage to do something she doesn’t want to do. “I love my son more than you can imagine, but I’m not ready to be around your family just yet. I don’t know if that will ever change. I’m working on seeing you for you, not for the mistakes of your family. And that’s why I wanted to come today. I’m sorry I didn’t come to any of the other events. I just didn’t think I could be around…everyone that much just yet. I want to be part of your life, part of my son’s life and the lives of my grandchildren, but I can’t promise much more than that right now. Just know that I’m trying. And that I’m here for Trick.” She pauses, looking away again. “And for you.”
Cami cups her hands over her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut. I see her fingers tremble. I can’t imagine what she must be feeling. But, to her credit, she recovers quickly, dropping her hands and taking Leena’s in both of hers.
“Thank you, Leena. I’ll take whatever you can give.”
Leena glances up, obviously uncomfortable, gives Cami a small smile and then steps away, gesturing toward the limo.
“You’d better get going.”
“Won’t you come with us?”
Leena’s smile is more genuine this time. “That’s no place for an old lady, much less the groom’s mother. You go. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy this day.”
Cami smiles sweetly and nods her head before she turns her glistening eyes on me. “Ready?”
Tears are streaming down her cheeks and she’s not even trying to stop them. But she’s smiling. She doesn’t have to say it, but her wedding will be perfect now. This was all she needed to be the happiest bride on the planet. And I’m glad she got it. I’m glad Trick got it, too. I know it’s been weighing on him more than he’d ever admit. I nod, swallowing the lump of emotion in my throat as we climb into the back of the waiting car.
The ride to the church is pretty… enthusiastic. We ladies chatter and giggle and tease Cami about the pervy gift set we hid in the trunk with her luggage. Since there was no dedicated “bridal shower,” a couple of the girls took it upon themselves to make Cami a bridal… survival kit instead. It’s a lovely cloth covered, keepsake box full of lotions and candles. It just also happens to contain edible body paint, crotchless panties and a few more creative things, some of which involve batteries. In short, it’s a box full of shit that will make Cami’s face turn eight shades of red when she unpacks it in front of Trick.
“Maybe he’ll spank you for being such a naughty girl, Cam,” I taunt playfully.
“Ohmigod, Jenna!” She’s already turning the shade that’s one step up from “beet.”
Such fun being a girl and having a delicate best friend!
When we arrive at the church, all the guests are inside. The neighborhood is quiet and the lawn is empty, as are the steps leading up to the front doors.
Within seconds of our arrival, Xenia The Wedding Planner, much like Xena Warrior Princess only with less leather and more taffeta, comes to the door and peeks out. It’s like she has a spidey sense that can detect the location of the bride and groom at all times. It’s kind of creepy actually.
She sticks one perfectly manicured hand out the door and folds her fingers in toward the church twice. I can almost hear her saying in her schoolmarm voice, “Come come!” And then she disappears back inside, no doubt off to swat some poor noisy child’s knuckles with a ruler.
While she might seem like the devil, holy hot damn can she plan a wedding! I bet even the flowers don’t have the nerve to drop a single petal until the festivities are over and she’s gone.
Yeah, it’s like that.
We all shuffle out of the limo, up the steps and into the vestibule. When I take my place at the front of the line and the noise on the other side of the doors quiets, the energy and excitement and significance of the day finally seeps in to take over everything else. Just like it should.
This is my best friend’s wedding day. She’s marrying the man of her dreams and getting the life she’s always hoped for, the life every little girl prays she’ll one day be blessed with.
I should wanna slap the lucky bitch.
But I feel nothing but love and happiness and elation for her. And I know it shines from the smile I turn on her when I look back between all the other perfectly-coiffed bridesmaids’ heads and meet her eyes. She nods. I nod. And, between us, an entire conversation happens in the blink of an eye.
I could cry.
But I won’t.
I’m not sure the salon used waterproof mascara, although they’d be complete imbeciles if they didn’t.
A doo
r to the left opens. Rusty walks through and pauses. My heart stops beating right inside my chest. If I thought I looked hot…holy effin’ cow!
His tux is black, his shirt is white, and his cummerbund is the same beautiful blue as my dress. His hair is dark and looks freshly washed. His shoulders are impossibly wide and strong as ever. His waist is narrow and flows smoothly into his long legs.
But it’s his eyes that capture me. Just like always. They are fastened on mine when I meet them, after I finish appraising him. They’re brilliant blue. And very intense. It makes me wonder what’s going on behind them. Because something definitely is.
Letting the door fall shut behind him, he moves slowly toward me, not stopping until he is standing so close that my boobs almost brush his lapels.
I get short of breath when I see his eyes travel down to my cleavage and back up again. They run all over my face, taking in every detail, even flickering up to my hair and back again.
Finally, they settle on mine, making my nerves flare up. “Hello, handsome,” I say playfully, hoping I seem natural rather than insecure.
“You look…amazing,” he says softly. Sincerely.
The blood that stains my cheeks is genuine. I don’t blush easily, but something about his comment seems so heartfelt that my body reacts in a very physical way.
Just as I begin to search for something else to say, it registers that there’s music playing on the other side of the door. I take a deep breath, thankful for the notes that saved me from further embarrassment, and I tip my head toward the interior of the church. “Shall we?” Rusty nods and I smile, turning toward the sanctuary just as the ushers open the door.
Everything flows perfectly, just like we’d practiced at rehearsal. I do my best to enjoy my best friend’s perfect day without letting doubts and insecurities about Rusty tarnish it. It’s hard, but I keep my focus on the bride and groom, and that makes it easier.
When it comes time for the vows, Trick clears his throat and asks if he can say a few words. The minister nods and smiles. He doesn’t look the least bit surprised, which leads me to believe that he knew Trick would do this.
The church is absolutely silent around us, every person, no doubt, waiting on bated breath to hear what he has say. I can imagine all too easily how Cami must feel right now. If I was in her shoes and Rusty was getting ready to say something special to me, I’d be a mess behind my veil.
“Since I was a kid, I’ve always known what I wanted to do with my life,” Trick begins. “I wanted to work with horses. I didn’t much care about the how, the what or the where, as long as I got to be around them. I thought that’s all it would take to make me happy. Until I met you. Without you, those dreams were just…empty. It didn’t take me long to see that without you, I could never be happy.
“Whether you knew it or not, I was yours from the second you looked up at me with the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I knew you’d mean more to me than all the riches, all the horses, all the things the world has to offer. And I was right. Cami, I love you with everything I am, and everything I ever hope to be. From this moment on, I’ll spend the rest of my days making sure you never regret picking me.”
His words float through the church like they’re on angel’s wings. I’m pretty sure every heart has stopped, just like mine has. To know a love like that is everyone’s dream, whether they admit it or not. And to have someone look at me the way Trick’s looking at Cami is my dream.
If he hadn’t said a single word, the look in his eyes says it all. All he sees is Cami. And that’s all he needs to see. It’s right there on his face, for all to behold. Just like he said, she’s everything to him. Everything.
My eyes flicker to Rusty. He’s watching me with a strangely puzzled expression. I look away. My heart can’t stand the pain of it.
CHAPTER TWELVE- Rusty
I grab Trick’s arm after the photographer finishes taking a blue million pictures. I want to catch him before he heads toward the reception hall with Cami.
“Hey, man, can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure,” he says, kissing Cami’s cheek and telling her he’ll be right back. We walk a few feet away. “What’s up?”
“Would I be on your shit list forever if I bailed?” He says nothing, just eyes me suspiciously. I rush to explain. “I’ve got some major work to do on that car I just got in and—”
Trick starts shaking his head. “Stop right there, man. You don’t have to make excuses for me. I know you’re full of shit. There’s nothing that’s that important, that you have to do today.” I have nothing to say to that. Because he’s right. That has nothing to do with me wanting to get the hell out of here. “But, you’re my best friend and I love ya. I’m grateful you did this much for me.”
I feel like a steaming pile of shit. “If it really means that much to you, I can—”
“Go, dude. Get out of here,” Trick says with a smile as he claps me on the shoulder. “Go do what you need to do.”
I know by his expression and the look in his eye what he means by me doing what I need to do. He may not understand it completely (hell, I don’t even understand it completely), but he knows me well enough to know I need to get out of here. And he doesn’t ask questions, which I’m grateful for.
This whole day has me feeling flustered. Jenna’s confession last night caught me off guard, although I guess I suspected that she loves me. The fact is, however, that it doesn’t change anything. I know the type of person Jenna is. I’ve seen it before. With my father. Already, she’s trying to hide her plans to leave. She couldn’t even really meet my eyes in the church. You can love somebody and still end up leaving them. Some people are just made that way—to always want greener pastures. I’ve seen it before. And I’m not getting attached to a person like that again. I guess today just reminded me of that. And it feels pretty shitty.
I pull Trick in for a quick hug and a manly slap on the back. “Be happy, man. And enjoy the hell out of that honeymoon.”
Trick laughs. “Oh, I will, but I’m not waiting for Tahiti to get this damn dry spell behind me. I plan to get Cami out of that dress myself here in about an hour.”
I laugh, too, leaning back to pound my fist against Trick’s. “Get it done, my friend!”
Trick nods and turns toward the reception hall, so I slip off, over the hill, through the trees and down to the parking lot behind the church to get my car. I need some speed and the freedom of the road to clear my head.
I feel antsy as I slide in behind the wheel. I loosen my bow tie as I crank the engine. Within seconds, I hit the gas and steer the car back toward town, and then on toward interstate. I want a long, straight stretch of road that I can open it up on.
When I clear the entrance ramp and see that there are no cars in front of me, or even really off in the distance, I punch it, milking every last one of the four hundred plus horsepower that I can get with the modifications I made to my GTO.
I exhale as the landscape speeds by and the engine roars around me, quieting all the shit from my past that’s mixing with the shit from my present to cloud my head. I don’t want to think about then. I don’t want to think about now. And I sure as hell don’t want to think about the future. I just want to feel the road. And the speed. And the fine-tuned handling of the car I practically built from the ground up.
I’m so lost in the moment that I don’t see the fine spray of gravel on the road up ahead. Until it’s too late.
And I’m spinning out of control.
********
I wake to the sound of a stranger’s voice. “Can you hear me, sir? Sir? Can you hear me?” he repeats.
I feel like I’m hanging upside down, and when I try to open my eyes, they won’t cooperate. I try to move, to right myself, but someone or something is holding my arm. I try to jerk free, but pain shoots through my whole right side. I hear a deep scream.
And then there’s nothing.
********
Something’s covering my
face. I try to raise my hand to knock it off, but my limbs feel too heavy to move. I feel pressure on my right arm, like something is squeezing it tight.
My head feels like lead. Thick, numb lead. Again, I try to open my eyes. This time they obey, and I crack them just enough that I can see bright lights overhead, but none that look familiar. It seems like I’m moving, too.
“Sir, can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?” The voice sounds the same, like the same guy I heard before. I want to tell that bastard that if he doesn’t stop asking me the same questions, I’m gonna kick his ass, but no words come out. I hear only someone moaning.
And then there’s nothing again.
********
There’s a weird beeping sound. And I smell some kind of harsh chemical, like antiseptic or something. When I try to turn my face away, pain sears my brain like a branding iron.
What the hell?
The beeping speeds up and I try to open my eyes to see what’s making that God-awful noise. I see a flash of hospital green, then bright lights again.
I hear a woman’s voice. “Take deep breaths, Mr. Catron. Slow, deep breaths. You’re gonna be just fine.” She sounds reasonable enough. “Count to ten for me,” she says.
I don’t hear my voice, but in my head I count.
One. Two. Three.
And then there’s nothing.
Again.
********
“Mr. Catron? You’re all done. Can you open your eyes?” I recognize her voice, even though it sounds like it’s coming to me through a tunnel a mile long. My head feels a little fuzzy, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did.
“Yes,” I manage to answer. My tongue feels like it’s covered in cotton and my throat has never been rawer. “Drink,” I croak.
“Can you open your eyes and look at me?”
I’m a little annoyed at her request, but I comply. With what seems like an inordinate amount of effort, I crank my lids up and try to focus on the face hovering above me. I blink twice and things seem to work a little better.
