The Two-Night One-Night Wedding

by Ryan Ringbloom

  “Right this way, ladies.” He leads us out the doors of the building to a black stretch limousine parked in front.

  “What?” I exclaim. “A limo? Really?”

  “Yup. We are riding in style. Nothing but the best for my bestie.” Jayne side hugs me tight with one arm. “I love you, lady.”

  “I love you, too. I can’t believe you planned this.” I pull Jayne in for a real hug and catch Ashley rolling her eyes. I really need to keep these two apart tonight… and after tonight.

  The driver opens the door and we all pile in. I’m not even situated in my seat before my shot glass necklace is being filled, along with everyone else’s.

  “One penis forever.” This time it’s Robin who makes the toast. I’m not sure, but she might already be a little drunk. She’s tiny, petite, and she did say she never drinks, so I guess it’s possible.

  I want to ask again where it is we are going, but loud music fills the back of the limo, and a beer is handed to me. Within seconds all of us, including Mrs. Daniels, are using the beer bottles as microphones to sing along to Rihanna.

  “I know this song. I have granddaughters.” She smiles at me before taking a sip of her beer.

  I smile back, but it feels weird having her here. Ashley and Robin, as usual, are relaxed and comfortable around her. Why can’t I be like that?

  “Did you book Maui yet?” Ashley asks over the music.

  “No. We’re not gonna do Maui.” I shake my head.

  Jayne turns the music down. “What? You’re not? Are you guys doing Kauai instead?”

  “No, we’re gonna hold off for a while on a honeymoon.” All eyes are on me. “Ya know, between the new house and the wedding, we decided to hold off. And it’s fine, we don’t need a fancy honeymoon.”

  “No, you do need one.”

  “Of course you need one.” Jayne and Ashley talk at the same time.

  “Really, we don’t. Matthew and I discussed it. We’ll take one… eventually.”

  “Maybe you don’t need to go to Hawaii, but you should go somewhere,” Robin chimes in, wide-eyed and talking fast. “After you’re married and especially after you buy a house, it gets harder and harder to get away.”

  “Splurge,” Jayne adds. “You’ve already made so many sacrifices on the wedding, don’t do it for the honeymoon, too.”

  “I can’t believe it, but I actually agree with Jayne,” Ashley says with a surprised look on her face. “A honeymoon is very important. You can’t not have one.”

  The three women keep talking at me, trying to convince me to reconsider and plan a lavish honeymoon. I tune them out, fixating on the fact that one person is staying unusually quiet. Mrs. Daniels keeps her mouth shut; she even turns her head away, staring out the window. She doesn’t like me. At least not in the way she does Ashley and Robin; they’re like daughters to her. But me, she’ll never look at me like that. And who can blame her? I broke her mirror tonight having sex with her son. Okay, so she doesn’t know about that… yet, but she does know way more than she should about the one-night stand situation Matthew and I had when we first met, and she did witness the handcuffed-bed-separating incident. I imagine those are things that are hard to get over.

  “We’re here.” Jayne opens up the bottle of Fireball to pour one more round. I press my face against the glass and peer out. South of the Border is in big neon lights with a neon muscle man whose tiny speedo blinks on and off.

  You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re at a strip club. With Mrs. Daniels. I toss back my head and swallow the alcohol in my dirty little cup.

  Fireball, don’t fail me now.

  OUR TABLE IS off to the side and roped off. We’re VIPs. The five of us slide into the cushioned U-shaped booth and a drink order is immediately taken. A round of shots, three Cosmos, and two beers. Jayne and I are the beer drinkers, the rest are living dangerously, adding vodka into the Fireball mix.

  “My cousin told me about this place, she said it’s outrageous. The show doesn’t start until ten, but they have a DJ and dancing soon.” Jayne points at the empty dance floor where a DJ is setting up behind a glass booth. “Let’s get ready to work it.” She wiggles her hips, which are poured into a skintight red dress. “Maybe if I shake it hard enough I can snag one of the sexy male dancers.”

  The shots arrive, and she transfers mine into the sticky glass dangling in front of me. This is awful, but when she turns away, I spill some of the drink onto the floor. If I keep at this pace, I’m scared of what might happen. Normally I wouldn’t be so cautious, but under these circumstances, I need to watch out.

  Once again Mrs. Daniels refuses the shot, and once again Ashley takes it. Robin does hers and tugs on Ashley’s arm. “We have to go dance. No. We have to eat fries.” She laughs at her own words. It’s official. She’s drunk. I watch as Mrs. Daniels grins over at her daughter-in-law with no judgement. I envy how comfortable they are in front of her, I’m afraid it will never be like that for me. She’s known both of them since they were very young. Robin grew up across the street from them, and Ashley and Patrick were high school sweethearts. Me, I’m just some random newb.

  As soon as the waiter returns, appetizers and fries are ordered. But before they arrive, the DJ welcomes the crowd and spins the first song.

  “To the dance floor,” Jayne instructs. Ashley grabs her Cosmo, Robin thankfully leaves hers untouched on the table next to my beer, and we take off behind Jayne. Mrs. Daniels stays put. I wave her over, but she smiles and shakes her head.

  Hands up over our heads, we shake our asses from side to side. The dance floor fills up fast, spinning lights illuminating the rowdy crowd. My penis veil, still in place, swings along with me, the little plastic peen poking a few nearby dancers. I make quick friends with another bride-to-be decked out in a similar veil and a beaded peen necklace around her neck. Through a shouted conversation we find out we’re getting married on the same day, and pose for a bride selfie. She leans in and asks me where we’re honeymooning. I lie and tell her Hawaii. It just seems easier.

  “Time for a shot.” Jayne links her arm through mine and drags me toward the bar.

  Ashley grabs a stack of cocktail napkins and uses one to mop at the sweat on her forehead. She places her empty Cosmo glass down and waves the bartender over.

  “Three shots of Fireball and a Cosmo.” She points at me and Jayne. “Do you guys need another beer?”

  “Thanks.” Jayne nods.

  “No, I’m good with just a shot.”

  The bartender sets us up and Ashley pays. “One penis forever,” she toasts, raising her shot glass first.

  The Fireball goes down smooth. Pacing myself suddenly seems like a stupid idea. It’s amazing how after a few shots whisky loses its burn. What was this anyway, number five? Six? That’s usually about the number that starts to make all the stress disappear. And my stress… she es no longer there, muchacha.

  “Oh no, we forgot to use your cute little cup.” Ashley pokes my dangling shot glass into my boobs. “That means we gotta do another one.”

  Whether it’s five or six, it seems we’ve all reached the magic number. The one where you stop wondering if you should slow down. The one where you start to lose count. The one that crosses you over to the land of drunk.

  Ashley bangs her hand on the counter rather rudely to get the bartender’s attention, but it’s hysterical. Fucking. Hysterical. Jayne joins in and we all laugh. Too bad the bartender can’t see the humor in it as he pours us three more shots with a clenched jaw. Rude or not, Ashley does make it up to him by throwing down a twenty-dollar tip.

  “One penis forever,” Jayne says quickly, and we all drink.

  “Where’s Robin?” I ask.

  “Eating fries. The food came.” Ashley guzzles down her Cosmo almost as fast as she did the shot. “Should we go eat or should we dance?”

  “Eat, I’m starving,” I say, ready to make a beeline back to the table and start snarfing down the mozzarella sticks we ordered.

&nb
sp; “No, I want to dance.” Jayne grabs my forearm and whines.

  “Just one mozzarella stick. I’ll eat it quick and be right back.” I pull my arm from her grip and hurry over to the table.

  I climb the few steps to our VIP section and slide into the booth next to Robin. “What up, bitch?” she says with a mouth full of food. The fries have done nothing to sober her up. Her uncharacteristic greeting is so freaking funny, I think I’m gonna wet my pants. I hold my stomach, laughing, and realize I really do have to pee.

  “Where’s Mrs. Daniels?” I yell to Robin over the music.

  “Grace went to the ladies’ room.” Robin picks up another fry but before it makes it to her mouth she stops and uses it to point. “Oh my God, look!”

  I follow the fry and see two blondes twerking it up on the dance floor. Jayne’s small frame backs up into Ashley’s much larger frame, and the two gyrate and shake like two old friends who have known each other their entire lives. This time when I laugh, a little pee comes out.

  “Where is my phone? I need a picture of this.” I grab it from my purse and make my way over to the blonde spectacle in the center of the dance floor, pushing and elbowing my way through the large crowd. After three pics, they realize I’m taking pics and start posing. Jayne kissy faces Ashley, who covers her mouth with a flirtatious hand. They duck face. They stick out their tongues. They turn around and shake their asses at me. I switch to the Boomerang app for that one and capture it in all its full-motion glory.

  “Okay, now put the phone away and come dance,” Jayne shouts, competing with all the noise.

  “No, we need more shots,” Ashley yells. “The show is gonna start soon. We need to go to the bar before they make us all go to our seats.”

  I still have to pee, but follow them over to the bar, where Robin joins us. Jayne buys a round, then Robin does. I offer but get refused. Ashley buys one last round of shots and insists we all order a Cosmo to take back to our seats for the show. I hand Jayne my Cosmo and tell her to meet me at the table and swerve my way over to the ladies’ room. The line is out the door. I must be number thirty in the long line. My full bladder will never make it. I cross my legs and jiggle.

  “Holly.” I hear my name and look around. “Holly, up here.” I tip my head up and see Mrs. Daniels waving to me. She’s number two in the line. “Come up, you can take my spot,” she offers.

  I am way too drunk and have to pee way too bad to refuse her generosity. I ignore all the groans from the women I pass and slip into the line in front of Mrs. Daniels. “Thank you.”

  “This is your special night, I don’t want you to miss the show. You take my spot and I’ll go wait at the end so I don’t cause a riot.” She leaves for the end of the line before I can even thank her again. The next stall opens and I slip in. By the time I wash my hands, the line has doubled. I feel horrible as I pass my future mother-in-law near the end of the very long line.

  “Thank you,” I stop and say, trying hard not to slur.

  “No worries, go enjoy. I’ll be there soon.”

  I get back to the table just as the lights go down. Spotlights circle the stage, and a man in tight black pants, cuffs, and a bow tie comes out. He welcomes us, states we’re the most beautiful audience he’s ever seen, then in one swoop tears his pants off, revealing a silver thong, and starts humping a chair.

  Everyone goes wild. I go wild. I have to. I feel like it’s my bridal duty to go wild. I’m actually trembling. Hands in the air, I shout at the top of my lungs at the thonged humper.

  Jayne screams and picks up a cloth napkin to twirl over her head. Ashley whistles using her pinkies, and Robin shouts, “Yaaaaay!” The guy is tan and beefy, having air sex with a chair; not my type at all, but I am compelled to join Robin for a boisterous round of yaying. The urge is uncontrollable.

  Three men come out. Dance, hump, strip down to thongs. Then two more join in. Dance, hump, strip.

  We sip our Cosmos, screaming and cheering as each man does his thing out on stage, performing his raunchy routine. My voice is ragged from the continuous shouting, and at one point I even take part in the wild napkin swinging.

  “How you ladies doing so far?” The silver-thonged emcee from the beginning comes back out. He waits for the roar of the frenzied women to die down. “Here at South of the Border we always like to end the night on a high note.” The cheers start back up; most of the women seem aware of what’s coming next. Eagerly, I wait at the edge of my seat to find out what that next thing is. “I hear we have a couple brides out here tonight.” He uses his hand as a visor and scans the crowd.

  “Me. Me.” I stand up and scream, trying to make my voice heard over the crowd. Jayne tugs on my veil, trying to get the emcee to notice us. Too much Fireball has me in a crazed need to be part of whatever raucous routine is about to occur.

  “Can I have Holly Martin and Charlene Huckabee report to the dance floor?”

  “Ahhhhh! They called my name,” I scream and excitedly jump up in the booth. I’m wedged in the middle and my excitement is too much to contain. I remove my heels, climb up on the table, and scooch my way over to the floor, then break into a drunken run with my arms flailing as if I’ve just been picked as the next contestant on the Price Is Right. When I arrive at the two chairs in the center stage, I jump up and down in a victory dance, even though I have no idea what it is I won.

  Off to the side I see Charlene, the other bride-to be, who I took a photo with before being urged up to the take the other seat next to me. She refuses, and after a minute or two her friends give up and let her back to the safety of their table. Huh. Does she know something I don’t know?

  “Well, it looks like it’s just you, pretty lady.” The emcee leans over and whispers, “Which one are you, Holly or Charlene?”

  “I’m Holly.”

  “Everybody say hello to Holllllllyyyyy!” the emcee calls out to the crowd. “She may be getting married soon, but she ain’t married yet.”

  I gulp. This can’t be good.

  I hear Jayne’s voice cheering my name over the crowd. I look over at our table. Mrs. Daniels is finally back and taking her seat. Seeing her face is a little sobering, and it makes me start second-guessing what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. Is this man going to tear away his pants again? Am I about to be air humped? A siren blares through the room and red lights flash. I don’t know why, but suddenly I get a bad feeling.

  “It seems we have an emergency with our bride, Holly. Her loins are on fire. Quick! Somebody call nine… Juan… Juan!” The emcee jogs backwards off the dance floor, and in his place appears a big hulking man stepping through a plume of smoke. He’s decked from head to toe in a fireman’s uniform. The red lights spin and shine over my face, forcing me to keep blinking, making it hard to see. Uh-oh. He approaches my chair and without touching, straddles me, trapping me in place. His hips move in a touchless hump. I know it’s harmless fun, but I can’t relax knowing the mother of my fiancé is watching. He flips around and off come the pants. A barely covered ass clenches bright red spandex into a wedgie in front of me. His jacket drops to the floor, and his hands go over his head as he does a slow pulsing rotation in my direction. I cover my face to protect it from the gyrating bulge at eye level. He’s too close. Yuck. This is how people get pink eye.

  “Look up at me, mama,” he says over the crowd so I can hear him. I don’t. I can’t. He hoists one leg up on the arm of the chair I’m seated in, and his pelvis causes a slight breeze going to work double time, humpity hump humping me.

  Please make this end. I’m dizzy as my heated Fireball high starts cooling down. This was fun at the table, but it’s not fun here. A quick fear of pictures and videos that will haunt me forever waves through me. I take my hands away and search for Jayne in the crowd. I spot her easily. She’s moved up closer, but instead of hooting and hollering or holding up her phone to capture this mortifying moment, she is stone-faced, zeroing in on the man having imaginary sex with my head. I look up at the face s
hadowed by the big fire helmet on top of his head.

  “Get ready for the big finish,” he says, and his hand disappears down the front of his silky red undies.

  Oh shit. Fuck. Is he gonna pull it out?

  “Please don’t,” I shout, but it’s too late. A fist emerges from his man panties and he shoots a load of confetti all over my body. I exhale a sigh of relief. Just confetti. Thank God. But it’s not over yet. He drops to his knees in front of me and raises his hat. My mouth drops open in horror as I’m met with a familiar pair of blue eyes.

  Holy Mother of God.

  “Juan.” I say his name in disbelief. It’s Juan. As in—Jayne’s Juan.

  His face drops, showing the same shock I’m feeling. He stammers to say something, picking his tear-away pants up off the floor and holding them over his red silky confetti-holding junk. I’m at a loss. Unsure what to do.

  Juan gives me a weak wave before bolting off the floor. Slowly and carefully, I get up and stumble my way back over to a stunned Jayne. Her mouth hangs wide open. She’s speechless. “Are you okay?” I’ve never seen Jayne at a loss for words before. “Say something. Talk to me.”

  “Juan. He. That’s. He.” She’s in shock. I wave my hand over her face to give her some air. I have no clue what to say. I search for the right words, something… anything.

  “At least now you know he’s not dealing drugs.”

  TWO GLASSES OF white wine are set in front of us, and we place our order. It’s just me and Holly on an actual date. The most normal thing we’ve done in a month. I’m so happy to finally have a night out where it’s just us and no one or nothing else to distract us.

  “Cheers to them accepting our bid.” I raise my glass of wine. Even with a low bid, the sellers accepted our offer and the wheels are already in motion. By late summer, we’ll be homeowners.

  “Cheers to our new house.” She clinks my glass and sips, her pouty pink lips leaving a shiny kiss on the glass.