Eviscerating the Snake - The Complete Trilogy

by Ashley Fontainne

  Jeff and I finally decided our best option was to take a cool shower, since help was not coming anytime soon, throw on workout clothes, and get ready at our perspective places of employment, although that was obviously a much simpler task for him than for me. The few little items he packed in his gym bag paled in comparison to the crap shoved in mine: makeup, hair dryer, deodorant, and undergarments, just to name a few. It was moments like this as the sweat began to trickle down my once-clean back that made me wish I could travel back in time to find the person who decided it was socially necessary for women to adorn themselves with all this ridiculous attire to be considered attractive. Once I found them, I would alter history and release the shackles of generations of women from all this frivolous nonsense by making sure that moronic individual (male, I am sure) never started this trend.

  Once on the road and headed toward work, I made the huge mistake of thinking I had a bit of extra time on my hands, and I stopped for a cup of coffee. Said coffee then proceeded to immediately spill all over my gym bag that contained my work clothes after the idiotic driver in front of me decided he should just suddenly slam on his brakes in the middle of the road for no apparent reason. The day almost began with the hood of my Mustang up his ass! Fortunately, this was narrowly avoided at the last second as I swerved sharply to the right and grazed the curb. I slammed on my brakes, and the smell of the burned, blackened rubber hit me immediately. Breathing hard, I flipped the dumbass driver the bird.

  The proverbial “final straw” occurred when I pulled into the deck at work. After retrieving my bag, I noticed my car was sitting at an odd angle, and I discovered that it was because the right front tire was almost completely flat. I stood there for a moment, staring at the flat and sweating heavily now due to the heat as well as my anger. Though the smell was inviting, my coffee-stained clothes and other contents made my gym bag heavy as hell. I was late, didn’t have anything to wear but sweats that really were “sweaty” now, had no makeup on, my hair was in disarray, and now I was forced to deal with a flat. Could the day get any worse?

  I hurried through the deck to the elevator. As I passed by Audra’s designated spot, I noticed that she hadn’t made it in yet, which was rather worrisome. She had not been herself the last few weeks, and then when she basically blew off the entire day yesterday, I really became worried, especially with it being tax season crunch time. When she didn’t come back yesterday, the back-office whispering began, and I was thankful that she told me to go home early because some of the comments that made their way back to my ears were enough for me to seriously consider a good, old fashioned slap in the head to those that were running their mouths.

  Riding the elevator to our floor, I thought about how frightened she must be, knowing she was not only going to testify in front of a packed courtroom but also be broadcast live on television. I couldn’t imagine, for I was terrified for my little part in this whole thing which would be minimal compared to hers. Of course, there was a tiny bit of me that was glad she wasn’t here yet so I could sneak off into the bathroom and attempt to do something with this wild mane of mine and at least slap some lipstick and mascara on my face.

  The elevator doors opened, and I was thankful that no one was in the lobby as I darted into the bathroom, flinging my pack on the counter and quickly digging out my tools. As I reached up and attempted to unwind my hair from my ponytail, my fingers became entangled as my engagement ring became firmly stuck in a mass of hair and cloth.

  Just freakin’ wonderful.

  Leaving as much hair intact as possible while freeing my hand, I realized that was one more item that I needed to add to my “wedding to-do” list—hire a professional hairdresser, not only for myself, but for my entire bridal party. I should have thought about that earlier since the wedding was just a few months away. Damn, it had just slipped my mind with things being so crazy between work and house searching. We knew we didn’t want to stay in that apartment anymore, and any doubts as to justifying the expenses of becoming homeowners were completely wiped away after this morning’s fiasco. Hand extracted, I began brushing through the knots, wondering if that little bit of planning wasn’t something that should have been suggested by my wedding planner, the ridiculously expensive Heidi Morgan-Thomas. Oh well—I made myself a mental note to call her today and see if she would at least be willing to assist me in finding someone.

  What I really wanted from her, which she had been unable up to this point to secure, was to help me finagle my wedding reception to take place in Chandler at the highly sought after venue, The Castle at Chandler. They were booked years in advance, but my research on Heidi contained one major theme that drew me to her—she would get you what you wanted as long as you were willing to pay for it. For the last two weeks, I had sort of hounded her on whether or not she felt she stood any shot of procuring this site for me; however, she had skillfully dodged my calls, emails and texts, responding only briefly to some, promising to let me know as soon as she heard something. My mother was trying to steer me in the direction of another venue, worried that we would end up with a fully-planned wedding and no location to hold it in. I was beginning to think she was right, although admitting that (even only in my head) was rather revolting; and besides, I wanted to be a true princess, just for one day, since I was marrying my prince.

  Hair now presentable and makeup slathered on, I was just about to walk out of the bathroom when my cell phone vibrated in my bag. My heart jumped for a moment, hoping it wasn’t Audra calling, wondering where in the hell I was. I dug around until I finally latched onto the thing, breathing a sigh of relief to see it wasn’t work, but I almost didn’t answer it since the number was one I didn’t recognize. At the last second, as I slung my coffee-scented bag onto my shoulder, I decided to flip it open.

  “Hello?”

  “Gabrielle? Gabrielle Lincoln?” came the unfamiliar, breathy feminine voice over the line.

  Hesitantly, I responded, “Yes. Who is speaking?”

  “Oh, I’m so glad I have the correct number. Heidi’s assistant, Karrie, has such a heavy accent, I wasn’t sure that I wrote it down correctly,” said the voice, almost sounding out of breath. I smiled, realizing she must be from The Time of Your Life, Heidi’s wedding planning service, for she was right; Karrie possessed such a thick accent that I refused to speak with her anymore over the phone, preferring to keep my lines of communication open with Heidi through either email or texting.

  “And your name is?” I asked, kicking myself immediately for sounding so rude. This was the first time in over a month that someone from Heidi’s office actually returned my phone call, so I needed to at least be courteous.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry for neglecting to introduce myself. How utterly rude of me. I am Diane Martin, a consultant with The Time of Your Life. Due to Ms. Morgan-Thomas’s extremely tight schedule today, she brought me in as a favor to you since we have good news—The Castle at Chandler actually had a cancellation the day of your wedding.”

  I stopped so quickly that the bathroom door slammed into my back, almost knocking me over, but I didn’t care. My venue was available. The place I’d dreamt of having my wedding ever since I was a little flower girl at my Aunt Celine’s wedding was within my reach. I was going to float down that winding rock staircase, my cathedral train gently floating behind me as all eyes watched every delicate movement amidst the deliciously scented flowers and candles adorning every available space. I could hardly form a coherent string of intelligible words as I sputtered, “Ms. Martin, please…are you serious? This isn’t some kind of joke, is it?”

  Ms. Martin chuckled loudly into the phone. “Honey, I know, we are just as shocked as you. That place NEVER has a cancellation, but apparently, the scheduled wedding was called off due to, um, shall we say, indiscretions from college that the soon to be bride neglected to tell her mate about? Anyway, the place is yours if we can be there by ten for you to sign the contract and provide them with the deposit.”

  I liter
ally dropped everything I was holding except the phone, which was now thoroughly glued to my ear in my excitement. Oh, I couldn’t believe what she just said! I would take a hundred mornings like the one that I just suffered if this was my reward. I realized a bit too late that I was actually doing some sort of strange happy dance in the hallway by my office and stopped, trying to regain some professional composure. I felt like a little kid that just was informed by her parents that they were going to Disneyland. But then the words, “…be there by ten…” surfaced and I winced inwardly, knowing that would be a problem.

  “Oh my God, Ms. Martin. I can’t believe it! This is the best news I have heard in weeks. Pardon me for asking you to repeat yourself, but did you say that I needed to be at their offices by ten to sign the contract?” I asked, hoping that maybe, just maybe, in all the excitement, I misunderstood what she said.

  “No, you heard correctly. Ms. Morgan-Thomas is a personal friend of the manager and pulled out deep, long-reserved favors for her to keep her lips sealed on the cancellation so you can get there and ‘seal the deal.’ But of course, the window of opportunity is extremely slim, and you must leave…well, right now, to make it in time. I’m sorry about the short notice but this just happened!” Ms. Martin said, her voice cracking under her own excitement.

  I was at a loss as to what to do since my car was sitting in the parking lot, limping like a horse that had thrown a shoe and no good to me now. Even if I hung up right this second and called someone to come and change the flat, I wouldn’t make it to Chandler in time since it was already past nine o’clock. I raced through my mental contact list, striking off everyone that popped up. Jeff worked on the other side of town and stood no shot of making it here in less than fifteen minutes, even taking into consideration the breakneck speeds he normally drove. Mom and Dad just left yesterday for a long weekend in Las Vegas, and most of my friends worked on the other side of town as well, their lives just as busy as mine, and I didn’t want to be the kind of “emergency” call friend in desperate need of help. Damn!

  As the silence from my end stretched out longer than I should have let it, I guess Ms. Martin sensed my quandary and said, “Ms. Morgan-Thomas insisted that I be at your beck and call today, and you seem a bit lost here, and time is ticking. Ms. Lincoln, is there something wrong? Something I may be of assistance with in some way?”

  And then it hit me as I said, “I really hate to ask, but this has been the morning from hell, truly, and my car is now sporting a flat tire and…”

  “Say no more, Ms. Lincoln. Diane to the rescue. My car is nice and cold and has four tires completely full of air. I understand from your file that you work downtown, and I just left Arnelle’s Catering, so tell me, how far is that from you? I will be delighted to pick you up and drive you there.”

  I lit up like a kid again and actually did what some would consider a “fist pump” in the air, excited that one major hurdle was just cleared as I responded, “Arnelle’s is only four blocks from my office. I’m at 3789 Van Buren…”

  “I will be down at the corner in less than five minutes. I’m in a black Mercedes. Hurry girl, we are wasting time chatting when we could be driving!” Before I could answer, the line went dead. I was so excited that I stood at my desk and kind of turned in a circle, not sure which direction I should take first. Audra was still not here, and I needed to let her know about my whereabouts. I panicked for a moment when I thought about the deposit, since I knew that I didn’t have anywhere close to the 15,000 dollars required, but then I remembered my dad giving me the “wedding emergency” credit card for just such occasions as this. I realized that up and running out of the office without telling anyone where I was going was not very professional at all, but I decided that I would just call Audra on the way and then send out an email to the receptionist as soon as Ms. Martin and I were on our way to Chandler.

  I waited impatiently at the elevator bank for the doors to open, eager to get downstairs. I tried calling Jeff from inside, but I don’t know why I even bothered, for this elevator was notorious for killing phone connections. As the doors opened in the lobby and I emerged (Okay, I leapt out, my excitement making my legs spontaneously throw out a ballerina move), I saw Ms. Martin’s black Mercedes shining in the sun through the glass doors. I quickly tried calling Jeff again, and this time, it went straight to his voicemail.

  “Baby, the most wonderful news! The Castle at Chandler is available on our date! I’m heading up there right now with Ms. Martin, one of Heidi’s assistants. I have to be there by ten to sign the contract and pay the deposit, and my car has a flat tire, so Ms. Martin is driving. I love you…can’t wait to marry my prince in our castle. Woo hoo!” I gushed as I opened the glass doors and practically burst into a spring on my way to Ms. Martin’s car.

  God, this day just did a complete one eighty I thought as I opened the door and slid into the cool leather seat. Ms. Martin stuck out her hand, smiling brightly as she said, “Perfect timing, Gabrielle. Now, let’s get on the road. We have a date to fulfill your destiny,” she said, a large grin sliding across her full lips.

  “Thank you so much for helping me today. I can’t believe this is happening. My fiancé is going to flip! Oh, and my mother. She’ll be beside herself that she missed this when she comes back on Monday. Do you know that when I was little, we would sit outside out by the pool and watch the sunset together and plan my wedding? Those are some of my favorite childhood memories! Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Martin. I’m rambling here, but it’s such a rarity when one of your lifelong dreams comes true,” I said, the flush of heat exuding from my cheeks as I realized the woman probably thought I was some type of drug addict by the way I was yammering on and on.

  “You go ahead and ramble away honey. I’m just as excited to be a part of this experience with you. And believe me, brides are usually a jittery bunch anyway—you know…so much going on in their lives that it becomes quite overwhelming, causing even the shyest of women to became raging monsters,” Ms. Martin answered, her eyes never leaving the road as she deftly weaved in and out of the traffic. Damn, for a wedding planner, she sure did know how to drive the hell out of this car. I kept my eyes focused on my lap instead of out the window, for the speed at which we were travelling was making the scenery whiz by so fast that it made me feel a bit nauseous. I dialed Audra’s cell first, but oddly, it went straight to voicemail, so I opted for an email, concentrating on hitting the correct keys on my phone, and I typed an email out to Audra and a few others at the office, letting them know what was going on and that I should be back this afternoon. As soon as I hit send, I prayed that Audra wouldn’t be too upset with me for this, but it was just one of those emergency situations—albeit, a good emergency—that couldn’t be foreseen or helped. Then I immediately kicked myself mentally for worrying. Audra was the best boss I ever worked for, and we were on the road to becoming close friends. I knew she would understand.

  I decided to change the subject a bit so I didn’t come off as some self-centered Bridezilla whose sole focus was on her wedding, so I commented, “Ms. Martin, you are a fantastic driver. Where in the world did you acquire your skills? A closet NASCAR fan are you?” I quipped.

  Her grip became a bit tighter on the wheel, and her jaw clenched ever so slightly as she replied, “No dear, I’ve just spent a lot of time on the road, clearing my head when it becomes too full of things. That’s why I bought this car…nothing better than German engineering when you want to become one with the road. Besides,” she said, her bright red lips curving into a slight grin, “we need to get you to the church on time, so to speak.”

  “Well, I must say, you’re handling this car like a pro. My fiancé would just die to get behind the wheel of this gorgeous piece of machinery. A Mercedes has been his dream car ever since I’ve known him,” I rambled, hoping that if I could engage her in some type of conversation, she would slow down just a bit since this high speed was really making me queasy. I reached down and grabbed my bag, hoping that some
where in its depths there was a leftover Tums or Rolaids or something to settle my turning stomach. Hell, I already looked like a gym rat that just rolled out of bed, so the last thing I needed was to was roll up to one of the most prestigious addresses in all of Arizona looking like I was there to clean the pool or mop the floor.

  “I must apologize for my attire, Ms. Martin…” I said, quickly popping the lone Rolaid I had found into my mouth, hoping it would take effect quickly, but before I could finish my thoughts, she held up her hand in protest.

  “Not another word. Rosemary won’t give your clothing more than a quick glance. She is much more interested in what’s inside your wallet. Trust me. Besides, you are such a beautiful young woman, you could don a burlap sack and still turn heads.”

  I laughed lightly and felt the blood rush to my cheeks once again as I always did when someone commented about my looks. Although it was nice to hear compliments, I still couldn’t grasp why so many people felt that way, for when I looked in the mirror, I just saw the reflection of a normal girl staring back at me. But I did appreciate the fact that she was trying to ease my worries about my appearance.

  The silence between the two of us obviously lasted longer than either of us felt comfortable with, and I was wracking my brain trying to think of something to say that didn’t center around my upcoming nuptials. Thankfully, Ms. Martin cleared her throat and broke the awkward silence as she said, “I noticed in your file with us this morning that you work at Winscott. I imagine, if you don’t mind me saying so, that things have been rather tense around your office lately, what with the upcoming trial and all.”