They started to serve dinner. The choices were chicken breast or a T-bone steak. Everyone had a plate but me. Finally, a lone dish came trailing out. It was cold pasta with sun-dried tomatoes. Lisa had remembered my fear of bones. I hadn’t eaten meat since I cut the top of my middle finger off when I was twelve. Now every time I saw a bone I felt sick.
If the pasta had been served when it was made a week ago, I might have managed to choke it down, but it was inedible. I arranged my tomatoes in the middle with the dry lifeless noodles around them. A waiter stopped in front of me to take my plate. He saw what I’d done.
“I’m artistic,” I said.
He whisked it away.
I was starving, and I was buzzed from the second glass of champagne. A little thought danced in the back of my head. What had Lisa said about a dessert? She had chosen a lovely mousse. Of course, it had to be chocolate. They brought it out. Why was my chocolate mousse pink? It was strawberry. It was like ordering a diet cola and getting a fully leaded one. I couldn’t eat it.
Nibbling on the vanilla wafer on top, I watched my sister. She was having the time of her life, and I needed a cigarette like a vampire needed blood.
Excusing myself, I found a side door near the kitchen. The fresh air was liberating, and the familiar click of my lighter was like a kitten getting its mother’s milk. I inhaled deeply and looked around. There was another waiter having a cigarette like me. I thought he wasn’t bad looking in a swarthy, Greek sort of way. I liked the cut of his crisp white cotton shirt and the sleekness of his black pants.
“I bet you’re having a better time than I am,” I said.
He smiled and came over to me.
“You must be having an awful time if that is true,” he said.
I paused, thinking about it.
“It is true. I’m having an awful time.”
“Why don’t you go home?” he asked.
I laughed.
“Easier said than done,” I said. “Have you ever been at a family event where you feel lonelier than you do alone?”
He shook his head.
“Your family seems nice,” he said.
“So it seems. The photo op bride is my sister. I’m the proverbial bad seed, who writes smut and has to go live with her because I can’t support myself.”
I looked closer at him.
“I should be a waiter,” I said. “Because I’m always waiting for something to happen.”
“You write smut?”
“You were listening,” I said.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked.
“Because I’m a slightly drunk guest prattling on about her personal problems,” I said.
There was a pause. It didn’t feel like a bad one, just interesting.
“You are easy to talk to,” I said.
“The smut?” he asked.
“I write for one-hand glossy whack-off mags. You know, the kind you get in party stores behind the counter. Are you shocked?”
I looked into his eyes to see the surprise. I didn’t see any.
“No,” he said. “Someone has to write them. Why not someone as pretty and sexy as you?”
“You think I’m sexy,” I said.
I looked him up and down, feeling frisky.
“Are you on break?” I asked.
I guess I was horny, because one moment we were standing there, innocently smoking our cigarettes, and the next moment, we were behind the building, doing it in the shrubs. We were standing up like a couple of horny kids, who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I came so loudly that he had to clap his hand over my mouth to keep me from being heard.
As we straightened our clothes, I gave him a sly smile.
“I’ve had a one-night stand before, but I wasn’t actually standing,” I said.
He smiled back and gave me his phone number. His name was Dominic.
Feeling flushed and happy, I turned. I should go before anything ruined this mood.
I found my sister in a cluster of bridesmaids. Jeremy was standing nearby with two glasses of champagne.
“I’m here to tell Lisa I’m leaving,” I said to him.
He looked at me.
“You have the most amazing glow,” he said.
“I just had sex with a waiter outside,” I blurted out.
Shock paralyzed his face. Oops. Had I actually said that? I panicked.
“Don’t tell Lisa,” I said.
Without saying good-bye to her, I left the hall. I felt weird, appalled and tramp-like. It was amazing what three glasses of champagne and a lack of food could do to my reasoning. I needed food soon.
On the way to the hotel, I stopped at a grimy little grocery store, the kind Lisa would hate on sight, and I bought bananas, peanut butter and sprinkles. She had made me a reservation for the night at a motel, the kind that felt like a prison cell inside. Hardly any cars were there. I grabbed a box of my clothes and checked in.
I decided to take a bath, because I didn’t have the energy to stand in the shower. Normally, I hated baths, especially shaving in them. There was something about those little hairs floating in the water. It gave me the creeps, but tonight, I soaked, eating my bananas dunked in the peanut butter and topped with sprinkles.
In the morning, I woke to find myself sprawled naked on the bed with a huge stomach ache, no doubt from the bananas. My head was pounding. I touched my scalp, realizing my hair had dried weirdly as well. Rolling over to see what time it was, I noticed the front curtain of the motel room was partway open. Who knew who had been standing out there, getting a glimpse of my bare ass!
I tugged on a robe and looked outside to see if there was any incriminating evidence on the brick wall. Only a porn writer would even think of this. Jeez. This would make a good story.
Finding a scrap of paper inside my room, I started scribbling about a luscious brunette in a motel room with an open curtain and a lust-filled admirer. Wait a minute. I was writing trash again. Hadn’t I said if something nice happened to me I could write better things? Something had happened. I had met Dominic. Had it been a good thing, though? It was certainly sexy and tawdry.
I needed coffee, like a gallon of it. On my way to Lisa’s, I stopped at a donut shop. It was mostly filled with regulars, old men who were smoking, reading the paper and staring at the walls. I wanted to tell them that I had sex with a Greek waiter last night, but I decided not to. My gaze fell on the donut counter. A glistening chocolate donut with sprinkles gazed back at me. Ugh. I thought, remembering the bananas, but it wasn’t their fault. The sprinkles, I meant. I couldn’t hold it against them.
With the coffee and the donut, I left.
I was wired by the time I got to Lisa’s house. The donut had given me a high, glossy, sweet buzz, and the caffeine was challenging the sluggishness in my veins with an ultra kick.
Lisa had one of those houses that made you wonder who could afford to live there. I had heard tales of house-poor people. They were home owners, had a nice house, but they didn’t have enough money to furnish all the rooms. They never went out to dinner or the movies either. They didn’t do anything but sit in their big, but poorly furnished house. I could tell Lisa didn’t fit in this category. She had cement lions on her front porch.
One of my nephews answered the front door. He’d grown. I couldn’t remember when I’d seen him last. He looked at me as if he had never seen me before. Kids always knew I didn’t have the mom gene. I had no idea what to say to them.
“Can I see Lisa?” I asked.
Lisa came and got me. You would have never thought she got married last night. Her hair and makeup were perfect. Even her casual clothes were pressed. Her sparkling two-carat diamond ring was the only giveaway.
“I was worried about coming too early,” I said. It was eleven a.m.
“I’ve been up for hours. Someone had too much to drink last night,” she said.
Me, I thought, but I realized she meant Jeremy.
“How was the hotel?” she aske
d.
“Fine,” I said.
“You should have stayed longer.”
“I had cramps.”
“Jeremy liked you,” she said.
My heart fluttered. The waiter thing. Had he said anything? Apparently not or Lisa wouldn’t be this relaxed.
“Your house is amazing,” I said, changing the topic.
There was a big pause. This one was bad. Neither of us knew what to say next.
“Why did you seat me at the reject table?” I demanded.
“Is that why you left so early?”
“I had cramps.”
“I didn’t intentionally put you back there. Besides, I thought you’d want to see our cousins.”
I nodded. Seeing them more than once every ten years was more than enough.
“Why the kid-free thing?” I asked.
“The network executives were invited. I wanted it to be an adult party.”
Jeremy came into the room. Oh, baby. He was only wearing pajama bottoms. I inventoried his six-pack abs, great arms and shoulders, tousled hair and sexy stubble in two seconds flat.
“Look who just woke up,” Lisa said. “You could have worn a robe or something.”
“I’m sure your sister has seen a man’s chest before,” he said and looked at me.
“Morning, Madison,” he said.
“It’s Maddy. No one calls me Madison but Lisa.”
How could my sister have even gotten out of bed with him? I would be bending him like a pretzel and licking the salt off the good parts.
“Don’t you think the waiters at the hall did a good job last night?” he asked.
I glared at him.
“Marvelous,” I said.
“Very attentive,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Why are we talking about the waiters?” Lisa asked.
Jeremy shrugged.
There was a knock at the door.
“Who could that be?” Lisa asked.
“Probably the man about the Jacuzzi,” Jeremy said.
He went to answer it. I was relieved. Please, no more bloody talk about waiters, I thought. Lisa offered me a cup of coffee. I accepted. Men’s voices filled the foyer. When I turned to see who he was bringing into the kitchen, my jaw dropped.
There stood Dominic, the sexy waiter from last night. He was looking as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Without his waiter clothes, he didn’t look half as sexy as Jeremy did. I tried not to remember him pounding into me up against the wall, my dress pushed up to my hips, my foot cramping from holding it in the air. What was he doing here?
“Madison, have you met Dominic?” Lisa asked. “He is Jeremy’s best friend, and he was one of the groomsmen last night.”
I was rendered mute from fear. Lisa didn’t notice.
“Now we’ve got his wedding to do,” she said. “He’s marrying Crystal, the weather forecaster from my station.”
I raised an eyebrow. Not the horrible weather girl in the receiving line. I felt sick. I’d screwed a groomsman and a weather girl’s fiancé. This was becoming a nightmare. How could I escape?
“Mom,” one of Lisa’s kids called out.
“We’re in the kitchen,” she replied.
The one who answered the door wandered in. He was carrying a piece of paper.
“What’s aniligus?” he asked.
“What?” Lisa screeched.
She snatched the piece of paper from his hand. In horror, I realized it was the piece of paper I had scribbled on about the brunette at the motel. It must have fallen out of my car.
Lisa’s face turned an odd color as she scanned the offensive piece of paper. Jeremy looked over his shoulder, his face amused in comparison.
“Oh, my God. Where did this come from?” she asked in a high pitch voice.
“It was on the ground. Between Dominic’s and the lady’s car,” her son said.
I’m your aunt, you half-wit, I wanted to say.
“Get out of here. Go to your room. Take your brother. Now!” she cried.
He fled, screaming his brother’s name.
“Horrible. Perverted. Disgusting,” Lisa said, her voice trembling as badly as her hands. “My child will never be the same.”
She took a huge swig of black coffee.
“Where did this come from?” she asked.
“The wind may have blown it in the driveway,” Jeremy offered.
Lisa looked at him as if he was crazy.
“It’s mine,” Dominic said.
I stared at him in shock.
“What? Why?” Lisa asked.
“I’m writing pornography for extra money for the wedding,” he said.
“Does Crystal know?” Lisa asked.
She grabbed a cell phone and hit speed dial. As much as I disliked Crystal, I couldn’t let Dominic break up his engagement. If Crystal was as half as uptight as Lisa, she would implode. Sure the entertainment value was high, and I really didn’t like her, and I was appalled that he would be with her, but I couldn’t let this happen.
“It’s mine,” I said. “Dominic was lying to protect me.”
Lisa steadied herself on the kitchen counter.
“How does he know this?” Lisa asked.
“Last night, we spoke.”
“Why would you tell him something like this?” Lisa asked.
“I thought he was a waiter.”
“You’re the waiter?” Jeremy asked. “Madison told me she had sex with a waiter, but it was you.”
“You screwed him at my wedding!” Lisa shrieked.
Dominic covered his face with his hands.
“Thanks, Jeremy,” I said.
“No problem,” he said. I could have sworn he looked pleased with himself.
“And you wrote this?” she shrilled.
Looking at my sister, who was ready to have a stroke over a casual screw and a not even truly perverted piece of porn, I realized this was a moment of truth. The self I was presenting to her and the self who I really was could no longer exist together any longer. One of them had to go.
“Yes, I wrote it. I’m a pornographer. I sleep around with men indiscriminately,” I said. “Dominic and I hooked up outside the hall last night.”
Suddenly, there was screaming from the cell phone. Crystal had to be on the other end. The phone seemed to vibrate with her cries. Lisa handed it to Dominic. He slunk off with it.
I looked back at Lisa. I saw it in her eyes, the good old crazy Lisa who would hold a grudge for years. This could go on for a lifetime though, never to be forgotten, but not today.
Without warning, she lunged for me. Suddenly, we were back in our room as kids. Fur flying. Screaming. Slapping. Crying. Kicking. Yanking. Shoving.
Jeremy tried to separate us. His hands were like warm, blurry buzzes on my skin. I did the only thing I could think of to get Lisa off me. I had done it several times before when she had got like this. You would have thought she’d learned by now. I kneed her in the crotch.
I heard her breath suck in. She let of me, staggered by the pain of my kneecap on her pubic bone.
Taking a huge breath of air myself, I hurried from the house, my body hurting in several places, as well as my brain. I was hot and dizzy, staggering with the exertion of the fight. Not until I was in my car could I even breathe or think straight. Then one thing occurred to me like a cold hand on back of my flushed neck.
My story. I wanted it back.
Determinedly, I stomped back to the door. I knocked. Looking as if she had been in a Royal Rumble, Lisa answered the door.
“My story. I need it back,” I said.
From behind her back, she held it up and tore it up before I could grab it back. The pieces fluttered to the foyer floor. A guttural cry escaped my throat. She slammed the door in my face.
“How very mature,” I called out.
For a moment, I considered knocking over her lion statues, but I would be stooping to her level. Instead, I got back in my car and found another piece
of paper. She couldn’t take my story away. It was still in my head. Furiously writing, I tried to get the down major points when I heard a knock on the passenger side window. I steeled my nerves, thinking it was Lisa coming back for another round.
I looked up. It wasn’t her, nor was it Dominic. It was Jeremy. He had the pieces of my story and a roll of tape. He was still wearing no shirt. I let him in my car.
“I thought you might like this,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said.
I took the pieces from him.
He sighed and closed his eyes. It seemed as if a huge tension drained from his body, and he looked so vulnerable. Tearing my gaze away from him, I matched up the first pieces of my torn story.
“She can be appalling,” he said. “I can’t imagine why I married her.”
My throat felt tight. Should he be telling me this? He was her husband.
“Why did you then?” I asked.
“I was so flattered that she liked me, and then this momentum took over everything,” he said. “I woke up this morning and realized I was married to someone I didn’t even love.”
He opened his eyes and gazed at me.
“It’s like a nightmare,” he said.
Amazingly, Lisa had ripped the word anilingus directly in half.
“That’s why you aren’t close with her, because of who she is,” he said.
I nodded. Another section of my story came together. My brunette had her full figure and sexy legs back, thanks to the tape.
“That is quite the story,” he said.
“Thank you.”
He turned sideways so he could look at me better. Why did he have to be so damn sexy?
“Did you feel something last night when I kissed you?” he asked.
I froze. I couldn’t believe he was asking me this. Would it be so awful to admit it? Suddenly taping my story together didn’t feel important. The car was suddenly stifling. He was so close. Despite my better judgment, I nodded.
“I would rather get to know a pornographer than stay in this newscaster, psycho Lisa world,” he said.
“Feeling something in a receiving line kiss does not a relationship make,” I countered.
“I have kissed Lisa a hundred times, and I have not felt anything even close to what I felt last night when I kissed you,” he said. “When you said you had sex with that waiter, I wanted to go beat the crap out of him.”
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 7 Page 37
