Wedding's Off

My eyes widen, even though I can still see the fake lashes glued to my eye lids. My jaw drops, my lips tightening a little, reminding me of my lack of lip gloss or chapstick. My face colors, heating with shock. Or embarrassment. Or anger. All good choices. 

His hands are on her hips, holding her close. He did that to me this morning. His deep brown eyes are shut, those intelligent orbs hidden behind tan lids. Their noses brush, his straight and gorgeously structured, hers powdered and a little crooked from accidentally tripping and landing with her face. His shirt, the disgustingly expensive white Prada, is unbuttoned almost halfway, with her pale, bony hands pressed contently against his caramel skin, feeling the muscles he works tirelessly for. Her hair is a mess, like he couldn’t get a good hand hold but kept trying to pull it anyway. Her bright red lipstick smears his lips, painting them almost as blazingly as her own. And then I see her pull back a little, only to stick her tongue out and lick his lips and tongue eagerly. I drop my champagne glass. 

He jerks back as if burned, wide eyes turning towards me. My mother’s gaze joins his, though she’s much slower to turn. Her ice blue eyes widen at me, her thin lips opening in obvious shock. Her hands rush and feel over her outfit, trying to regain some sort of dignity I’m sure. Her cheeks stain redder than the rouge dusted over her cheekbones. I look back at my fiance, my left brow raising at him. 

He puts his hands up in surrender. “It’s n-not what it looks like, Cal,” He says slowly, his voice catching once. How is it he’s a lawyer and this is how he tries to defend himself? My mother nods her head too enthusiastically with his statement. 

“Then what, Mitch, is it?” I ask, resting my perfectly manicured hands on my hips. I smile internally at the soft lace on my dress, but make sure my attention is on my backstabbing mother and my cheater of a fiance. 

He stutters, tumbling over his words like a toddler. My mother does nothing but stand to the side, looking at him and waiting for him to come up with a good excuse. I lift a hand, admiring my nails, loving the pretty little blue flowers on my ring finger and thumb. He stops trying to get out of it and looks at the floor, playing with the hem of his still unbuttoned shirt while his ears start tinting red. 

“I’ll tell you what I see.” I start, making both sets of eyes land on me. I brush my hands down my dress, still adoring the feel of the white fabric under my fingers. “I see two awful people, a middle aged woman who should know better, and a sad excuse of a man who should also know better. Neither of which is worth my time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go tell everyone the wedding’s off, twenty minutes before the damn thing even started!” I shout at the ends and turn back to the door, walking out as gracefully as I could in these blasted heels. It’s a good thing for them that they’re so pretty and I love them so much, or I would’ve thrown them away. I slam the door behind me, finding sick pleasure from the startled gasps the noise draws from them, whether they were easily heard or not. 

I walk quickly down the hall, fuming. I walk out down the aisle and stand in front of the priest, who has just about finished setting up or whatever. 

I put my hand out, attempting to give him a smile. It isn’t his fault I have bad taste in men and my mom decides I can’t have what’s mine. “Can I use your mic?” I ask lightly, still trying not to freak out. He smiles, confusion prominent on his face and nods. He hands me the thing and I turn to all the people who could come celebrate. On my right are all the people I thought to invite and their ‘plus ones’. 

My brother, Keith, his wife, Alexandra, and their five kids in the front row look up at me in confusion. Well, Keith and Alex do, their kids just coo about how pretty Aunty Callie’s dress is. My dad, who is supposed to sit on the outside part of the aisle with mom between him and Keith, is standing next to his seat, looking at me with concern. 

The front row on my left, only one of the seven seated looks like they care to see me at all. Mitch’s sister, Quinn, who has always liked me despite her family’s obvious distaste for the tomboy that is me, has her brows furrowed, hands anxiously fisting the skirt of her white and blue dress. I smile a little at her, if only to make her calm down. I smile and wave at everyone. 

“Hello, friends, family, obscure family members I can’t remember and people I don’t know,” I pause at the soft giggling of a few people on both sides, “Well, I have some disappointing news, the wedding’s off.” Basically everyone gasps, my nieces and nephews looking especially heartbroken about it. 

“Why?” Keith asks. I purse my lips, remembering and loving my dark lipstick.

“Because my mother had her tongue in Mitch’s mouth and he loved it, so...” I drop the sentence and shrug. Everyone but the kids look appalled. My dad looks furious actually and the kids all look confused. 

I hand the priest the mic back and hop down off the stage thing, cursing when my foot tips in my heel, twisting my ankle painfully. I smile and wink at Keith, tapping my nose twice. He rolls his eyes but follows me nonetheless, telling his sweet wife and adorable children that he’d be right back. 

Once outside, he leans against the wall of the church, hands in his pockets. He glances around before looking back at me, raising his left brow the way I raise my right. “So,” he starts, the one side of his lips lifting into a smirk, “How did it go?” He asks. I smirk, showing off some of my perfectly clean teeth. 

“It went perfectly, brother dear. Can you believe that guy didn’t let me see him without the lights off and just started stripping for her?” I ask, mildly annoyed. He laughs, leaning his head back a little into the white painted wood. My mother comes out a second later, her appearance back to its usual. We high five. 

“Keith, darling, did you alert Carlos?” She asks, checking her now flawless lipstick in a handheld mirror she just fished out of her crazy big purse. He nods, picking his foot up and setting it on the wall. Somehow, with his leg bent like that, he looks even more relaxed than he had a moment ago. “Good,” she mutters just as Carlos pulls up. He jumps out and jogs over, barely even putting the 1960 Mustang GT in park before exiting. 

“Hey family!” he shouts, somehow wrapping all three of us in his long arms, pecking each of us on the cheek. Keith rolls his green eyes at the display of affection and mom has to fix her foundation or something so she heads back into the church. 

Three other black vans pull in, tires spitting gravel all over the place. I smirk at the men in black suits and dark sunglasses, saluting them as they rush into the church, ready to draw their guns while some already have theirs in hand. I smile shimmying in my dress. I should have gotten straps, this is the third time I’ve had to make sure the goods aren’t on show today from the lack of sleeves on this dress. I lean my shoulder into the wall next to Keith and smile brightly with a wave at the Carmicheal’s when they’re pulled out of the building, each one cuffed and glaring daggers at anyone in eyesight. 

"Bye family! I'll be in touch!" Carlos yells, getting back into his car and peeling out, leaving the rest of the crew to the family of people in the Dark Star Cartel. Lame name, I know.

Quinn comes out slowly, her eyes finding me quickly. We smile and I take an imaginary note of how much I love her bright hazel eyes. I wave her over, a smug grin on my face. I grab her face, making sure to meet Mitchel’s gaze before pressing our lips together and closing my eyes, melting into the light caress. I hold her face tenderly and one of her hands comes up and rests on my cheek, her other hands falling softly onto my hip. 

We pull apart at the sound of the other cars taking off and rest our foreheads against each other. A hand comes in contact with my shoulder and I lift my eyes up to my dad. We grin at each other. I let go of Quinn and do our secret handshake with my dad. It’s not really a secret, It’s just really long and really hard to learn, so no one ever tries any more. 

“Good acting in there, dad,” I smirk up at him, patting his shoulder with my hand. He nods, brushing his hand over his beard, looking pleased with himself. Mom comes out and joins us, along with Keith’s gaggle of children. Oh god, how didn’t I notice sooner!? She’s pregnant. Again! I smack Keith. 

He looks at me, quite offended while rubbing his arm. “You do know what condoms are, right?” I ask. His ears start turning red and he glaces at Alex, obviously not sure what to say. She shrugs with a smirk, holding her youngest, Bryanna, on her hip. He purses his lips and looks back down at me. 

“Are we sure that the Carmicheal’s were the last of them?” My mother, ever the downer she is, asks, fiddling with her hair. Alex shakes her head. Everyone looks at her. My dad bends and picks up Peter, their oldest boy, settling the sleepy boy against his chest. I toss my arm over Quinn’s shoulders. 

“I saw a man at the beach with the tattoo,” She says in her usual soft tone. She’s so cute. How on Earth did Keith manage to marry her? She looks at Keith, a weird look on her face. “It’s your turn to do Callie’s job.” She states. He groans and I laugh maniacally. 

A car pulls up, a woman in the drivers seat and a man in the passenger seat. She looks furious and he looks tired. She gets out and looks at us. I grin and wave. 

“Oh, the wedding’s off, by the way!” I shout. The man fist pumps and puts his seat belt back on while the woman storms back to the car, still outraged by her day. I shrug and kiss the cutely freckled cheek of the love of my life. “Love you,” I whisper to Quinn. Her cheeks color but she gives the words back, stuttering a little. I grin. I look over at Keith. Have fun, I say in my head, already mentally preparing myself for his attempt at whooing some guy.