Maid of a Holy Mess

Oh boy, was I late. I panted as I ran back down the hotel stairs and raced through the lobby, tossing the stolen master key for John’s room to the concierge.

I shuffled on teetering heels through the gravel lot to my car. I tossed off my right heel to reach the pedals. I tossed the shirt and pants I stole from his luggage into the backseat and tucked my phone into my bra. I backed out of the parking lot and sped out onto the highway.

I broke every speed limit and possibly every driver’s school rule, as I held onto the steering wheel with my knee and prayed that there were no state troopers out today. With my pink sparkly monstrosity of a dress hiked up, one shoe off, and trying to put on my lipstick, it would be hard to talk my way out of a ticket today I mused as I glanced down at the speedometer. The tires squealed as I slid into the parking lot and climbed out.

I pushed the clothes into John’s arms as I hopped about with one heel on. I fought to keep the dress pulled down before I flashed the groom’s best man – my high school boyfriend and the biggest jerk.

“Thank you, John. Clothes for the preacher. I need to go see the stylist. What – the hell is that?” I asked, spotting three large wooden crates on the front steps of the venue. They were too big and heavy to move unless someone had a forklift.

“That is the wine.”

“Three cases? That’s like 150 bottles of wine!” I gasped and peered into the top of the open crate.

“Here’s the order sheet. I confirmed it,” he flashed me the receipt.

“We’ll deal with it later. At least we have wine,” I huffed and he followed me into the venue. Thank god, I did all of the decorating last night. It looked perfect. 

“The main caterer is running late, but the food is here. Her staff have already started setting up, so that’s dealt with. I need to get my hair done and – “ I glanced down at his crooked and knotted tie.

“Your tie. It’s awful.”

“I did what I could,” he huffed and untangled it, “You all are the ones that suggested some kind of pretty knot.”

I sighed, “Maybe Kevin can help. Everything has to be perfect for them. I have put way too much time and effort into something screwing up this wedding.” It had to be perfect.

He nodded, and glanced at the first guests arriving, “Oh, no.”

I turned to look at what he saw, “What” – my jaw dropped as the Mother of the Bride stumbled across the threshold.

“Oh, Jackie,” she sobbed and fell into me. I winced at the twinge in my ankle. Dam, these shoes. “My baby is getting married. And that good-for-nothing SOB is here with his mistress,” she slurred.

I rolled my eyes. A messy divorce between the mother and father of the bride didn’t need to seep into the wedding of her daughter’s dreams.

John helped her to lean against the wall, “What do we do? I need to do my hair,” he complained.

“So do I,” I hissed. I glanced around the room. Maybe just stuff her in a closet until after the ceremony. I blinked as I spotted the Preacher. “Father Marigold! Have you met the Mother of the Bride? Here, Cheryl. Please, Father, keep her occupied for a few minutes. I swear I will be right back.”

He sputtered as the drunk cried into his shoulder, but I didn’t have time to explain. I’ll probably owe a few Hail Marys for that one.

We hurried up the stairs to the prep room. I winced as I slipped on the stairs, jarring my knee. I glanced down at my tights snagged on a splinter.

“Oh, for.” John reached down and ripped them free, and almost off me.

I gasped in outrage, “What the – what am I supposed to do now!”

“Your legs look fine! Come on. We have enough to deal with today. I need to check on the hungover groom,” John growled in frustration and tugged me up the stairs.

“Oh, hey, John, Jackie.” The bride’s brother, Kevin, held our young diaper-clad ringbearer under one arm and held the hand of the precious little flower girl with his free hand. I gushed over her sweet blonde curls. “So – someone doesn’t want to walk down the aisle,” he grumbled.

I knelt beside her, “What? But – please, sweetie. You love your dress, don’t you?”

“How much, kid? 20?” John opened up his wallet and flashed her a twenty-dollar bill.

She pouted and countered him, “A hundred.”

“50, and I’ll give you all the candy you want.”

“Deal,” she chirped.

“Candy!” The ringbearer cried, struggling out of his father’s grasp, and thankfully ran to his mother.

She huffed and hefted him to her shoulder, “Shouldn’t he be dressed?”

“He won’t keep them on,” Kevin grumbled.

“I’ll give you candy if you put them on,” I bribed and handed him a candy bar from my purse.

He nodded and greedily took the candy from me. Kevin and his wife went to re-dress their kid and finalize the bribes with more candy. John rushed to have his tie redone and check on the groom. My phone chirped again.

I leaned over the railing, “Oh, and Kevin, your mother – she’s drunk and with the pastor. Your father and his secretary are here. Sober her up, fast,” I explained and slipped into the room with the stylist. I smiled as my best friend was radiant and beaming with joy.

She dragged me into a tight hug, “There you are! Where were you, sleepyhead?”

“Never party hard the night before,” I stated, hiding the annoyance as I spent the entire night meticulously folding little paper swans for the tables as everyone else partied.

“You are the best person in my life. How can I ever thank you?” Veronica kissed my cheek and dabbed at her eyes.

“You would do the same for me.” At least you better when the day comes, I thought. I sighed as I sat back in the stylist’s chair.

“What happened to your tights?” bridal girl Emily asked, a sorority friend of the bride I only met twice.

I glanced at the ruined tights as the stylist worked, “I slipped on the stairs and tore them. John’s idea to fix them was to rip them off.” The girls gasped and started giggling. “What?”

They giggled and began singing, “First, comes love. Then comes ripping the tights off. Then comes marriage –“

I huffed, letting the stylist comb my long, still shower-damp hair back, “Absolutely not! That man – ugh, if you weren’t marrying his best friend, I would be glad to never see him again.” I glared at Veronica as she made kissing noises.

“Oh, come on. That smile.”

“And not to mention, he’s got a great ass.” The ass himself slipped into the room, flashing his radiant smile and those coveted dimples. His tie was fixed, but his pants were the new ones.

“Your pants?” I asked.

“Later.” I rubbed my forehead. I knew there was no way the pastor could wear the ones John originally had on. At least, not as well. John did after all have a great ass. I jerked my trailing thoughts back to my chirping phone.

“Fine,” I grumbled as the stylist continued curling my hair and I touched up my makeup. I glanced at the screen. Well, that didn’t take long - An Instagram request from the creepy weasel-like cousin who lives in his mother’s basement that I was nice to this morning. Ignore. Block. I rolled my eyes and flipped through my other messages.

John checked his phone as the stylist smeared gel into his hair, taming his shaggy mess. “Crap.” He showed me the text from the groom’s uncle.

What do you think about a joke during the vows? Or Fart spray?

I felt my heart stop and glared at John. “No.” He glanced at Veronica. “He can’t.” There was no way anyone was interrupting the wedding. Veronica was awesome, but this wedding – I can’t handle a bridezilla, too. “No,” I gave him a look full of all the threats I could make happen if fart spray went off during the ceremony. Not going to happen on Veronica’s perfect day. 

“I’ll handle it,” he murmured.

I nodded and reapplied my lipstick. I had already chewed it off.

“Who’s security?”

“Michael,” I murmured. The groom’s dad wasn’t as keen on this wedding as some. Although, who wouldn’t be cynical after three failed marriages?

John murmured, “I’ll send him to man the door after I'm done up here.”

I sighed as my phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jackie, this is the photographer.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief, “Yes, great. I'm upstairs.”

“That’s great…but I don’t know where I am.”

“What. That’s awesome,” I chuckled nervously. I nodded along and glanced over at Veronica and the other girls. I lowered my voice, “Give me 10 minutes…I’ll come find you.” I hung up the phone and glanced at the stylist in the mirror.

“I gotcha girl.” She finished doing some cute curls and twirled it up, before moving on to John.

“Photographer,” I grumbled as I reached up my dress and jerked down what remained of my tights, taking them off. I balled them up. John cat-called and laughed as I pelted him with them. “You owe me for those.” I slammed the door behind me as I jogged down the stairs and watched Kevin pour another pot of coffee into his mother.

“Is it working?” I asked.

“Yeah. I got her. My wife has the kids and is talking to my dad.” I gave a thumbs up, hurrying towards the parking lot, and ran into the pastor.

“Ah, Miss Jackie.” I sighed as the man struggled to keep John’s pants on and the shirt buttons were straining, but someone found him a coat to put on. “There’s an issue outside.”

“Oh, no,” I whined. I ran outside as Uncle Josiah had a crate of fireworks that he was unloading from his pickup truck. My jaw dropped. “Absolutely not! We’re releasing birds, not fireworks!” 

“But” – the cousin held up a shotgun.

I felt my eye twitch. “No. Put it away.” I turned as the joker uncle approached me with a small aerosol can. The fart spray! I flinched away and reflexively punched at the can – and hit him in the face, knocking him to the ground. I smacked my hands over my face, “Oh my god! I'm so sorry!” I took the can and tossed it into the bushes. “I - no fart spray or fart jokes, Uncle Nathan!” I screeched.

The cousins helped him stand up.

“I'm so sorry.” I apologized again as he stumbled while they helped him to the tailgate.

“Here, Nathan.” A cousin held out a pill bottle.

“What’s that?” I asked as I sent the younger cousin to get some ice, and searched my pockets for my keys. I swore as they were missing.

“Oh, nothing,” he said.

 I glared. “No drugs at the wedding,” I growled. Besides the massively bad idea to have drugs at a family event, if someone did something stupid, the insurance wouldn’t cover the damages if someone was using illicit items – fireworks, drugs, or otherwise.

“It’s just some pain meds from when I had surgery.” I grabbed the bottle away from Nathan after he took two.

I read the label, “Percoset? He can’t be high at his niece’s wedding!”

“You knocked his lights out. It’s just a little pain medication until we get through the wedding.” I rubbed my forehead and called the photographer. No answer.

I swore again. I glanced over as Nathan was slumped over. “Is he okay? Do we need an ambulance?” I smacked at his face and felt for his pulse.

“Nah, he’s fine,” the cousin shrugged and rubbed at his chin, “Maybe those aren’t the pills in that bottle. Those might be Ambien?”

I wanted to scream. “Okay, you all watch him and check that he’s breathing, but I’ve got to –“

“We don’t want to miss the wedding,” they protested.

“You drugged him! You can’t leave him alone.” I pointed at the unconscious man in the bed of the truck.

“He’s just sleeping.”

I sighed. I’d have to ask a lawyer later, but at the moment…fart spray was adverted. “Fine. Fine. Come to the wedding, but – check on him – often.” I rushed to the dining hall as I texted the photographer. “How is everything going?”

John nodded, “Almost there.” He was ready, and the groom looked perfect as he joined us.

“How’s everyone?” Luke, the groom asked.

“Perfect, just perfect,” I lied. John gave me a look. “Later,” I murmured to him.

I sighed in relief as the caterers were ready for the guests, and the cake was – “Where’s the cake?”

“It’s coming with the caterer.”

“How long?” I winced.

“About an hour,” he breathed.

I swore again. “Okay. It’s okay. The photographer should be here soon…I hope. That’s more than enough time for the ceremony and everything. Let’s just go make sure everyone is ready to line up.” John nodded and helped organize and usher in guests. The pastor and Luke made their way to the front.

“Let’s get married!” Veronica and the party cheered as everyone lined up for their spots. John took my arm to walk with me down the aisle.

I finally took a breath of relief. After everything, they made it down the aisle. I held my best friend’s bouquet and glanced out across the crowd. Her mother’s drunk bloodshot eyes were now sober tears. Uncle Nathan was unconscious outside, ergo no fart spray during the ceremony. The flower girl was giggling with chocolate-stained teeth as she skipped down the aisle. The ring bearer wasn’t happy with his belt duct taped on. The photographer was clicking away after slipping in through the chaos of the guests. The cake also arrived.

We did it. Despite everything, we did it. Our best friends are getting married. The best man winked at me as he stood behind the groom. At least he’s pretty to look at, I mused.

I let my mind drift as the preacher, looking presentable even as the pants were too long, continued his spiel about marriage, happiness, and a bright future.

“Does anyone object to this marriage?” No one stood, and Father Marigold went to continue.

“I do,” said a voice from the back of the room. My jaw dropped. Murmurs and gasps echoed through the room.

“Dam it!” I screeched as her ex-boyfriend stood up from the back row and pleaded his case to her. Luke started yelling. Veronica’s makeup was ruined instantly as she began ugly crying.

John smacked his face with a palm, swearing, “You didn’t” –

“Security was supposed to! Why the hell was he let in?” I growled at him.

He sneered at me, “Don’t act like this is my fault! Ever since high school –” I cut him off and swatted John with my bouquet.

The hall erupted into chaos as everything went sideways. Things were said, confessions were made, and police were called. Even as I was distracted beating John with my bouquet, I don’t know if I’d ever seen a pastor look so full of regret for his own life choices. Poor Pastor Marigold.

Looking back on my final day as a Maid of Honor, as I sat on the steps of the venue with my hot pink sparkly dress hiked up way too far to be considered lady-like with its ugly bow laying at my blistered feet, my heels in a trashcan somewhere, and I wasn’t sure what happened to my car keys, but I wasn’t proud of punching Uncle Nathan, or slapping John with a bouquet, or being Maid of Honor for such an awful friend. I was, however, proud of my choice of wine, I mused as I uncorked another bottle of vintage wine.

“What a holy mess. Hear anything from them?” I glared at the shirtless bastard as he joined my solitude.

“From the bride eloping with her ex or the now ex-fiancé that was dragged out in cuffs or the mother of the bride that is in jail with him?” I snarked, “Nope, not a word. I don’t believe with their one phone call they will use it to call us.” Scowling, I took another swig from the wine bottle.

He sat next to me, and placed a plate between us, which held a large slice of the cake. His shoes were gone and replaced with dirty sneakers. His tie was loose, yet hopelessly tangled, and his hair was ruined from the brawl.

“What happened to your shirt?” I asked to break the silence between us.

“Flower girl vomited on me. Apparently, too much candy does make you sick,” he said, holding out for my bottle, “You mind sharing that bottle?”

I pointed at the other three non-refundable cases of wine that still sat on the curb. “Get your own,” I grumbled. He reached over and pulled a bottle from the open crate. He nodded in appreciation. It was quality stuff after all. Only the best for our best friends. This much alcohol on an empty stomach was a horrible idea, I mused. “You got another fork?” I asked, eyeing the slice of cake.

He pulled out two forks from his pocket. “I do.” We clicked our forks together and sighed as the fireworks went off by the pond, accompanied by the sounds of gunfire. I shook my head as Uncle Nathan jolted awake from the pill-induced coma in the truck bed med bay and fell - bruised – face-first into the pavement. “You got the bottle opener?”

I handed the corkscrew over, “I do.”