Bad Boy's Bridesmaid (10 page)

“Give me a
shot.”

“It’s not that
simple, Nate.”

Nothing was simpler
than what our bodies craved. “It’s just sex. You liked it. I was there.”

Mandy couldn’t
look at me, like she was embarrassed to be the one woman who completely owned
my pleasure.

“You know I’m
not a girl who does…that.”

“I know you’re
freaked out. Something is bothering you, baby, and I don’t think it’s all about
the wedding. Let it go.”

“You have no
idea what I’m going through.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t, or
this
becomes more than
just sex
.” She shook her head. “I’m not like you,
Nate. I need stability and promises and more than just following instinct.”

“What about
desire?”

I pulled her
closer. She moved a hand to my chest, brushing over my heart. It was my luck
that it fucking pounded just as she touched me. I was drunk on her without
taking a sip.

“You’re
twenty-three, baby. You’re supposed to be having fun. Getting laid by men who
want nothing more than to fuck your brains out. You should be excited to escape
your family and see the world and have no responsibilities to anyone but yourself.”

Mandy’s voice
caught. “Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t
everyone?”

“I don’t know.
No?”

“You only go
around once, right?” I nuzzled her, but Mandy refused to look at me. “Why not
have your fun before you’re saddled with all the bullshit that comes with those
complicated relationships you want. House. Husband. Kids running everywhere. That’s
so far in the future you shouldn’t even waste time imagining it. Right now you
have complete control over your life—so enjoy it.”

“You really have
no idea…” Mandy pushed away, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m
sorry. I can’t do this now. I have to go.”

“What?”

Mandy didn’t
wait. She grabbed her purse and apologized to the band. She bolted from the
fellowship hall and escaped through the rear of the church. The door clanged
shut. I flinched.

What the hell
did I do wrong? I’d
never
had this much trouble getting a girl into bed.

And I wouldn’t
have gone through the trouble if it wasn’t for her.

Son of a bitch.
I resisted the urge to kick the chair. The musicians stood.

I faced them,
trying to grin through the embarrassment of getting rejected in the middle of a
waltz.

“Tell you what,”
I said. “You got this gig if one of you can explain to me what the fuck I did
wrong.”

“You slept with
the
stripper
?”

I stared in
horror at my sister. Lindsey overturned her margarita goblet and slurped the
last few droplets of the frozen concoction. Pretty sure it was just pink-tinted
tequila at this point, and she had reached her limit about three drinks ago.

I tangled my
hands in my hair. “But I only left you alone for
ten
minutes?”

Lindsey couldn’t
speak without slurring, but she could still chastise me with a wagging finger.

“I didn’t sleep
with him
now
. I wouldn’t fuck that curvy cock again! I gots my new man!
Getting
married
!”

The bachelorette
party whooped in excitement as Lindsey danced, stumbled, and nearly clocked
herself off the bar in an attempt to showcase the ring for the fourteenth time
that night.

I wasn’t as
amused as the other girls—or drunk, obviously. They hollered at the stripper
clad in a particularly shiny g-string and bow tie. Lindsey shouted the loudest.

“Curvy cock!
Curvy cock!” My sister swiped for the stripper’s red sequined thong. “That boy
don’t know if he’s going or coming, but Imma tell you…he’ll get there
quick
.”

Oh god. The
stripper stopped dancing to cover his package.

Only Lindsey had
the ability to revert a sexy man with a greased six-pack back to the studious
kid I recognized as her class’s salutatorian.

“Christopher Curvy
Cock! Slap his ass, Mandy! Make that dingle dangle!”

I was in no
condition to dangle anyone. Lindsey ordered another drink. The bartender mercifully
watered it down.

“Maybe you ought
to stay quiet and let the nice man dance?” I smiled at the stripper as he
protected the elastic on his g-string from the bridesmaids’ wandering hands.

“I haven’t seen
that slanted shlong since prom.” Lindsey giggled to herself. “I got on my
knees, and that love stick bent into a boomerang! It looped into his belly
button!”

As far as I
remembered, Lindsey went to prom with
Bryce
. It was the third drunken
revelation I vowed to forget after tonight. I hid my face as the stripper
greeted Lindsey with an awkward smile and asked her to use his stage name—
Firechild
. 

Lindsey refused.
“That cock still bent? Let’s see! I wanna see!”

Fortunately, the
bar hosting us didn’t permit complete nudity.

Unfortunately, that
didn’t stop my sister.

The music
cranked louder, compliments of the bridal party. Drowning in her tenth
margarita, Lindsey sloshed to her feet. She gave Christopher a lecherous grin
before pitching the glass across the bar and awkwardly leaping at the
professional erotic dancer.

I reached for
her and missed. Lindsey dove headfirst into his tushy and…

He shouted. The
girls cheered.

Christopher
whirled around and covered his behind. “She
bit
me!”

God, I hoped strippers
could earn worker’s comp. Was my sister up-to-date on her vaccinations? This
wasn’t happening.

He stood,
shocked, as Lindsey fumbled at his waist. She gripped his thong and tugged,
ripping the material off. She fisted it over her head with a triumphant roar.

The stripper was,
in fact, distinctly…
curved
. Awkwardly so. I tilted my head.

How did he even
get it to—

“There it is!”
Lindsey celebrated her victory by wearing the thong instead of her tiara and
nearly puking on the bar. “I found that wavy wang!”

I peeled fifty
bucks from my wallet and shoved it in the stripper’s hand.

“I’m so sorry
about my sister. Please know that this bridal party respects penises of all
shapes, sizes, colors, and religious expressions.”

He shook his
head. I was so relieved he didn’t also wiggle below. “I—”

“Save yourself,”
I said. “Run.”

He didn’t bother
to grab his clothes. Christopher bolted bare-assed out of the party. The
bridesmaids snapped pictures they were sure to regret later.

“Aw! Where’d
that
shlock go
?” Lindsey slammed her drink on the bar. It spilled.
“Lighten up, Mandy! Maybe you need a little dick in you,
sloosen
you
up!”

That was the
last
thing I needed. “Maybe we ought to get a little coffee in you?”

“You’re not even
drinking!”

“I’m driving us
tonight, remember?”

Lindsey tried to
blow a raspberry at me. She forgot to swallow the margarita first. The drink
went everywhere, and I stopped her before she licked it off the bar.

I had drunk-sat my
sister before, but she’d never gotten this bad. Lindsey giggled, whined, and
nearly wet herself like a toddler.

Well, hell, if
this was what having a baby was like, I could handle it. Especially since
babies usually didn’t run up ridiculous bar tabs.

“You’re. No.
Fun.” Lindsey pointed at me. “That’s what you are. No fun. No funny funny
fanny.” She waved me close. “Know what’s fun?”

“I’m afraid to
ask.”

“Fucking a curved
cock.” She laughed a little too loud. “Don’t tell Bryce!”

“Oh, believe
me.” I ordered another ginger ale. “
No one
is going to know what
happened tonight.”

I certainly
wasn’t telling a soul about the nightmare that was Lindsey’s
first
of
three bachelorette parties.

No one would
know how Lindsey insulted all of Taiwan during our mani/pedis.

Nor would I tell
the story of the limo’s broken window and combustible two liter bottle of soda.
 

And I hoped I
could get the video off YouTube of Lindsey performing karaoke on the
restaurant’s hibachi. It was a good Beyoncé impression until they turned on the
grill.

My sister never
handled alcohol well. She took criticism of her drinking habits worse. My
newest mission was forcing her to drink water before her head exploded, and we
weren’t even in phase two of the bachelorette party.

Because
Lindsey’s party wasn’t just one night.

Oh
no
.

This was only
the
beginning.

“If we want to
get to the cabin, we should head out now.” I guided the bottle of water to her
lips. She cheered, splashed, and spilled on me. At least she was excited about the
weekend excursion to Bryce’s family’s lake house. “It’s a long trip—”

“God, Mandy.
Can’t you just
relax
for once?” Lindsey belched, and that did nothing
for the nausea swirling in my stomach. “You’re all…go here, go there, eat your noodles,
go to the cabin, don’t steal the traffic cone, stop groping the policeman—”

“It’s
your
schedule,” I said. “You said to stick to the itinerary, no matter how many bars
we crawled.”

“But I wanna
dance
!”

Lindsey attempted
to take off her bra before removing her shirt. The shoulder strap snapped off,
and she collapsed in a fit of giggles. She headed for her panties instead.

Of course, in
classic Lindsey style, those were lost somewhere between the mani/pedis and
dinner.

Lindsey whipped
half of her bra out of her sleeve and over her head. The other half tangled around
the piercings she still had to hide from Mom.

“Someone start
the music!” She howled.

The music was
already blaring. I covered my eyes as my sister lifted her skirt and flashed
the bar.

Oh sweet Mary
and Joseph—

Now was
not
the time of the month for her to be expressing herself!

The tampon
string was just the fuse that would blow this party from drunken fun to jail
time.

I grabbed
Lindsey and dove over her skirt before the world saw everything she was giving
away for the wedding.

“Okay, we’re
leaving for the cabin
now
. We need our rest, right?” I shook Lindsey to
gain her attention. She toppled onto the bar. “The cabin’s gonna be just as
fun. We’ll get to work on the wedding dances.”

“
Dances
!”
Lindsey slouched a bit. “Can’t wait to
nae nae
.”

I could. Oh,
Lord, what I wouldn’t do to avoid the rest of the weekend. But we only had six
weeks until the wedding, and Lindsey’s choreographed dance routines didn’t
learn themselves.

The only thing
that horrified me more than an unplanned pregnancy was shimmying onto the dance
floor with my fellow bridesmaids just to reveal that I was the only black woman
in the tristate area with no rhythm. At least it was only my closest friends
and the entirety of my family that would witness this disaster.

And
Nate
.

Of course Nate
would see me awkward, jerky, and combusting in shame. Then again…it wouldn’t be
much different from when I usually spoke to him, except this time I was
expected to shake my booty.

I couldn’t even
hand jive, and Lindsey sure as hell expected more than the twist. I was boned.

“Time to go!” I
helped Lindsey to her feet. “Know what’s better than dancing?
Sobriety
!”

“And curvy
cocks.”

“Of course.” I
handed Lindsey to the other bridesmaids, and they helped me out the door. “I’m
sure genital deformities are just as fun as getting a big cup of coffee and
sitting quietly!”

Our limo
returned the party to Mom’s house, but I’d borrowed Dad’s SUV to haul all seven
of us to the Washington’s cabin for Lindsey’s bridal-dance boot-camp. Not that
I didn’t trust a limo to off-road it along the cabin’s dirt path, but I wasn’t
getting stranded without four wheel drive anywhere Lindsey couldn’t access
Pinterest.

“
Road trip
!”
Lindsey’s excitement was short-lived. She tripped trying to hop into the SUV,
and her butt sprawled onto the gravel.

Her howl woke
the neighborhood. Worse, it woke
Mom
.

“
Oh no
!
My hand!” Lindsey shrieked. “I hurt my
hand!
”

The bridesmaids
tumbled out of the SUV, spilling onto the driveway in a pile of tiaras, feather
boas, and vodka. I raced to my sister, avoiding a slap as she thrust her hands
towards me.

I groaned. She
had a
little
scrape over her fingers. It rubbed raw where the engagement
ring rested, but Lindsey screamed like she amputated it with a bayonet on a
World War I battlefield.

Mom’s front door
opened.

This wasn’t
going to be good.

Our
larger-than-life mother raced outside in a robe and nothing else. I loved my
mom for taking pride in the natural endowment the Lord saw fit to give her, but
those ta-tas thundered every which way but symmetrically as she raced to
Lindsey.

“Oh Jesus have
mercy. Look at your hands!” Mom tied her robe closed, but not everything tucked
inside.

My sister and I
stared in shared horror at our mother’s heaving bosom.

When and
why
did she get a tattoo of a snake wearing a helmet?

And why was it
curled so obscenely around Mom’s nipple?

Lindsey yelped
first. Oh god. The tattoo wasn’t a
snake
.

It wasn’t a
snake at all…

“Mandy, how
could you?” Mom snapped at me.

I couldn’t look
away from the slithery penis tattoo curled to engulf what was once a chocolate
chip before two babies flattened it into a pancake.

“What did I do?”
I covered my eyes.

“Why didn’t you
help your sister into the car?”

“Because she’s
twenty-eight years old?”

“You have a
responsibility to her! She’s tipsy!”

She wasn’t
tipsy, she was one shot away from black-out. I knew better than to correct Mom.
The last thing she needed to hear was stories about her daughter, a Vice
officer, and a very crude rendition of
Let It Go
in reference to her
bladder.

“Mom, what about
my
pictures
?” Lindsey hiccupped. “I’m supposed to take pictures with my
ring on Monday!”

It was one in
the morning, and the baby drained every last bit of energy from me. I was sick,
hungry, tired, and my head hurt. God forbid we saved two hundred dollars by not
commissioning pictures specifically for her engagement ring.

“Now you don’t
have to shove your hand in strangers’ faces.” I grabbed a bottle of water from
the hatch and poured it over my sister’s hands. She was barely scratched and
would live…unless a weekend with her finally broke me. I herded the drunken bridesmaids
into the SUV. “Get in the car, Linds. We have an hour and a half trip.”

“How
dare
you?” Lindsey appealed to Mom. “Did you hear her?”

“Mandy, show
some
compassion
,” Mom scolded. “And after Lindsey stood up for you this
week!”