the bridesmaids or something. No one's picking up their cell phones over there, but knowing her she's probably just running around driving everybody completely nuts."
"I knew I should've sent my mom over there. I swear to fucking God if she–"
"Calm down, best man. There's no way that girl is going to mess up her wedding day to Saint."
"You mean mess up her meal ticket."
"No shit talking today, Mike. You have to reel it in. This is your brother's future wife we're talking about. Just like you want respect for yours, you need to respect his choice."
"The hell you mean? There's no question about anyone respecting my wife. She's not some sleazy lounge singer looking for a benefactor, so that she won't have to get a real job."
"You know what I mean, Mike."
"All right. I guess the easiest solution is to get everybody drunk. Then no one will know just how fucking late the blushing bride really is. Including my brother."
"Good idea. I'll get the waiters to grab us some champagne."
Ten minutes later.
"Open the Dom! Does everybody have a glass? All right, all right. Listen up everyone. I just want to say a few words in a toast before our boy here walks down the aisle. Saint, you know you're one cocky son of a bitch. You always were. Even as a snot-nosed kid, you thought the sun rose and set specifically for your ass. Never thought I'd see the day that you'd get hitched. Especially this early in your career. But I guess there's no rhyme or reason to when we find our happily ever after. Sometimes we find her when we least expect it. So let's all raise our glasses to my little brother and his forever after – Adrianna."
"To Saint and Adrianna!!"
Fifteen more minutes later.
"Excuse me, Mr. Stevenson?"
"Yeah, that's me. How can I help you?"
"I think I need to speak to your brother."
"He's a little busy getting married right now. What do you want Saint for?"
"Well, umm ... I guess it's okay if I tell you. I need to show you something."
"Who are you again?"
"A guest on the bride's side. Can I just show you something? It's important."
"You better not be showing me any videos of your kid playing ball or something. This is my brother's wedding not a recruitment–"
"It's nothing like that. Just take a look at the headline on this website."
Jilted! Saint Stevenson's Fiancée Seen With Reality
Star & Singer Benjamin Luck On Wedding Day!
"You actually believe this? This is just some bullshit gossip blog looking to get more web traffic with lies. Adrianna is at the hotel getting ready as we speak. There's no way she's in, where does it say?"
"Miami, but look, there's a photo. Scroll down."
"Fuck me. It is her."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it is."
"How am I going to tell Saint? This is going to kill him."
A few moments later.
"Can we get the room for a minute, fellas?"
"Why are you clearing the room? What's up?"
"Have a seat. I need to talk to you."
"Right now? I'm about to get married."
"Calm down for just a second and listen. Adrianna is gone."
"What the fuck do you mean she's gone?"
"She left, bro. She's in Miami."
"What. Are. You. Talking. About?! What did you do Mikey?"
"Nothing, Saint. I swear. I'd never ruin your wedding day no matter how I feel about your girl. She must have gotten cold feet. She ran away with some rocker reality show kid. Some douche named Benjamin Luck. I'm assuming you haven't spoken to her today."
"We saw each other last night. She wanted to wait to talk until we saw each other at the alter."
"Well it looks like she jumped on a flight to Florida this morning."
"I'm calling her ass right now!"
"Wait. Don't chase her Saint. You're better than this. And isn't it better that you know what she's really like now rather than later when you're three kids deep? I mean if you really think about it–OUCH! You asshole. You just winged my head with that chair!
"Dammit, Saint, don't go trashing the entire reception hall. Our parents and their closest friends are here. Reverend
"I knew I should've sent my mom over there. I swear to fucking God if she–"
"Calm down, best man. There's no way that girl is going to mess up her wedding day to Saint."
"You mean mess up her meal ticket."
"No shit talking today, Mike. You have to reel it in. This is your brother's future wife we're talking about. Just like you want respect for yours, you need to respect his choice."
"The hell you mean? There's no question about anyone respecting my wife. She's not some sleazy lounge singer looking for a benefactor, so that she won't have to get a real job."
"You know what I mean, Mike."
"All right. I guess the easiest solution is to get everybody drunk. Then no one will know just how fucking late the blushing bride really is. Including my brother."
"Good idea. I'll get the waiters to grab us some champagne."
Ten minutes later.
"Open the Dom! Does everybody have a glass? All right, all right. Listen up everyone. I just want to say a few words in a toast before our boy here walks down the aisle. Saint, you know you're one cocky son of a bitch. You always were. Even as a snot-nosed kid, you thought the sun rose and set specifically for your ass. Never thought I'd see the day that you'd get hitched. Especially this early in your career. But I guess there's no rhyme or reason to when we find our happily ever after. Sometimes we find her when we least expect it. So let's all raise our glasses to my little brother and his forever after – Adrianna."
"To Saint and Adrianna!!"
Fifteen more minutes later.
"Excuse me, Mr. Stevenson?"
"Yeah, that's me. How can I help you?"
"I think I need to speak to your brother."
"He's a little busy getting married right now. What do you want Saint for?"
"Well, umm ... I guess it's okay if I tell you. I need to show you something."
"Who are you again?"
"A guest on the bride's side. Can I just show you something? It's important."
"You better not be showing me any videos of your kid playing ball or something. This is my brother's wedding not a recruitment–"
"It's nothing like that. Just take a look at the headline on this website."
Jilted! Saint Stevenson's Fiancée Seen With Reality
Star & Singer Benjamin Luck On Wedding Day!
"You actually believe this? This is just some bullshit gossip blog looking to get more web traffic with lies. Adrianna is at the hotel getting ready as we speak. There's no way she's in, where does it say?"
"Miami, but look, there's a photo. Scroll down."
"Fuck me. It is her."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it is."
"How am I going to tell Saint? This is going to kill him."
A few moments later.
"Can we get the room for a minute, fellas?"
"Why are you clearing the room? What's up?"
"Have a seat. I need to talk to you."
"Right now? I'm about to get married."
"Calm down for just a second and listen. Adrianna is gone."
"What the fuck do you mean she's gone?"
"She left, bro. She's in Miami."
"What. Are. You. Talking. About?! What did you do Mikey?"
"Nothing, Saint. I swear. I'd never ruin your wedding day no matter how I feel about your girl. She must have gotten cold feet. She ran away with some rocker reality show kid. Some douche named Benjamin Luck. I'm assuming you haven't spoken to her today."
"We saw each other last night. She wanted to wait to talk until we saw each other at the alter."
"Well it looks like she jumped on a flight to Florida this morning."
"I'm calling her ass right now!"
"Wait. Don't chase her Saint. You're better than this. And isn't it better that you know what she's really like now rather than later when you're three kids deep? I mean if you really think about it–OUCH! You asshole. You just winged my head with that chair!
"Dammit, Saint, don't go trashing the entire reception hall. Our parents and their closest friends are here. Reverend
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