Holy Frigging Matrimony - A Tangled Series Short Story (The Tangled Series) Read Free Page A

out, sobbing about how she missed her only child’s wedding.
    I felt bad, so I can only imagine how shitty Matthew felt. Making your mother cry? That guilt is like the sixth circle of hell.
    Frank, being a man of few words, just looked at his son and said, “Fix this.”
    But his eyes said so much more. They said, ‘ You may be thirty years old, but I will still kick your ass up and down Park Avenue if you don’t make this right real motherfucking quick.’
    And so here we are.
    At Matthew and Delores’s grand New York City wedding reception, courtesy of Frank and Estelle. No expense was spared— very New York high society. It’s supposed to be elegant. Classy. And it is.
    Except for Delores’s dress, of course. Have you ever seen Madonna’s Like a Virgin video?
    Perfect—then you know just what Delores looks like.

    Cocktail hour—hands down, it’s the best part of a wedding. Exceeded only by that garter thing. I’ve always been an excellent garter catcher, and there’s no better way to get to know a chick than sticking your hands up her dress as high as you can go.
    But that was then. My now is much better.
    Because I’ve got the hottest girl in the room sitting next to me—and I can stick my hands up her dress anytime I want.
    Now that Kate is wearing her dress, I understand why she said garters wouldn’t work. It’s silver and short. I’m talking micro-mini. And strapless. Every time I look at her, I can’t help but think about how easy it will be to get it off. And her shoes? You remember my thing for shoes, right? They’re very high, very strappy, open toed and…
    Amelia Warren, Delores’ mother, stands up from the table. She’s thin, with shoulder length, feathered 80’s style, strawberry blond hair. And like her daughter after her—she’s nuts. When I say nuts I mean that in the most literal way possible.
    For Kate’s birthday, Amelia sent her a huge, heavy, natural crystal necklace harvested from the caves of Perigord, because she believes they’ll protect Kate’s lungs from the city air pollution.
    It’s a shame, how stringent the involuntary commitment protocols in this country have become.
    Oh—and Amelia doesn’t like me at all. Don’t know why. I only met her once before this blessed event, and we didn’t speak more than five words to each other. I wonder if the withering glares she throws my way have anything to do with her nephew.
    “Oh look—Billy’s here! He made it!”
    Speak of the Devil and he doth appear. I glance over to the doorway where, sure enough, the ball-licker just waltzed in.
    Yep, still hate him. He’s like genital herpes—he just won’t go the fuck away.
    He’s been living in LA for the last eight months and much to my displeasure, he and Kate still talk. She says they’re just—say it with me— ’friends’ —but I don’t buy it. I mean, sure, for Kate, they’re just friends. That I believe. But for a guy? No way.
    The “friend” card is one of the oldest hook-up tricks in the book. Right up there with ‘I think I might be gay.’ He’s just biding his time—waiting for me to screw up so he can be the shoulder Kate cries on. Then when she’s all vulnerable and weak, he’ll stick his tongue down her throat.
    Not gonna happen. Not on my fucking watch.
    He makes his way over to our table and Kate goes up to him. They hug, and I grind my teeth together.
    “Hi, Katie.”
    “Hey, Billy.”
    Pardon me while I swallow the vomit that just surged into my mouth.
    “Dee Dee’s going to be so excited to see you. I thought you had a show?”
    His smile is smug. Slick. Like a used car salesman. “I had my agent move some things around.” Then he looks Kate over, from head to toe.
    And I want to simultaneously cover her with a tablecloth and scoop his eyeballs out with a coffee spoon.
    “You look amazing.”
    She tilts her head to the side with a smile, “Aww. You’re so sweet. You look great, too.”
    She’s actually stomaching this bullshit?