Page 16 of Notorious

What’s he doing in my brain? No, drunk brain. No!

I don’t know why I’m so insistent on us getting married. Except that I want to lasso Johnny. Strap him to me and keep him. I like being in his presence. I like the way he lights me up. I want to be with him.

It’s not just like or want—it’s an overwhelming need. I need this man. I must have him.

I walk triumphantly into the wedding chapel holding his hand. Velvet the Cowboy is mine, motherfuckers. Although, if I’m marrying him, I should only think of him as Johnny.

Johnny Haskell is mine, motherfuckers. That sounds better.

Inside, the chapel is … okay. Chipped paint and white decor. Lots of silk flowers. It’s fake nice. Not real nice.

But a wedding is an excellent idea. In fact, it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.

People ask us questions. We answer them. We sign documents. We buy rings. I think I maybe pull out my credit card. Someone holds up a camera, and we smile.

And then we say, “I do.”

We kiss, and it’s as electric as the one earlier. Maybe more so, because I knew it was coming.

More photos.

And when we pile into a Lyft to go back to Johnny’s hotel room, I almost immediately fall asleep in the car.

He’s shaking me awake, and I’m stumbling out into the night.

An elevator door.

The lurch of the elevator moving.

The hallway holding me up.

Johnny’s hand on mine.

He fumbles for a key and lets me into a room.

I take off my clothes.

And bed.

Bed looks very good.

I don’t remember anything else.

CHAPTER 6

Johnny

It’s the morning after I apparently got hitched, and I’m studying the man on my floor. The one I woke up lying next to.

“Um,” he says. He’s super cute and kind of familiar—familiar beyond whatever happened last night, that is. He also looks hungover, with a gray tinge to his skin, his hair rumpled, and his eyes red from booze. My fingers ache with the desire to touch him. Soothe him. Make him feel good. “I’m Kurt Delmont.”

“That’s right. Now I remember.” I get this strange, swirly, sinking feeling in my stomach when I hold up my left hand again. “Do you think this is for real?” I try to not sound too disgusted. I don’t want to offend the man. I don’t even know him.

I do want him, though. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.

I want him like a cold drink of water on a hot dusty day.

Flashes of the night before are coming back to me. How I started drinking at a bar and ended up partying with Kurt all night.

---