Page 8 of Home Body
“Whew. What a cluster-you-know-what.”
“Ain’t that the truth. All those people who are coming. My brother is a groomsman. My parents have spent a fortune. My mom is so excited you’d think she was getting married. She’s bringing my dress. We kept it at their house so Chad wouldn’t see it.”
“We could just not show up. Drive right by that church, wave, and keep a-goin’ on down the road.”
Kenyon laughed. “If only. Carry on and I’ll marry on.”
They arrived at the lovely white church with its tall steeple to find that Chad, as Kenyon predicted, waited outside for her. He already wore his tux, even though the wedding wouldn’t start for two hours. He paced in front of the church smoking but tossed the cigarette to run to Kenyan when he realized it was her getting out of the truck.
He grabbed her by her arms and held tight. “Oh, babe, I love you so much. I’m so, so sorry.” He clapped a palm over his supposedly tortured heart.
The women couldn’t resist a knowing glance at one another. He’d started his apology exactly as Kenyon had said he would. He ignored the fact that his fiancée wore jeans and a tee shirtto prepare for her own wedding, and he ignored the stranger in jeans who seemed to be enjoying his groveling.
Dalia busied herself with getting her makeup bag out from behind her seat in the truck, the one she used for her job as a stripper, kept in her vehicle so her daughter wouldn’t see it. But she didn’t take her eyes off the philanderer. This was far too entertaining to miss.
Kenyan let him blather on – he’d lost his way but had found himself, the thought of losing her had brought him to his senses, no one ever needed to know, everyone would be so disappointed if they didn’t marry, her parents would be devastated, look at all the money they’d spent, and his business would suffer irreparably.
“Chad.” She interrupted the barrage. When he didn’t stop talking, she hollered. “Chad! Stop. I’m going inside to get ready. Come on Dalia.”
“Oh, babe, that makes me so happy. You’ll never regret forgiving me. I promise. I love you so much. So very, very….”
He was still yapping when the women went in the side door of the church and let it slam closed behind them.
Tamara and Jessa were already in the dressing room, Jessa wearing her lavender bridesmaid dress and Tamara in the dress she’d worn the night before. Her matron-of-honor dress hung on the clothes rack.
Jessa dashed to Kenyon and grabbed her hands. “You’re here! We were so afraid you’d call it off. Oh, Kenyon, it’s all going to be okay. Tamara and Chad have promised never to see each another again.” She backed away and gestured hopefully toward the demon in the room.
Tamara ashamedly stood there, appropriately embarrassed. “Kenyon, I’m so sorry.” No doubt she meant for her doleful frown to evoke pity. “I’ll understand if you don’t want me in the wedding. But we’ve been friends for so long, I hope that meansmore to you than the teensy-weensy little mistake Chad and I made. You mean more to me than that.”
Kenyon caught Dalia’s curt cough, the kind that tried to stifle a laugh. Either that or she’d choked on the bullshit.
“Who’s she?” Tamara noticed the intruder and rudely jabbed a thumb at Dalia.
Kenyon ignored the question. “Tamara, you can be in the wedding for the sake of appearances only. We are not friends and will never be friends again.”
“I see. Well. Fine.”
Kenyon intended a snarky retort but was interrupted by her mom, who burst into the room carting a garment bag the size of a Volkswagen. Kenyon’s eighteen-year-old brother scrambled to keep up while he held the end of the long, bulky thing.
“There she is!” Llayne O’Brien declared with glee. “On the biggest day of her life, when she’ll be wearing the most beautiful bridal gown ever!” The mom held up the bag and beamed at her daughter. Turning to the matron-of-honor and bridesmaid, she joyfully greeted them, too. “Hi, girls! You’ll both look stunning as well, of course. The dresses you chose are gorgeous.” Tamara and Jessa mumbled thank you while the bride’s unsuspecting mother hung the garment bag on the rack. “Isn’t this a great day?” Her smile lit up the room as she turned to her daughter for a reaction.
Kenyon threw a glance at Dalia for help. Dalia lifted her eyebrows, signaling “speak!”
“Yes, Mom. Today’s the day.” Kenyon managed to sound enthused.
She introduced Dalia to her mom, who insisted on being called by her first name, Llayne, and to her brother, Zach. But the bride-to-be lost her train of thought when trying to explain how she knew Dalia.
The stripper saved her by saying, “I’m doing your daughter’s makeup and hair.”
“Oh, how marvelous,” Llayne replied. “She does a great job herself, but if ever a woman deserved to be pampered, it’s on her wedding day.”
Zach left and Kenyon went to work getting ready. As she sat with Dalia fussing with her face and hair, she caught her mom scrutinizing her and realizing she didn’t look like someone who’d fawned over getting ready for her special day. She hadn’t even showered that morning. Thankfully, her mom eventually left to go check on the groomsmen and ushers.
And thank goodness, she thought, Mamie had reminded her there would be better days ahead. Because this day was going to be a sheer shitshow.
Her decision now etched in the granite of a tombstone, there would be no going back. All gussied up and ready to go, she picked up her beautiful bouquet of ivory roses and took a long whiff of their sensuous scent. Too bad they didn’t have long to live. She stepped into the hallway and smirked a private smirk as she told herself, “Let the wedding-funeral begin.”
CHAPTER 6
