Page 177 of Mexico Can Choke On It
Oh, he definitely knows I bought it for his sister.
I jam the ring back into my pocket where ruby meets velvet, Amanda’s engagement box—the one that’s ticking like a time bomb.
“Apologies, Gavin.”
He snatches the band without comment. The line of his back is stiff and unforgiving.
We haven’t spoken since yesterday’s cigar lounge blow-up. When he looked me dead in the eye and said I was just like my father. A decade of brotherhood—gone in seconds.
My tie is too tight. My collar is choking me. The sweat crawling down my spine feels like acid.
Without thinking, my eyes drift to where I know Petra’s hiding.
To the side of the tent.
To the curtain.
To her combat boots.
Apparently, I’m the only one who’s noticed. Maybe it’s because I’m drawn to her in ways I’ll never be able to understand. Ways that defy logic, social conventions, and basic self-preservation.
“See you never, Moneybags.”
What she said in that closet echoes in my skull like a firing squad.Those were her last words.I will spend the rest of my miserable life replaying that harsh goodbye.
As the officiant drones on about love and commitment, my eyes are glued to those boots. They’re drumming out a steady beat, tapping some invisible cadence. My finger starts patting on my thigh, matching her frantic pulse.Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap!
What is she waiting for?
She said she’d stop this. Would she actually burn the place down? She wouldn’t. Would she?
I could stall. Gavin hates me, so what’s one more offense on the pile? What if I fake a choking fit? Pretend I was stung by a bee? Collapse from heatstroke?Hell, I’m pretty much on the verge of that already. Where are the goddamn police?
“Fiona, repeat after me,” the officiant says. “With this ring…”
I turn back to the boots. They’re gone.
Shit.
“EEEEAAAAAAAAYAAAAHHHHHH!”
A primal screech rips through the tent, followed by a blur of white lace, flying red lipstick, and murder in the shape of a woman.
WHAM!
She tackles Fiona with the force of a meteorite meeting a wedding cake.
CRASH!
Petra doesn’t just collide—shepoundsFiona into the grass, taking out half the altar flowers in the process. White petals fall like snow.
A collective gasp ripples through the crowd.
“You crazy bitch! Get off me!” Fiona screeches, arms flailing. She swings her bouquet like a weapon.
THWACK!SMACK!
Petra blocks with her elbow then straddles her, white dresses billowing around them like they’re wrestling in a cloud. “Stay away from my brother, you psycho!”
