Page 24 of Cookout Carnage
JULES: Oh. Like dirty stuff?
JONATHAN: I’m going strip you down and spread you open, so I can see every part I’ve missed. Then I’m going to catalog every inch of your skin with my tongue until you scream and come hard underneath me.
“Are you listening to me?”
My face is flushed, and my blood is as hot as the air around me. I’ve become July humidity. She’s been talking the entire time I’ve been reading her not fiancé’s delicious texts.
“Not even a little.” My lips curl as I press my thighs together for a smidge of relief.
I stare at her as the cicadas’ song fills our awkward silence. There are dabs of sweat on her upper lip. It’s beading from all the makeup. Her illuminated chest rises and falls in anticipation of the trouble I could cause. Or the cruel words I could use that she won’t understand. But why? I get to have him. I licked him first. He’s mine.
“Better hurry. The toasts are starting.” She jumps a bit and lands open-legged like she’s going to squat or is poised for a ninja to take down. She pivots and scans the area. Then she straightens up and flips me off. As she scurries away, she jangles like a cheap chandelier. But I’m no better than she is if I judge her. She’s a hot mess in a neon dress. However, it if makes her happy, tan it up. Be orange, or purple, for that matter.
Despite the faux rehearsal dinner and her displeasure at seeing me here, which I totally get, she seems happy with who she is. She can spray-paint her body any color, it’s a look, and I have no judgment about that. But perhaps she could treat the people around her like people instead of objects. She’s a horrible person, but not because of the body glitter. She’s shoving people and waiters out of the way to get to Jonathan.
She charges the gazebo, and her dress casts an eerie murky-green bottom-of-the-ocean kind of light over everyone around her. Jonathan’s face is the color of that puke emoji. Every time she moves, the sequins and LEDs give her an Ursula the sea witch vibe.
8
JONATHAN
The sound of clinking glass with silverware is overwhelming, and she worms her way under my arm. I pull it back and take the microphone from the DJ who has somehow set up in the middle of our town. Permits and noise ordinances be damned, apparently.
“Thank you all for coming, especially with the venue change. I didn’t even know about it.” There’s a titter of laughter from the crowd as everyone turns their attention to us.
Tanya pulls the microphone. “Total surprise for you, baby!”
I wrestle it back. Here’s the strangest part, she’s not even acknowledging there’s not going to be a wedding. She’s not even winking at me as if she knows there’s not a wedding. It’s like she’s convinced herself this is happening. She doesn’t look panicked that I’m about to toast her plans and send them up in smoke.
She pinches my butt, and I blurt out, “I didn’t know about this party because last night I called off the wedding.”
There’s a long, painful pause. No sound anywhere. Tanya doesn’t move or say anything. And then she guffaws loudly enough that the microphone picks it up, and it’s broadcast throughout town. A slow rumble spreads through everyone gathered, building into a wall of sound. They’re roaring with laughter, and Tanya bends over, almost exposing herself completely. She tucks the orange orbs back into her dress and laughs. Diabolical. She’s undermined me in the most evil-genius way. But I’m not done.
My dad is motioning to me and telling people around him. I can’t see Jules, but my mother is nodding along with what I’m saying. Hopefully, they’re spreading the word.
I gesture wildly around and turn to face her family. “Seriously. This is all a sham. Not a real rehearsal dinner. Just a party. Get it?” They laugh harder. Fuck my life. It will all be fine when I don’t show up tomorrow, but I wish someone would believe me. Some of the biggest gossips in Fairview were at CK’s when I kissed Jules. Where the hell are they when I need them? Fucking Scooter, my ‘best’ man, is laughing the hardest, and he’s been screwing her.
“Seriously, people. Enjoy your evening. Eat and drink on Tanya’s family but do not show up to the church tomorrow. I won’t be there. This isn’t cold feet.”
Tanya is wiping tears from her eyes from laughing. The crowd is hysterical with laughter. “You’ve known me my whole life. I don’t lie. And I do not love this Lite-Brite woman.” I don’t want to be cruel, but no one is taking me seriously.
I stamp my foot, and it does not come off as anger. I become unhinged. “I AM NOT GETTING MARRIED! NOT TO TANYA!”
They laugh louder.
“This is not a roast! Please.” I pause for the hysterics to die down a little. I’m going to reason with them. “Ok, people, to sum up there’s NO wedding. None. Not happening. No wedding. I’m not marrying this woman. Despite how funny you think I’m being. Not a roast. Quite the opposite. I’m not at all in love. Not at all in love, not me. Shit. That’s an old song. Ok.” Again, I hold for laughter. What the fuck? How drunk are these people on Tabi’s wine? Fucking wine.
“In summation. Let’s all raise a glass to my Independence Day. My non-wedding day that is tomorrow. When a wedding is not happening.” I bang on my chest. “NOT A GROOM. She’s not a bride.” That causes a spike in their laughing.
“When you people wake up tomorrow, do not get dressed in fancy clothes to come to our wedding. It is not happening, and I hope you all had a great 4thof July. To be clear, I’m NOT the groom—I’m out.” I drop the mic and walk away. Peals of laughter follow me as I make my way through the backslapping and slight hugs from the town. The fireworks begin, and Tanya runs up to me.
I keep yelling into the crowd, complimenting me on my act. “Not getting married. I’m not getting married. I swear.” But no one’s listening as the fireworks crank up.
There’s a tug at my arm, and her expression is one of delight. She should act. She should be an actress. She’s convinced an entire town of her lie. “So funny, Jonny!” Her arms slide around me again. I carefully remove her from my body.
My voice is powerful and commanding, and there’s rage in my eyes. Usually reserved for football or a war zone. It takes her by surprise. Sheeeksa bit. “Cut the shit. And please don’t touch me again. This stops now. I’m leaving. And you are staying right here and making sure no one comes to the wedding that isn’t a wedding. It’s a non-wedding. A shammarriage. A no-fucking-way spectacle. No wedding. None. Not even a little bit. There isn’t one. Christ. Stop this.”
The fireworks are popping off, and getting louder. I need to get to Jules. I need to have the night I’ve been dreaming about for five years. She’s probably wholly bitten up by now. She’s always been mosquito bait. I’ll have to kiss all those bites better. Fuck. I need her. Actually, I need to fuck her. I need to ditch this insane woman and be buried deep into Juliet as soon as possible. We have so many issues and plans to talk about, but I just need to feel her from the inside tonight. I desperately need her. I need the connection.
