Page 1 of So Wrong, It's Wright
Wrong Room, Wright Girl
ASH
There's only been a handful of times I've stood up at the front of a church, a brand-new suit or tuxedo pinching at my waist as I stood tall, squared my shoulders, and sucked my gut the way my father always told me to. The first was as a teen for Dad’s second marriage, then again for his third, and then for my sister’s wedding a decade later. Myyoungersister’s wedding, something my father kindly pointed out before my next bridal party foray at hisfourthwedding. By then, my sister was already on hersecondmarriage, and I was in my early thirties and still single. Things weren’t so great between Dad and me at the time, and they hadn’t been ever since I refused to follow in his footsteps into the family business. So, when I said thatmaybeI stayed single because I didn’t want to fail at marriage as spectacularly as he has throughout his life, he declared that the final straw and wrote me out of his Will.
So, I didn’t stand up at his fifth wedding—nor was I invited to it, thank god—and the next time my ugly mug graces the front of the church as a member of a Wright man’s bridal party is today for my cousin Tanner. He’s the only other Wright male to give the family a middle finger salute and walk away from their media-monopolistic billions to forge his own path.
Besides my sister—who’s now sworn off marriage after her second divorce before thirty—Tanner is the only member of the Wright family I’ve kept in contact with over the years. So, I’m more than pleased to bear witness to his first, and definitelyonly, marriage to the very beautiful Ruby Casey. She’s the love of his life, his co-host on their show,He Said, She Said, and an all-round awesome gal. Tanner is one very lucky man.
As happy as I am for my cousin, I’m also fucking jealous. Despite walking away from his guaranteed position at the top of the ladder in Wright Media in a spectacular burst of smoke and flames when he outed his own father as the deadbeat Dad he is, Tanner landed squarely on his ‘sexiest man alive’ feet. His radio talk show is the most listened to in the entire country and worth millions in advertising revenue. The man just smiles and someone offers him a million-dollar deal, so he knows nothing of the struggle that comes with going against the family from the get-go. So, while I love the man, my naturally blue eyes are green as fuck. He’s rich. He’s good looking, and despite coming from the same gene pool, next to him I look like Humpty Dumptyafterhe fell off the wall.
And that's not to say I'm hideous—or that I look like a smashed-up egg—it's just that I'm not pretty enough to win any sexiest man awards like my cousin. Sure, I could go to the gym a little more and eat a little less, but seriously, who has time for that shiz? And really, it won’t change much, it’ll just make me look like the Hulk to his Bruce Banner. Not that Bruce Banner is particularly good looking, but you get where I’m going—I’m a bruiser, he’s a model. Nothing is going to change that.
Back when I was working my way through college—dear old Dad cut me off when I refused to study business and media and chose engineering instead—I worked as a security guard and then as a nightclub bouncer. I’m six-four and naturally barrel chested, so it was the perfect job for me that also fit around my studies. If it wasn’t for my baby face, I probably would have excelled at that too. Instead, I spent a lot of time proving I could hold my own, and let me tell you, fighting drunk assholes every night was not my idea of fun. I couldn’t snatch my degree out of the chancellor’s hand fast enough.So long, Caltech!
Now, I’m in my forties and I still look like a chunky kid. My sister says that shewishesshe had my skin, but when I keep getting mistaken for a college grad when I'm going for a job interview, the baby face is a bit of a hindrance. I sport a beard just so I don’t look pre pubescent.
But I digress. I’m supposed to be focusing on my cousin’s wedding, not holding a pity party for one. It’s just so damn hard not to sulk when you canhardly fucking breathe in this cummerbund.Why are they so tight? Why don’t they make dress pants with elastic in the waist? Why do we evenhaveto wear dress pants? When I get married—ifI ever get married, we’re doing it in our pajamas.
Looking around the packed-to-the-rafters church, I take a deep breath, forcing the air to my chest instead of letting it flow into my stomach, willing the bridal music to start so this show can get on the road, and I can quit being on display and feeling so out of place. Not only is the groom the Internet voted sexiest man alive, but his best man is Ruby’s twin brother who’s almost as pretty as his sister, then the third groomsman is a barista named Andy, who isn’t helping me feel less obvious because I swear it’s like he shrinks into himself and is using my size to hide behind. He’s an interesting fella who only seems to have one topic in his repertoire—his girlfriend Karen, who’s a bridesmaid on the other side.
I know that normally we’d have all met each other prior to now. But work commitments got in the way and my flight from Atlanta was held up so I only landed in Newark late last night. I’ve seen my hotel room for a couple of hours' worth of sleep, and then I came straight to the church after breakfast. And now, well, here we are. It’s almost go time.
“I’m so fucking nervous and this isn’t even my wedding,” Theo whispers as he squares his shoulders, his jaw clenching as his eyes move to the double doors of the church when they open, preparing for the bride’s precession to begin.
“You’re next though, right?” I whisper, knowing he proposed to his long-term boyfriend, Darren, the night before.
“Yeah.” He glances at me and smiles. “I’m either crazy or in love. Not sure which yet.”
“I’d hope it’s the latter,” I say, as Andy pops out from his hiding spot behind my left shoulder.
“Between this wedding and the rock you gave Darren, Karen is going to get all kinds of ideas. She’ll be on my case to propose before the day is out, I know it,” he says, visibly sweating.
“I don’t understand why you haven’t already proposed,” Tanner whispers back to him. “You already live together, and from what I’ve seen, she owns you, man. Make it official.”
“She’s also very scary, Tanner. You should know that since she’s your PA,” Andy retorts.
Tanner’s lips quirk before his attention snaps to the open doors, a hush falling over the entire room as the opening strains of the bridal march start playing. There isn’t a forward-facing set of eyes on the church as Tanner’s sister—my cousin—Camille, is wheeled down the aisle in her ribbon-clad wheelchair, a basket of rose petals tied to the armrest so her working arm can throw petals while Karen pushes her in time with the music. The joy in her eyes brings a tear to mine. She’s the same age as me at forty-two, but she’s been mentally disabled for most of her life and was previously hidden from the spotlight for reasons Tanner is better at explaining. But it’s wonderful seeing her look so happy and free.
“Ash!” she calls out, a huge grin spreading across her face as she waves at me. The entire congregation ripples with laugher. One thing you can say for Camille is that she spreads joy wherever she goes. It’s her superpower.
I wave back, of course, and when she makes it to the end of the aisle, I’ve been tasked with maneuvering her wheelchair into the tight space, so I take a quick moment to lean in and speak to her. “Check you out,” I say. “The prettiest redhead in the room.”
“I am!” Camille’s eyes light up. “But only until Tahlia gets here. She’s like the Barbie with red hair that Ruby got me for my birthday,” she says, giggling before throwing her final handful of petals over my head. I blink, pulling back in surprise. “That’s wedding magic, Ash. It’s so you can find a wife too.”
“Oh, thank you,” I say with a chuckle. “I need all the help I can get.”
“I know,” she says, still smiling. “It’s because you’re so old.”
I laugh a little louder than I intend at her honesty, but I can’t fault her logic. I imagine I’m less and less of a catch the longer I remain single. “Save me a dance at the reception?” I say, smiling at her emphatic nod before I return to my position and await the rest of the wedding party.
While I was helping out Camille, Darren has started walking down the aisle with Tanner and Ruby’s three-month-old baby boy, Bradley, in his arms. The baby has a tiny tuxedo on, and a little pillow attached to his wrist that has the rings securely tied to it. Darren is also wearing a tuxedo, but he’s jazzed it up with a bright pink half-skirt that touches the floor behind him, a matching pair of pink stilettos and pink glitter eye shadow that really contrasts with his ebony skin and the gold highlights he’s brushed over his cheeks, nose and chin. I glance at Theo, who’s just watching his fiancé strut down the aisle with a look of awe on his face.
“See?” I say, tapping him lightly with my elbow. “You aren't crazy at all.”
Theo beams and nods, his eyes never leaving his love. Darren blows him a kiss and takes his position next to Karen and Camille, prompting us all to return our gaze to the entry doors. And that’s when my jaw drops and my entire mind goes numb as a tiny redhead enters. This is obviously the Tahlia Camille was talking about, because she really does look like a beautiful doll. Her red hair is curled and pinned on top of her head with tendrils coiling down to touch her pale-skinned shoulders that look so soft and milky that my fingers itch to touch them. She’s so tiny I could wrap one hand around her waist and my fingers would meet in the middle, but she’s also completely precious and everything inside me feels like treasuring everything about her. My reaction is so visceral that I feel like dropping to my knees in front of her Wayne’s World style and screaming, ‘I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!’ Failing that, a good rendition ofFoxy Ladycould also fit this moment. I’m completely blown away.
Tahlia steps precisely to the music, smiling at those as she passes like she’s a member of the royal family and was born to be watched. She’s wearing the same type of stilettos and half-skirt that Darren has on, but she’s teamed it with a glittery, slate gray dress that hugs her tiny frame and reflects the lights, making her look majestic as she moves.
