Page 54 of The Worst Best Man
However, Frankie was just stubborn enough to deny them both what they most wanted on principle. He couldn’t have that. He was a Kilbourn, and Kilbourns did whatever it took to get what they wanted by any means necessary as embarrassingly evidenced by his half-brother’s dim-witted move.
Reluctantly, Aiden released her when Pruitt threw her arms around Frankie.
The women hugged rocking side to side, and the tears returned.
Aiden slapped Chip on the shoulder. “You did it.”
“Thanks to you and Frankie,” Chip said, prodding his eyepatch. “So, you going to kill Elliot?”
“I’ve got some plans for him,” Aiden said darkly. He was used to his family’s manipulations to some extent. But Elliot had crossed a line, and there was no going back.
“What did he want out of you?” Chip asked.
“A vote.”
“Family, right?” Chip shrugged good-naturedly.
“I’m sorry he dragged you into this. Rest assured he’ll pay.”
“I had no doubt, Kilbourn. Now, let’s party.”
Chip swept Pruitt out of Frankie’s arms and spun her in a circle. “Mrs. Randolph!”
“Mr. Randolph,” she cooed back at him. “Now, tell me everything that happened.”
Davenport appeared with Margeaux attached to him. She slinked over to Aiden and smiled slyly. “How do you feel about bagging a bridesmaid before cocktail hour?”
He frowned and leaned in a little closer. “What happened to your eyebrow?”
Margeaux growled. “That low-class, fat bitch Franklin bonded with the help, and they waxed it off.”
“Oh, hey, Marge,” Frankie strolled by, plate of hors de oeuvres in hand. “You’ve got a little something right here.” She pointed to where the fake eyebrow that wasn’t fooling anyone had been sketched onto her forehead.
“Why don’t you fuck off and go scrub someone’s toilet?” Margeaux snapped.
“Actually, I’m in catering, so you should ask me to get a plate of food. But I can see how you’d get those confused, being a spoiled, selfish dumbass and all.”
“Ladies,” Davenport said jovially. He threw an arm around both bridesmaids. “Can’t we all just get along?”
“Sure, as soon as someone sends her back over the wall to Mexico where she belongs,” Margeaux sneered.
“I’m Lebanese and Italian, you fuckwit.”
“Whatever. Your people fold my laundry and cook for me.”
“Margeaux, why don’t you do us all a favor and go off and fuck some poor schmuck who doesn’t yet know what a soulless harpy you are?” Aiden said succinctly.
Frankie and Margeaux stared at him, open mouthed.
“Don’t insult Franchesca again, or you won’t be happy with the consequences.”
“Come on, doll. Let’s get you a drink and some appetizers that you can throw up later,” Davenport said, steering Margeaux away from Frankie.
“I don’t need you defending me,” Frankie reminded him.
“And I don’t need you being treated like shit.”
“I can handle myself.”
