Standing By: A Knight's Tale #2 (12 page)

“You’re a shark,”
Mitch pours me another shot of whiskey. We sit at the bar of the hotel waiting for… my sister’s wedding to happen in a few hours. The place is almost full and we sit by the corner of the bar where the waiter brought several different bottles of liquors for me to try. We’re going through the different brands and liquors to find what I like, other than tequila. “If I didn’t catch on that you were counting cards, they’d have kicked us out of the casino and perhaps the hotel.”

“I tried hard not to count,” my weak defense grants me a groan. “You’re not drinking enough.”

“I am, you’re taking your sweet time to drink your shots.” He then pours himself vodka and tips the liquid from his glass with a fast and smooth movement—slick. “I think the circus was a better idea than finding your preferred, non-fruity drink.”

“There are ants marching around my limbs and tongue,” I stick out my tongue and show it to him. “And it’s not because you kissed me this time.”

“Have you ever been drunk, pretty Pupcake?”

“You called me Pupcake,” I point at him and laugh. “No, never. I have an extremely complicated life and couldn’t fit partying in my schedule. And you?”

“I party, drunk? Yes, I have. I’ve been hammered before to the point of no return.”

“So you are a light weight?” I remember that word because Parker swears I’d be one of those, which I don’t think I am because this is my … I try to count the used shot glasses but I can’t seem to differentiate the clean ones from the dirty and the ones I used compared to the ones Mitch used. “Betcha, if I continue, you’ll be the first to fall asleep.”

“Baby, I’m taller and much bigger than you, there’s no doubt I’ll beat you.” He takes two shots of tequila and then sucks on the lime. “Just because I had drunk myself to oblivion in the past, doesn’t mean it’ll happen today. I’m here to take care of you.”

“No, you’re here so I’ll protect you from the skunks that want to marry you while drank. No, drunk.” I remind him as I think how to say it right. “No to skanks-drunk, yes to drunk skanks. That would be a cool band name, don’t you think?
The Drunk Skanks.
You know, you’re not as bad as I thought, Knight, you kinda saved me from my mother’s whip earlier.”

“I had to, she’s a bitch.” He says pouring me a shot of something. “I thought you didn’t like the scotch. Such a shame, it’s the preferred Knight drink. Knights, I can’t believe my brothers flaked on me during our last single weekend.”

“Only one of you is getting married,” I remind him, though I’m having trouble making sense of my words and my tongue is heavy. “Not you. You said something earlier about not being for you… or was it love and dealing with a woman’s drama or the drama of a woman or who is carrying the drama?”

“Love. I told you that I tangled myself with the worse kind of women. I’m an idiot when it comes to people I care about; I give them everything I have.”

I place a hand on his cheek and stroke.

“I’m sorry they broke you. You’d be a great marriage person,” I wish someone would love me. At least I wish that my family would stop sending me mixed messages about their love for me; starting with Mom. “This is depressing. You promised fun. Let’s do something else before I end up crying or searching for a knife. What’s next on the list?”

“Here, it says they have a first-class celebration at the Wynn. Isn’t that where we’re having brunch tomorrow?” I can’t remember what we’re doing tomorrow. Then he continues but I’m having trouble understanding him. “Their fees start at about two thousand but include services, like three hours with a photographer. Wait, I like this: Consider the ‘Elegant Affair Package.’ The $23,000 cost includes tickets for Le Rêve—the best show in Las Vegas. A champagne toast, massages and a DVD”

“I can use a massage and a movie,” I crank my neck. “But what kind of DVD? That’s a lot of money for those; money I can use to paint the walls of my store and change the shelves. Perhaps hire—”

“No shop talk, Muffin. We’re going to the concierge so he can order us a cab to go.”

“Where are we going?”

“The place where they’re giving us the elegant affair, I’m going to treat you like a queen tonight.”

He takes my hand, reminds the waiter of his room number and signs the slip. We then head to the concierge where Mitch shows him my list and explains to him we want the Elegant Affair, unless they have something better. Price isn’t a problem for him.

“The place you want to go has to be reserved in advance, sir, but don’t worry. I know of one that will give you the ceremony, and I’ll make sure our hotel covers the rest. You’ll get the tickets for Le Rêve tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget to include the massage,” I want to make sure I get what I want. I don’t care about the other stuff, like the ceremony or the champagne. That’s all Mitch. “The DVD, I want to watch, hopefully it’s a fun one. Do we really want the DVD, Mitch?”

“Yes, we want all that and whatever else you can add. We need to treat her like a goddess.”

A goddess? Do I really need the movie? What if it’s a porn movie…

“We’ll make sure everything is perfect, sir.” The concierge makes a few notes on a paper and turns to me. “I’ll make sure you receive the massage tomorrow morning and that your DVD is ready by then too, ma’am.” He signals something to a man, one wearing a burgundy jacket. Then he asks us, “Will you be needing rings?”

“No.” Mitch uses his free hand and fetches a small jewelry box from inside his jacket. “I have one right here. Make sure they have the best champagne, cold, maybe two bottles.”

Why do we need rings for a massage and a movie? I’d rather have popcorn. This package makes no sense but before I can ask, we’re shoved inside a limousine. The concierge tells us that they’ll move my things to the new suite and hands us a new set of card keys. I’m thinking he’s kicking us out of my room because I almost won a game at the casino while counting cards. If it hadn’t been for Mitch stopping me… I don’t want to go to jail. This is bizarre, and I’m having trouble walking to the car.

*

The hammers inside
my head keep pounding one next to the other, my eyelids are sealed or forced shut by some supernatural force and on top of it my pillow is moving.

“Why are we sleeping on the floor of the bathroom?” Mitch’s voice sounds loud and causes the hammers to beat faster and harder.

“Hayley your dress stinks of alcohol and—why are you wearing my grandmother’s ring?”

“Shh,” I tell him. “I think I drank too much. We need to get ready for my sister’s wedding; if I miss it everyone will give me grief.” My nose detects a sour smell that’s combined with vile. Puke. “Ugh, that’s vomit smell. I hate vomit.”

I fight the supernatural force and finally open my eyes. I’m next to the porcelain bowl, and it’s all stained with vomit. My pretty black dress is too and as I gradually elevate my eyes, I meet Mitch’s.

“Why are we in the bathroom?”

“That’s what I asked, Muffet.”

I shake my head because I have no idea why we are in a big bathroom with a jacuzzi size bathtub, a big vanity mirror and when I finally lift my hand, I see it. I take my time admiring the antique ring in my hand. It has an old European cut diamond set in white gold or platinum with caliber cut emeralds around it and diamonds encrusted in the setting. On top of it, is a band… a wedding band?

“Why am I wearing these rings?”

“Are you going to repeat what I already asked?”

I can’t, because my queasy stomach starts heaving, and I’m barely able to stand before I start puking. The heaving and smell makes me continue over and over again. I’m trying to remember last night, but I can’t recall attending my sister’s wedding. My last memory is asking the concierge for an elegant package that had champagne. As I stop dry heaving, I notice the noise of water running. To my left there’s a shower room where Mitch is standing, he still wears the same dark slacks, button down shirt but without the jacket.

“Take a shower, Muffet, you’ll feel better. I’m going to order some mineral water and aspirin.” He rakes his hair with both hands. “Shit, I can’t remember much of what we did yesterday.” Then shows me his left hand. “But I’m not liking this.”

Mitch

T
he presidential suite
wasted on a couple of shitless drunks. I fix myself a cup of coffee from a cart that waited in the living room for us. There are two empty bottles of champagne and roses next to the coffee service. This hasn’t happened to me in a long time, blacking out due to consuming high amounts of alcohol. The last time was about three, maybe four years ago. Neither of us are missing a piece of clothing, hell I doubt we had sex but then what the hell is up with the rings. As I sip some coffee, I look around the room and spot some wrinkled papers on the coffee table, a DVD case and a manila envelope.

Our Wedding
reads the DVD.

Then I read the things to do and scan for that DVD package I saw with the massage. …
While a Vegas wedding is often cited as a way to save money, opting for a first-class celebration…

“Fuck,” I shout as I crumple the papers. “Smart move, asshole.”

I open the manila envelope, and I look at pictures of Hayley and I sliding out of a limousine heading to Graceland Chapel. Being received by an Elvis impersonator and as I keep shuffling the pictures, each one shows us heading down the aisle, talking to a stocky short man… hell I’m sliding my grandma’s ring on her finger and then she does the same with the one I have.

“I think we got married.” Hayley comes out of the bathroom wearing a fluffy white robe and for the first time her hair is down, damp brown curls cascading brushing her chest. The horrified look on her face makes me want to fix whatever is bothering her. She shows me her left hand, where my grandmother’s ring stares at me. “Are you paying attention? This isn’t good. You have a bet and I… I can’t be married. Not to you. Not in Vegas.”

I show her the DVD, and she blinks several times.

“I can’t see all the way down there, Mitchel, I had to throw my contacts away,” I approach and hand her the DVD. “This isn’t good, no, we shouldn’t. We can’t. Can we fix this, Mitch? Why did I drink all that alcohol? You know why? Because you made me fall for those stupid dares of yours. I dare you to … what was it; I can’t remember?”

Me neither.

“I’m taking a shower,” I point at the coffee and the room. “I think your stuff is there, I called the concierge and asked him to bring us sparkling water and aspirin. Take two right away. We’ll straighten this mess up, Muffet, just don’t fucking break down on me. Get it?” I manage to say while trying hard to control my rage. This isn’t me. Fucking a stranger isn’t as bad as marrying one, and add to that a girl who has enough family baggage to fill an entire airport carousel was out of the question. I can feel the drama pouring through my veins. An annulment, followed by a vacation.
Fuck.

The steamed shower takes away the foul smell of alcohol and after I shut off the water I brush my teeth and head to the room where a perfectly made double king size bed has a bunch of red roses on top. Hayley is staring out the window, the curtains are open and the floor to ceiling windows give us a fantastic view of sin city. One hotel after another with flashing signs that at night illuminate the entire city, keeping everyone awake.

Hayley wears another dress today; her short toned legs are adorned by ribbons that lave around them. Her hair is up in a ponytail. She should let her hair hang loose, considering she looks damn hot. No, Hayley isn’t hot. I remind myself.

“Don’t turn around, I’m getting dressed,” I notify her, then pull out a pair of pants and a navy blue t-shirt. I dress and take a few strides to reach her. That’s when I notice she’s sniffling.

“What’s wrong?”

“They know.” She hands me the phone.

Dad:
Hayley, tell me Caroline is lying. You wouldn’t marry in Vegas, not you and with that man.

Parker:
Call me; Dad says you married Mitch last night. That you two called Caroline to inform her that you are married to a better man than Kevin.

Paige:
I can’t believe you ruined my wedding.

“Mom left a message, saying that I won’t last more than a month; that a man like you will find a replacement faster than Kevin did.” Holy fuck, I’m not one to support violence against women, but Caroline Roth renders me forgetful when it comes to my principles.

“What happened to your arm, it’s bleeding?” I notice a cut on the inside of her left forearm.

“Nothing happened,” the strained words make me want to hug her and promise her that everything will be fine. Except, I can’t because I don’t know how to shield her from her family and I want to run far away from her. No entanglements.

“I’m going to call the airline and switch my flight.” She sighs. “I think it’ll be for the best if I go home and face the music. How could I let this happen? You know, I’m not like this, irresponsible or—”

“Did you have fun last night, Muffet?” Please say yes, I want to beg her because I did, and I don’t want her to regret it.