by M. D. Massey
-October 2014-
Obviously, things worked out.
Henry was the complete opposite of me. He was proper and quiet, while I had a tendency to be loud, obnoxious, had a mouth like a truck driver, and sarcasm was my natural tone.
He always told me he and I were the perfect pair. I had to agree. He smoothed out my rough edges, and I encouraged him to walk a little bit on the wild side. Or so I thought.
I wasn’t one hundred percent sold on what Henry said his job was. He said he ran the blood bank in town, and I did visit him at work a few times, so I knew that was his place of employment. However, I wondered how it was possible for him to be so loaded when he only managed a blood bank.
When I asked him questions about his wealth, he would skirt around the subject or just ignore the question. He always had nice things, buying me even nicer things. Money was no object. When we went shopping, he’d pull out that fancy “invite only” black credit card and pay for everything with a brilliant smile.
My engagement ring alone must have set him back more than a swanky New York City apartment. It was six carats of pure Tiffany beauty. I was almost afraid to wear it in public, but he was my very own personal bodyguard.
I remember when the protector in him came out one night. We were at one of our usual boozy hangouts. Henry could drink anyone under the table. Lush didn’t even begin describe it. He impressed every one of my friends with his uncanny ability.
I had just taken a break from dancing when a creepy guy pinned me up against the wall. He tried to stick his hands in places I only allowed two people to touch–Henry and my gynecologist.
It all happened so fast. Henry was across the bar in a flash, grabbing the douchebag by the throat against the wall. He lifted him off the floor to his tiptoes, choking the life out of him with one hand. It took me several minutes to get him to let go of the pervert.
It was weird, like he changed into a totally different person within the snap of a finger. I figured it was “whisky muscles” taking over. That was the first time I saw him lose his cool, and I hoped it would be the last. It scared the shit out of me.
Anyway, about the whole job thing… Who was I to judge? I couldn’t hold down a job to save my life. Sadly, my parents had been paying my rent for quite some time. It was shameful, but I just couldn’t bite my tongue sometimes. Every time I lost yet another job, I would get the “We aren’t going to be around forever to take care of you, Elaina” lecture.
A year after we met, Henry brought me back to Gemelli’s and proposed. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe a man of his caliber would even date me, let alone ask me to marry him. Once I croaked out the word yes, the crowded café erupted in applause.
The moment I mentioned it to my mom, the wedding planning started.
What a fucking epic nightmare! The flamboyant planner, a David Tutera wannabe, had a vision that we didn’t see eye to eye on. Finally, I gave up, letting everyone do whatever the hell they wanted. I just smiled and nodded, all the while saying fuck you in my head.
The whole wedding wasn’t about what Henry and I wanted. It was more about everyone else, namely my mother, getting what they wanted. I barely had a say in my dress!
Speaking of dresses… I hate them. I’m so not a dress kind of girl. I would have been happy in a tank top and shorts with a pair of Jesus creepers on my feet. If I were feeling a little wild, I may have even gone as far as a flowy skirt.
Have I mentioned I hate weddings? I mean, come on, people! Why spend tens of thousands of dollars when I could have just picked something from my closet, strolled down to the beach, and had the Justice of the Peace marry us? We were desperate for a simple wedding but, again, it wasn’t about what we wanted.
Poor Henry had to suffer right along with me. He tried to stay out of the drama, but he also wanted to see me get at least one thing I wanted. I think I tore his head off more than a few times. He deserved a medal after dealing with me…and my mother.
I should have focused my anger on something else, like a punching bag with my mother’s face on it, instead of going after him. He was a good sport, though, taking everything in stride. He even went to bat for me a few times, even though he knew it was a losing battle. Thankfully, he still loved me…with or without my drama.
So there I was, counting down the minutes until I could take off these stupid shoes, when I heard several screams coming from the congregational seating area. I looked at my father, who shrugged.
What now, I thought. Were the pews not quite the correct color wood? Were the flowers or bows drooping? Maybe they were crushed? I rolled my eyes, thinking about what a clusterfuck the whole thing had turned out to be.
As my father pulled open the door, I heard more people screaming. Then I heard my brother, Nick, yelling “Run!” over and over again. It was hard to believe someone could possibly be more dramatic than me, but he was worse than a chick flick. It was always zero to sixty with him. At least I gave it a few seconds before I acted like a complete psychotic nutjob.
Nick was a couple years older, but acted like he was a decade younger at times. I wondered when, or if, he was going to grow up. An ironic statement coming from me, but whatever. Unfortunately, we looked like each other, so I couldn’t deny we were related.
I sighed, then realized people were going completely insane in there.
“Dad, what’s happening?” I said, irritated, picking at my bouquet full of flowers, for which I had a great dislike. He closed the door in haste and looked at me, his face gone pale.
My father was a strong man. I always counted on him to say the right things at the right times. Seeing him speechless filled me with serious concern.
“Dad? Say something.”
“I…I, uh…” He couldn’t formulate a sentence so I pushed him out of the way. I needed to see for myself. Combine the fact I wasn’t always polite with my slight impatience issues, and I could be a little obnoxious.
The screaming had turned into panic, people scrambling. I burst through the door to see our family and friends running. Scanning the room for Henry, I locked eyes with my Maid of Honor and best friend, Claire James, who was running toward the corridor where my father and I waited.
She looked beautiful in her Tiffany Blue dress. It looked stunning against her pale skin and ginger hair. The bridesmaids’ dress color was my choice. Only after hours of pissing and moaning did my mother finally relent to the blue.
Claire skidded to a stop, grabbing my arms and sobbing. “Oh, my god, Elaina! Oh, my god!”
“I’m going to go find your mother.” My dad ran past me and into the congregational area.
Eyes wide, I looked around at our family and friends running around, screaming, trying to get out of the church. Over the screaming, I heard this weird growling/snarling sound. I grabbed Claire by the shoulders and shook her.
“Claire, what the fuck is going on?” She just looked at me with tears streaming down her face, taking the mascara with them. I shook her again. “Snap out of it, Claire!” She took a couple ragged breaths. I felt like time had stopped for us, but everyone else was moving in fast forward.
She swallowed. “The pastor… The pastor… He…”
Henry came running up, not looking as panicked as everyone else. In fact, he looked to be rather in control. Seeing his emotions in check was quite odd.
“Henry, what the fuck is going on?” I looked back and forth between the two of them. “Damn it! Will one of you say something?” I was beyond pissed. They must have forgotten that I rate a zero on the patience scale. When I noticed they both had red splatters all over them, I narrowed my eyes. “What is that?” I reached out to touch the wet speckles on Henry’s face. He turned his head away so I couldn’t.
“Elaina, we need to get you out of here. Go to the limo, lock the doors, and stay put. Do not leave the limo under any circumstances. Do you understand me?”
Bossy, bossy, I thought. He knew I didn’t take kindly to commands, except when we were in b
ed. “Why?” I crossed my arms. Cue four-year-old Elaina. “I refuse to go anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on!” I could be bossy, as well. I almost felt like sticking my tongue out at him, too. My maturity spoke volumes about me.
Henry’s face twisted into an angry snarl. He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out the door. I looked back and saw Claire just standing there, stunned.
“Will you let go of me?” I broke his grip and ran back to Claire as best as I could in four-inch heels.
“Damn it, Elaina! There’s no time!” Henry ran after me. I grabbed Claire by the wrist as Henry grabbed my arm. “Let’s go, you two. Now!” He dragged us through the crowd of our screaming, panicking family and friends.
“Wait!” I screamed, stopping. Henry stopped just short of pulling me over and making me face-plant onto the steps of the church.
“No. We need to go! You don’t understand! There’s no time!”
What was with his behavior? He was acting like that mental uncle we all have. Actually, in my case, it would be my aunt Lisa. She took cuckoo to a whole new level.
“I need to get these fucking shoes off if you want me to run!” At that point, I couldn’t even hear myself think because of the pandemonium around us. People pushing and shoving, trying to escape the surreal scene. It was like a herd of elephants trying to push through the door.
I kicked my shoes off, hoisted up my dress, and ran to the limo, making sure Claire kept up. Luckily, she was an expert in heels. She could run a marathon in them. We got to the limo and Henry opened the door.
“Now, please, I need you to listen to me. Do not open these doors for anyone. I’ll be back in a few and we can get out of here. I will explain everything then.”
“But I can’t open the door for you.” I batted my eyelashes at him, but my cuteness obviously wasn’t desirable at the moment. Henry threw his arms up in the air. “But you just said—”
“No time for your smart ass comments right now. Open the fucking door for me and me only! Okay?!” Henry was officially pissed, looking as if he were ready to punch something. It alarmed me a little. That wasn’t the Henry I knew and was about to marry.
We barely made it through the door, me in my god-awful wedding dress and Claire in her Maid of Honor dress, before he slammed it shut. I watched him make a mad dash back to the church.
I maneuvered my way around the limo, locking all the doors. Where’s the driver? I wondered. Oh well. Under Henry’s orders, I wouldn’t be opening the door for the driver, either. Shrugging, I sat. Claire moved closer to me and sobbed in her hands.
“Claire, please tell me what happened. What’s going on?” I reached into my annoying strapless bra for my hanky, then handed it to her. I hoped it wasn’t too sweaty. To be honest, I didn’t think she would have cared at that point.
“It was horrible!” she sobbed. “I have never seen anything like it.”
“Anything like what? What, Claire?”
I jumped when somebody pounded on the window. People were trying to open the limo doors, leaving bloody handprints on the windows, crying for help. Some looked like they had huge gashes on their bodies. I shivered. I hate blood. Wait… Blood? I looked at Claire’s face.
“Claire, is that blood on you?”
“Yes!” she yelled. I jumped back. Seriously, there was no need to be so loud in such a confined area. “We’re going to die. All of us. Everyone.” She bent down, put her face in her hands, and sobbed.
“Okay, Claire. I need you to tell me what you saw.” I stroked her hair. “Please, Claire. It’s my wedding, my family, Henry’s family, our friends. I need to know what happened so we can figure out what to do.”
Claire lifted her head and tried to gather herself as best as she could. “The pastor…,” she whispered, then took a deep breath. “He staggered to the podium. I thought he had been drinking or something, but then he lunged at Marc. He’s gone!” Tears ran down her face and collected on her chest.
Marc was Claire’s long-time beau. He was a great guy, a Harvard graduate, and was so sweet to Claire. He loved her with all his heart as she loved him with almost all of hers. I believed she was still hung up on my brother. But that was an entirely different story for another time.
“He lunged at Marc? Why would he do such a thing?” The situation got weirder by the second.
“He bit him, tore out his throat.” She could barely get the words out.
I grabbed her and made her look at me. “Tore out his throat? Like, with his teeth?”
“Yes!” She looked like a goth kid from the early nineties with all her mascara running down her face.
“Oh, my god,” I whispered. It finally hit me. My family, my friends, my future family were all in real danger. I couldn’t just sit there and watch the chaos unfold before us. “Claire, stay here. I need to go find Henry.” I started for the door, but she grabbed me by the corset ties of my dress. I heard something tear.
“No! I will not let you go out there. Henry said to stay here and that’s what we’re going to do!” Claire was pissed and crying at the same time. It was a combination no one should fuck with, but this was me we were talking about. “I just lost Marc, damn it. I’m not losing my best friend, as well!” My jaw dropped. Look who was wearing the bossy pants now. The ever polite and ever proper, Ms. Claire James.
She wouldn’t dare say “ass”, even while referring to a donkey. She knew all the proper table manners for all those hoity-toity restaurants, while I was happy if I didn’t get the dripping grease on my shirt from a bacon cheeseburger from the local burger joint. Etiquette was so overrated.
“Really, Claire? Really?”
“Yes! You are staying here with me, just like Henry said!”
“He’s in danger! I need to find him so we can gather our families and get the fuck out of here!”
“I understand, but you can’t. You just can’t!” Claire fell apart again, kind of like my dress did after she tried to stop me from leaving. I didn’t know what to do. “Please, Elaina. Stay with me. I’m so scared.”
Through the bloody windows of the limo, I saw Pastor Jones stagger out of the church, blood dripping from his mouth, and stumble down the stairs. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t hear anything. Everything was in slow motion. All I saw was Henry running up behind him, his arm straight out like he was aiming a gun.
Wait, he has a gun? What the fuck? Where did he get a gun?
With one shot, Pastor Jones’ head exploded and his body hit the sidewalk like a sack of potatoes.
I had no emotion. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the scene replaying in my head. It was as if I kept rewinding and pressing play. I had no idea Claire was screaming right next to me. I wondered if Henry would go to Hell for killing a pastor. Then I felt my stomach lurch. I leaned over and heaved. Did I mention I hate blood, guts, and anything gory?
The sound of Claire screaming and grabbing at me brought me back to the present. She was looking out the back window. I turned around and saw our limo driver, Ray, tearing out Henry’s father’s throat. I turned back to where Henry was standing, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I panicked, my body shaking.
“Where’s Henry?! What the fuck is happening, Claire?!” I screamed. Then I saw him sprint past the end of the limo and run toward the other side of the car.
“Oh, my god, Henry! Henry!” I screamed, pounding on the window. I felt trapped. Henry shot at the driver, missing as he tripped over his father’s body and fell to the ground. The driver came at him, snarling. “Henry!” I felt helpless, watching it all unfold in front of me. I wanted to help. I needed to help. “Claire, stay here.” Before she could protest, I unlocked the door and jumped out of the limo.
I could hear her screaming my name. I ran around the limo toward Henry. Before I could get to him, he jumped up, grabbed the gun, and shot the driver. When Ray’s head exploded, my stomach lurched. Henry spun, the gun aimed at me.
Eyes wide, he lowered the weapon. “Elaina! Damn
it. I almost shot you! Get your ass back in the fucking limo! Now!”
“What’s going on? Where did you get that gun? Are you all right?” His tuxedo was bloodied, his shirt, torn. I looked back at the driver. “Is… I mean, was that…? Wait.” I put my hands over my mouth. My stomach continued to protest. Somehow, I stopped myself from throwing up.
He spoke a little more calmly. “Elaina, please. We need to get to the limo and get out of here.”
“But my mom and dad, Nick, our friends. We have to make sure they are all safe!” I pleaded.
“Damn it, Elaina. Stop arguing with me! Just get in the fucking limo! I will tell you everything once we get moving!”
“But my parents, my brother. Where are they?”
He tucked the gun in the back of his pants and walked over to me. In the midst of the chaos, his face changed from Crazy Henry to the Henry I knew. “Love, please. Just go to the limo. There’s no time.” I did what I was told without protest. There was always a first time for everything.
Claire threw open the door as soon as I came around to the other side. I watched Henry search the driver’s pockets, grabbing the keys, then ran to the driver’s door. Due to all the gore on his hands, he fumbled with them.
Claire moved quickly and unlocked the door. Henry jumped in, slammed the door, and started the car. I looked around, seeing utter chaos. I felt the limo lurch forward as we sped away.
Henry drove the limo like a pro, cutting corners with control and precision. We looked to be heading toward his apartment. Yes, his apartment, not our apartment.
Henry wanted to not live together until we were married, even though he spent many nights—okay, most nights—in my bed. He said it would please his mother to be proper. I wonder if it would please his mother knowing he wasn’t the good boy she thought he was when he stayed the night. He was actually rather naughty, and I loved that about him.
He looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Elaina,” he whispered.