by Sarah Kuhn
“The real you—like we were talking about earlier,” Lucy said, giving me a warm smile. “And do you provide instruction?”
“No.” The champagne fizzed through my bloodstream, and I found myself flashing my megawatt Aveda Jupiter grin and affecting a bravado-laced pose as I rakishly tipped the bottle toward my mouth again. I cocked an eyebrow and gave my words an overly satisfied edge. “I don’t have to.”
As they squealed with appreciative laughter, I realized the megawatt grin spread over my face was completely genuine. For this whole dinner, I’d done what Evie suggested I do with Scott—just be honest. Not worry how it might come off. My Aveda Jupiter attitude had laced itself through, coming naturally instead of being forced out because I thought that’s what people wanted or because I was trying to get something I wanted. And I hadn’t stopped to think about which persona I was inhabiting. I was Aveda Jupiter and Annie Chang all at once, and it wasn’t confusing. It just felt right.
It also seemed like . . . they liked it. They liked me. It felt childish to take so much pleasure in that, but I did. And that mean little voice that usually piped up in the back of my head, the one that told me I wasn’t good enough, that my presence wasn’t wanted, that no one would ever like me, was totally silent.
Evie threw her arms around my shoulders and hugged me tight. “I’m so glad this happened. I totally ’shipped it.”
“Me too,” Bea said. “And Nate owes me ten dollars.”
“You and Nate bet on whether our OG superheroine and our resident surfer mage would hook up or not?” Lucy said, looking vaguely scandalized.
“I know,” Bea said. “I should have made it twenty dollars.”
We all laughed again. I felt giddy and it wasn’t just the bubbles; it was that fizz of companionship people were always talking about, that feeling of being in the moment with friends.
“Let’s have a toast,” I said impulsively, holding the champagne bottle aloft.
“Raise a glass to the four of us, tomorrow there’ll be more of us . . . or something!” Bea sang.
“To Evie Tanaka—our bride-to-be—and a night out in her honor!” I said.
“A night of awesome friends!” Evie exclaimed.
“And no freaking puppy demons!” Lucy cried.
I grinned and passed her the bottle. “Amen, sister.”
We lingered for a long time over the last vestiges of curry and mochi, talking and laughing and having a good time. Mr. Fujikawa had sent Sam home and was cleaning up in the back and I was taking a last slug of champagne when we heard a loud, disapproving voice behind us.
“Oh my god,” the voice brayed. “What is she even doing?”
We all swiveled to find a group of four women glowering at us. Well, at me. I recognized all of them. Gwen, Cakezilla Carol, Redhead Bridezilla from the bridal tent, and Petite Blonde Bride from Marcus’s salon. They were all dressed in lacy white dresses with high necklines, giving them a weirdly Victorian vibe, and full skirts made even fuller by petticoats. The look was enhanced by their elaborate headpieces, concoctions of feathers, netting, and in Carol’s case, a tiny fake bird.
“Well, hello, don’t you all look nice,” Evie said, giving them an appeasing grin. “I love your hats.” She gestured to their headpieces.
“They’re fascinators,” Gwen chirped. “Bridal fascinators. All true vintage, of course.”
“Lovely,” Lucy said, in a tone that indicated she thought they were anything but.
Silence fell and the women returned to glaring at me. I shifted uncomfortably.
“You know, darlings, it’s so nice of you to stop by and say hi to Evie, but we’re really having more of a private event, here,” Lucy said. She met my eyes, and we shared a moment of connection: we needed to get these women out of here before Evie’s inherent niceness took over and she invited them to join the party.
“Evie’s bachelorette, you mean,” Carol said. “So funny. We’re actually having our bachelorettes tonight, too!”
“Hilarious,” Lucy muttered.
“All at the same time?” Bea said, giving them a confused look.
“Of course,” Gwen said. “We believe in bridal solidarity. Which is why we had to come by when we saw what was happening here.” She turned her frown back to me and gestured to the bottle I was holding. “I mean, really. Who does Aveda Jupiter think she is, getting all tacky and wasted at her best friend’s bachelorette? And off of some dirty-ass paper bag dollar store liquor.”
“Hey, I was with her when she bought it and it was at least five dollars,” Bea said indignantly.
“That’s nice of you all to be so concerned,” I said, putting a hand on Bea’s arm and turning to address the assembled brides. “But Evie’s having a great time. Aren’t you?” I shot her an anxious look. Given how badly I’d predicted the last party, maybe these brides had sensed something I hadn’t.
“Fantastic,” she said, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “This is the best bachelorette I could have asked for.”
“But it looks like you’re not even playing any of the traditional games,” Carol said, making a little tsk-ing sound. “And where are all the dildos?”
“Funny story about that,” Lucy began.
I kicked her under the table.
“It’s lucky we arrived when we did,” Redhead said. “It’s great to have maids of honor to do your more menial tasks, but only other brides-to-be can truly understand your plight.”
“My plight?” Evie said, her brow crinkling.
“We’re here for you now,” Blonde said, in what she probably liked to imagine was a soothing voice. “And we’ll make sure you experience all the things a bride should.”
“Really,” Lucy said, rising to her feet, her bodyguard instincts kicking in. “I think maybe it’s time for you to let Evie enjoy her party in peace.”
“We’ll leave,” Gwen said. “But not before Evie’s had the divine pleasure of experiencing . . .” She reached into her large tote and pulled out a handful of white tissue. “The toilet paper game!” she crowed.
“The whatsis, whosis, now?” Bea said.
“Wait,” Evie said. “I’ve actually heard of this. You make a dress for the bride out of toilet paper, right?”
The brides squealed and jumped up and down, making near orgasmic faces of joy. “Yes!” they shrieked. “Yesyesyes!”
“Yikes,” Lucy muttered, resting her head in her hands.
“Since we’re all brides, we were going to play together, craft our own creations!” Blonde said.
“Isn’t that technically playing against each other?” Bea said.
“And now San Francisco’s most awesome bride-to-be can join us!” cried Redhead. “Besides getting engaged, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”
“Dream big,” I muttered before I could stop myself and heard Lucy snort-giggle.
“Will you please play with us?” Blonde wheedled, clasping her hands together. “Just do the toilet paper dress thing with us and we can get a picture and oh my gosh, my fiancée will freak. She is such a huge fan. It will be the perfect wedding day gift!”
“Well . . .” Evie scanned their pleading faces and I knew there was no way in hell she was turning them down. She may have abandoned most of her pushover ways, but her heart was still soft as butter. It was one of the things that made me love her.
“We can do it,” I said softly, patting her on the arm. “We’ll all help you to make it go by faster. I mean, uh, to make it more fun.”
“Okay, then,” she said, giving the brides-to-be a game smile. “As long as it’s okay with Mr. Fujikawa?”
Mr. Fujikawa gave us a thumbs-up from behind the counter. And my eardrums were nearly shattered by the screams from the brides-to-be.
Before I could process what was happening, rolls of toilet paper were being th
rust into my hands and Carol, Gwen, and their two friends were already hard at work on their creations, brows furrowed as they twisted and tied the toilet paper around themselves.
“Um,” Lucy said, staring at the roll that had been handed to her, “aren’t your bridesmaids supposed to make the dresses for you?”
“We’re bending the rules since we’re all brides,” Redhead said, flashing us a manic grin.
“But you should go ahead and help Evie,” Carol added, twisting a strip of toilet paper over her shoulder to form a strap. “She deserves extra support, of course.”
“Right,” I said, trying to go along with it. “Let’s get to it, team.”
I ripped off a long strip of toilet paper and started wrapping it around Evie’s torso, gesturing for Lucy and Bea to follow suit. Evie held out her arms obligingly, like a snow angel suspended in mid-air.
“This’ll be good,” she said, giving us an amused wink. “The wedding’s tomorrow, and I still don’t have a dress thanks to all the hijinks that have been going on. I could rock a toilet paper creation down the aisle, right? Nate might be into it?”
“You could wear a garbage bag and Nate would think it was hot,” I snorted, trying to fluff a piece of toilet paper into a flower accent. “But we actually have something better for you on that front.”
“Shh!” Bea elbowed me. “It’s supposed to be a surprise!”
“A surprise?” Evie said, her voice apprehensive. Given some of the other surprises I’d sprung on her throughout this whole wedding process, I guess I couldn’t blame her.
“A good surprise,” Lucy clarified, tying a toilet paper sash around her waist. “Which will be revealed once we get back to HQ. If we ever get out of here, that is.” She cast a disapproving look at the bridal foursome who had disrupted our party. But they were too busy working on their creations to pay her any mind. All four of them were focused with laser-like intensity on the toilet paper—scraps flew everywhere as they ripped it apart and twisted it into new shapes, causing a mini-blizzard to swirl around them. There was an odd sense of quiet frenzy, as if they were performing some urgent, rapid-fire task like defusing a bomb. Perhaps this was the bachelorette equivalent.
“Time!” Carol crowed, even though there had been no mention of a time limit when we’d started. I gritted my teeth in frustration and eyed the dress we’d thrown together for Evie. It was passable—in that it had a skirt, a top, and a whimsical toilet paper veil stuck to her hair—but the others were clearly more refined. Carol’s skirt had actual tiers and Gwen’s sleeves were finished at the ends with tiny toilet paper ruffles.
Had these ladies practiced this game or something? I tried to shake off my irritation. No need to take it seriously, though in all honesty, I still wanted to win. Even the inherent dopiness of the toilet paper game couldn’t dampen Aveda Jupiter’s competitive spirit.
“How do we determine who the winner is, anyway?” Bea said, as if reading my thoughts. “Everyone here participated, so there aren’t any impartial judges.”
“Soooo glad you asked,” Carol said, whipping out her phone. “There are actually extensive rules posted online, which—”
“Fantastic,” I muttered, leaning back against the table. How much longer were we going to be subjected to Carol and her bridal crew? Hours? Months? At this rate, Evie would be MIA at her own wedding. Because we’d still be here.
“If this is gonna take a while, I’m gonna eat some more,” Bea said.
As Carol droned on, Bea reached behind Evie to grab her plate and chopsticks. But as she inched the plate over, Lucy leaned against the table, jostling the entire setup. Bea’s plate bounced. And the remains of the curry splattered all over Evie’s toilet paper skirt.
“Oh, shit!” Evie exclaimed, jumping a little. She looked down at the damage then gave a sheepish chuckle. “Welp. I guess I lose, huh?”
But the bridal foursome wasn’t laughing. Carol stopped reading her long, laborious list of rules. Gwen froze in place, her eyes widening. Blonde and Redhead looked similarly scandalized. An awkward silence descended.
“You know, I think that means the game is over,” I said, making my tone firm. I was past the point of caring if these brides thought I was a diva. “Why don’t we get those pictures you wanted and—”
“No.” Carol glowered at us and threw her phone to the ground. Gwen moved to flank her, her frown deepening.
“She has disrespected our bridal queen,” Carol snarled, pointing at Bea. “And she will pay.”
“Hey, hey.” Evie held up her hands as I moved in front of Bea. “It’s really okay. No harm done.”
“But there is harm,” Gwen growled. “And therefore, we must dole out harm in return. It is in keeping with the order of things. The old ways.”
Her bridal cohorts echoed her, their voices rising up in an eerie chorus that seemed to bounce off the walls and surround us.
“The old ways . . . old ways . . . old ways . . .”
“Ladies,” Lucy hissed under her breath. “I don’t want to jump the gun, here, but I think—”
“These motherfuckers have been puppy demoned,” Evie blurted out, just as Carol lunged at Bea, snarling.
The strange glow in Carol’s eyes seemed to intensify, giving her the appearance of a rabid dog. I wrapped my mental feathers around Bea and shoved her to the side. Then I stepped into Carol’s path, blocking her.
“Get out of my way, Aveda Jupiter!” she snarled.
I stepped around her, grabbed her arm, and tried to twist it behind her back in a modified version of the move I’d used on her before. But this time, she darted out of my way, sending me a smug look. Was it my imagination or was she also moving faster than a normal human?
Shit. There were too many of them for me to effectively use my telekinesis—I wouldn’t be able to hold them for long . . .
“Annie!” screamed Evie, and all of a sudden, I saw plates of curry leftovers being thrown my way. I figured out what she wanted immediately, seizing the plates with my mental feathers and sending them soaring directly into Carol’s face.
“Owwwwwwww!” she shrieked, clawing at her eyes as hot curry splashed all over her.
Before we had a chance to savor this minor victory, she was snapping her fingers at her Bridezilla squad.
“Take out the one who has sullied our queen!” she demanded, pointing to Bea. “But also, take out that one as well! Because she has sullied our queen from the very beginning!”
And of course, she was pointing at me.
I darted back over to Evie and Lucy, who were forming a protective wall around Bea. I scanned behind the counter for Mr. Fujikawa, but he seemed to have taken off. Smart man.
“Lucy,” I said, my words spilling out as quickly as I could form them, “get out of here with Bea. Run as fast as you can back to HQ, get the others and whatever supplies we might need to corral them, the trap and all that stuff. Evie, you and I are going to make this Bridezilla squad follow us.”
“How?” she said, her eyes wide with apprehension.
“Like this.” I grabbed two plates of curry—one in each hand—and smashed them against her toilet paper dress. They left an impressive mess, the golden brown drippings smearing everywhere with the occasional rice clump giving it a 3D effect. “Now act like you’re mad at me,” I whispered. I jerked my head at Lucy and Bea and mouthed, Go.
Lucy grabbed Bea’s hand and bolted out the front door. Gwen and Blonde Bridezilla turned, as if to follow them.
Luckily, Evie picked up on what I was doing.
“Um . . . holy shit. How dare you!” she screamed at me.
Gwen and Blonde Bridezilla turned back to us. Their eyes had the same weird glow as Carol’s.
“You . . . you’ve ruined everything!” Evie continued, pulling an exaggerated rage face. “You are such a ruiner!” In spite of the clearly dangerous circ
umstances we were in, I had to smother the urge to laugh. She was an awesome superheroine, but her improv skills left something to be desired. Still, it worked. Carol, Gwen, and their cohorts were now regarding us with great interest, Bea’s infraction forgotten.
“I mean, I’m the, uh, queen!” Evie bellowed.
That got the snarls going.
“Destroy the ruiner of our queen!” Carol commanded.
“Run,” I said to Evie.
And we did, bolting out the front door and setting off through Japantown. It was late and the streets were mostly empty, save for a few clusters of tourists.
“Get off the streets!” I barked. “Move, move, move!”
The tourists obliged, fanning out to the sides and creating a clear path for us.
“So I guess the puppy got some of its strength back?” Evie said.
“Either that or they’re really big fans of yours,” I said.
“I think I only want moderate level fans from now on. But how is it affecting all of them at once? Is it back in the air rather than in a dress?” She stole a glance behind her shoulder and winced. “They’re still chasing us. And they’re not harming anyone else, they really only seem interested in getting to you. So what’s the plan?”
My mind was working a mile a minute, keeping time with my sprinting feet, trying to figure that out.
“Let’s get them to that deserted spot by the big fountain—the one where we had your last fire show,” I said. “The space is pretty open. Maybe we can corral them with your fire until the others get to us with the scanner and the trap.”
Evie nodded. “On it.”
We increased our speed, and I could see her digging in mentally, finding the strength and emotion that was going to help her channel the flames and cage the Bridezilla squad. I, meanwhile, managed to get my phone out of my pocket and texted Scott our location.
We reached the spot by the fountain and stopped abruptly, whipping around to face Carol and Co. Evie balled her fists at her sides, her brow crinkling. She was concentrating, getting ready to unleash fiery hell.