Unleash Me: Wedding (The Unleash Me Series)

by Christina Ross

  “They’re our friends, Mom,” Tank said to her as he walked toward us. “None of them care what Dad and I look like.”

  “But still!”

  “It’s not an issue, so let’s not turn it into one.”

  “Well, I just—”

  “Good to see you, buddy,” Tank said to Alex as they shook hands and exchanged a quick bro hug. “Ready to have my back tomorrow?”

  “Just as you’ve always had mine.”

  “Dad, this is Alex Wenn. Alex, this is my father, Harold.”

  The two men shook hands.

  “Good to finally meet you, Alex,” Harold said. “Thanks for giving my boy the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “Your son is my best friend,” Alex said. “He has saved my life and my wife’s life too many times to count. And he was instrumental when it came to saving Lisa’s life. Your son is a hero, Harold. I know you don’t need me to tell you that, but it’s true. I consider him to be the brother I never had.”

  “Don’t make me cry,” Tank said.

  Alex laughed at that and punched Tank in the arm. But what Alex had said to Tank was real—and I knew that Tank felt the same way toward Alex. After so many years of friendship, they practically were brothers.

  “This place is kind of like Maine,” I heard Daniella say in the distance. “Not a skyscraper in sight, but holy God is there a shitload of grass and trees.”

  And there goes the mouth on that one…

  “What are those over there?” I heard her ask her sister.

  “You know exactly what they are, Daniella,” Alexa said. “And if you don’t, you officially are an idiot.”

  “I’m joking!” she said. “I know a cow when I see one. But the one Epifania pointed out earlier is different. It looks like that bronze statue on Wall Street.”

  “That would be a bull,” Alexa said. “The rest of them are cows. And you can thank your favorite pair of leather pants for them, because some cow somewhere died for them.”

  “Everyone dies,” Daniella said. “Even you will, Alexa, despite your vegan and pesticide-free lifestyle. So, please save me from your choked-up political rants. What you need to know is that I’m totes down with the cows, because those leather pants of mine are on fire when I wear them. Cutter likes them—don’t you, Cutter?”

  “I pretty much like anything you wear, Daniella,” he said. And then he dipped his head to her ear and dropped his voice so low that I couldn’t hear him.

  “Right,” Daniella said. “Sorry—forgot.”

  Forgot your tongue? Thank you, Cutter.

  “Good afternoon,” I heard Blackwell say as she approached us.

  “Barbara!” I said.

  “It’s nice to see you, my darling girl.” As expected, Blackwell was decked out to the nines in Chanel, this time in the form of a bright-white suit with black piping. Her hair had recently been colored and cut into a stylish new bob, likely by Bernie. And whether due to a healthy injection of Botox or Bernie’s magic with the brush, she looked years younger to me.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said as we embraced.

  “Where else would I be, my little scribbler?”

  “I don’t know—maybe Bergdorf?”

  “While I miss it terribly, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Now, while I have your ear and no one else can hear me, are we still going forward with this insidious but absolutely wonderful plan of yours?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Well,” she said before she parted from me and looked at Ethel. “Then let’s get it done.”

  My stomach clenched when she said that.

  “Hello,” she said as she walked over and shook Ethel’s hand. “Barbara Blackwell. Nice to meet you, Ethel. And also nice to meet you, Harold. I’ve heard so many good things about each of you.”

  “That seems to be a recurring theme,” Ethel said with a light titter. “My goodness, how Lisa has talked us up, Harold. And even me! I should probably be embarrassed.”

  Actually, you should be, bitch, because they know all about your manipulative ass.

  “It’s good to finally meet both of you,” Blackwell said. “Your home and the surroundings are divoon.”

  “They’re what?” Ethel said.

  “Divoon, darling. Divoon.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means good things, but since it might not translate here, don’t trouble yourself with it. Please allow me to introduce you to my daughters, Alexa and Daniella.”

  “It’s good to meet you both,” they said in unison when Blackwell urged them forward.

  “And it’s lovely to meet such lovely girls,” Ethel said.

  “This is Cutter,” Blackwell said. “As you know, he works under Tank at Wenn. What you might not know is that he happens to be smitten with my daughter, Daniella.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Cutter said to both of them as they exchanged handshakes and greetings.

  “Everyone is so good looking,” Ethel said. “Many of you look like celebrities.”

  “That’s because many of us are,” Blackwell said without hesitation, and then she paused for a moment to look around her. “Now for Bernie,” she said. “But where is he? Bernie!” she called out. “Bernie, darling, where are you? Bernie! Bernie! How can it be that I can’t even see you! Have you run away? Is the country already too much? Oh, look! There you are, still standing beside our limousine. Why are you looking over at the barns? What’s captured your attention there? The cows or the cowboys? Doesn’t matter, because I already know. Come, meet Tank’s parents.”

  “My pleasure,” Bernie said. As he came over to us, I watched him with genuine affection. Bernie was a slender, stylish, good-looking man in his midfifties with a shock of beautifully cut silver hair offset by light-blue eyes. Over the past few years, he’d become one of my very favorite people in the world, especially since he loved to share his stories about his racy past. Like Jennifer, I couldn’t get enough of them.

  “Bonjour,” Bernie said to Ethel when they shook hands.

  “A pleasure,” Ethel said, sizing him up with a swift, critical glance that made me want to shove my fist into her face.

  “I’m Harold, Bernie,” Harold said as the two men shook hands. “Happy to have you here.”

  “Naturellement. Je ne serais nulle part ailleurs,” he said.

  “Excuse me?” Ethel said.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Whenever I see such a vast expanse of land, blue skies, and such fresh air, it naturally reminds me of my time in Provence, and I slip into French.”

  “How absolutely peculiar,” Ethel said. “Is your wife with you, Bernie? Did she come with you?”

  “My what?”

  “Your wife.”

  “That’s a new one,” he said. “Very funny, Ethel.”

  “But I was being serious.”

  He looked at Ethel for a moment and then turned to Blackwell. “Is she suggesting that I can pass in Nebraska?”

  “Maybe for her, my dear,” Blackwell said, patting her bob. “But if you stood any closer to my suit, I might catch fire.”

  “Ethel, I don’t have a wife,” he said to her.

  “But you’re so handsome—so well dressed. Certainly you have a wife, and one with a good eye for fashion.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I wonder why that is…”

  “I wonder why you wonder. I’m gay, Ethel. There is no wife. Although I do have to say that after looking at some of the men who work on your farm, I see plenty of possibilities for a relationship.”

  “Well, I’m afraid there won’t be any of that,” she said.

  “We’ll see,” he said. “You never know. Love is in the air, after all. Anyway, nice to meet you just the same.”

  “What about me and my Rudsy?” I heard Epifania say. “This heat remind me of all those years I spent on a fucking banana leaf! It’s a real killer out here, that for the sure! But I’m not here to the whine and the dine, so! How
about if me and my sexy Rudsy say hello to the ’rents and that we all just get the hell inside before we faint from this fucking heat? Because if we do faint? Epifania here to tell you truth—none of that sheet gonna look good on any of us.”

  “Who exactly is this woman coming toward me,” Ethel said to me in horror.

  “One of my best friends,” I said. “Be nice to her, or she might cast a spell on you.”

  “She might what?”

  “It’s a joke. Say hello.”

  After Epifania and Rudman introduced themselves to Ethel and Harold, I looked over at Blackwell, who caught my glance before she tapped herself on the forehead and said, “Oh…how could I have forgotten?”

  “Sorry?” I asked her with a stirring in my gut.

  “My present to your future mother-in-law!”

  And here we go!

  “Let me just grab it from the limousine—I’ll be back in a flash.” She walked over to the car and returned with a long, white box clutched in her hands. “This is for you, Ethel,” she said. “Thank you for taking good care of our girl while we were in New York.”

  “Well, I had no idea…” Ethel said as she took the box from Blackwell. “Thank you so much! What a wonderful surprise!”

  Blackwell held out her arm and checked her nails. “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.”

  In that moment, just before Ethel started to open the box, my heart began to race. I saw Jennifer shoot me a sidelong glance filled with fear about what was to come next. I looked over at Tank as his mother did her best to work off the lid and saw in his eyes that he knew I was up to something. And then? Because of Tank’s look alone, I wanted to back out—but before I could stop it from happening, the cover was off the box.

  “Well, my word,” Ethel said as she handed it to Harold. “Just look at this beautiful bouquet of flowers. They’re so lovely. It appears to be a robust mix of what you’d find here locally, which is so thoughtful of you, Barbara. Thank you!” With a smile plastered on her face, she started to lift the bouquet out of the box. “You really shouldn’t have,” she said. “I mean, I’m just not deserving.”

  “Oh, I highly disagree,” Blackwell said. “You deserve all of it, Ethel—you really do!”

  When the bouquet was released from the box, I saw the lilacs hidden in the center of them. But Ethel—if only because she was so caught up in the moment of receiving a gift—didn’t see them at all. Instead, she just closed her eyes, pressed the bouquet straight up against her nose, and breathed in deeply as she smiled a blissful smile. She breathed in their essence once more before her eyes slammed open as panic overcame her.

  “Oh, no,” she said as she sneezed. “No, no, no! Not lilacs! I’m terribly allergic to them. I break out into hives because of them! And my lips and face will start to swell—I’m sure of it!” She tossed the bouquet onto the gravel pavement with such force that some of the petals blew off and fluttered around our feet. “This is terrible!”

  “But they’re just an early summer bouquet,” Blackwell said. “Everything in that arrangement is having its moment right now in gardens everywhere!” She sighed. “I thought you’d like them.”

  “Like them?” Ethel said in horror. “Like them? My lips are already starting to swell! I can feel them tingling. And my eyes are beginning to burn, which means they’ll soon be shut tight!”

  “I had no idea,” Blackwell said, forcing empathy into her voice. “I just wanted to give you flowers. How awful. So sorry.”

  “You’re starting to get hives, Ethel,” Harold said. “I can see them popping up on your neck like a bunch of rubies.”

  “That’s because I have fragrance allergies!” she said in despair. “And lilacs are pure poison to me! By tonight, I’ll look like a horror show. And by tomorrow? On the day of my son’s wedding? I’ll be at my unrecognizable worst! How could this have happened? How?”

  And then she looked directly at me.

  “You did this,” she said accusingly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “When we chose your bouquet, I told you not to go near a whole host of flowers, such as lilacs, lilies, daisies, and geraniums! I told you what they would do to me. How they could destroy me!”

  “Do you honestly believe I’d remember any of that?” I said. “Good God, Ethel, Barbara only gave you that bouquet out of kindness! There’s no need to make her feel worse than she already does.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Blackwell said, stifling a yawn.

  “Ethel,” Harold said in alarm. “Your lips are starting to inflate.”

  “Ub corb theyb are!” she said in despair. “Amb they’re just going to get bibber.”

  “Holy sheet,” Epifania said. “Look at them grow! They starting to look like those inner tubes my family and I used to get into this crazy country!”

  “I suggest Benadryl,” Blackwell said as Ethel started to dart up the stairs. “If you don’t have any, let us know, and we’ll get you some from one of the stores we passed by on the way here.”

  But by the time she’d said that, Ethel had already staggered up the stairs and flown into the house, likely in search of a medicine cabinet. She was gone, and in the wake of her hasty absence, I had to admit the bitch had had it coming to her. And even though Tank might question me about it, at that moment, I didn’t care what anybody thought. What mattered more to me was what Ethel had tried to do to Tank and me. She deserved what my friends and I had delivered to her, and I didn’t feel one ounce of guilt, second thoughts, or concerns.

  In fact, I felt nothing but triumph.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Later that afternoon, after the caterers had arrived and I’d spent time with my parents while Tank visited with his uncle Sam and his cousin Taylor, who were two of his groomsmen, Tank joined me in our bedroom as I was removing my wedding-rehearsal dress from the closet. It was a sleeveless Oscar de la Renta beaded V-neck dress in plum with bright-red floral appliqués. It fell to midcalf on me, and I thought it was stunning as I laid it carefully down onto the bed. I’d also wear it to dinner, which would immediately follow the rehearsal itself.

  “Hi,” I said.

  As he shut the door behind him, he looked down at the dress. “Is that what you’re wearing at the rehearsal?”

  “It is.”

  “That’s some dress.”

  “Wait until you see my wedding dress.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said as he came over and took me into his arms. “Or, if you’d like, you could always give me a peak at it now.”

  “No way,” I said as I looked up at him. “Not only is that a bad omen but I want you to see me in it for the first time when I leave the tent and start to walk toward you. Bernie is going to summon the gods so that I look my best for you tomorrow.”

  “But who’s going to have my back?” he asked. “Who’s going to make sure that I’m on point? Because it won’t be my mother, I can tell you that. I’m not even sure she’s going to make it to the rehearsal let alone to tonight’s dinner.”

  I pulled away from him. “Is it that bad?” I asked, feeling a rush of guilt overcome me. It wasn’t the first time I’d had second thoughts about what I’d done to her. As the hours passed since Ethel had become a bloated, hive-ridden wreck, I’d started to feel that I’d gone too far. And worse—that I couldn’t go into my marriage with a lie between me and my future husband.

  “It’s pretty bad,” he said. “But I think the Benadryl is starting to work. Her lips have stopped swelling, even though the hives don’t look like they’re going anywhere soon—they’ve covered her neck and face. Making matters worse is that Benadryl makes you feel stoned. We have a couple of hours to go before the rehearsal and the dinner, and she’s still insisting that she’ll be at each. But I’m not sure. We’ll see what happens, I guess.”

  And that was enough for me.

  “Tank, I’m the one who’s responsible for what happened to your mother,” I said, not willing or able to lie to him. “I knew she was allergic to lilac
s. I planned everything.”

  “I know you did,” he said.

  He knew? Oh, for fuck’s sake! And what now?

  “How did you know?”

  “Because I could see it on your face the moment it happened. You’re not as skilled at concealing your secrets as you think you are, Lisa, so remember that in the future, OK? Also, just so you know, I don’t blame you for what you did. After what she said to you yesterday, my mother deserved what she got. All along, she’s been trying to break us up, and look what she got for her efforts—first the tape, now the flowers. Let’s hope she’s learned her lesson.”

  Stunned, I just looked at him. “How do you know about the tape?” I asked.

  “Yesterday I heard you two going at it in the library.”

  “But you were upstairs in the shower when that happened.”

  “When you were too long getting your glass of iced tea, it occurred to me that my mother might have entered the house. Since I knew you felt self-conscious about your appearance after we’d made love—and since I know my mother too well—I didn’t want you to be alone with her without me. But when I came downstairs, I didn’t find you in the kitchen. Instead, I heard both of you arguing in the library.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “Enough to know that if I’d gone in there—which I almost did—things would have gone to shit in a second, and I’d probably never speak to my mother again—or she to me after she heard what I’d wanted to say. I wanted to take her on, Lisa, but in the process, I also knew that if I did, I’d fuck up our wedding day. So, while I stood there weighing my options, I listened. And as I listened, I knew that by taping her and then threatening her with that tape, you’d just cornered her. I’ve never been so proud of you as I was in that moment, because my mother’s knowledge of that video is powerful. As ridiculous as she is, she’s no fool. She knows that video can forever be used against her, and that alone has put the fear of God in her when it comes to crossing you again. Trust me on that, because you and I both know she’d never want me to hear it. She’d never want me to see her for who she really is.”