Unleash Me: Wedding (The Unleash Me Series)

by Christina Ross

  “I’m telling you that they benefit from the nutrients in it. Jesus, do you really know nothing of substance at this point in your life?”

  “I know you’re a closeted lesbian.”

  “And here we go with that again,” Alexa said. “Whatever.”

  “One day, I can totes see you being the leader of Dykes on Bikes.”

  “Lovely,” Alexa said. “And should that ever happen, I’ll be looking out for you in your group. You know, Whores on Wheels.”

  “Hilarious.”

  “Girls…” Blackwell said.

  “Oh, come on, the Barbara, don’t spoil thees leetle sheet show right the now!” Epifania said. “Because thees sheet is starting to get the good!”

  “Lisa?” Bernie called out.

  “Yes, Bernie?”

  “Do you happen to know the name of that hot-looking cowboy I saw back there a few moments ago? You know, the dark-haired one? The one who was leaning against one of the barns and who needs to have my fingers running through his hair later today? He was wearing Levis and chaps as if he was about to go to a leather bar.”

  “A leather bar?” I said.

  “Yes, a leather bar. He was wearing them hiked up to the hilt in an effort to show off his beguiling bulge. Naturally, seeing him like that has spiked my interest.”

  “Define ‘spike’,” Blackwell said.

  “You already know what I mean, woman,” he said in an oddly husky voice.

  “And this stirring I believe you felt,” she said, “it happened without the Viagra? Without the magic of those little blue pills, you still managed to get an—”

  “I did,” she said. “And no blue pills were needed when it came to laying my eyes on that one.”

  “Mon Dieu!”

  “Je connais…”

  “Are you talking about Phil?” I asked Bernie.

  “Is that his name?” Bernie said. “Because if that really his name, then all the better.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I just want his number. Certainly you can supply me with that. You know, so I can sext him!”

  “That’s not going to happen, Bernie. Sorry. If Ethel ever found out, she’d likely freak out—just when I need to keep her in check.”

  “Sexting,” Daniella said. “J’adore it, as Mom would say. Cutter and I sext all the time.”

  “Even at work?” Jennifer asked.

  “Will I get him in trouble if I tell you we sext ourselves senseless while he’s at work?”

  “I think you just admitted that’s exactly what you do.”

  “No, I haven’t. I was simply asking.”

  “Daniella, come on. You can’t be sexting Cutter at work. You know that.”

  “Fine, then. We are not sexting at work.”

  “Oh, my God, they are,” Jennifer said to me. “And how gross is that? Sometimes I think Cutter is just answering a text, but it could be something else. It could be her—and he could be aroused!”

  “Please!” Blackwell said. “Try being her mother. The things I’m forced to hear from that one on a daily basis…”

  “At least you don’t hear me when I rip out a rapid succession of queefs,” Daniella said.

  “You did not just say that,” Alexa said.

  “I did—and without shame. Because Cutter is big down there. When we make love, I make all sorts of unnatural noises. They even surprise me.”

  “It like you’re the farting, right?” Epifania asked. “But only not from your leetle hoo-hoo. Instead it from your leetle meow-meow!”

  “Yes! Thank God you understand me, Epifania. It’s like a part of me is farting in places where I never should fart.”

  “Well, good for you, my leetle chiquita. Because you not the kidding. That means that Cutter really does have a whopper!”

  “Are we seriously having this conversation?” I said. “On my wedding day?”

  “We totally are,” Daniella said. “I mean, look at Tank, Lisa. With a man that size, certainly you’ve sent your share of queefs into the world.”

  “I’m not going to answer that.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Alexa said. “Because it’s disgusting. Are we really meant to hear this? I mean, come on, Daniella—at least have some sense of common decency.”

  “Cutter and I are in a committed relationship,” she said. “And besides, I thought that sharing our lives was a completely open book when it came to this group. We tell each other everything—always have. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

  “You’re wrong,” Blackwell said. “At least when it comes to those kinds of details. If that’s all you’re going to talk about, Daniella, you need to shut it.”

  “But I love hearing about a big cock,” Bernie said.

  “Well, of course you do, Bernie—but this is my daughter. Please try to understand.”

  “Cutter has a big cock, Bernie.”

  “Details!”

  “There will be no details, Bernie. Daniella, that’s enough.”

  “And he totes knows how to use it.”

  “I will disinherit you if you keep this up.”

  “Fine,” Daniella said. “I’ll stop…now that all of you know the truth of Cutter’s big cock.”

  “You are such a vapid size queen,” Alexa said.

  “Said the woman who’s only experienced another woman flicking her clit with her tongue.”

  “And that’s just something I don’t need to hear right now,” Jennifer said.

  “It’s a reality when it comes to that one,” Daniella said.

  “Oh, give me a break,” Alexa said. “You know that isn’t true. And even if it were true, so what? Humanity is way more complicated than you can wrap your sorry little mind around, Daniella. Some men are attracted to men, like Bernie.”

  “Hear, hear!” he said.

  “And some women are attracted to women—”

  “Like you,” Daniella said.

  “And the rest of us are attracted to the opposite sex.”

  “The rest of us,” Daniella said mockingly. “As if you are the rest of us, Alexa. You can’t pull your old Levis over these eyes. Because I’m on to you.”

  “You’re a tramp,” Alexa said.

  “And you wish you were wearing denim and flannel to the wedding.”

  “Well!” I said to everyone as we approached the tent. “Here’s the good news—we’re finally here.” But before we stepped inside, I turned and faced them. “And thank you for that,” I said.

  “Thank us for what?” Blackwell asked.

  “For trying to make me laugh on the walk over here.”

  “Is that what we were the doing?” Epifania said in confusion. “I thought we were just the walking and the talking. You know, there was the part about the queefing, which Epifania totally understand because my Rudsy been known to give my leetle meow-meow the hiccups. And then we talk about how Alexa belong to the Dykes on the Bikes, which all of us just accepted as truth because what else could we do, you know? I mean—look at her. And then we learn that Daniella eat the sheet for the dinner, which frankly was just the gross. Other than that, I thought it was a good conversation.”

  And she really believes that, which is one of the reasons I love her.

  “Anyway, thanks for getting me in a better mood, because parts of what was just said were as funny as they were horrifying—and I needed that right now.”

  “Were we that transparent?” Blackwell asked.

  “You were,” I said as we stepped inside the air-conditioned tent, so cool that it was a welcome shock. “But I appreciate it.”

  I looked at Bernie.

  “Ready to turn me out?” I asked.

  “You know?” he said. “After seeing Phil, I feel oddly inspired. But I want you to come last, Lisa. Alexa and Daniella just want me to blow out their hair. Jennifer and Barbara want something a bit more detailed. So, let me tend to them first, and then I’ll have at you so that when you leave here, you’ll be at your freshest.”

&n
bsp; “Do we have time for all that?” I asked.

  “Plenty of time,” he said. “Because without Phil in my life, this queen is officially on a mission to chase away the blues. Now, I need all of you to just step the hell back and let me at it! Because right now…watch and learn, ladies, because I’m about to become a fucking magician.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Three hours later, behind a private partition that had been set up for all of us at the rear of the tent, I stood before a long mirror and just looked at myself as I listened to Bach’s Arioso playing outside the tent and Jennifer and Blackwell made certain that my dress fit perfectly.

  “Lisa,” Jennifer said when she took a step back, “you’re so beautiful. Tank isn’t going to know what to do with himself when he sees you like this.”

  “He isn’t,” Blackwell said, “because let’s just face it—this gown, that hair, and that makeup of hers are a goddamned triumph. As for the dress, thank God for Chloe at Bergdorf, because without her help, we never would have gotten our hands on what has come to be known as the rare and coveted Vera Wang Galilea wedding gown. Wang only made five of them this year—and at eighty grand a pop, the greedy little bitch. But it is divoon, isn’t it, my love? Worth every cent. I mean, just look at how well it fits,” she said as we locked eyes in the mirror. “The halter neck. The macramé lace. The sheer French-tulle back. The delicate, hand-embroidered veil. It’s beyond stunning—and then there’s what Bernie did to you. He gave you the ‘loose and the low’ style favored by Gigi Hadid, which is absolutely on trend right now. And then there’s your makeup—so bright and polished. You look like a princess. You really do. And by the way, my dear, I have to commend you for not caving in to that ‘something new, something old, something borrowed, something blue’ bullshit. Because right now, you need none of that.”

  “I don’t even recognize myself,” I said. “I mean, I know it’s me, but it’s kind of like I’ve been photoshopped. I never knew I could look like this.”

  “This is you at your best,” Blackwell said. “And that you chose to wear only your diamond engagement ring was the right choice, because that’s the one piece of jewelry everyone should be focused on today. I say brava! Well done! Perfection! Champagne?”

  “My nerves are so fried right now, I could really use a glass—but I’ll pass. Because as both of you know, Tank and I are winging our vows. We decided that when we say them to each other, we wanted to be in the moment and to hear what comes from the other’s heart.”

  “How very daring of you,” Blackwell said. “But also so romantic. Do you know what you’ll say?”

  “Look, I’m no fool—I have rough idea, but that’s all I need. When I look at Tank and say my vows to him, I will say exactly how I feel about him and us at that moment.”

  “How very Philippe Petit of you,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “Philippe Petit. He was before your time, but in the midseventies, he walked between the Twin Towers on a tight rope. The towers are gone now, of course, which still devastates me due to the friends I lost there. But the courage he displayed by walking that rope reminds me on some level of what you and Tank are about to do—going into your vows without a safety net.”

  “I just hope I’m coherent.”

  “You will be,” Jennifer said. “You are a writer, after all.”

  “Of zombies.”

  “There is that,” Jennifer said. “But you’ll still be great.”

  “Shall we show the others how you look?” Blackwell asked.

  “Let’s,” I said. “But before we do that, let me take a moment to look at both of you.”

  While I’d asked all my bridesmaids to wear something sophisticated and elegant in the palest of pinks for the wedding, it was agreed that since Jennifer was the matron of honor, her dress needed to rise just slightly above the others, which it did in a host of subtle ways. It was well-known a rule that no one should upstage the bride, and Jennifer, Blackwell, Alexa, and Daniella hadn’t. Jennifer was wearing a Carolina Herrera sleeveless grid-illusion midi dress in a light, lovely pink. Bernie had given her a dramatic updo. And because I’d decided to wear only my engagement ring, Jennifer had followed suit by just wearing her engagement and wedding rings.

  I thought she looked flawless.

  As did Blackwell, which was no surprise to anyone who knew her. She was wearing something that didn’t quite have the drama that Jennifer’s dress had, but it was chic as hell. With Chloe’s help, they had reached out to Gucci months ago to see if they could give Blackwell and her daughters different variations of their short-sleeved Cady Cape dress, complete with a ruche detail down the front neckline with half-pear studs. Each dress was just different enough to allow Blackwell and her daughters the individuality they wanted while still being part of a planned, cohesive whole.

  “Lisa, your Mom and Dad are here,” Alexa called out. “They said you only have ten minutes to go. Epifania has already left to sit with Rudman. All of us will need to walk down the aisle soon. You need to get in here now.”

  “Oh, God,” I said. “This is really happening.”

  “It is,” Blackwell said. “And fast—and at last.”

  ***

  After Alexa, Daniella, and Blackwell had left to walk down the aisle with the groomsmen they’d been paired with, Jennifer turned to look at me just before she left to join Alex.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “I think I’m starting to have an anxiety attack,” I said.

  “Seriously? Or are you just joking? Don’t mess me with now, Lisa. Because this is happening, and I need to leave to meet Alex. Are you OK?”

  “I’m good,” I said after taking a deep breath. “Nervous, but good. So…go. And thank you for everything, Jennifer. I’ll see you in a moment.”

  “First let me fix your veil,” she said as she quickly adjusted it. “There, now you are perfect. And I’m gone. You’ve got this,” she said to me. “I know you do. I love you.”

  And then she went straight out of the tent with her white roses held closely in front of her—and looking every bit the star that she was.

  For my bouquet, I’d gone with a simple clutch of sunflowers, as bright as the day—and which Tank had been surrounded with in this very meadow when he was growing up on the farm. Ethel had shared that bit of information with me when we were at the florist—when she’d made the fateful mistake of pointing out everything she was allergic to. “But these sunflowers?” she’d said to me at the time. “These will take him back to his youth. They’ll remind him of the meadow in fall. These will mean something to him.”

  And so I’d ordered them, hoping that they would.

  As I watched Jennifer reach for Alex’s hand and start to walk toward the gazebo to Debussy’s Clair de Lune, my father came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Right now, it’s my duty to tell you that you don’t need to go through with this wedding. So, you don’t need to go through with this wedding, Lisa. That said, are you ready to go through with this wedding?”

  I smiled when he said that and then I nodded. “More than anything, Dad.”

  “Your mother and I are proud of you,” he said. “You and Jennifer found good men to spend the rest of your lives with. Your mother and I will love Tank as if he were our own son.”

  “I appreciate that, Dad,” I said, hugging him. “Thank you for always being there for me.”

  “Is it time for us to go?” he asked.

  I peered out of the tent and saw Father Harvey ascending the gazebo’s steps. “I think this is it,” I said. “Father Harvey is there now. People are looking around in their chairs for us. We should go.”

  “Then…let’s go.”

  I hooked my arm through his—and off we went.

  When we left the tent, the first thing I felt first was the hot sun against my skin, the oppressive heat pressing down upon me. Then I felt the energy suddenly directed straight at me, because when Dad and I had started toward t
he gazebo, people began smiling at us and taking photos with their cell phones, which I didn’t expect at all. Because of Ethel’s influence, I had been expecting to face a mostly hostile crowd, which was one of the reasons I’d felt so nervous a moment ago. But as we walked down the carpet and passed our guests, hostility was the last thing I felt. If anything, I felt that people were happy to see me. That they were ready and eager for this wedding to take place.

  Did Ethel somehow get in front of this?

  I had to wonder, if only because I’d heard what she’d said on the phone to her sister, Margaret, which had been nothing short of an indictment of me. I also knew that she’d influenced others against me. After I’d left the house this morning to join my friends, had she somehow found the time to make a rush of calls in an effort to turn things around for Tank and me? Or had she already done that before she came downstairs to apologize to us?

  Whatever the case, she must have done something, I thought as my father and I moved forward through a sea of smiling faces. Maybe there’s hope for us after all, Ethel…

  As I leaned into my father for support, I looked forward and saw Tank beaming at me as we drew closer to him. As I faced him, he was standing to the right of Father Harvey, with Alex and the rest of his groomsmen beside him. I felt a rush of love for him when I saw him.

  He looks happy, I thought as I smiled at him. He looks as excited as I feel right now. And just look at how handsome he is in his tux—could he be any hotter? No. How can this be my life? How can it be that I’m lucky enough to get married to such a kind, smart, brave, and generous man?

  After Dad and I ascended the stairs and I saw that Blackwell actually had tears in her eyes—and that Jennifer was happily joining her—I nearly lost it right then and there.

  And would have if Father Harvey hadn’t suddenly spoken.

  “Who presents this woman to be married to this man?” he asked just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

  “Her mother and I do,” my father said.

  “And so it is done,” Father Harvey said, nodding at my father to take a seat after I’d given him a kiss. In a daze, I stepped beside Jennifer and watched my father descend the steps to join my mother in the front row. When I looked at her, she gave me a discreet wave before she put her hand over her heart.