Marriage by Law

by N. K. Pockett

  "It's not that bad. It gets better," he said, laughing at what was probably my face.

  "You know if I get asthma I am going to blame you."

  "More for Ma to yell at me," he said, wincing.

  "Where is Ma?"

  "She's on her holiday. Now come on. A piece of advice: close your mouth."

  "What? Wh-" I realised why. I got a squirt of powder paint in my mouth. I gasped, tugging my hand out of his and lifting up my shirt and wiping my tongue. That was horrible. It was like the colour was flying everywhere and it didn't help that it was making it hard to see where you were going.

  I turned around, realising Darius was gone only to collide face first into a chest, sending me staggering back.

  "Oh, sorry, girl. Didn't see you there," said a guy with a beard that was more red than grey. And who was he calling little girl? I opened my mouth to say something but the guy was gone and instead a woman said something in fast French to me. Judging by the look in her face and the fact that she pushed me aside, I believe she was annoyed.

  "I guess people aren't friendly. Hey, keep that away from my face!" I snapped at a kid who was holding a sauce bottle. The teen broke out laughing and squirted at me, right on the nose. I shut my mouth and turned away from the spray. I held my breath and I saw an amused person on the sidelines.

  Darius.

  He was trying not to laugh as I walked, head down, toward him. "Having fun?"

  "Shut up and walk," I muttered, grabbing his arm and dragging him. I had enough colour to last me a life time.

  How long can five kilometres be? It seemed to be going on forever.

  "At this rate we'll never be done," I told him, realising at some point that even the squirters ran past us, giving up after spraying us.

  "That's because you keep taking a break," he replied as I sat down on the ground. I waved a hand, wiping my face which was probably coated in three layers of colour. Darius smiled with a shake of his head and sat down beside me.

  "You look like an oompa loompa," I commented, seeing all the orange on him. He laughed at that as he ran a hand through his hair, sending orange dust into the air.

  "You look like a smurf," he retorted. "Actually, more like a rainbow smurf." He cracked a smile.

  "So how far away is the finish line?" I said, as even the old people walked by us.

  "Three kilometres."

  I groaned. I can't walk another three kilometres.

  "It's five kilometres."

  "Yea, but for someone who hasn't run, in over a decade, it's hard work, unlike for you. You hit the gym every day."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Rose," I snapped, waving a hand as my stomach grumbled.

  "Hungry?"

  "Duh. I haven't had proper food ever since you showed up," I snapped then realised what it sounded like. I lifted my gaze to his confused one.

  "I, eh, mean, like, all you rich people keep eating seafood and I sort of hate seafood," I said. Damn. When I am hungry or sleepy, I usually get snappy. Realising what I had just said made me feel bad, really bad.

  "Why didn't you just say something then?" He stood up. I scrambled to my feet, dusting the powder off my leggings.

  "I- You- Okay, you were pretty scary when you came home," I admitted. He barely even knew my name then. I looked up, expecting to see him angry or something. But there was an amused grin on his face.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Come on. Let's get you some food," he said, grabbing my arm and tucking it under his.

  I noticed the big blockades around. "The only way out is through the finish line."

  "Or you sponsor the event. Come on."

  He tugged me behind for a few more metres before I saw the security guard he waved over. Muttering something in French, I saw the guard look over at me, cracking a grin. What was he saying?

  The guard stepped back and opened the door, ushering us through.

  "What did you say?" I asked as Darius pulled me away from the event.

  "That's for me to know. Now, how about some French cuisine?"

  "As long as you don't feed me snails, I don't care what I eat," I said, patting my stomach. A good hard meal awaits me.

  I cared. Staring at the item on my fork, I narrowed my eyes.

  "What is this?" I asked, hesitantly taking a bite. Darius had sneaked us in the back of this restaurant that was famous apparently. Darius knew the chef and since no one would let us in dressed in practically powder paint, we snuck in through the back. Him and his connections.

  "It tastes like chicken," I muttered, and added, "but a bit chewy." I wrinkled my nose and looked up at the chef. He was a big man who looked like some wrestler with the muscles and all and a bit intimidating with his tattoos across his hands.

  "It's frog's legs," said Alphonse, whose smile showed his missing teeth. The half–chewed frog flew out of my mouth and across to the other end of the kitchen, hitting someone's back.

  "Oh, gross," I spat, ignoring the laughter around me. I picked up a glass and took a huge gulp, only to spit it back into the glass. "WHAT IS THIS?"

  "Escargot stock."

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "Snail stock."

  "I'm out," I declared, turning around and heading for the back door. I felt an arm around my waist, pulling me back.

  "We were kidding. Alphonse hit her."

  "Wait, who's hitting who?" I asked as Darius and Alphonse had a silent eye conversation. They both ignored me as Alphonse clicked his fingers to follow and led us through a door to the outside.

  "I'd let you stay in the kitchen but if you keep leaving powder trails, then the chefs will get angry. I'll bring you the first course," he said, going back in.

  "Come on."

  Darius walked over to a small table in the edge and I raised an eyebrow, looking at it. It was a makeshift table that was set in the middle of the alley way, looking as shady as ever.

  "Are you serious?" I asked, walking over.

  "Well, this is what we get when we look like this."

  I grunted, sitting down in the wooden chair and looking around. We were literally seated in the alley way behind the restaurant and our beautiful view was a car, not just any car, a massive white van with heavy tinted windows.

  “This is actually pretty cool,” I said, looking around. It felt different to be sitting outside, and the breeze was nice. I looked up, seeing Alphonse walk back out, carrying plates.

  "Please tell me that's not snails," I said, as he placed a plate down.

  "No, it's Rid de Veau," said Alphonse, winking as he headed back in. I looked at Darius as he tried to contain his laughter and raised an eyebrow.

  "What is Ride di Vey?"

  "Rid de Veau," he said in perfect French, making me roll my eyes, "is a calf's pancreas."

  "I'm out," I said, standing up. But he grabbed my hand while laughing and pulled me back down. "Alphonse was kidding. It's just pasta. Sit down."

  I stared at the plate and then back at him. He better be not lying.

  "I promise."

  I sat back down, taking the fork and poking a piece. It did look like ravioli in a weird sauce.

  "Just try it," said Darius, leaning back in his chair. I bit my lip as I stared at it before taking a bite. I just had frog legs, how bad can this be? I carefully lifted it to my mouth and took a bite and froze.

  "This is so good," I muttered, shoving another forkful in.

  "Told you."

  It wasn't till a few courses that I had to stop. After my third dessert, I had to stop. Another bite of this chocolate fondue and I was going to burst.

  "I had too much," I groaned, suddenly feeling sick. Darius had stopped eating ages ago and instead was drinking wine while staring in amusement at me.

  "I would think so. So does this make up for all the food you were deprived of?"

  "Nearly," I said with a half smile as Alphonse came back with another plate.

  "Now, madame, why don't you try –"

 
; I put a hand up, cutting him off. I was his new taste tester, it seemed.

  "I can't. Not another bite." For emphasis, I placed one hand on my stomach. I just couldn't eat anymore.

  Alphonse turned to Darius, speaking in French, and raised an eyebrow as they both talked laughing.

  "What did he say?" I asked as Darius got up, shaking hands with the man.

  "Come on," he said and grabbed my hand.

  "What did he say?"

  "Something. Let's go. Adrian's wondering where we are."

  "Where are we going now?" I asked as I looked at the sky. It was still light, meaning it was probably just noon or something.

  "It's a surprise," winked Darius before dragging me to a car waiting at the end of the alleyway.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  "So what did he say?"

  "What did who say?" asked Darius, helping me out of the car.

  "Alphonse, before," I reminded him, curious about what they talked about. Damn, I should have paid more attention in French classes back in school.

  "Oh," he said with a slight pause and then turned around heading back toward our hotel. "Nothing."

  I hurried after him. Nothing? Well, he clearly said something. I hurried into the elevator and turned around, wincing as I saw all the orange powder that stained the clean foyer. Oh boy, the hotel wasn't going to be too happy with us. But then, again seeing as it was Darius, they probably wouldn't even care.

  Wait, this was the surprise?

  I got out at our level, walking toward the room when the main suite room opened and Adrian sauntered out, all clean.

  "Wow, you guys aren't even ready yet," he said, smirking as he leaned against the wall as Darius grabbed the key out of his pocket.

  "We will be soon. What are we doing?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. What was this big surprise? Judging by the way Adrian was dressed, casual, it couldn't be anything big.

  "You'll see and oh, good luck washing all the colour out of your hair," he said laughing as he followed Darius into our room.

  I touched the top of my head, only to feel that my hair was a rat’s nest. I could only imagine the pain of trying to untangle it.

  "You go first," said Darius as he headed toward the other side of the room. I nodded, walking toward my suitcase to find some clothes. Adrian came and stood behind me, poking my head.

  ”Can I help you?” I asked, shuffling to put some distance between us.

  "Yes, your hair is a mess."

  "Thanks," I mumbled, grabbing jeans and a casual top and standing up. Adrian smiled at me and I shook my head heading toward the bathroom. Surely my hair wasn't that bad.

  Yeah, my hair wasn't bad. It was a disaster! There was so much colour in it, making it even harder to comb it out. Giving up, I decided I might try washing it out.

  I hopped into the shower, letting the warm water soak me from head to toe. I looked at the floor as the orange water went into the drain. God, this was ridiculous. Who knew that I could possibly carry this much orange powder on me?

  After an hour of tugging, probing and clawing my hair, I finally got it untangled, and managed to rip a quarter of my hair out. The Colour Run, or whatever it was called in French, was amazing, but the aftermath was horrible.

  Maybe next time I'll take a hat.

  "Hurry up, Iv!"

  I rolled my eyes rushing to get ready. I probably did take a long time. I looked in the mirror, still seeing some patches of orange on my skin that just wouldn't go. Cursing under my breath, I tied my wet hair into a loose ponytail and opened the door.

  Adrian was leaning on it and fell back before gaining his step and standing up, clearing his throat. "Nothing happened."

  "If you say so."

  "You took your time," he muttered. I waved him off, realizing he was holding a bag.

  "What's in that?" I asked.

  "You'll see. Come on, Darius had to use my shower because you took forever. What were you even doing, having a nap?"

  I narrowed my eyes at him as he dragged me outside where Darius was against the limo talking on his phone. That reminds me, I still had his phone. Did he really buy a phone just for this trip? Doesn't that make him a workaholic?

  "Alright, I'll talk to you later," I heard Darius mutter into the phone as Adrian pushed me inside, not gently either. I sent him a dirty look which he just responded to with a smile and grabbed a chocolate bar out of his pocket.

  "Want one?" he asked, offering me.

  I wrinkled my nose, shaking my head as Darius got in. "I ate too much," I told Adrian, leaning against the seats. I heard Darius chuckle and I looked at him. "What?"

  "If you didn't eat too much, I would be surprised."

  Adrian started laughing and I frowned as I looked out the window. I wanted to try everything Alphonse made. It was purely delicious, well, apart from a few delicacies. I remember the last time I had French cuisine. We went to a restaurant with my parents for their anniversary and even then the whole menu was in French and my father ordered for me.

  And that was just some fancy sandwich was deconstructed on the plate, nothing like what I had today.

  "So where are we going?" I asked after a few minutes of quite chatter between Darius and Adrian.

  "You'll see," said Darius, sending me a wink. I turned around looking out the window as my heart skipped a beat. Damn those winks, he better stop or my heart will explode.

  I looked out the window, noticing that in this part of town, there was no traffic. I focused on the amazing scenery. It was a fairly long ride and I even dozed off in the middle before I felt the limo come to a gradual stop.

  "Are we there?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

  "Yep."

  I followed them out of the limo blindly and froze, one leg out. I smelled it, the salt in the air. It woke me up immediately as realization came to me. There was only one place with this smell I loved.

  Beach.

  I scrambled out, my jaw dropping at the sight. The water was calm with waves slithering onto the sand gently. There were seagulls in the air, their squawks barely heard. The wind was gentle, just a soft breeze.

  France has beaches? Sure, it was a stupid question to think, but staying near Paris, I didn't think there were any beaches there. No wonder the drive took too long. I could see the sun setting behind the waves, still half way, the orange and purple light it sent into the sky was beautiful.

  "It's so pretty," I said.

  "It is."

  "Come on,” Adrian screamed as he started running. “The last one to find a shell is a rotten egg.” I raised my eyebrow at Darius as we watched him run in the beach screaming like a banshee.

  Is he for real?

  Darius looked at me and shrugged and did what I didn't think was possible.

  Ran right after his cousin.

  "What?" I asked myself quietly before the kid in me took over. I didn't want to be a damn rotten egg.

  Using the side of the limo for support, I quickly slipped off my shoes, placed them inside the car and ran after them. My feet hit the warm sand. It was warm and comforting against the cool breeze, sending warmth through me. I saw Darius pick up something only to be pushed by Adrian aside.

  Shit, I needed a shell.

  I ran toward the waves. Usually shells were deposited there.

  "I found one na na na na na you are a rotten egg."

  I sighed upon hearing Adrian chanting in the background as I picked one up.

  "Aluminium hasn't found one either," said Darius.

  "Actually, I got one," I said, turning around and holding mine up. Adrian laughed, pointing a finger at Darius.

  "You're a rotten egg. Come on, Ivory, let's run away from the smelly boy," and before I knew it, Adrian's hand was around my wrist and my head nearly got whiplash as he pulled me after him.

  "Adrian!" I snapped as I felt various rocks and shells in the sand stabbing my feet. This boy. Can someone remind me how he was a CEO?

  Running in the Colour Run was tiring and running
again now, my body simply refused to go on. Not more than fifty metres away, I gave up.