Well Hung Over in Vegas: A Standalone Romantic Comedy

by Kimberly Fox

  “You’re keeping it,” he says casually as he opens the window. “Hey, Harvey. Can you have someone drive my car back to my pop’s place?”

  “Definitely, sir,” Harvey says as Tyler tosses him the keys. “I’ll have someone drive it over right away.”

  My heart is beating so fast as I slowly pull out of the parking lot, terrified that a bird is going to take a dump on the hood or that I’ll roll over a wad of gum.

  Adrenaline surges through my veins as I pull onto the street, going as fast as the elderly couple shuffling down the sidewalk beside me.

  “This is a Ferrari, not a baby stroller,” Tyler says with a laugh. “You’re going to have to push on the gas with your foot.”

  My head flies back into the seat as we surge forward, way too fast.

  “Not that hard,” Tyler says, laughing. “Just relax.”

  It takes about ten minutes of driving around the back streets before I’m comfortable enough to head onto the busier roads.

  “Everyone keeps looking at us,” I say, feeling self-conscious as people on the sidewalk take videos of us as we drive by.

  Tyler chuckles. “They want to see who’s behind the wheel of a Ferrari. You better get used to it.”

  “I feel like a queen,” I say with a giggle. “Move aside peasants. A rich bitch is coming through.”

  I turn down a road that I’ve never been on and gasp when I see what’s ahead: A huge blinking sign with a large pineapple on top.

  The Pineapple Chapel.

  My stomach turns rock hard as we approach it. Tyler’s knee is bouncing up and down like a basketball as he looks at it through the windshield.

  “The scene of the crime,” he mutters. “Should we go renew our vows?”

  I don’t know why I turn into the parking lot, but I do.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  My mouth is so dry as I pull into a parking spot. “I have to go in and see if I can remember what happened.”

  Tyler doesn’t say a thing. He just nods, takes off his seatbelt, and steps out of the car.

  The chapel is even tackier than I imagined it would be. It’s the marriage equivalent of fast food, complete with a drive-through.

  It’s a place where mistakes are made, vows are broken, and plastic pineapples are admired. I can’t help but wonder how many families were disappointed by this place as I turn the pineapple shaped doorknob and walk in.

  “Wow,” Tyler says, looking around at the tacky pineapple wallpaper and carpeting. “It’s like Disney World for people who really love pineapples.”

  “I wouldn’t want to meet those people,” I say, cringing as I look at a gaudy pineapple centerpiece on the reception desk.

  “We’re those people, apparently,” Tyler mutters as he picks up a Bible off the table. It has a pineapple stitched onto the cover.

  The small reception area is empty, and no one has come to see us. “Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around. “You’d think they’d have someone to greet us considering this is business hours.”

  Tyler laughs. “I don’t think they have people getting married here during the day.”

  “In here,” I say, waving him over when I pop my head into a doorway. It’s the small chapel room where we must have gotten married. There’s about six folding chairs spewed around the room in no particular order, a dozen pineapple-themed slot machines lining the walls, and the podium in front which, of course, is shaped like a pineapple. There’s also an Asian man dressed up like Elvis sleeping on the floor. In other words: it’s classy as fuck.

  “Wow,” Tyler says, chuckling as he walks in. “We really went all out for our wedding.”

  “Out of our minds,” I mutter as I walk over to Asian Elvis, holding my nose as I bend down to wake him up.

  “I wonder if his singing sounds any better than his snoring,” Tyler says, walking up behind me.

  I shake his rhinestone-covered shoulder, but he doesn’t wake up. He’s in a whiskey coma.

  “Let me try,” Tyler says, clearing his throat. “And now, put your hands together for the one true King of rock and roll: Asian Elvis!”

  The man springs up into a sitting position, wiping his eyes as he gives us a “thank you very much” in a thick Chinese Elvis accent. He looks around in confusion for a minute and then frowns when he sees us and not a huge crowd of Asian Elvis fans (if such a thing exists).

  “Your shit is over there,” he says, pointing behind me as he lies back down on the pineapple carpet.

  I clear my throat as I stare at him. “Our shit?”

  He sighs as he takes his golden sunglasses and puts them over his bloodshot eyes. “Your mugs, lady. Your tacky plastic mugs.”

  I glance back at Tyler and scoff. I can’t believe this guy’s rudeness. This is a business after all.

  “That’s really rude,” I say, turning back to him. Elvis would be rolling in his grave, if he is actually dead. “I’m a paying customer!”

  “You were a customer,” he corrects. “We don’t get repeat customers.”

  I snort out a laugh. “So, you’re telling me that no one who gets married here gets a divorce?”

  “That’s great news,” Tyler says from behind me. The nasty look I shoot him shuts him up real fast.

  “I find that hard to believe,” I say to the sleeping King.

  He sighs. “They may get divorced, but they’re not stupid enough to marry some random stranger in Vegas, again. That’s one mistake you only make once in your life.”

  I stare at him, speechless, although he does have a point. I know I definitely won’t be returning here (hopefully).

  “Stuff is over there,” he says, pointing behind me with his eyes still closed. “No refunds. The videos have been mailed.”

  I nearly choke. “Videos?”

  “Wedding videos you ordered,” he says. “They have been mailed.”

  “To who?” I say, nearly having a panic attack.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Tyler says with a shrug. “We were probably so drunk that we scribbled nonsense on the envelopes.”

  God, I hope he’s right.

  Tyler makes his way to the back, and I get up to follow him. There’s a cardboard box on the counter stacked full of cheap plastic mugs.

  “Wow,” Tyler says when he pulls one out of the box. “I can’t wait to show this wedding photo to our grandkids.”

  I grab the mug out of his hands and stare at it with disbelieving eyes. “What the hell happened that night?”

  My hands can’t stop shaking as I stare at the photo. So, it’s true. We’re married.

  In the photo, I’m wearing a white plastic dress with a pineapple bra on the outside, looking like the crackhead version of the little mermaid. Instead of sea shells on my boobs, I have pineapples. I wish that was the worst part of the photo, but it’s only the beginning. Tyler has a ball gag strapped in his mouth, like he’s in a scene out of Pulp Fiction, and I’m holding up a leather whip.

  Our twisted, fucked up faces make the photo look more like a mugshot than a wedding photo. The picture looks like it should be on the evening news over a heading of: Wanted For Arrest! Crystal meth drug dealers. Call if you have any information, instead of on our fireplace mantel.

  My stomach hardens as the cruel realization that this is actually me settles in.

  “A ball gag? A whip? Where did we get all of this stuff?” Tyler asks, staring at another mug.

  “I need some air,” I say, feeling like I’m going to be sick. I toss the mug into the box and rush out of the chapel, taking big gulps of air once I’m back in the parking lot.

  Tyler comes out a minute later, holding a mug in his hand.

  “What’s that?” I shout, pointing at it like it’s cursed. “Why are you taking one?”

  His face softens as he stands in front of me. “We got married, Dahlia,” he says after taking a deep breath. “Even if we were drunk or drugged or whatever, we still loved each other enough to get married. Even if it
was for only five minutes, and even if we can’t remember it now. It still happened. We loved each other enough to say those eternal vows.”

  My heart skips a beat as he adoringly looks down at the mug in his hand.

  “I don’t know what happened that night, but I do know that I would never marry someone who I didn’t love completely. We may not remember it, or want to believe that it happened, but it did. Why wouldn’t I want to keep a memento of that night? Of that moment? It’s part of my life now, and I want to remember it.”

  I take a few deep breaths then storm back into the chapel, coming out a few seconds later with a mug of my own.

  Tyler smiles when he sees the mug in my clenched hands. He opens his mouth.

  “Don’t say anything!” I snap, charging past him to my new car.

  He just grins as he follows me in.

  “Anything!”

  Once we’re back on the road, he turns to me. “I only like it because your eyes are all squiggly,” he says, cutting the tension.

  I laugh, feeling better than I have since I first pulled into the chapel. “Ugh,” I say when I glance down at the mug in his hands. “They are all squiggly.”

  “They’re not that bad,” he whispers, smiling as he looks down at the photo.

  I shake my head as I giggle. “We’re going to have kids with tattooed arms and squiggly eyes.”

  Tyler laughs for a moment, and then his face drops. “Wait,” he says, jerking his head toward me. “Are you pregnant?”

  “No,” I snap back. “Definitely not. I know my body, and I can tell with a hundred percent accuracy that I’m not.”

  I turn to the side window so that Tyler can’t see my panicked face. Oh, God! Please don’t let me be pregnant!

  It’s then that I remember the almost empty box of Magnum condoms in my purse. Hopefully, we used protection.

  Chances are, I’m not pregnant. That should be a good thing. But for some reason, it just leaves an empty feeling in me.

  Is it bad that a small part of me wants more than a cheap plastic mug as a memento of that night?

  I cringe when I look down at the photo once again. Yes, it’s bad, Dahlia. Those two cracked-out people should definitely not be having kids!

  9

  Dahlia

  “Are you nervous?” Tyler asks as we’re about to walk out into the backyard.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head as my heart pounds in my chest. I shake out my hands and then try to place my arms naturally, but any position I put them in seems anything but natural.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “You look like you’re playing with an invisible marionette.”

  “I don’t know!” I snap. My palms are so sweaty. This dress is so tight. “I’m freaking out!”

  “It’s just a party,” he says in a calm voice. “Just try to have fun.”

  “A party with a hundred people I don’t know,” I fire back. “And they’re all expecting me to be your perfect new wife.”

  He smiles as he looks me up and down in my new red dress. “You definitely look the part. That dress looks fucking perfect on you.”

  I feel like I’m going to puke. This can’t be happening. Over a hundred of the most powerful people in the country are in the backyard waiting to meet Tyler’s new wife. Waiting to meet me.

  I’m not prepared for this. I hate being unprepared.

  “I’m leaving,” I say, turning to the front door as panic starts to settle in.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tyler says, grabbing my hands before I can bolt. He bends his knees until our faces are level. “It’s going to go great,” he whispers in a soothing voice. I can already feel my nerves going away as I stare into his bright green eyes. “I’ll be beside you the entire time. Everyone is going to love you.”

  “You don’t understand,” I say, gulping down panicked breaths of air. “I’m not good with people, and I’m definitely not good at parties.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re fun to be around. Just be yourself.”

  I shake my head out, trying to get rid of the migraine that’s raging forward, and take a deep breath. I have to do this. If I don’t, Mr. McMillan will still be in charge of the company and will surely close down the factory in Summerland.

  I squeeze my eyes impossibly tight, thinking of the park in the small town of Summerland where all of the families gather on Sunday afternoons for a huge communal barbecue in the summers, and the little elementary school that puts on the most adorable plays at Christmas time. I have to do it. For them.

  “Okay,” I say, opening my eyes and slowly exhaling as I look at Tyler. “Let’s just go.”

  He nods and then turns to the door. My eyes glide over his body, admiring the fitted suit he’s wearing. It’s a gorgeous dark blue with a light blue collared shirt underneath. He’s not wearing a tie, and the first few buttons are open, giving me a mouth-watering glimpse of the tanned skin of his muscular chest.

  He takes my hand and gently pulls me to his side. I catch our reflection in the mirror on the wall and gasp at how good we look together.

  It’s all pretend, Dahlia. Don’t forget that.

  The next thirty minutes are a blur as I’m whisked around the McMillans’ spectacular backyard, meeting dozens of people. I smile and nod as Tyler introduces me to cousins, business associates, family friends, neighbors, and on and on and on.

  “This is my cousin, Jason,” Tyler says, smiling as he introduces me to a handsome young man in a sports jacket and jeans. “He’s the real brains behind McMillan Worldwide.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking Jason’s hand. “I was wondering who the real brains of the company was. I knew it couldn’t be this guy,” I say, pointing at Tyler.

  “I’m more like the cock of the company,” Tyler says with a grin.

  “You sure are,” Jason says with a grin. “You’re always good at fucking things up.”

  We all laugh and then chat easily for a few minutes. Jason seems like a nice guy, and I’m glad I’ll have a friend at the new corporate office and in Tyler’s family.

  “I like him,” I say when we move on.

  “He’s the good cousin,” Tyler says with a nod. “His older brother Nick, on the other hand, is the asshole of the company.”

  We walk around the lit up inground swimming pool and slowly make our way to the grass, ducking under the tall maple trees with beautiful lanterns hanging from the thick branches. My head is spinning with a million names that I’ll never remember when I finally get a break.

  “That was… something,” I say when Tyler comes back with a beer for him and a white wine spritzer for me. I down half of it in one gulp.

  “You did great,” he says, watching my lips as I take another sip. “Everyone believed that you were my wife.”

  I take another long gulp as my heart finally stops pounding. Mack McMillan has very powerful friends, and I just met dozens of owners and CEOs of the nation’s biggest companies. Every time I shook a hand of a CEO, I saw it as another company that I won’t be able to work for once this all blows up in my face.

  “Oh, fuck,” Tyler mutters, rolling his eyes as he looks away from the smug-looking guy who’s approaching us with a smirk on his face. “I was hoping he wouldn’t come.”

  “Cuz!” the man says, opening his arms as he arrives.

  Tyler gives him a quick hug that lacks any real emotion.

  “Dahlia,” Tyler says, sliding a protective arm over my shoulder, “this is my cousin, Nick.”

  Nick gives me a warm smile as he shakes my hand. I can feel Tyler’s body tighten beside me, and it only eases up when I get my hand back from Nick.

  “It’s nice to finally meet the woman who locked down my cousin,” he says with an easy smile. He looks similar to Tyler but is not nearly as good-looking and definitely doesn’t have the same je ne sais quoi. His nose is thicker, and his eyebrows are starting to look like scary caterpillars the more I look at t
hem.

  Stop staring at his eyebrows!

  “So, Tyler kept you hidden from us for two whole years?” he says, glancing at my breasts. “I can see why. He must have been worried that I would steal you for myself.”

  “I don’t think that would have been a problem,” I say, staring him dead in the eyes. I know Tyler doesn’t like this guy, and after thirty seconds with him, I can see why. The arrogant looks, the condescending tone, the sinister eyebrows-it’s all turning me off faster than being on a date with a guy who can’t stop bitching about his ex.

  He laughs it off. “You’re the one from the Summerland factory,” he says. “Don’t worry, we’ll be sure to have a job for a wife of Tyler’s in the company once we close the plant down.”

  I whip my head around to glare at Tyler with accusing eyes. The whole reason I’m here is because he promised that the factory would remain open. I wasn’t aware they had already made plans to shut it down.

  “That decision is not final yet,” Tyler says, raising his chin as he stares his cousin down.

  Nick shrugs. “It’s only a matter of time. That was why we bought it in the first place.”

  My heart is thumping in my chest. That’s why they bought it in the first place? What the hell?

  “Oh, really?” I say through gritted teeth as I try to melt Tyler with my eyes.

  “Would you excuse us, Nick?” I say without taking my eyes off of Tyler. “My new husband has a lot of explaining to do.”

  Nick cringes and then leaves, laughing to himself at the trouble he’s caused his cousin.

  I cross my arms over my chest as I glare at Tyler with hard eyes. “Explain.”

  “I told you,” he says, looking exasperated.

  “The truth. I want the truth or I’ll scream out that this whole marriage is a sham.”

  “Dahlia, I told y—”

  “Three.”

  “Dahlia…”

  “Two.”

  “Okay, okay,” he says in a panic. “I’m not the only consideration for the top position at McMillan Worldwide Inc.”

  I want to skin him alive.

  “Just wait,” he says, looking jittery when he sees my furious face. “I’ll explain everything. My father is also considering my cousin Nick for the spot.”