by Melinda Minx
Real romantic. This is just how I always imagined my wedding as a little girl. Sign and say some bullshit vows. And yadda yadda.
It won’t be real, I remind myself. Only as real as I decide to make it. This will be a strictly legal marriage designed to get around a legal problem.
Curly grabs his things and says before walking outside, “I’ll stall the police, just don’t say anything to them, alright?”
I nod. “I got it, thanks, Curly.”
10
Coal
Curly storms into my holding cell. One look at his face and I know I’m not going to like what he says. It’s the same face he had when he convinced us to play a prank on our drill sergeant, which meant doing hundreds of pushups in the mud every morning for the rest of basic training.
“Don’t bother, Curly,” I say, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth.
“I didn’t even say anything yet, Winters.”
“I know you got some crazy fucking plan—a dumb one. I’ll take my chances with the legal system. What’s the longest they’d lock me up? A year or two? I can handle that.”
“More like ten,” Curly says. “I’m seeing a year or two served as a best-case scenario at this point. You fucking went berserk on that guy, Coal.”
I shrug. “Yeah, I could have showed some restraint. I could have risked him coming after Andrea again after they let him out of prison in a year or whatever. I can’t keep her safe at all times.”
Curly’s face fills with a shit-eating grin, and he throws a briefcase down on the hard metal bench in front of me. “Funny you mention that.”
“Mention what?”
“Protecting her at all times. You’d like to be around her all the time?”
“Fuck, Curly, I don’t know. She got in my head, alright? It wasn’t like with other women, that’s probably what set me off. Now don’t you dare tell her I said that, but it’s just some dumb thing, alright? I’ll be fine alone. It’s worked for me for years.”
“Alright,” Curly says, popping his briefcase open. “I don’t have time to try to tiptoe around this with you, we need to act fast if this is going to work. I’m just going to say it, alright? Before you shoot it down straight away, at least think it over, okay? Don’t say ‘no’ right away.”
“Out with it,” I say. I try to bring a hand up to snap, but the cuffs jangle and prevent me from raising my hand, so I give up on the idea.
He pulls a paper out and slides it in front of me. He places a pen on top.
“For the next nine days, my marriage officiator’s license is still valid. I convinced the cops that Andrea wanted to see you for a minute, and as soon as you two are in there, boom, I marry you.”
I start to laugh. From deep within my gut. This is classic fucking Curly—Curly as a lawyer rather than a ‘shit-eating maggot’ as the drill sergeant called him.
“Ridiculous,” I say, shaking my head. “She’d never go for—”
“She agreed already,” Curly says, locking eyes with me. “It was almost her idea, man. Sign here and you’ll be man and wife within ten minutes. You’ll get out of here when no one can testify against you.”
I start to imagine what would happen if Andrea married me. I could bring her back to the cabin with me, and it would fuck up my routine—sure—but my routine would get fucked in a good way. It would include a lot more fucking, for a start.
Then I realize it will be entirely fake. A pity act of charity from her.
“Nah,” I say. “I don’t think so, Curly.”
“This is it, Coal,” he says, “Now or never. They are going to get her statement in less than an hour if we don’t move on this. What do you have to lose?”
“Couldn’t she end up going to jail for this?”
“I went over this with her already,” Curly says. “You’d have to sell the marriage. Andrea’s agreed to it. It can’t just be on paper, you have to really act like you’re married.”
I fight it, but a grin starts to fill my face. This is interesting. It might be a fucking stupid idea, but I can’t deny that it’s intriguing. How much fun could I have with Andrea if she had to pretend to be my wife? Well, she would be my wife…
“I see that smile,” Curly says. “Sign!”
He shoves the pen in my hand, and I find myself signing without even thinking it over any further.
“Alright,” Curly says. “It’s pretty much locked in at this point. You just need to both say ‘I do’ and then I will sign. Ready?”
“I’m ready.” I say, nodding.
Curly sweet-talks the cops outside, and they finally open the door to come get me.
A cop with a big chest and a thick neck comes in and grabs my arm. “Up.”
I stand up. He whispers into my ear, “I served in Iraq. They’re going to throw the book at you, there’s nothing I can do. We shouldn’t let you talk to her before she gives her statement, but it’s all I can do for you.”
“Thanks,” I say.
So they want to throw the book at me? According to Curly that is at least ten years served. Fuck that. Let’s just hope Curly’s plan means Andrea in my bed rather than push-ups in the mud.
They escort me—still cuffed—into a holding cell with Curly and Andrea.
“Coal,” she says, “Did he—”
“Yeah,” I say. “Curly told me everything. You really want to do this?”
“Yes,” she says. “You saved my life.”
“So you just think you owe me a favor, or—”
“No time for this,” Curly says, eyeing the door. “That cop is trying to hold off his bosses, but they’ll be in here in minutes since he broke protocol.”
He hands the marriage license to Andrea, and she scrawls her signature next to mine.
“Alright,” Curly says. “Do you two take each other to have and to hold, to cherish and to whatever, for as long as the circumstances of this legal issue require you to be bound in holy matrimony?”
I stifle a grin. I’m sure this is exactly how Andrea pictured her wedding. In a holding cell in the police station, from fucking Curly.
“I do,” I say.
“I do, too,” Andrea says.
Curly signs his name on the certificate. “No need to kiss or anything.”
Andrea and I look at each other, and she bites her lip. I consider reaching out to kiss her. I take a step, and my cuffs jangle, then the door flies open.
“Get him out of here,” a voice shouts. “Justice Montero wants this one to stick.”
One of the cops grabs me and starts to pull me away. I look at Andrea and flash her a wide smile. She’s my wife now. I can’t help but smile about that.
11
Andrea
“We need to take your statement now,” Detective Donovan says, sitting down across from me. “I’m sorry to press, but we really need you to lay it all out now.”
Curly stands up with the certificate in his hands. “Unfortunately, Detective, my client is invoking CEC 970.”
Donovan jolts up from his chair, and his eyes bulge. “Spousal immunity? Why the fuck did no one tell me these two were married?”
Curly gives a smug grin. “They weren’t, but they are now. The life and death nature of the situation made them both realize that they were meant for each other. I officiated the ceremony just now, here’s the certificate.”
“You fucking lawyer slime,” Donovan says, his face getting right up into Curly’s. “Justice Montero isn’t going to take this shit. She rips fake marriages apart like snotty tissue paper.”
“Interesting analogy,” Curly says, “but this is no fake marriage. It’s real, I assure you. You should see the way these two look at each other.”
The cops storm out, and I wait with Curly a long time, but after a few hours I’m brought outside. A few minutes later, Coal is escorted out by one of the cops.
The cop laughs and shakes his head, then says, “Congrats on the marriage, you two.”
“Thanks,” Coal says, and
the two give each other a knowing look.
“Mrs. Winters,” Coal says, looking down at me from the top of the steps. “Want to come back to the cabin with me?”
Curly shakes his head. “Not ideal. Your cabin is isolated, Coal. If you two just hole up in there, you won’t be creating a compelling and visible case to Justice Montero. You have to meet with her early next year—which is in a month—and she’s going to be looking to find any holes in your marriage.”
“Uh,” I say, “this is kind of awkward, but I was planning to go stay at my parents’ house starting next weekend.”
“For Christmas?” Curly asks. “Isn’t that a month away?”
“My parents live nearby, I still have to work, but it’s a bit of a family tradition. Everyone comes back for most of December. I guess that would include my husband.”
“Good,” Curly says. “Just what you guys need. Make sure you take a lot of pictures, and post them on Facebook.”
The look on Coal’s face is priceless. I doubt this is what he had in mind.
“Shit,” he says. “I should have taken the jail time.”
I laugh and try to shove him, but of course it doesn’t budge him. “Are you comparing my family to being in prison?”
“No,” he says, crossing his arms. “I’m saying that having to live in the suburbs of San Francisco and plaster every detail of my life onto Facebook is not what I had in mind.”
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, grinning at him.
“Shit, I dunno, Andrea…like before.”
Curly is smiling maniacally. “You two could have a delayed honeymoon later, if—”
“Damn it!” Coal says, cutting Curly off.
“You want to go get some stuff from your cabin before we hit the suburbs?” I ask.
“We’re going straight to your parents’ place?”
“God, no,” I say. “We’ll stay at my place a few days before we go to my parents’ house. I’ll have to do some serious explaining to them. Like, why did I get married and not invite anyone to our wedding?”
Curly raises his hand and says, “You could just say that Coal is such an asshole that you didn’t think anyone would like him.”
“That could work,” I say.
Coal grinds his teeth together and glares at Curly. “Curly’s not coming with us, right? I think I’ve had enough of him for the next decade or so.”
Curly laughs. “I saved your ass. You owe me.”
“We’re even,” Coal says. “This makes me not pissed at you anymore for the muddy push-ups and the drill sergeant tearing us apart.”
“I’ll have to meet up with you guys a few days before the hearing with Justice Montero, and I’ll be present during the hearing. As much as I’d like to watch Coal suffer in the ‘burbs, I’ve gotta’ get back to my regular life. I got my own wife to satisfy, if you know what I mean.”
Curly winks, and Coal rolls his eyes.
We load up into Coal’s truck. I don’t want to drive back with Lindsay. I’m pretty angry with her for bailing on me, which almost got me killed.
I’m not quite sure how I’m going to work with her back in the office. I’ll have to deal, but she’s bailed on me enough that our relationship will have to stay strictly business from this point forward.
“Where’s all your stuff?” I ask Coal.
He’s got one bundled-up military sack, which he threw into the bed of the truck. “What stuff?”
“We’re going to be in the suburbs for over a month,” I say. “You just have that one bag?”
“Seven pairs of boxers. Seven pairs of pants. And seven shirts. And thirteen pairs of socks. Toothbrush, razor, toothpaste. I’ll do laundry once a week. What else do I need?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why thirteen pairs of socks?”
“Because they disappear.”
My own suitcase is bigger than his, and I had only planned to be in Evergreen Cove for a weekend.
“What happened with your business crap?” Coal asks, starting up his truck. “You sure you don’t need to deal with that before we go?”
“Lindsay took care of it without me,” I say. “I’m sure she’ll get all the credit, too.”
“You going to miss out on a raise then?” he asks, putting the truck into drive and pulling out of the empty lot where it was parked.
“No, it’s just about doing a good job.”
“So you do a good job, but you don’t get anything for it? Who cares then?”
“Did you get a raise when you Navy SEALed particularly well?” I ask sarcastically. “Like an extra $10,000 for each tank you blew up?”
“I didn’t blow up tanks, and it’s not the same thing. You can’t compare frivolous hotel crap to defending your country. I took a vow.”
“Frivolous hotel crap? Really, Coal, it’s my job.”
“I just think if you do a good job, you should push for a raise. Otherwise, what’s the incentive?”
“Well,” I say. “I didn’t do a good job this time. So it’s a moot point.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a long drive. I gotta’ admit it feels good. First road trip with my wife, too.”
He grins at me, and I know he’s joking, but as annoying as he can be, it feels good to hear him say I’m his wife.
“Don’t make me regret it, okay?” I say.
“How do you mean?” Coal asks. “Of course, I’m going to satisfy you, if that’s what—”
“That’s not what I mean,” I snap. “Justice Montero isn’t going to ask us for a sex tape.”
“A sex tape,” he says. “That’s a good idea. I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt.”
I grind my teeth. “Look, you have a bit of an abrasive streak. I think you realize that as objectively true.”
“I tell it like it is.”
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s what obnoxious people say about themselves. I’m going to be on really thin ice with my family as it is for springing a surprise marriage on them. I’m thinking up a good excuse for it—I’ll have to assure them we’re having a real wedding later—and if on top of all of this mess, my surprise husband is a total jerk…”
“I may be an asshole,” Coal says, “but I can turn up the charm when I need to.”
I roll my eyes, but I know he’s right. I have seen his charm mixed in with just enough asshole that he’s still barely tolerable, but he if could simply go all charm on my family, they’d love him.
“Please make them like you,” I say, squeezing his knee.
“I won’t even have to try.”
I wake up with drool going down my cheek and my head against the door. Coal is pulling off to the side of the road.
“Why are we stopping?”
“You don’t feel that?” he asks.
“Feel what? I was sleeping.”
He gives me a dismissive look. “Even if I was sleeping, a flat tire would wake me right up.”
“Oh,” I say. “I guess it is a bit jerky. Want me to call AAA?”
“Yeah,” Coal says. “Why not just chop my balls off and wrap up my dick with a pink ribbon while you’re at it?”
“Is your masculinity really so fragile?”
“Fragile,” he says, putting the truck into park. “Of course not, but any man should be able to change a fucking tire. Imagine how you’d feel if I wanted to call someone in to—I don’t know—shop for you?”
I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and laugh sarcastically. “So now that we’re married you’re just going to turn into a caveman who insists on sexist stereotypes?”
“So you don’t like shopping?” he says, opening the door. “Cause I’ll hold you to that if you say you don’t like it.”
“I like to shop, but—”
“And I like to change my own tires. Now you can sit in the truck and sleep, or you can watch and learn.”
I yawn. “I have AAA, so I don’t need to learn, but—”
“Cancel AAA,” Coal says. “You’ve got me now. I won’t
let another man change my wife’s tire.”
“That sounds oddly kinky.”
“Actually you need to get out of the truck,” he says. “I gotta’ jack it.”
“Wow, changing a tire must be some kind of fetish for you if it makes you want to do that.”
“Jack the truck,” Coal says, grinning up at me. “Though I like the direction your mind is going.”
Coal pulls a tool box and a spare tire out of the bed of the truck. I stand back and watch passively as he jacks the truck and works the bolts off the tire.
He pries a nail out of the tire. “See this?”
“Looks like a nail. Sucks.”
“It’s nothing,” he says. “In America, the worst thing you can drive across is a little nail like this. No IEDs, nothing actually dangerous. Just a little nail.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
“I never used to either, but you learn to appreciate almost everything when you’re away.”
“Are you trying to say I take my freedom for granted, or—”
Coal laughs and pockets the nail. “No, I’m not saying anything like that. Stop trying to pick a fight with me, wife.”
He’s saying ‘wife’ to get a rise out of me, but I kind of like it.
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m not trying to pick a fight.”
“Yes, you are.”
“It sounds to me like you’re picking a fight.”
He pulls the flat tire off the car and sets it down. “I’m just making conversation. Might as well have you talk to me while you stand there with your arms crossed.”
“Hey,” I say, “I wanted to call AAA. You’re the one who volunteered to change the tire—the one who likes doing it.”
He ignores me and starts to work the bolts onto the spare.
I start to yawn. “When we go shopping and do other women stuff, you can just chill out like I am. I won’t make you help.”
“I already have my seven shirts and pairs of pants,” Coal says. “I don’t go shopping.”
“But you’re my husband,” I say sarcastically. “You have to sit with the other bored husbands outside the store on those little chairs, while I spend hours trying on all kinds of different outfits.”