I can’t see what’s happening. The screens are off and everyone is on their toes watching and waiting the judges give their final verdict. “Tatum, what are they saying?”
“I can’t see either. But-”
“We have a verdict!”
“But what? Tell me! Please!”
“I can see-”
“For their first time debuting in Vegas, Sinful Scars have taken home the prize and pride of the 10th annual Expo!”
It is loud. I can’t hear my own thoughts. And maybe that’s for the best. Screams and shouts as Damon’s hand is hoisted up through the switched on screens rent the already testosterone-filled hall. Whoever made a bet was right on the money. And I believe Nix and Holland are grabbing fistfuls of cash for the same reason.
It is jubilation galore, and I am a part of it. Damon comes over and hugs Tatum. Nix and Holland join in and make it tight. It is clearer now. These guys are not just friends for the long haul.
They are family.
Tatum pops his head up and looks around. He finds me. His arm grabs me by my hand and pulls me in. I am a part of it too now.
*
The last words I remember yelling are “Drink up you fucking pussy!” and then everything went black. No, blurry, then black. I think it’s for the best that I recall nothing after we decided to celebrate for the remainder of the night. Yes, blurry is good.
Blurry is very good…
Chapter 11 - Waryn
Two hangovers in two weeks and this one feels worse. Must the head always pound this much? My entire body feels dead inside, and so enormously wasted. It sums up the feeling I think I have of lifting a car all by myself. I think this time I must make the vow to never ever-
Who am I kidding? I’ll still find myself in this situation sometime soon.
My eyes open with gentle care. Too bright. I shut them back. I would rather this swirling heap of red and black than that shine from the devil’s ass. My hand feels another body next to me. It’s bearded.
Tatum must be dead asleep. I poke his face and he doesn’t budge. I knee his groin slowly and he still doesn’t move. Boy would it be weird if I find out it’s not him, but Damon staring at me with his usual scowl on and his brow raised. Now I just have to get up.
The room is lit brightly from the peeled back curtains. The red and white give the morning ambience a sweet aromatic feel. I try to turn my head and fail, but my body moves as one with no sudden movements.
Tatum is on the bed with his ass bare and his torso in a white jacket. Odd. The sheets are too soft to be the ones in the room we had. Even the lights by the bathroom tile feel slightly awkward. This is not our room.
The realization of being stark naked finally hits me, and I try my best to cover up my perky breasts. It’s instinct I suppose. The sheet next to me is on my shoulders by the time I stand up and walk around.
Nothing we did last night makes any sense. I remember vaguely a guy with a really bad wig, Tatum kissing me, and the guys throwing up a handful of rice. Why would Damon throw a handful of rice in the air?
Then I feel it. Like a lock on my bones, chains on my feet, a tight and taught feeling on my finger. A ring. Golden and shiny.
“No…no…no, no, no, no, no, no, no…Tatum!”
I drop the sheet and frantically get to his side. No way the white jacket is a coincidence. I push him belly up till his face is facing the ceiling. “Tatum! Wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up! Tatum!”
Nothing.
No matter. I take his left hand from under his awkwardly shelved hand and brandish his middle finger.
The same ring. Shiny and golden.
“TATUM! WAKE THE FUCK UP!”
He moves a little and moans out. His eyes are beady and tired, a hint of lazy black under the lids. He stretches out and smacks his lips, ready to see a naked girl yelling at him. Some things one never expects, but so goes for motivation; sometimes it find you, and more often than not like a crazy meth-head with a broken bottle in hand running after you and screaming bloody murder.
“Morning baby.”
“Baby? Ooh no busty boy, not today we aren’t. Get up.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Look at your bloody finger and tell me.”
He does. The sleep is knocked right out of him.
“No way!” he laughs out in a wheeze.”
“Do you think it’s funny?
“I think it could be. Why did you put a ring on my finger? I thought we agreed it would go on my dick?”
“Tatum. Look yourself in the mirror and then talk to me.”
He lumbers himself off the bed and stumbles around. He is not as hammered as I was, but he will be once he sees what’s facing him back in the mirror. He leans and grabs hold of the big reflecting glass at the wall facing the bathroom. The white jacket with the black lapels is the first thing he sees. His eyes widen.
“What in the actual fuck?”
“Still think it’s a game?”
“I have rice in my hair. I have friggin’ rice in my hair!”
“Wait, you do?” I walk up to him and pick at the tiny bits at the base of his scalp. Same goes for his beard.
“Wow.”
“Okay, let’s back it up a bit. What did we do after the trophy and the hugging? Coz I sure as hell don’t – Waryn?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are we not in our room? How are we in…is this the fuckin’ honeymoon suite?”
“Took you five whole minutes for you to figure that one out, huh?”
“Waryn! Not now. Come on, help me piece this whole thing together.”
“Okay.”
And so we do. We get some clothes on, though I actually like the jacket on him. The whole naked butt thing isn’t working out for me right now, so he has to wear some pants. I grab the nearest bathrobe and we stand at the center of the room together.
“Okay. So we decided to go out last night, after the huge party at the hall, right?”
“Yeah. Then Damon said something about buying us drinks if I got you to wear a dress.”
“Which you really did.”
“Mmhmm. We got to the closet and you sucked my dick some more. I ate you out, and then-”
“Tatum. I don’t think that bit is relevant to our situation right now.”
“Right. So after that I think we went dancing? Or eating? It’s all fuzzy to me.”
“Me too.”
I pace around the room and so does he. No clues so far, and it sucks. We have no idea what happened at all, and are somehow, out of all fantasies to ever happen to me, married.
“Wait.” He starts.
“What?” “How about we search yesterday’s clothes for clues? You might have something in your purse right? Or there may be something in my pants?”
“Yeah!”
We rush to where our clothes are strewn. I find my dress, which I think is mine. Red is never my color, and this smells new. Maybe we bought it out? No matter. I look for my bra and panties and laugh while at it.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I just realized I would never find them in my possession if I was drunk enough to buy a dress.
“Found something.” He announces and holds it up for me to see. It’s a small brown envelope, enough to fit in a few personal photos. I saunter to him as he drops his pants to the floor. We open it together.
“Huh. A memory card.”
“What do you think is on it?” I ask. “Let me put it in the telly and we’ll see, yeah?” “Okay.”
I rest on the bed and loosen the belt on the robe. So soft and lush, I wish I could steal it and take it home. I think I just might anyway, if what that memory card holds last night’s events. He fixes it in and grabs the remote by the counter.
“Okay. It’s in. Scoot over.”
One file is read, and the screen shows it. One more button and we get to know. It’s like my first porn film. Exciting and unknown.
“Ready?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Me neither.” He pushes the button and the file plays.
It’s a slideshow. No audio. Just the two of us, at an altar, laughing at the vows we’re making. I am in the red dress, and he is in a suit. Black and white. The guys are thronging around us holding up cans of beer. Damon has his hands at his chest, smiling and banging at Nix’s shoulder with his elbow. The priest…oh my fuck.
It’s Michael from the plane. I can tell who he is by the stance he has. His fake leg is something I would notice from a mile away. And he’s wearing the wig and the costume.
“Jeez…we got married by Elvis?”
“Why are the guys doing nothing? I mean come on, they should have been our designated drivers.”
“I think I know why. Look.”
The slide’s changed. We are at a party, and Nix has a bottle of champagne at his crotch that’s blown off the top and creaming off to the carpet. A manager is on his tail in the next slide, and Holland is grabbing Tatum’s jacket and pulling him away from the angry manager. Damon’s mouth is in the hot blonde’s, and they are at a wall mashing into it with the broad in between.
“They were hammered. We all were. I can’t even speak for Damon. I don’t even know what to make of it. What was I angry about?”
“Don’t look at me Tate. I’m not even in that picture.”
“Oh crap, and I can tell why. Ha-ha. Look!”
My face is in a punch bowl, and I am hurling out what seems to be burrito bits into the alcohol. And the guests at the really grand quinceanera are not pleased with our raunchy behavior. The next slide is us hauling ass away from that hotel and into the streets. Who the hell was taking these photos?
The last slide before the file ends is Tatum and I kissing at the top of the MGM building. He’s butt naked, and the boys are behind us in a stance like wolves, howling at the moon. The screen goes blank.
“Wow.”
“I know. That last one, man-”
“Will never be mentioned again. And you promise that to your soul Waryn. You do, don’t you?”
“Sure thing, Butt Man.” He grabs a pillow and throws it at my face playfully. I grab it and place it at my crotch, just like he did. He scowls.
“It will be easier if we get this thing annulled of course. Just a few talks with my lawyer, or yours if you want, and we can hash this out today. Why am I the only one talking? Back me up here Tatum.”
But his face is turned away and onto the window facing the outside. I can only see sky and the Nevada desert from where I stand. He looks back, with a slight curve and determination on his face.
“I don’t want an annulment.”
“What?”
“I don’t want an-”
“I heard you the first time. What do you mean you don’t want it? It’s not a choice. You know this right?”
“I mean, Waryn, that I want us to stay married.”
He must still be hammered if this is his train of thought. Even my arms are akimbo. They are never akimbo!
“Tate…We can’t stay married.”
“Why not? Give me a simple reason, one that I can actually believe from you.”
“People don’t do these kinds of things anymore. How do you expect us to move on from this as a married couple?”
“Really? That’s the best you can do?” He moves from the window and walks towards me, each step with a lasting glance. “Is this your argument? That people don’t do this anymore?”
“Tatum…we can’t.”
“But what if we can? Huh? What if you and me defy those odds and stay married. We live happily ever after from a night of silly mistakes of epic proportions? What if? What if after all this we’ll still be together for years on end till the last of our breaths? What if this day, this decision, is the lasting effect that could change the shape of our entire lives?”
“Tatum…no. This is not how I wanted to get married. I can’t even remember saying my vows, even if I had any. What good is a ring if I have no memory to show for it? No, we’re getting an annulment.”
“Waryn. Look at me. No really.” His hands are on my face, and his knee on the floor. I wish he would be proposing right now, but no. We just had to get married and remember none of it.
“I know we met a few weeks ago Waryn. Hey, look at me, really. We only just met, and we haven’t had enough time to even know one another as well as we should. But right here, right now, I will tell you what I know and what I knew the moment I took off my pants and slung on the butt cheeks in the streets of Vegas.
I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and no other woman. It’s taken me an entire lifetime to figure out who I need and what I want to do with myself. You are my reason to get up and smile Waryn. Heck, you even make Damon giggle, a feat no woman has ever attempted. Waryn Blair, you complete me, something all the cheeseburgers and pizzas in the world have tried and failed at.
Be my bride Waryn. And I will be your groom. Together I know we can make anything work, despite the murky glue that brought us together.”
His eyes are a deep brown, and dilated. Heavily.
“I’ll give you one thing Tate. That’s one hell of a speech.” I place my hands on his and make sure he can hear me. “Now it’s my turn.”
“I never thought I would find what I have in you when I left home. All I knew back then was pain and anger and a whole lot of bad vibes. The day I got to your shop, all that changed. I so badly wanted to smash your head in with a bowl of fruits and make you suck all the bananas in it.” His face is ever so priceless, and his hands lightly let my face go. I keep them intact.
“Yeah, I might be a little crazy, but you’ll get what I mean in a minute. I totally have no blame on you Tatum. What happened in that ring that night happened as it did, but it was Eric who took his own life. How he dealt with it all was his own problem. He never used my presence for his own and threw my help in the trash. He felt sorry for himself and that was his own issue. So on that front you know I don’t find any of this weird or strange.
But Tatum, we’ve only gone out for less than a month. You don’t even know where I live, but we’ll sort that out soon, don’t worry. But accepting to get married is a really tough call. I have no idea how all this will play out in the eventuality of time, but I know this is not the way I wanted to do it. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“Okay, how about a trial run.”
“A what?”
“A trial run. I know we aren’t on the same page about the annulment, but think about the trial run.”
“What are you on about Tatum?”
“We decide to stay married for a couple of weeks, okay? Then if it doesn’t work out I will be right there with you at the courthouse, and we can even melt the rings and have them done into something else.”
“Hmm…a trial run, huh? And you are positive this won’t get weird?”
“I am…I really am.” His face is already giddy, knowing the weight has been tipped into his favor.
“Okay. It’s not like we’re getting any younger anyway. And it would be nice to actually figure out firsthand how a marriage works…”
He jumps up. It startles me, but his lips don’t. It is warm, and tastes of fine brandy. I pull him away gently. A man shouldn’t be hurt by the trivial things.
“So, first things first,” he says. “We need to figure out how the hell we paid for all this, and where the hell the guys are. I need to shout it out really loud into their beardy drunk faces.”
“And what will you be shouting out?”
“That I’m friggin taken Waryn!”
Chapter 12 - Waryn
Two more weeks and no alcohol. I should really rub one out in celebration soon. Then again, what else am I having a husband around for?
The tides swept around us lovingly and humorously. Fourteen days today mark the night we drunkenly wore our rings and chose to become husband and wife. I live in his humble and exquisitely tasteful home, and have been, and will be, for a bette
r duration of the foreseeable future.
I still think about that night in Vegas, how no recollection of it makes me feel any better. It is all a blank state, one that I can surely live without. The boys told us what had happened, and in particular it was Holland who held the memory cards on that one.
We had started off with some food; a burrito was my choice at the beginning. I wanted to remember how awesome those cheeseburgers were at the onset of our relationship. The guys cheered us on, and we didn’t stop biting down till my belly started hurting.
So Damon went out to get some water, and I was in Tatum’s arms when it occurred to them all that it was 2 am. Nothing of meaning ever bodes well at that time, and it was decided that we go get some drinks. Get wasted, Damon came back saying. In his arm he had the blonde girl from the plane. Her name was Jessica, or so Nix clarified.
We went out and partied our asses off, and in the end all of us had had a board of shots. Even my stomach problem had ceased to exist. I was so drunk that I decided to use my pocket money to go window shopping. Tatum followed. In a store that was meant for brides and grooms, I bought the red dress, and he got the suit. Damon gave his stamp of approval.
We walked out and painted more of the town red. It was during our screaming walk that we came upon a chapel, and Tatum made a joke about us being married. The boys howled like teens. His ego was poked.
Inside, we all met this really cool photographer by the name Alexi. I doubt that was his real name, but he did take some pretty cool pictures, I must admit. Michael, the third Elvis impersonator from the plane, met us at the entrance with the receptionist, with whom he was trying to get into her good side. One word from Holland and he got her number. His favor back to us was to marry us for free.
And so he did. Alexi started taking photos from that moment on. Rice was thrown and enough banter and ululations rented the small chapel. I was his, and he was mine.
We left and decided to stop over at a party by the pool at a really nice hotel we had seen on our way back. We were all for the idea, and Alexi being the healthy-minded young chap he was, followed us and took more photos. Well, the short version is, we messed up a fifteen-year-old’s party without batting an eyelid. In my defense, who throws a fifteen-year-old a party past midnight in their right minds? I threw up in the punch bowl. Alexi happened. Damon almost wall-fucked his new girlfriend. Alexi happened. The guys got into a fight with one guy trying to get it on with me. Tatum and Alexi happened.
Two Bad Groomsmen_An MFM Menage Romance Page 36