Cake: The Newlyweds: Cake Series Book Four

by J. Bengtsson

  “Thanks, Mitch. That’s the best advice I’ve heard all day.”

  The party ended shortly after, and I was escorted to my room by no fewer than a dozen superheroes. With capes flying and ridiculous kung fu moves by out-of-shape pretenders, no one was able to see past all the masked crusaders into the center of the crowd where I was conveniently ducking to keep from being seen. It seemed for now at least that Operation Pretzel was still a closely guarded secret. I’d had doubts earlier in the evening as I worried the bachelor party would be my undoing. The last thing I needed was to be photographed in a drunken stupor the night before the ceremony. Casey and I and a team of specialists had worked tirelessly to keep the specific date and location of our wedding a secret from the press. After extensive searches in the Los Angeles area, an exasperated and overwhelmed Casey off-handedly suggested having the wedding back where it all began, sort of like a retracing of the steps that led us to each other.

  I’d jumped all over the idea, not only because I had a soft spot for Arizona, but also because it would force Casey to radically trim the guest list, something I’d been pushing for all along. I didn’t want or need a big star-studded event. Marrying in a quaint little church with just Casey, me, and a small group of our family and friends was the way I’d always pictured our wedding day to be.

  The Avengers left me at my room with a promise to be dressed exactly the same for my wedding. Yeah, not only would that not fly with Casey but Boris would surely drop dead on the spot.

  Keith stayed back after everyone had gone. I grabbed his hand and gave him a quick back-slap hug as a gesture of thanks.

  “Did I do good?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Were you sufficiently underwhelmed?”

  “I was, thank you. It was perfect. Just what I didn’t know I wanted.”

  “Awesome. It’s the least I can do. You’ve always been there for me.”

  A response didn’t seem necessary. We both understood his reference. Keith had, on occasion, required some special assistance that only a sum of excess money could provide, and I’d given it freely. Keith had always been my favorite charity.

  “So there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” I said, hesitating as I searched for the right words.

  “I know Sam will be there tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

  Samantha was Keith’s ex-girlfriend. They’d broken it off a while back, and as far as I knew, tomorrow would be the first time the two had seen each other since.

  “Damn, you’re good,” I said.

  “Not really. I’ve already heard from Mom and Emma, and I promised them the same thing… I won’t cause a scene,” Keith said, shaking his head. “You guys have no faith in me.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask for your cooperation. I actually wanted to apologize.”

  “Well, that’s new. I’m listening.”

  “Just so you know, I was against inviting her. I like Sam, but you’re my brother, so my loyalty is to you. That being said, Casey and Sam are still friends, and she didn’t want to leave her out.”

  “I got it, Jake. Casey called me a while back. She explained everything. It’s not a problem. I promise there will be no fireworks.”

  Acknowledging him with a nod, I figured I’d try my luck and dig a little deeper. “I know it’s none of my business, but what happened between you two?”

  “Apparently women get tired of waiting for their men to get their shit together. Who knew?”

  Keith gave off the impression he was fine with the whole thing, but I could hear the frustration in his voice.

  “What shit are you talking about?”

  “What shit?” he asked, high-pitched and disbelieving. “Look at me. I’m a screw up… always have been.”

  “No. That’s not the way I remember it.”

  “Oh, yeah? How do you remember it?”

  “You had it all, Keith. We all worshipped you. Hell, I wanted to be you.”

  “I bet you’re happy that didn’t pan out.”

  Keith smiled, but there was no humor behind the pleasantries.

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “According to ‘what’s-wrong-with-me.com,’ I’m an insecure person who abuses alcohol and drugs as a way to both fit in and self-soothe.”

  “What do you have to be insecure about?”

  “That’s a secret,” he said, putting his finger to his lips. “And I know you’re accustomed to bailing me out of tight spots, but this is beyond your reach.”

  Crossing my arms in front of me and keeping my eyes locked on him, I let it be known that very little was outside my scope, and not only that, but secrets were my goddamn specialty. Keith faltered, clearly uncomfortable with my silent ultimatum.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “If you really want to know, it all started with Mitch.”

  “Mitch?” My voice did one of those weird upturns, twisting the name into something cartoonish.

  “Yeah, you know, Dad’s other son?”

  “I know who he is. I’m just confused what your problems have to do with him. He lived in another state. We barely saw him growing up.”

  “You barely saw him. But when we were all really young, he and his mom lived down the street. Dad had shared custody of him at the time.”

  “Really? I had no idea.”

  “I’m not surprised. You were pretty young, maybe four or five, when they moved to Arizona. Anyway, Mitch and I had a rivalry from the start. I’m not sure how much of it was my own jealousy, but he didn’t help matters either. Everything was a goddamn competition to him, and you know me, I’m not much of a fighter. Anyway, the two of us were always jockeying for Dad’s attention. Nine out of ten times, Mitch got it. He excelled at every damn thing he tried, especially sports. Dad loved watching him play, and bragged about him to his friends. He never talked about me like that. I mean, Dad loved me and always showed it, but it never felt like he was proud of me. Then you come along with all your fucking musical prodigy perfection, and I was doomed. You see where I’m going here?”

  “Yeah, I’m getting a pretty good picture.”

  “All I can say is thank god for Kyle. He’s as unremarkable as I am. You know, the more I think of it, the more convinced I am that Kyle and I were pre-cum babies.”

  I replied to his observation with a hearty laugh. Keith’s theory of their placement in the ejaculation cycle really would explain a few things.

  “You and Mitch and all the other siblings got a full load of genetic material, but not Kyle and me, oh no. We were false starts, the opening band…”

  “The appetizers before the main dish,” I added helpfully.

  “Exactly.”

  “The fart before the shit.”

  Keith laughed and pushed me into the wall. “Okay, now you’re just being mean.”

  4

  Jake: The Uninvited

  After promising Keith I’d keep my mouth shut about his personal issues with Mitch, we said our goodbyes. Although I could see where he was coming from, I also didn’t feel Mitch had done anything wrong. Was it his fault he was a good athlete? Or mine, because I could play a few instruments? Keith’s issues with Mitch were the same ones Kyle had with me. If we had certain talents, was it wrong of us to cultivate them if it overpowered the accomplishments of others? I didn’t have an answer to that, but one thing was clear: Mitch and I were a lot more alike than I’d ever realized.

  Alone for the first time all day, I leaned against the door. As fun as the bachelor party had been, I felt like shit. Casey had given me the opportunity to come clean early in the evening, and I’d turned all predictable, denying that a problem existed and freezing her out. At the same time, would it even matter if I told her? Would it change the outcome of tomorrow? I knew she’d marry me no matter what confessions I made, but this one would surely hurt more than the others. This one involved our future and all she’d imagined it would be.

  “Nothing you can do now,” I said out loud, pushing off the d
oor and brushing off the nagging guilt. My stomach growled. Keith had filled the party with candy, chips, and sweet stuff, but nothing of any substance really. I picked up the phone and called room service. A steaming plate of steak fajitas was delivered to my door a mere thirty minutes later. That had to be some record. I enjoyed my dinner, stripped to my boxers as I watched an entire episode of Hoarders because, quite frankly, I couldn’t look away.

  Turning it off before I could get sucked into another episode, I retreated to the bathroom to complete the shit, shower, and shave portion of the evening. And, using our hallway encounter as inspiration, I jerked off without ever having to cover my tracks.

  Yep, all in all, it was a good last night as a free man. The peace and quiet alone should have been enough to buoy my spirits. Not to imply that Casey talks a lot… although she does have a lot to say… about everything… at all times…

  Okay, she talks a lot.

  But that was part of her charm. Since meeting Casey, my stress levels had plummeted. There were times even when we were apart that we’d text or Facetime and I could feel her with me. We could be in separate countries and still be connected. So why was it tonight seemed so different? Even though we were in the same hotel, the distance between us felt wide as if we were on two edges of a fault line, and my side was crumbling fast. Dammit! I’d squandered my chance to enter our marriage with a clean conscience… or as least as clean as it ever could be, given my sordid past. Maybe it wasn’t too late. I picked up my phone to text her and see if we could meet, but then I caught sight of the time – 1:48 in the morning. She’d be sleeping by now, and if I woke her, it would only be cause for alarm. I put the phone back down and stood in place, feeling strangely disoriented. A sudden eeriness displaced the stillness in the room, and I was struck by the sensation that I wasn’t alone. I drew in a sharp breath as chills prickled my skin. Oh, god, not tonight. On high alert, I paced the room, checking the windows and walls as if that might ward off an unwanted visit.

  Yet I knew better. If they wanted me, they’d come at night, while I slept. That was when I was most vulnerable and unable to fend them off. Why now? It had been over a year since the last ambush, and nothing had changed in that period of time. They knew damn well I couldn’t give them what they wanted. Hell, they couldn’t demand such things from me in the first place because they weren’t even real! At least that’s what I told myself, because if I really was having nocturnal visits from dead people, then I had bigger problems than I cared to admit.

  I had to assume the anxiety over keeping secrets from Casey the night before our wedding was what brought them to my doorstep at this late hour. They’d always fed off my stress, but since meeting Casey, there hadn’t been as much of it to go around. But tonight, alone and susceptible, it would be a virtual feeding ground. I needed to shut them down before they could ever get started because, if there was one thing I was certain of, the ghosts of horrors past were here to ruin my wedding, and a trip down Ray Davis’s memory lane was sure to do just that.

  Staying alert was key. I couldn’t risk closing my eyes. Not tonight. Not on the cusp of having everything I’d ever wanted. Precautions needed to be taken. Without haste, I flipped the in-room coffee maker on and began brewing the first of many cups. The hope was that a heavy influx of caffeine might help me outwit and outlast my tormentors. If I could just make it to morning, the light flooding through the windows would drive out their darkness.

  With the remote in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, I watched another episode of Hoarders and had begun on the third when an unexpected development drew a startled gasp from my throat. I’m no expert, but once you start finding petrified cats under piles of trash, don’t you think maybe your hoarding problems have exceeded the skillset of a Hollywood television host? Changing channels in rapid succession, I didn’t stop until I found one that was off air. I stared at the blank screen, mesmerized by the soft hum. The white noise was working in much the same way Casey’s relaxing buzz did.

  I stayed strong for a couple of hours, keeping the unwanted visitors at bay, but as my drowsy eyes began to droop, even the endless cups of coffee were not enough to save me. Slowly I drifted off into oblivion and into the nightmare world, which now only existed in my dreams. Whether I liked it or not, another night would be laid to waste in Ray’s handcrafted hell. Only tonight I wouldn’t be suffering alone, as I’d been joined by a handful of angry spirits hell-bent on making me pay.

  My unwelcome companions had first appeared to me at one of the lowest points of my life, during a time when hallucinations had become my new reality. Talking bugs, bleeding walls, and spiteful spooks had all become a part of my uninvited extended family. Emerging through the cracks in the rickety floorboards, each apparition was more ghastly than the next. Even as a thirteen-year-old kid banging his fist on death’s door, I knew instantly who they were… the alumni, if you will, of Ray’s former victims… but what they wanted from me had yet to be revealed. In all their deathly decay, the ghosts had materialized after the injury to my knee and stayed with me throughout that last excruciating week of captivity.

  At first I’d cowered in their presence, begging for mercy, as I assumed their presence was an ominous sign, a signal of my impending demise. However, the only pain they ever inflicted was on my impaired mind; which, at the time, could no longer be trusted. It soon became clear that these were no murderous ghouls, but tortured young souls fighting, just as I was, to free themselves from a killer’s hold. They were not my adversaries, but my brothers-in-arms – the band of bloody misfits I’d been destined to share the afterlife with; or at least, that had been the plan until I made my harrowing escape and left them to their misery for all of eternity.

  It was with these doomed spirits that I spent the final night of my pre-wedded life, tossing and turning, covered in a cold sweat as I battled the ghosts of nightmares past. I think it goes without saying that when morning mercifully rolled around, I was far from the confident, enthusiastic groom Casey expected me to be. Hell, at this point, she’d be lucky if I wasn’t babbling incoherently in a corner after the nocturnal torture session I’d just survived. How was I supposed to get my head right before the ceremony with the memory of a half a dozen souls screaming in my ear?

  This was exactly why I’d fought to keep awake. Now I was a mess, and I had no one to blame but myself. It was too late to contact Casey. Besides, what could she do, anyway? I just had to pull it together on my own and get through the day. All I needed was a little self-soothing. What had I read again on that topic? Ingest hard drugs. Uh, yeah, probably not the best idea. Talk about swapping one problem for another.

  Maybe I could take a cue from toddlers and get into the habit of thumb sucking. That seemed to calm them right down, but… oh, hell, who was I kidding? I’d tried it before and it didn’t fucking work!

  The only other thing I could think of on such short notice was deep breathing. Yes, that one seemed reasonable. I mean, how hard could breathing be? I did it all day long. We had a winner. Focusing on taking long, soothing inhales while blowing out the air in loud, exaggerated grunts, I soon discovered it did nothing but make me focus on inhaling and exhaling, and in no time at all, I was hyperventilating and breathing into a paper laundry bag I found in the closet.

  Okay, so this was definitely not working. Soothing myself had been an epic fail, and now I only had three more hours left to get my shit together. I needed Casey. Picking up my phone, I called her number but was disappointed when it went to voicemail. I didn’t bother leaving a message. She was getting married today. There was no way she had time for me.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a hasty series of knocks on my door. Because I’d awakened so late, I’d slept through the meeting time with my groomsmen. I opened the door to Kyle, who immediately startled at my appearance.

  “Oh, shit. Are you okay?” he asked. “Why aren’t you ready?”

  “Rough night.”

  His eyes rolled over me. �
��I should say so.”

  “Why? Do I look that bad?”

  “Well, remember that time you got the stomach flu and it was coming out of both ends for two days straight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right, so, you look only slightly better than that.”

  “Dammit. Okay. I’m going to jump in the shower. Can you stall for me?”

  “Please. You know that’s my specialty.”

  Talking to Casey was going to have to wait. I’d just have to get ready and meet her at the church. I’d be cutting it close, but what was the alternative?

  Peaking out the door, I eyed the building across the courtyard. The last time I was here, I’d been forced to run across the patio area to avoid getting caught by a group of teens, but this time I didn’t see anyone but a security guard patrolling the area. Nice. Operation Pretzel was in full swing. It appeared Casey and I had pulled off the impossible. I’d arrived at the church a while back, and after meeting with the minister and dressing in my tux, I was ready to go with an hour and a half to spare. This was the time I’d slip over to the other building and pull Casey aside. It would be a quick trip, long enough for me to come clean and get back to my side if she still wanted to marry me after my confession.

  Just as I was pushing the door open, a hand reached out and slammed it shut in my face.

  “I wouldn’t do that, Jake.”

  Winded and flushed, Kyle stood beside me panting as his hand gripped the door handle, preventing my exit.

  “I need to see her real quick.”

  He raised one brow. “Before the wedding? Bad choice, dude.”

  “Look, I know all about the wedding rules, but this can’t wait.”

  “Actually, it might have to,” he said. “We’ve got a minor security issue.”

  “I just checked. Everything looks good… right?”

  “Um….” Kyle hesitated. “It depends on what your definition of ‘good’ is.”