Chantalle turned around and asked again, “What’s happening?”
“Peaches has trust issues,” Shayla explained to Chantalle. “Back when they first met, Dalton used a bunch of scripted lines to get into her panties.”
I snorted. “And he also used his eyebrows. His sexy vampire eyebrows.” I grabbed back the bottle. “But mostly I’m upset because you can’t ever trust an actor. He’s always acting!”
Mitchell gave me the saddest look. “Oh, Peaches. He might be corny, but he does love you.”
“Does he? Then why hasn’t he said it?”
The two girls in the front seats turned around so fast, they bumped heads with a crack.
Rubbing her head, Chantalle said, “What the f**k is going on? Why would you marry a guy who hasn’t said he loves you?”
Shayla gasped. “You’re pregnant again? Gimme that. You can’t drink.”
I gave her my steeliest shut-up look. “I’m not pregnant, nor have I ever been, Shayla. You should know, as my best friend.”
Still rubbing her head, and looking like she really regretted agreeing to be our driver, Chantalle asked me again, “Why are you getting married? For money?”
I began to laugh, rolling back in the seat and slapping my hands on my knees. “Got ya! I totally pranked ya!”
“You’re joking?” Chantalle asked.
Mitchell gave me a skeptical look.
“Totally joking,” I said. “I know all about the scriptwriter thing. Dalton’s really into me. He totally loves me. He just isn’t so great with his own words.”
“That makes sense,” Chantalle said, nodding in agreement.
“I don’t feel so good.” Shayla let out a burp that sounded and smelled anything but good.
“We’ll continue the party at our house,” I said, still pretending to be having a great time. “Or back to Cougar Town!”
I expected Mitchell to agree with me, but he’d already passed out and was sleeping like a golden-curled baby, a sweet smile on his cherubic face.
Chantalle started the car and made a five-star turn in the mucky front yard.
“Hey guys, Mitchell’s asleep,” I said.
Shayla unzipped her purse. “He’d look cute in my red lipstick.”
“Do you have blush with you?”
“You know it, girl.”
Chantalle tsk-tsked us. “You guys are mean drunks.”
“We’re fun drunks,” I said.
“We’re totally fun drunks,” Shayla said.
Chantalle muttered, “Remind me not to pass out around you two.”
CHAPTER 38
For the second time in less than a week, I woke up in an unfamiliar place.
If I wasn’t mistaken, and that bright thing searing my eyes was indeed the sun, that meant it was…
Thursday.
Two sleeps until my wedding.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I felt around myself timidly. I still had clothes on, and I was on top of something soft and non-human. All good so far.
Someone stirred next to me. I rolled to my side and opened my eyes, finding myself face to face with beautiful golden-brown eyes.
“Shayla, where are we?”
She wrinkled her nose. “By the smell, a dumpster. Wait, is that your breath?” She puffed on her palm. “Nope, it’s mine. Sorry.”
We were on a bed, in a hotel room. If I knew those hideous linens, we were in the Nut Hill Motel. There was another bed next to ours, empty.
A door clicked open and Mitchell came out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his waist. “Rise and shine, f**kers!” he sang. “I’d like to especially thank whoever applied lipstick to my penis. Very funny. I guess I was supposed to wake up and think I’d enjoyed the pleasures of a woman last night?”
Shayla smirked.
Mitchell continued, “Unfortunately for your little prank, you left the lipstick tube in my shorts where you dropped it. You do get points for originality, of course.”
Shayla kept a straight face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mitchell. We went back to Cougar Town last night, and you disappeared for about twenty minutes with an older lady in a leopard print dress. Did you say it was red lipstick?” She turned to me. “Peaches, that woman at the bar last night was wearing red lipstick.”
“She was!” I snickered. “Before that, she kept calling him apple dumpling and slow-dance-grinding to Bon Jovi ballads.” I blinked innocently at Mitchell. “We would have stopped her, but you seemed into it.”
Mitchell threw his hands in the air. “I’m cured! I’m totally straight now! I like vagina!”
Shayla and I both clapped and cheered.
He grabbed the garbage pail and swept the empty mini-bottles from the top of the dresser into the plastic bin.
“Those were all open when we got here,” I said. “Right, Shayla?”
She nodded solemnly.
The funny thing about the lipstick on Mitchell’s penis was that he actually did it to himself. He woke up and caught me putting lipstick on his mouth, and confiscated it.
We went back to Cougar Town, where he did actually dance with an older woman. Actually, he danced with several, and they adored him.
Chantalle drove us back to the hotel room, then left us to continue the party. Mitchell drank most of the mini-bottles, then told us he was going to play a joke on Mitchell. (Yes, he referred to himself by name.)
The fact he’d done it to himself only made the lipstick prank funnier.
“He’s crazy,” Shayla whispered to me. “Can we keep him?”
“Yes, let’s keep him.”
Mitchell set his suitcase on the dresser and unzipped it to reveal very orderly contents.
“You’re taking me for breakfast at that chocolate fountain place,” he said. “Then we all go to our dress and suit fitting appointment.”
Shayla and I agreed to the plan and did our best to get up and make ourselves presentable while wearing the previous night’s clothes. We pinkie-swore to never drink again.
~
The three of us went to brunch at Pancake International, which gave me a moment of déjà vu. Shayla and I had gone there with Golden just a few weeks earlier, and sat at the same table with the mis-matched wooden chairs. Mitchell is a similar height to Golden, and has curly blond hair as well, so it was funny, but the good kind of funny.
The waitress even said, “You three again!”
This visit, however, Adrian wouldn’t be flirting with me by text message. Our whole fling had started and ended since the last time I had the Elvis in Paris (crepes with peanut butter and bacon.)