Chapter 5
Five
A good brownie never ruins a party.
Unless it’s Karl’s. - Arienna
“Arienna, stop!” Fabia hisses as she chases me through the wedding venue I was supposed to marry Karl the Dick in. Her attempt to wash away my woes with alcohol turned into a three-day bender, but I have never felt better nor seen more clearly.
Dashing through the sea of round wooden tables filling the outside reception area, I dodge her hands as I cackle with glee.
The large box I’m holding out in front of me is hard to see over, and between my fluffy dress tripping up my legs and the world spinning in circles, I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into anything yet.
Clearly, the fates want me to go through with this.
Of course they do. Why wouldn’t they? It’s not like I’m doing anything bad. In fact, I’m being a very good brownie. Because good brownies always bring a present to a party.
Fabia lunges for me, trying to stop me from reaching the long table full of wedding presents.
Her black trousers and flat shoes allow her to easily close the distance between us, so I dart left and right, trying to shake her.
Laughter bubbles up in my throat, manic and free.
It mixes with the sound of hot, heavy moans coming from the dance floor on the other side of the flowered archway behind us.
Everyone here tonight was supposed to be my guests. At my wedding to Karl. Instead, they’re someone else’s guests. At her wedding to Karl. And now they’re all having an orgy that I desperately want to attend so I can show him what he’s missing.
But first, I need to drop off my present. Because once it’s on the table, they have to accept it. A good brownie always accepts a present. Regardless of what it is.
Tripping over my dress, I stumble but try to keep my balance.
I raise the large box in my hands up, not wanting to knock it into anything.
With my vision fully blocked, I crash into a table.
My fluffy blue dress takes most of the hit though, and I bounce back with a giggle.
Fabia reaches for me, her fingers grazing the gauze of my sleeve, but with a shriek, I lurch away again.
She curses as she races behind me.
With the box still held high, I look down, trying not to trip over the hem of my dress again.
But the blasted thing is everywhere. And these oh-so-cute heels aren’t doing much good either on the soft blue grass.
Whoever designed them seems to have made them different heights.
I cock my head to the side. Perhaps it’s a new fashion trend…
“Whatever you have,” my best friend hisses, “it is not a good idea!”
No, this is a brilliant idea. And everyone will love me for it. Well, everyone except Karl.
But Karl is a dick.
“Ugh, he has such a nice dick,” I moan as I finally reach the table full of nicely wrapped presents.
Just as I’m about to set it down, Fabia grabs the back of my dress and yanks me back.
I yelp as the box flies out of my hands.
Scrambling for it, I grab it before it can fall.
My heart pounds wildly as Fabia turns me around to face her.
But my attention is on my box. I dig my fingers into the shiny paper and hold on tight as my world teeters. Hyatt will not like it if he gets dropped.
“One, that’s not true. You drew me pics” –Fabia wrinkles her nose– “which I have not forgiven you for by the way, and two, he came in, like, three seconds.”
I hiccup. “Four and a half.” I giggle. “I actually counted.”
Rolling her eyes, my best friend starts dragging me back through the sea of tables.
“Wait! I need to add my box to the pile!” I strain against her hold. I am so close to making it!
“No.” She yanks on my shoulder, pulling me back.
“Why are you being so mean?” I whine. “A good brownie is never mean.”
Sighing loudly, Fabia moves in front of me. “Because you came to the wedding full on drunk –”
“Did not.” I hiccup. A good brownie never lies, but I’m pretty sure I’m only 99.99999% drunk, so –
“And you always do stupid things when you’re drunk.”
“That’s not true!”
She raises a pretty lilac brow. “Six weeks ago, you went home with Karl.”
“He was sweet.”
“He was a nobhead. Still is. And he’s marrying your mother. After having cheated on you with your sister.”
“But –”
“He broke up with you three days ago. Via an ad in the newspaper.”
“That was because he was busy.”
“Yeah, banging your mother.”
“But –”
“No. Stop making excuses for him.” She snaps her fingers in front of my face. I follow the movement, swaying on my feet. I wonder if she’s ever tried taming a centipede. Perhaps I can convince her to give it a go. It would make a great anniversary present for Mum and Karl.
I grin.
“In fact,” she adds, “stop making excuses for your whole messed up family.”
Hey! My family is not messed up. “Yeah, well, at least I have a family.” As soon as the words fly out of my mouth, my eyes widen. “Oh my gods. I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry.”
She waves away my apology, causing me to frown. A good brownie always accepts an apology. But I guess, in this case, I can ignore that. I did, after all, just use the family card on an orphan.
Maybe she is onto something about alcohol making me do stupid things…
But no, that can’t be right.
Because the last time I was drunk, I got a gorgeous tattoo on my butt. Best decision ever.
“And two days ago,” Fabia continued, “you tried to take out an ad telling everyone how lonely you were. And how even three seconds of action was better than the nothing you’d now be getting.
You then went on to say how you didn’t want the last guy you had sex with to also be the same guy whose balls had touched your mother’s butt. ”
I nod along even though I don’t understand her point. What woman wants their mother’s butt on theirs, put there by their fiancé’s balls? I gag. What woman wants their mother’s va–
“Don’t say it.”
My eyes widen. Can she read minds now? “How did –”
“Because you wrote it in your ad. And you’re lucky I was the one that saw it. Had Pram been working that day, she would’ve signed print faster than Karl would’ve come after three days of not having sex.”
I giggle. He does come awfully quick.
“And just this morning,” she continues, “you agreed to be the maid of honour for your mother. Who is marrying your ex-fiancé. In the venue you picked out. Wearing the dress you wanted.”
I blink. “So? I’m not using it. That’s what good brownies do, and I’m a good brownie.”
“So you’re not upset at all?”
“Nope. I am very happy.” So drunkenly happy, I cannot possibly feel anything else.
She cocks a brow, her silver eyes dipping to the box in my hands. “Oh, yeah? What’s that then?”
“A box?” I smile, so proud of myself.
“No duh. What’s in it?”
“A present?”
“Which is?”
I glance away. “Something nice?” I smile innocently. But then an angry buzz radiates from inside. Drat.
Her eyes widen as she takes a few hurried steps back. “Is that a fucking bee?”
“Fabia!” A good brownie never curses.
“Screw my language. Answer the damn question!”
Geez. Someone is in a mood today. “No, it’s not a bee.”
She stares at me in disbelief. The buzzing gets louder. The box begins to shake. Doing my best to hold on to it, I frown. “The ambrosia should’ve kept him knocked out at least for another couple of hours.”
“Drop the box!”
“What? No! That would be rude.” And a good brownie is never rude.
Also, Hyatt will definitely stab us then.
“Arienna, that box is not thick enough to stop its stinger from stabbing you or it from breaking out! Drop the box!” She waves her arms frantically. Cradling the box tighter against me, I protect it from my psycho friend.
“Stop shouting!” I shout. “Hyatt doesn’t like loud noises.”
Or any noises really. He’s kind of a dick.
“One sting, and you’ll die,” Fabia adds, her voice strained. “Their venom is awful. Now put down the box.”
“But –”
“Oh, there you two are.”
We both freeze as Gerald, the Chief of Helpers, steps through the flowered archway separating the reception area from the dance/sex floor.
His pale-pink suit is the exact same colour as my hair.
I’ve been avoiding him all evening, certain he’ll mention it, and really, really, really not being up for that boring conversation.
Struck by a moment of clarity, I raise the box, covering my face.
“That is some lovely wrapping you’ve done,” Gerald says.
I nod, tilting the box up and down as I do so. The buzzing gets louder. The shaking intensifies.
As my arms struggle to hold Hyatt still, Fabia blurts out, “It’s a vibrator.”
Oh, thank the gods. “Where?” I lower the box so I can look around. If I can’t get laid tonight, that’ll do.
“In your box,” Fabia says. Before I can tell her that it is, in fact, a wasp, she adds, “Because, you know, Karl comes very quickly, and we thought it would be nice to help Ari’s mum still get her big O – not while they’re fucking together, of course, but afterwards.”
I cringe. Gross. That is not the image I want in my head. Karl getting fined for screaming once he opens the box though… Now that is what I’m here for.
“Ummmm… oh…” Gerald says. “How… polite.”
“Yep.”
There’s a moment of thick silence under all the buzzing.
“It accidentally got set off.” Fabia raises her arm at the elbow and moves it horizontally back and forth, going really fast. “It’s quite a powerful one. Very large, hence the size of the box.” She raises her thumb, her arm still jackknifing away. “Good for both holes.”
I’m going to be sick. Dear gods, I need to boil my eyes and then squash them.
“As you can see, it can last for quite a while, unlike Karl, and –”
“That’s okay,” Gerald says. “I don’t need all the details.” He takes a step back. “I’ll go find some tape so you can open the box and turn it off before the magic in it runs out.” He winces. “In case she wants to use it tonight.”