Chapter 28 – West #2
“That’s terrible!” She exclaims, gazing up at the old building with puffy eyes like it’s the last time she’ll ever take in – and it just might be. “I don’t understand what’s going on with this town.”
“It’s simple,” I mumble quietly, my chest feeling heavy. “Kira left and it’s falling to shit.”
“Here, here!” Agnes bellows from her cocoon of chains. “That’s exactly what happened.”
Those hearing aids of hers are no joke.
But clearly, I’m not the only one who thinks this place isn’t the same without Kira.
“It should be a crime to tear this place down,” Agnes tuts, shaking her head. “It’s older than I am for shit’s sake.”
A crime…
“What if it was?” I ask, my head lifting, my eyes scanning my neighbors. “What if it was a crime to tear that place down, no matter who owns it?”
“I’ve heard of this…you just have to register a building as a historical landmark,” Hattie waves her finger.
“But who the hell could enforce that? We don’t have a mayor,” Kaleb slouches against his bike as I see the streets start to populate with town folk.
They start off looking like colorful ants and get larger as they make their way closer.
Great. The word is definitely out, it will be mere moments before all the bored cops in this town abandon their donuts and come rushing to the scene just for some kind of taste of legal action.
“West …it should be you,” Hattie tilts her head.
“What?” I hear my own voice go up so high it borders on feminine. “Agnes, you practically run this town. Why don’t you run for mayor?”
“Pffft, I’m just as old as he was. In fact, I’m pretty sure I tapped that back in the day…” She squints an eye and gets a far-off look in her eye like she’s trying to retrieve something from her long-term memory files.
“We need a mayor now,” Hattie holds out her hands as her pile of hair bobs with her movements. “There’s no time to campaign. I vote for West for the interim!” She holds up her hand, looking around at everyone else to follow suit.
“I can’t raise my hand, but I second the motion,” Agnes chirps, and Ned raises his hand without looking up from his magazine.
“Has everyone gone insane?” I blurt out. “I’m a mechanic, and I hate suits!”
Kaleb pipes up. “You run Shane Auto like a well-oiled machine, and I bet you could do the same for this town. Who says you have to do it behind a desk? The autoshop can be your office, and you can keep running it and make decisions for this town at the same time.”
“Someone find a Bible!” Agnes blurts from her compromising position.
“Oh no. Gramma?” Hattie scurries over to her and kneels down close. “Is it happening? I thought we had more time…”
“I’m not dying, brainiac!” Agnes scoffs. “We need an interim mayor to save the Inn. Westy-boy, you’re up.”
“I told you, I’m not mayor material!” I insist yet again.
“Tough shit, you’re being voted in by default. And it’s just temporary, we can figure out a real election later.”
“No!”
Agnes’s placid expression doesn’t change one iota as she pipes up. “Did you all know that the city West was raised in was a community big on cotillion?”
What the fuck?
At least six heads have swiveled in Agnes’s direction after raising her voice a few octaves.
“Agnes…” I look at her suspiciously as more dread starts to churn in my gut. “What are you doing?”
“His mama designed formal gowns, and had her own dress shop and sometimes had to take Westy boy to work with her.”
“Agnes!” I bark, not recognizing my own voice. How the fuck does she even know - ohhhh fuck. That witchy woman got in my head while I was drunk last night. “She’s senile, everybody, don’t listen to her!” I hurry over to hover over her.
“Poor thing was bored and didn’t have anything to do but hide in the racks -”
“Agnes!” I roar again and thankfully she stops. I lower my voice to a growling murmur. “Okay, let’s talk about this, just please shut the fuck up about my … youth ! I told you that in confidence!”
“As I was saying,” the old coot continues primly. “You’re being voted in by default.”
“By default how?” I demand.
“You save the inn, you save Kira,” she explains practically. “Papa dearest can’t lord it over her if he can’t destroy it. Jeepers, somebody get some coffee in Mr. Youngblood here.”
“I’ve got extra,” Ned lazily announces, lifting his thermos before twisting off the top.
“You know that’s not my name, Agnes,” I rest my hands on my hips and roll my head in her direction.
“Enjoy your new nickname,” she proclaims as Cliff hands me the cup lid of his thermos, filled with hot black liquid.
Grateful to finally have a cup in hand, I knock it back.
It doesn’t make it all the way down my throat before I’m coughing.
“What the fuck, Ned? Is this spiked?” Obviously it is, so I move to the next question.
“How much whiskey is in here?” I point at the cup.
He shrugs. “Not sure of the ratio but there’s coffee in there.”
Fuck it. I down the rest before chucking the empty cup back to Cliff, just as a loud rumbling manifests not too far in the distance.
It gets louder and louder before a bulldozer roars around the corner with a colossal wrecking ball dangling off the front crane.
The honk of a truck horn parts the gathering crowd as Hunt pulls up behind mine and Hattie’s cars. He gets out and slams the driver side door before strutting up to the scene in a wrinkled t-shirt, rumpled jeans, and I’m willing to guess his hair is nest of utter ruin beneath his ballcap.
“Son of a bitch, it’s true,” he muses, coming to a stop with his hands on his hips.
“Ah, my ride is here,” Agnes muses. “If I weren’t chained up I’d go all Miley Cyrus on that thing.”
Son of a bitch, she was right. Douchebucket Lockwood is leaving nothing to chance.
The boss in me snaps into action - no doubt thanks to that jet fuel Cliff just gave me - and I hold a hand up at Hunt.
“Don’t get your tools out just yet. We need to drag this out.
” I turn to the weepy secretary who worked for mayor Wineberger for the last half century.
“Dottie, start the process for registering the Inn as a historical landmark.” Thank God it’s Friday takes on a whole new meaning; a lot of law offices are likely holding hours today.
“Do whatever it takes to do a rush job.” Dottie nods eagerly at me as her tears dry and I turn to Agnes and Hunt.
“Draw this out…” I instruct them. “Act like you can’t cut through the chains and get into an argument with that wrecking crew on whether or not using a blowtorch is an acceptable solution. ”
Agnes nods enthusiastically. “Now you’re talking like a mayor!” She crows.
“How do I get sworn in?”
Kira
“No need to do my hair,” I say flatly, batting my cousin’s hand away.
“It’s your wedding,” my mother reminds me admonishingly as she pours herself another champagne.
Here we go.
“Noted,” I spew back. “I can get married just as well with my hair down as I can with it up in a bun so tight I won’t be able to blink. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to be alone while I change. My man of honor can help me.”
“Your father will not let this go unnoticed or unpunished.” My mom points her champagne flute at me.
“Oh, wah,” I spit at her. “I’m already being punished and if he gave that much of a shit, he would’ve specified that he wanted me to act like a good little dutiful debutante in this agreement.
As far as I’m concerned all I have to do is the damn I do.
” I crack open one of the beers Toby holds out to me.
This makes mother dearest shudder and scurry out of the room.
“Sorry I couldn’t get ahold of any BushyTail,” Toby murmurs forlornly.
“Can we really not talk you out of this?” Hendrix leans forward with comforting hands on Toby’s shoulders. “The town would really much rather have you than an old building.”
I feel my shoulders slump and my features soften.
“That’s a beautiful sentiment. I know those people love me,” I feel a glow in my heart as I utter those words.
“And that’s why I have to do this. They deserve it, and things could change in the long run.
And that inn can bring more to your town than I ever could.
” I take a moment to reflect and take a few cleansing breaths.
“I’m doing this.” I tip the can back and chug like my life depends on it.
“Toby…” I look to him as I crunch the can in my hand.
“My gown. Hen…” I raise the crushed can. “Gimme another one.”
I down more beers and have to pee three times as Toby Bear helps me into my gown.
“This…” he takes in the final product as he straightens out the layers of the skirt. “Is fucking epic, Kee.” He shakes his head as he releases it, letting the gauzy material float to the ground before his expression returns to one of dismay. “Are you ready?”
“Sure,” I shrug and let him lead me out to the vestibule just outside the congregation doors where my bridesmaids and father await.
When he takes in my appearance, Dad’s eyes grow as wide as dinner plates, and his jaw hardens to the point I’m sure he’s breaking a molar. He stares at me with fire igniting in his eyeballs and his complexion turns a shade of… let’s call it scarlet beetroot explosion .
“Well gee whiz, you didn’t leave me time to find a new one, Daddio,” I point out in a surly tone. “I mean, I could go get one, but we’d have to postpone this shindig again.”
“Not on your life!” He barks, yanking my arm under his and clamping it against his side like he’s trying to keep me from getting away. Dummy. “Nothing is going to ruin this deal with Wellington for me. Not even a disgraceful, tattered dress with some hoodlum’s greasy handprints all over it!”
“Hoodlum,” I chuckle, as the last bridesmaid pushes through the doors and my sperm donor yanks us forward, like he’s ready to hurdle us down the aisle.
Mouths gape and pearls are clutched as I swish down the aisle. Must be my pretty dress. I enjoy the horrified looks and whispers all the way up to the altar, and once my dad quite enthusiastically hands me over to doucheface, I’m sure to greet him with a deep but ladylike belch.
Preston, gags and turns away from me to face the minister, whose eyebrows have formed a bushy V as he stares down his glasses.
Let’s just get this over with.
“Don’t think I’m going to put out,” I mumble out of the side of my mouth.
“No problem,” he mutters back. “After your summer slumming it in Hicksville, I wouldn’t touch you with a forty-foot pole.”
“That reminds me, how’s the rash? You’re still hitting it with Autumn, right?”
“But we still have to produce heirs,” he whispers. “That’s one of the provisions of the contract.”
“Ugghh…” I grown out in disgust, as the minister continues to ramble about honoring and obeying this douche-fucker.
“Do you, Preston Wellington, take Kira Lockwood to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“Yes,” Preston speaks up briskly.
Oh come ON!
I feel beads of sweat break out at the back of my neck when the jerk turns to me and asks the same.
“Kira, do you take Preston, to be your -,”
He’s cut off when the door at the front of the church slams open, letting in a flood of light that makes the very late guest backlit, and hard to discern.
“No!” I recognize his voice before the door shuts behind West. “She doesn’t!”
His expression is one of determination as his eyes settle on mine. I feel my heart, that was shuddering in my chest a moment ago, relax and start beating out a happy rhythm.
“That ramshackle old building you love so much is being bulldozed to the ground!” Daddy Dipshit announces. “I have a crew on site ready to obliterate it to smithereens if you don’t get your fat whore ass back up on that altar!”
A dark veil settles over Wests face as he seems to zone out. In fact, I think I see flames in his eyeballs just before he works his neck to the side and slowly turns to face my sperm donor.
“That’s it,” his voice lowers to a demon level growl before he draws back and socks my dad square in the jaw, laying him out on the church floor.
I gasp, my hands coming up to my mouth at the initial shock and then blowing out a breath when I remember my dad’s an asshole and West just effectively shut him up. Yep, I’m good.
“Fuck, I’m going back to jail,” West laments out loud, looking down at my dad’s sloppy, supine position on the floor, little birdies circling his head.
“Mmm … no…” my mother appears at West’s side, shaking her head and waving lazy hand. How did she get a flute of champagne already? “I’ve got this-sandaled,” she slurs. Apparently she’s fresh out of fucks.
“Thank you?” West raises a questioning eyebrow at her.
My ass unclenches and I drop my bouquet before gathering up my skirts and darting down the aisle towards the blue-jeaned, scruffy mechanic, who has already started sprinting towards me.
I jump into his arms and I hope there are no children present, because the kiss he locks us in is not PG.
Tongues are desperately clashing and massaging together as our lips meld and caress.
It’s a few blissful moments before the gift of sound seems to return to my ears, and as West carefully sets me down, I hear the not so joyful cacophony of people gasping, and my father’s booming voice reciting every curse word at the top of his lungs. Way to kill the mood.
“Security!” Preston yells from the alter. “Get this grease-monkey bastard out of here!”
“Oh, fuck off to the corner and see if you can find your dick!” West booms at him before looking at his surroundings and attempting to cross himself.
“I’m going with him!” I announce boldly over my shoulder to all the guests and then I turn back to him.
“We can find another way to save the inn, right? I want to be with you.”
“Princess, we already saved it,” he tells me, his features relaxing.
“What?”
“It’s… kind of a long story. But the inn stays, and so do you. I’m taking you home.”
I let my head drop back in the biggest, happiest relief of my life before looking back up with a teary eyed smile. Home. Letting West take my hand, I follow him out of the church with some parting words to Preston over my shoulder as we go.
“Oh Preston… go… be happy. Marry Autumn and have lots of STDs.”
I turn to run down the rest of the aisle with West and we burst through the doors and into the sunshine. As we barrel down the stone steps to the street, Toby crows and cheers us on from the top, throwing all the rice he and Hendrix can scoop up from the nearby baskets.
And I don’t know where the hell West got a motorcycle - hopefully he didn’t steal it - but I don’t care because hopping on the back of it and throwing my arms around him is badass and romantic.
Not to mention arousing when he stomps on the gas, starting the engine.
Tearing off, we disappear around the corner, my train flowing behind us.