Chapter 19
brIGGS
Ipulled out my wallet and handed Gary a hundred-dollar bill. “Thank you for everything. And for not calling the police on us.”
Gary waved me off. “Keep your money, son. You already paid me enough to last a while.”
“Take it anyway,” I said, pressing it into his hand. “For putting up with us twice.”
He pocketed it with a grin. “You two take care of each other, you hear? And maybe lay off the tequila for a while.”
“That’s the plan,” Mandy said.
We watched Gary drive off, the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves fading into the Vegas night. I turned to look at the roller coaster snaking above us, all twisted metal and flashing lights.
“We’re not really going to ride that thing right now, are we?” I asked.
Mandy looked at me like I’d just suggested we go home early. “Why not? We’re here.”
“Because it’s a roller coaster. At night. In Vegas.”
“So?”
“I don’t ride roller coasters.”
“You did two nights ago,” she pointed out. “And I, for one, am enjoying piecing together what happened that night. Maybe the fear will trigger a memory.”
I looked up at the coaster again. A car full of screaming people plunged down a steep drop. I felt my stomach clench just watching it.
“This is a terrible idea,” I said.
“We survived it once.” She was already walking toward the entrance. “Come on, Husband. Live a little.”
I followed her because apparently that’s what I did now. I followed Mandy Carter-Blackwell into situations that made no logical sense.
“Wait, did you take my name?” I asked.
“What?”
“I was just thinking, are you Mandy Blackwell now?”
She looked thoughtful. “No. I’m not going through the hassle of changing my name for a three-month marriage. I’m Mandy Carter.”
“If we stayed married, like if we were really married, would you be a Blackwell?”
Another pause. “I think I would want to be a Blackwell in our personal life, but I wouldn’t for my professional life. I wouldn’t want to glom onto the Blackwell name.”
I laughed. I knew exactly what she was hinting at. I wasn’t going to apologize again. I had said what I said. And now I was married to her. That was one hell of a consequence.
“Good to know,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
The line wasn’t long. We got our tickets and made our way through the line. The closer we got to the front, the more I questioned my life choices. The coaster looked even more terrifying from this angle.
“You okay?” Mandy asked, glancing over at me.
“Fine,” I lied.
“You’re gripping the railing.”
I looked down at my hands. She was right.
“I don’t like heights,” I admitted.
Her expression softened. “We don’t have to do this.”
“No, we’re doing it.” I forced myself to let go of the railing. “You’re right. Maybe it’ll trigger something.”
“That’s my thought. For the record, I’m not exactly thrilled to be doing this.”
“Great. I’m glad we both have real hesitation about doing something dangerous. We definitely shouldn’t take that as a sign of impending doom.”
She laughed and ignored what I wanted to call intuition.
We got into the front car—of course Mandy wanted the front—and pulled the safety bar down. It locked with a solid click that felt entirely too final.
“Last chance to back out,” Mandy said, but she was grinning.
“Too late now.”
The coaster lurched forward, and we began the slow climb up the first hill. I could see all of Vegas spread out below us, a sea of lights and chaos. My heart was hammering against my ribs.
“This is insane,” I said.
“Yep.”
We crested the hill, and for one brief moment, everything was still.
Then we dropped.
Mandy screamed—not in terror but in pure joy. The sound was infectious. Before I knew what I was doing, I was yelling too, the adrenaline erupting from my very soul.
We whipped around a corner. Mandy’s hand reached over and her fingers laced through mine, squeezing tight. I squeezed back, holding on as we plunged into another drop.
It felt good. Really good. The wind in my face, the rush in my veins, Mandy’s hand in mine. For the first time in years, I wasn’t thinking about contracts or consequences or what could go wrong. I was just existing in the moment, feeling alive.
We climbed up toward the last peak, still holding hands. I was catching my breath, grinning like an idiot, when something caught my eye.
A billboard. Massive, lit up bright as day against the dark sky.
“Want to get married? This is your sign.”
Giant arrows on the sign pointed down toward a chapel tucked beneath it.
I turned to look at Mandy, my mouth falling open.
“I think I know where we got the idea to get married,” I said.
She followed my gaze and burst out laughing. “Oh my God. That’s it. That has to be it.”
The coaster began its final descent. We’d probably been sitting right here, high on adrenaline and drunk on liquor, and we’d seen that sign. And apparently, it had worked on us.
“Want to bet we walked right into that chapel?” Mandy asked as we pulled back into the station.
“I’d bet my entire fortune on it.”
We climbed out of the car, both of us still laughing. Her hand was still in mine. I realized I should probably let go, but I didn’t want to.
This was dangerous.
I was having fun with my wife. My fake wife. The woman I was supposed to be maintaining a professional arrangement with for the next three months before we quietly divorced and went back to our separate lives.
I was thinking about how much I wanted to kiss her.
I wanted to pull her against me and feel her curves pressed against my body. I wanted to take her back to my hotel suite and spend the rest of the night learning what every inch of her felt like. Tasted like.
“Let’s go see where we got married,” I said.
It was a short walk and there was no fear of missing the place, given the flashing neon signs all over the building.
The exterior was lit up with pinks and blues.
There was a life-sized Elvis statue out front that had seen better days.
His rhinestones were missing in patches, and someone had drawn a mustache on his face in permanent marker.
Poor guy.
“This is it,” Mandy said, squeezing my hand. “I can feel it.”
I could feel it too. Something about the place was triggering fragments of memory. Nothing concrete, just impressions. Laughter. Music. The smell of cheap champagne. And of course, Elvis. I would never hear an Elvis song again and not think of my marriage.
We walked inside.
The interior was exactly what you’d expect from a Vegas wedding chapel operating beneath a “Get Married Here” billboard.
Red velvet everywhere. More Elvis memorabilia than should legally be allowed in one space.
A small altar at the front with plastic flowers that were beyond cheap. And faded. Yellowed.
And behind the counter, an Elvis impersonator who looked up from his phone and broke into the biggest grin I’d ever seen.
“Well, well, well,” he said in a voice that was trying very hard to channel the King. “If it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell, back for round two.”
Mandy’s hand tightened in mine.
“You remember us,” I said.
“Remember you? Brother, you two are legendary. Best wedding I’ve done in fifteen years.
” He stood up, adjusting his white jumpsuit.
The rhinestones caught the light. I had to do my best not to look at the black chest hair on display in the deep V of the ugliest garment I’d ever seen.
“I’m guessing you don’t remember much, do you? I mean if you asked that question.”
“Not a thing,” Mandy admitted.
“Figures. You were both pretty well oiled when you stumbled in here.” He leaned against the counter. “But man, you were happy. Happiest couple I’ve ever married, and I’ve married a lot of couples.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Happy drunk me apparently made better life decisions than sober me, which was deeply concerning. “Isn’t it illegal to marry people that drunk?”
Elvis laughed. “You were able to hold a pen. You knew your names. Produced ID. That’s all I need. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”
“Did we say anything?” Mandy asked.
“You said a lot.”
“Did I ask her to marry me here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You came in said you wanted to get married and asked if I sold rings.” I watched him pull out a box and open it. “I sold you the best tow I had. That fit you.”
There were an assortment of rings in the box. Mismatched.
“We bought our rings here?” Mandy asked.
“Yep. You’re not the only couple who showed up without a chance to go ring shopping. We pride ourselves on handling all aspects of the wedding.”
Mandy nodded in approval, apparently recognizing another wedding-planning professional. “That’s the way to go,” she said to him.
“Are they stolen?” I blurted out.
He chuckled. “Nah. I buy them from a guy that owns a pawn shop. People come to Vegas, pawn what they got, and never come back. I get them for a steal but it’s all legal.”
I had managed to get my ring off earlier. I had suspected it was used. Now, it felt gross. Some dude hard on his luck pawned his ring and it had ended up on my finger. Damn. Thank God the marriage was fake. I might worry about bad mojo.
“Makes sense,” Mandy said with a shrug.
“You also sang,” Elvis continued, clearly enjoying himself. “During the ceremony. I didn’t even ask you to. You just grabbed the mic and went for it.”
“Of course I did,” I muttered.
“It was beautiful, man. Real heartfelt. Your bride was crying.” Elvis grinned at me. “If you ever need a job, we’ve got open shifts for a man of your talents.”
I finally looked at Mandy. She was biting her lip, trying not to laugh. “There you go, honey,” she said to me, having way too much fun. “Maybe if you’re looking for something different, you can come work here.”
“I’m never drinking again,” I said.
“That’s what everyone says.” Elvis pulled out a business card and slid it across the counter.
“Listen, I asked you that night if you wanted to buy the wedding video. You said you’d think about it, but then you were already running off into the night, having a great time.
Offer still stands. Two hundred bucks, I’ll give you the whole thing on a thumb drive. It’s good stuff. Professional quality.”
I had a feeling professional quality was a very loose term but I pulled out my wallet immediately. “I’ll take it.”
“You don’t want to negotiate?” Mandy asked.
“No. I want to see what the hell happened.” I handed Elvis my credit card. “Whatever’s on that video, I need to know.”
Elvis processed the payment and disappeared into a back room. I could hear him rummaging around, muttering to himself about where he’d put the thumb drives.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “This is all very surreal.”
“Tell me about it. I’m standing in the chapel where I apparently got married, and I don’t remember a single second of it.”
Elvis returned with a small thumb drive in a plastic case. “Here you go. Everything’s on there. The ceremony, some before stuff while you were getting ready—and by ready, I mean giggling in the corner—and some after. Good luck, you crazy kids.”
I pocketed the thumb drive like it was made of plutonium. “Thank you.”
“Come back anytime,” Elvis called as we headed for the door. “I do vow renewals too. Ten percent discount for repeat customers.”
We stepped back out into the Vegas night.
“I can’t wait to watch it,” Mandy said.
“Now?”
“Yes, now. I’m dying of curiosity.”
“My hotel or yours?”
She thought about it. “Yours. The Venetian is closer, Husband.”
Husband. She kept saying that, and every time she did, something in my chest tightened.
We walked back toward the Strip. A large group of drunk ladies with bachelorette party vibes was coming straight for us. I grabbed Mandy’s hand and moved her out of the way.
And once past, I didn’t drop her hand.
“Wait,” Mandy said. “I want to see the show.”
“The show?” I asked.
“The fountains.”
We found a spot along the railing and waited. Cool air came off the water. I kept her hand in mine. I decided I didn’t want to let go. A small boom echoed through the air, and seconds later, the water came alive. I watched her watch the fountains. She was smiling. Happy.
That’s when I realized I was happy too.