RIDE ✧ {H.S.}

20.

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"Don't mind if I do,"

Another cocktail made its way to my hands, plucked off a traveling silver platter that followed the waitstaff. There was an indescribable vibrance in the room. It felt like I was already intoxicated, without the prick of alcohol biting my tongue. 

Cocaine, booze, escorts, psychedelics, it was all here. I couldn't tell among the crowd who was paid and who was invited.

Golden pyramids of sparkling champagne stacked on top of white linen covered tables were the center piece to the ceremony. Everything was lively. Dress code was strictly set. Everyone was required to wear bright colors, boldly striking contrast beyond the beige church interior. Neons and florescent fabric creates a sea of commotion, everyone was wearing something bright.

A psychedelic wedding.

The lighting hung from heavily chandeliers, carefully mounted on the chapel ceiling. There was a clear juxtaposition of everyones neon attire, and the vintage glamor bespoken from the church. Given the time constraints of planning this wedding, it was surprisingly beautiful. What felt like hundreds of guests flooded the small chapel. The estate's property transcended to a beautiful, candle lit scene. I felt warmly engulfed in the rooms happiness.

Nothing was off limits tonight. 

Burlesque dancers wore beautiful gowns that cascades to the floor. Each performer floated through the crowd to tease and entrance the guests. I had a hard time keeping my sight-lines straight with the allure of their shine gracing my peripherals. They'd brush up on peoples shoulders and slyly leave their makeup residue in the most secret of spots, upon paying guests of course.

People were already pouring powdered lines and desecrating the chapel. These church walls were about to experience the most unholy night of its life. 

Tabs of acid and other psychedelic drugs were passed around the chapel like communion wafers. This only amplified the visual movement of attire. I had yet to drop a tab, but I imagined how everyone would look under these dim lights and an altered state of mind. Everyone's company felt foreign. My only admiration for them came from a distance. I was admittedly too afraid to spark a conversation.  

We had yet to view the actual wedding ceremony. For now we stood in the chapel foyer with our intoxication to entertain us. The actual church itself was contained behind a thick set of wooden doors. The arched frame around the hinges confined sacred space. Around a hundred guests kept their soft conversations alive, accompanied by the champagne. The days piercing sun only glimmered through select stained glass windows. Their colorful reflection imprinted the panes design onto the interiors through soft light.

This beauty was far too good for the occasion. I can't imagine the receipts and pay stubs that went into an event like this. Everlasting love was not the occasion. I couldn't allow my brain continuously circulate on my past conversation with Livia. We'd both hit unhappy periods of our life, and it wasn't my responsibility to fix her problems. She dug her grave, and I'm going to rob her of inheritance. 

"Did you sign the guestbook?"

I heard the voice before I recognized where it was coming from. Winona.

My fathers assistant was the mastermind behind this event. She'd booked the venue and coordinated the event assistants on an impressively short timeline. Her patience was unmatched.

"Oh- Winona, how are you?" My empty hands reached for the champagne glass she handed over. I took the refill and placed my previously empty flute on a table nearby. I wasn't ready to adjust from my introspective state into a social persona.