My Spy

Dirt

My adrenaline has cooled off along with the hot day and I'm now sitting on the roof exhausted from last night's hooligans and today's betrayals. I have an over-poured glass of Cabernet in my right hand and I sip it while looking off into the horizon.

The sun is slowly shrinking behind the vast canopy of oak trees and I watch our horses run laps off in the distance with Celia as their guide. I've been attempting to plan a wedding destruction plot all day but I've only come up with boring, poorly planned, amateur ideas. I had a notepad that I thought was going to be filled with brilliant, hell on earth ideas but my brain wasn't giving me much to work with.

I take another long swig of wine in hopes that the alcohol will give me some kind of inspiration. I hear a tap from behind me and I look over my right shoulder to see Ryan at his window. He raps his knuckles on the glass, looking to me cautiously and I nod for him to come out and join me. He slides his wide window up and effortlessly climbs onto the roof. He crouches as he walks over to me.

"Great view," Ryan says as he runs his eyes over the tree line and I nod in response. He glances to me but my eyes remain on the galloping horses. It's mortifying having barfed in front of the hotness sitting next to me and it's even more awkward trying not to bring it up. If I apologize, he might ask what for and I don't want to talk about Jackson or Whitney.

I take another sip of wine, swallowing my pride down with it and from the corner of my eye, I see Ryan pull something from his pocket. He looks to me and I look to see what he's holding- a small cigar.

"Do you mind?" He asks and I shake my head.

"Go for it," I tell him. "It's not pot is it?" I suddenly ask and he catches my stare. He raises it and replies, "Do you want it to be?" Surprisingly, a light laugh escapes me before I reply, "Kinda." I watch a hint of surprise cross his face but he shakes his head.

"I don't smoke, we can't really. Work doesn't allow that."

"That's probably good because my mother wouldn't allow that smell on her roof either." He pulls a box of matches from his denim shirt pocket but before I can ask, he says, "Gus gave me this and all I could find in your house were these matches." I watch him burn the tip of the thin cigar and he keeps it between his lips as he watches the horses. With anyone else, I would feel an awkward silence sprawled out between us but Ryan doesn't seem like a man of many words. The silence seems natural to him so I don't disturb it by bringing up any of my drama.

We watch as the sky turns from pink to navy and the crickets come out to play us a soft song. I'm nearing the end of my liquid muse and I'm disappointed to know it gave me no inspiration. Maybe I'll go to the library tomorrow and check out Wedding Crashing for Dummies.

I feel defeated and am about to turn to go back inside when Ryan asks, "So did you figure out a way to stop it?" I glance to him and he flicks what's left of his cigar to the side of him and stubs out the flickering red flame on a shingle.

"Stop what?" I ask him and he finally turns to face me, "The wedding." He points to my notepad with the massive Sharpie heading, "IDEAS ON HOW TO STOP THAT BITCH'S WEDDING!" I down the last few drops of my wine and shake my head.

"Nope. I have no idea how to do it without having my name written all over the mess. I have to be stealthy, which is so not my forte," I say before a wine hiccup interrupts me. "That and the last time I got an impulse for revenge, I ended up punching a pregnant lady in the face, which turns out, is frowned upon in this town." Ryan flicks his eyes over to me and asks, "Why did you punch a pregnant lady?"

"Well in my defense she did just ruin my wedding day and my life so..."

"Ah, the pregnant woman was Whitney Carmichael, whom I've now gathered is your ex-best friend and your ex-fiancé's current fiancée. I look to him and pop my "Yep" loudly. Now there is officially no one left in Hollis that is unaware of my drama.