Promises Made, Promises Broken - SYTYCW (Bad Reputation)

Present Day (Chapter Twenty-Five) Friday

Tucker

"You're really going through with this?"

It was the third time Liandra had asked the question, and it was starting to grate on my nerves.

"Yes," I said through clenched teeth. "I am."

"You look like shit," she observed.

"Thank you so much. I'm aware. It may have something to do with my excessive drinking last night. I'm going to put on five pounds of make-up and hope for the best."

I'd explained, without too much detail, the events of the night before, and Liandra hadn't pressed too hard for anything further.  Maybe my bedraggled appearance spoke for itself.  Or maybe she was more concerned with the fact that I was going to the wedding with Mark.  She's been harping on me about since I stumbled inside,

"Are you going to stand there all day, staring blankly into the closet?" she asked.

"I'm not staring blankly. I'm deciding what to wear."

"Not the yellow one," my roommate suggested.

"I don't even have a yellow one."

"So you're all settled then."

I gave her a dirty look and tossed the dress I'd been holding - blue, not yellow - onto the bed beside the pile of other dresses.

"Why do you even care?"

I sighed. "Mark may be an asshole, but I don't want to make his parents unhappy on their daughter's wedding day. And I want closure."

"Do you really think it's going to be that easy?"

"No. But if he doesn't give me the explanation he promised, I'll cease to care about keeping his family placated."

Liandra grinned. "Then I half hope he doesn't tell you."

"You would."

"I do," she agreed.

I sighed. "And to be honest, I'd rather just get it over with. I'm too tired to fight about backing out."

“I told you Joey came by, right?”

“About sixty times.”

“I just think you might want to hear him out before going to the wedding with Mark. He seemed so…sincere.”

“You know what, Liandra? If I don’t say goodbye Mark on my own terms, I might never be able to move on. With Joey, or anybody.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully and snapped her fingers. "My red wiggle dress."

"Your what?"

She was already digging through her closet, tossing around wrinkled t-shirts and pants.

"Aha!" she said, and pulled out a pristine red dress with the tags still on.

I eyed it critically.  It looked about as wide around as my pinky.

"Just try it," Liandra urged. "I won't peek."

She covered her eyes theatrically and handed me the dress.

"Wiggle dress," I muttered as I squeezed myself into it, "Might be a bit of generous description."

"It's perfect!"

Liandra uncovered her eyes and smiled approvingly at me.  She reached over and yanked the tags off.

I turned to the door length mirror and gave myself a once over.  The dress had a narrow, v-shaped neckline that hinted at cleavage rather than screamed about it.  A skinny, white, patent-leather belt cinched the high waistline.  The rest of the dress hugged my hips in a way that was either flattering, or obscene.  I couldn't decide which.

"I don't know," I hedged.

"It couldn't be more right," my roommate assured me. "It's just sex kitten enough to - "

"Stop right there."

"You didn't let me finish!"

"You lost me the second you put the word 'sex' into your argument."

Liandra rolled her eyes. "I was going to say, it packs just enough sex kitten punch to convince Mark's parent that you guys are still hot."

"The last thing I want is for Mark to be thinking about hotness."

"He won't be. You told me Mark hates it when you wear red, remember? No red on the redhead."

She was right.  I'd forgotten about that particular quirk of his.  I'd even gone out of my way to purchase a few red shirts when we split, just because I could.

"You're an evil genius."

I gave Liandra a grateful hug, and she handed me a tube of lipstick.

Fire engine red.

***

Mark eyed my dress up and down, raised an eyebrow, and opened the car door to let me in.

"So you didn't like the one I sent?" he asked.

"It didn't fit," I lied.

He closed the door, then put the car in drive.  We made it about three blocks before his hand found my knee.  I yelped and jerked away, knocking the cup in the coffee holder and sloshing the contents out.  Mark grabbed it and righted it before the whole thing could spill.

"Careful with the car," he said. "She's a rental."

I laughed. "Your car and your date, Mark? Nice work."

He just gave me a dirty look and sped up.

***

In spite of my glib words, I trailed behind Mark when we got to the church, feeling like an imposter.  Smiling and hugging his family made it even worse.  I was relieved when the first strains of a piano melody trickled through the building, and their focus shifted to the wedding party as they made their entrance.  My reprieve from discomfort was short-lived.  My stomach lurched as the big, wooden door behind me squeaked open, and everyone came to their feet.  In the back row, dressed in a rumpled suit and looking like death warmed over, was none other than Joey Fox.

As the wedding party made its way into the church, his gaze was fixed not on Mark's sister in her beaded, white gown, but on the woman standing beside her.  Even though he was twenty feet away, I could see in the darkness in his eyes.  It made me shiver, and I allowed myself a quick glance around to see if anyone else noticed his intensity. 

We took our seats, and I lost sight of Joey.  I had to force my eyes to remain forward.  Mark put a hand on my shoulder.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"Fine," I lied, and brought my attention back to the bride as the vows started.