“Victoria and Chrissie.”
I’m not sure what she thinks I can do about it, but I slide off the stool, leaving the Dom Perignon of water on the bar.
There’s a crowd gathered on the dance floor, except they aren’t dancing. They’re watching something. I squeeze my way through the outer ring and do the same several times until I reach the center. And there they are. On the floor. The two of them. Chrissie’s on top of Vicky, her fist raised in the air, poised to harm. I’ve got to say, I’m shocked. My cousin isn’t a bar-fight kind of girl. She’s a spa-day kind of person. The sight before me is out of control. I’m concerned about my cousin. Sure, she’s kind of a bitch, but she doesn’t deserve this the night before her wedding.
“Oh. No, you don’t.” I launch myself at Chrissie, taking hold of her raised fist with both hands. Gritting my teeth, I shout, “Get off her, Chrissie.” I use my body weight to pull and tug until Chrissie falls off my cousin, backward onto me. The force of her pushes me onto the ground. My foot is caught awkwardly between us, causing pain to shoot up my leg immediately, but I ignore it. I’ve got to help my cousin.
My plan appears to have worked. Pulling Chrissie off gives Vicky enough time to get away, except she doesn’t do that. Instead, she throws herself on top of Chrissie and, by extension, me. I’m getting smushed.
All I see from my vantage point are hands and long fingernails flying around my face. When one of them catches me near my left eye, I decide it’s time for me to cut my losses. Unfortunately, I’m stuck. When I feel wetness on my cheek, I swipe at my face with my free hand. Blood. That’s the moment I feel a punch to my side, in the ribs. “Ouch!” I screech. It hurt like hell. I’ve had it. “Get off me!” My voice is loud, but the people chanting and encouraging this shit-show to continue are louder, so no one can hear me. It doesn’t help that Vicky and Chrissie haven’t stopped flinging colorful insults at each other.
I shift from side to side, hoping I can knock Vicky off our little pile. “Come on, get off.” I yell, but it’s pointless. No matter what I do, I can’t dislodge Vicky. Worse than that, I keep getting punched and slapped, once on the side of my head. I suck in a big gust of air so I can scream for help at the top of my lungs, but that’s cut short when I feel myself being lifted into the air. Before I know it, I’m back on my feet. The sense of relief is instantaneous but for the pain shooting up my leg from my ankle. That’s when I spot Vicky being helped to her feet by Anthony.When did he get here?
“You okay, Matilda?” I look over my shoulder at Alec.
“Alec? Where did you come from?”
“You.” Vicky’s still spitting mad and pointing at Chrissie. Anthony’s got his arms wrapped around Vicky’s waist because she’s still trying to get to Chrissie. I’ve never seen her this mad. “You’re out of the wedding. I don’t ever want to see your fucking face again.”
“Fine with me,” Chrissie sneers. “Your wedding is going to be ridiculous. Your dress is hideous. I was embarrassed to be associated with it.”
Oh boy. Those are not the kinds of things you say to a bride the night before her wedding. Vicky somehow gets loose from Anthony and lunges for Chrissie. I’m about to step in between them again when I feel an arm wrap around my middle. Then Alec’s voice rumbles near my ear, “No way, tiger. You’re not getting in the middle of that shit again.”
“B-But….” I try to wriggle free, but he’s strong. That and it hurts to struggle.
“No.” He pulls me in until my back is smashed up against his belly and chest. My goodness, he feels good. “That’s not your battle.”
Coming from someone in the army, I suppose he knows what he’s talking about.
ChapterEight
Matilda
I’m sittingin the passenger seat of his car as he squats next to the open door. “You’re bleeding.” Alec has a napkin in his hand; it’s hovering over the left side of my face.
I take the napkin and place it on my wound. “I got a fingernail to the face during the scuffle.”
“Scuffle?” He chuckles. “That was more like a WWE fight.”
I scoff because it’s true. “It sure felt like that when I was squished beneath them.”
“You okay?” Alec asks, sounding sincere.
“Yeah.” I hold up the napkin, showing only a few dots of blood. “It stopped bleeding.”
He looks closer. “You don’t need stitches, but you’re going to want to put some antibiotic ointment on it after you clean it up.”
“Thanks, doc.” I smile, but that hurts a little. I stop doing that.
“Sounds like you’re taking Chrissie’s place tomorrow.”
I shake my head. “No can do.”
“Why not?”
I stare into his pretty brown eyes and contemplate whether I should admit this. But it’s not like Alec likes me-likes me. “Because she’s a size zero.” I pause. “And I’m not. I’d never fit into her dress.” Besides, my dress is different than the bridesmaids’, and I know for a fact Vicky was adamant about wanting them to look exactly alike down to their dress size. That alone would eliminate me from contention. I didn’t fit in with Vicky’s vision. The only similarity between my dress and theirs is the color and fabric. It’s chiffon, but mine is short, hitting me right above the knee. The bridesmaids all have floor-length gowns.
At this point, there’s nothing Vicky or Aunt Annabelle can do about my dress and size. It’s too late to try to get something that would fit me. It doesn’t bother me one bit because the bridesmaids’ dresses are way over-the-top sexy. They’re very low-cut—almost down to their navels. That would not be a good look for me.
