Dean Stephens glances at the streaks of grease on Michael’s hand. “What did you do?”
Michael shrugs and tries to look innocent. “Nothing permanent.” To me he says. “Did I miss anything good?”
I shake my head. “They barely smeared the cake all over each other’s faces.”
The last thing on the list is the garter toss. Michael lines up with the other bachelors and waits.
Kandice daintily puts her foot up on a stool, and Jeff reaches under her skirts to retrieve the garter. He gets a perplexed look on his face and continues up her leg. Silvia looks mortified. Karen and Kelsey shepherd the little girls to the other side of the room. Jeff comes out from under Kandice’s skirt holding a piece of lacy blue fabric. He turns backwards and shoots it across the room. It hits Michael squarely in the face. As he holds it up, his look changes from triumph to shock and horror.
Instead of a garter, it’s a stringy piece of lingerie.
Kandice walks over to Michael. “I don’t think it’s quite your size.” She puts her arm around him. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
Michael holds the lingerie with disgust between two fingers. “It means I’m going to need years of therapy to get over touching my sister’s sexy underwear.”
She laughs and takes it from him. “No, it means you’re the next one who gets to use this. I mean, the next one who gets married.”
She heads towards me. Everyone is watching her. My face flames as she hands it to me. “I don’t need this now. Maybe you can get some use out of it.”
Jeff walks over and takes his bride’s hand in solidarity and triumph. “Thank you all for coming. We have a plane to catch, so we’d better get going.”
They head for the door. Sylvia’s expression is a mixture of dumbfounded shock and embarrassment. I’m stuck holding a stringy bit of lace that’s too small to be called underwear. Everyone is staring. I’m not sure what to do next.
Michae's older sister Kelsey saves me. She takes the lingerie from me. “I’ll take care of this.”
The crowd dissipates. Someone announces that Mr. and Mrs. Jeffery Collins will say their final goodbyes on the front porch of the country club.
Michael walks over and puts his arm around me. “Sorry about that. Don’t worry. Revenge is already in the works.”
We wait on the front porch of the country club with little bottles of bubbles for Kandice and Jeff to make their big exit. The valet is supposed to bring Jeff’s car around. Michael’s mom looks flustered. I can’t tell if she’s eager for this to end or if she’s worried about how it will end.
Michael tightens his grip on my waist, and I sense his anticipation through his fingertips.
The car arrives towed by a dirty gray tow truck. Its engine sputters, and black smoke pours out of the tailpipe. The driver gets out—huge, long-haired, tattooed, greasy. Michael is trying to keep a straight face. His mom sends him a dark look from across the room.
Kandice and Jeff come through the door. The little girls are blowing bubbles like crazy. Jeff stands and stares in disbelief at his car—a shiny black Lexus. Besides the fact that it’s being towed, the front tires are missing, and it’s covered in whipped cream, balloons and streams of toilet paper.
Kandice squeals and turns on Michael. “What did you do?”
Michael is doing his best to look innocent. “Me?”
Jeff looks as if he wants to hit someone. Kandice puts her hand on her husband's arm. “It looks like we need to borrow a car so we don’t miss our flight. Does anyone have one we can use?”
The tow truck driver steps forward. “Don’t worry, Miss or I guess, Missus, I can get you to the airport.”
“In that thing?” Jeff points at the grimy truck. The tow-truck driver doesn’t look like he appreciates Jeff’s assessment of his vehicle.
“It’ll get you there. Of course, I can take only one passenger up front. I assume you want that to be the bride. You’ll have to sit in back.” He jerks his thumb towards the disabled Lexus.
Kandice waves to the crowd and kisses her parents. Then, she allows the tow truck driver to hoist her into the cab. Jeff climbs into the front seat of the Lexus, tossing out balloons and tissue paper as he struggles to close the door.
There are cans tied to the back of the Lexus, but the roar of the tow truck’s engine drowns them out. The couple drives away in a cloud of smelly diesel exhaust.
“Michael,” Sylvia warns. “They had better not miss their flight.”
Michael moves away from me and wraps his arms around his mom. “There’s a limo waiting for them a mile down the road. Clyde will take care of the car.”
“Clyde?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “I don’t even want to know how you know him.”
