All The Best Men

So yeah, I’ve been in the hot seat a couple times now, the targets of several scheming women. But I’ve learned to deal, even to turn it to my advantage. After all, sitting on top of a giant global conglomerate, you learn how to manage these things.

So yeah, I use the situation to get what I want. And that’s sex. There’s mad hormones in the air at these things, and some girls, instead of wanting to get hitched, turn into crazed sex friends, ready to be taken anytime, anywhere. Oh yeah, some figure they need to “catch up” to their married friends, or “live it up” somehow, throwing themselves at me like a bunch of desperately flopping fish.

So discreetly, I scanned the church. My buddies Mason and Kane were doing the same, their eyes roving over the crowd. Not much, unfortunately. A couple old biddies wearing hats as big as umbrellas, feathers extending three feet in the air. Why the hell would you do that? It was more circus freak than Duchess of Windsor.

Disappointed, I snorted. Oh well. At least the jet was still at that grassy field, ready to take off. We could leave as soon as humanly possible. Maybe after the wedding reception. Hell, maybe after the ceremony, if it came to that.

But my thoughts were interrupted by the swell of organ music. Suddenly, the volume got turned on max, and what had previously been some pleasant elevator music in the background became a full-on cacophony of chords. Fuck. Is this what counted for classy in Buttfuck, Nowhere?

The double doors to the entrance swung open slowly, and shit, but Elaine stepped in then. What the hell? I thought bridesmaids and flower girls walked first, but evidently, Elaine wanted all eyes on her from the get go.

Her blonde hair was perfect, a smile lighting that angelic face, but there’s no fooling me. That bitch is crazy town with a heavy dose of insanity. The couple times we’d hung out hadn’t gone down well. She was constantly whining “Bobby this, Bobby that,” ordering him around like a pet poodle. He’s the fucking mayor of Knox! You’re lucky you snagged him, especially with your bipolar tendencies.

Not only that, but one of those times, Bobby had forgotten to order one of her favorite drinks and she’d gone bat shit crazy at the bar, screaming that he didn’t love her and how could he claim to love her when he didn’t remember something as simple as that?

Needless to say, the night had been a bust, the mood blown after listening to Elaine criticize Bobby for nothing. God. Why the hell is he marrying her? It must be the pussy. Her pussy’s gotta be the holy fucking grail, because why else would he stay around, much less tie the knot?

But maybe that’s what we were here for: to keep him from making the biggest mistake of his life. Maybe we were here to rescue him. It’s not too late. We can haul him on the private jet and get him back to New York as soon as possible. He can be the Runaway Groom, like in the Julia Roberts movie. Silently, I cheered in my head. That sounded like a plan. What was the alternative after all? Fifty years of life with a harpy who stole your money? Was there a pre-nup at least?

But nah, it wasn’t gonna happen. Stealing a glance at Bobby next to me, my heart went out to the man. Seriously, I felt bad for the poor guy. Chubby and sweating bullets, his face was bright pink, eyes bulging from behind those heavy glasses.

Maybe he was having second thoughts after all. If he really wanted to make a run for it we could get him out of here James Bond-style, no sweat. I opened my mouth to say something, but then the wedding march started. Well here we go. Too late now, live and let live, buddy … it’s your life.

So staring straight ahead, I watched disinterestedly as Elaine sashayed down the aisle, preening and smiling, nodding while batting her lashes. By my book, she was ugly. If you like skinny blondes, then Elaine was your girl, weighing in at ninety pounds, her shoulder bones scarily sharp, chest practically concave.

And the bridesmaids weren’t much better. I saw, but only because my eyes had to see. Like their blonde friend, they too were scary skinny, a bunch of scarecrows held up by wooden rails. Elbows so sharp they could cut through metal. Faces strained and pulled tight from hunger, the shape of their skulls visible underneath. Man, somebody get these girls a ham sandwich pronto.

But suddenly, all my pre-conceived notions were upended. Just when I’d given up, the last bridesmaid entered, biting her lip, brown curls a halo around her head. Shit, but this woman had curves! My gaze locked on her like a tractor beam; I couldn’t tear my eyes away from that lush female form. She had tits that went on for days, wide hips that swung right and left, and an ass so big you could eat a meal off it. Holy shit! She was so unlike the other girls. Where the hell had this chickadee been hiding?