Pop! Goes the weasel
JENNIE
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A few short hours after we land, I decide I can't hide out in the bungalow any longer. I can't avoid Chaeng and Chan—and worse, my mother—forever, so I slip into a simple off-the-shoulder Kate Spade dress. I keep my hair pulled back in a low and tight chignon, and my makeup simple. It's eighty-five degrees out, and thanks to my late-night stroll through Manhattan in the rain, this sickness is giving me hot and cold sweats. I don't need to look like even more of a hot mess with makeup running down my face.
I'm sure Nayeon will be baying for my blood because I wasn't there to help her oversee the setup of the luau. As if she'd be doing any of the physical work anyway. What I wouldn't give for a drink right now, but I just took another dose of cough medicine, so I decide not to raid the mini bar in my bungalow, grab my purse and my room key, and head out.
The resort is incredible. Like most in the Maldives, there's a main building housing restaurants and ballrooms, and little huts sit perched in the shallow crystalline water, which you can only get to by following the sprawling boardwalks.
By the time I've reached the main building, I'm dizzy from the heat. I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and gulp it down as if it were water, setting the empty flute back on his tray before he has a chance to walk away. So much for not drinking tonight.
Across the garden, my father stands talking to Lisa. Directly opposite them, my mother, Mrs. Manoban, and Mrs. Lee are huddled together in their pastel twin-sets, no doubt gossiping about the guest list. Because I know I can't avoid my parents all weekend, I choose the lesser of the two evils.
"Ah, button. Good to see you." My father opens his arms wide as I approach, and I move into his embrace.
"Hello, Daddy," I say, kissing my father on the cheek. I step away, and glance at Manoban the Ass. "Lisa."
"Hey, Pop Tart," Lisa says with a smirk, resting her hand on my waist and pulling me closer. I can only stand glued to the spot as she leans down and kisses my cheek. She tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and whispers, "Should you be here right now? You look like hell."
I grunt and back away as quickly as possible without making it obvious that I want to shank her for touching me. And what the hell was that hair thing? Our temporary truce was done with the second she left me sound asleep and late for work in her apartment five days ago. This girl has no right to be tenderly brushing the hair out of my face.
"How are you holding up?" My father takes a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter and hands it to me. I guzzle this glass too because . . . champagne, and it's my ex-fiancé's wedding, so the next few hours are automatically guaranteed to be hell.
"I'm great. Just great." I'm also far too chipper to be believable.
My father frowns. "Button, you don't have to pretend with me."
"I'm not pretending, Daddy."
"Jennie darling, there you are." I freeze. Oh no. I swallow back the bile that threatens to climb up my esophagus and turn to face my mother with a plastered-on grin. Lisa and Chan's mothers flank her on either side. The three musketeers. Honestly, Chaeng was lucky her parents were never a part of the Lee/Manoban/Kim madness that was growing up in our families.
I'm drawn in and hugged by all three women. I'm also given plenty of pitying glances, and reassuring pats on the forearm, and told that I just have to hang in there, and wasn't it good of me to come? When Mrs. Lee hugs me, she whispers in my ear, "I have prayed to any god who would listen that Chan will change his mind."
"Oh," I say, because what else can you say to that?
"He was a fool to leave you."
"Well, that's not really what—"
"Chaeng is lovely, but she's hardly blue-blooded, and I hear she's Jewish. Imagine the chaos at Christmas time. Who doesn't love Jesus?" Mrs. Lee asks. Mom and Eleanor nod along as if Glory's comments aren't completely offensive.
"Actually, Chaeng celebrates both holidays," I say. "Her dad is Jewish, and her mother is Catholic."
"Valerie, if we'd just found a way to keep our children together all this mess could have been avoided," Glory says.
I gulp back the rest of my champagne, set the glass down on a nearby table, and bite my tongue. Then I decide life is short and to hell with it. "Hmm, well I suppose you'll have to get used to the fact that Chaeng is marrying your son, because Chan is a lying, cheating prick and I wouldn't take him back if he begged and groveled on his knees."
Lisa laughs. Champagne sprays from her mouth and showers Glory's face and jacket. She clears her throat. "Shit, sorry."
"Lisa," Eleanor chastises.
She hands Glory her napkin. "I'm sorry, Glory."
"Lisa." I grab her forearm. "I'm going to need something stiffer."
Her brows shoot skyward. "Well, I can certainly help with that."
"Excuse us," I say, and drag her away from the Three Musketeers and their angry nattering. I lead her through the bushes and out of sight, then I let go of her hand and rub at my temples. "I'm going to need a Xanax and a whole lot of liquor to get through this."
"That was pretty impressive. I think my mom might have a legitimate lady crush on you."
I glance at her and shake my head in disbelief. "Tell me I didn't make a mistake in coming here. Tell me this whole weekend isn't going to be like this?"
"Oh, it will definitely be like this. The bride will spend the weekend hating on you, your co-worker is a pushy bitch, your ex-fiancé is marrying someone else, and Chan's family all still wish you were together."
"No, they don't."
"Yeah, they do. You clearly don't spend enough time at Lee Palace. It's all they talk about."
"That's just because they never got to know Chaeng." I shake my head. "They never wanted to because they're all elitist assholes."
She frowns. "How can you defend her after what she did to you?"
I exhale a breath. "Because I'm an idiot."
"You're not an idiot. You're too loyal for your own damn good, but that doesn't make you an idiot."
"What does it make me?" I ask.
Lisa takes a step toward me, and I take one back, but she seems unperturbed. "It makes you sweet."
"Me? Sweet?" I say, taking another step back. She laughs and reaches out a hand, tucking that strand of hair behind my ear. My body breaks out in goosebumps, and I thank God my dress covers my nipples appropriately so she won't see the headlights on high beam.
"It makes you a good person."
Another step, and I'm firmly pressed up against a well-manicured hedge. I stare into those sparkling baby blues, and it may be the cough medicine or the two glasses of champagne talking but she has really pretty eyes, framed by an incredible face. The kind of face you want to wake up to every morning . . . What the hell?
"It makes you beautiful." Lisa's fingertips slide down my jaw to cup my chin.
"There you are. Finally. I've only been looking all-over," a high-pitched British wail comes from somewhere behind Lisa.
"Nayeon." I sidestep around Lisa. That was far too close to being a thing that almost happened.
"Where have you been all evening?"
"Sorry, I had some things to attend to."
"I can see that," she says, sounding all kinds of creepy. "Hello. We haven't formally met. I'm Nayeon, Jennie's soon-to-be boss."
"Lisa. Jennie's soon-to-be—"
"Nothing," I squeak. "Lisa and I are friends—not even friends, really. More like acquaintances, or you know, enemies." I wave their odd looks away with a lazy hand gesture. "Now, you needed me for something?"
"Yes. We need to go over the plan for the speeches."
"Speeches, right. So we'll just cut mine and Lisa's, and we're done. You're okay with that right, Lisa?"
She nods, and then turns to me. "Wait, what?"
"Alright then," Nayeon says. "Jolly good."
"Great."
Nayeon turns and stalks off across the lawn on her teetering heels. They sink into the soft sandy grass with each step, and it's actually quite comical watching her walk away. She looks like a flamingo or some other bird with ridiculously long, skinny legs that are wildly out of proportion to the rest of her body.
I trail after her, but Lisa grabs my arm and pulls me against her, her front to my back. She leans down and whispers in my ear, "We're not done here, Pop Tart."
"Yes, we are."
"Not by a long shot."
"Okay, see you. Busy wedding planning to do, and all."
She chuckles and releases me, and I flee faster than a rabbit into its burrow when trying to escape a predator.
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For the next two hours I'm subjected to pitying looks and uneasy smiles and comments like, "It's so good of you to come," "You poor dear," or, my personal favorite from Chan's wicked Aunt Myrtle, "I always knew it wouldn't work out. You Kims have never been good enough for the Lees." Aunt Myrtle may have still had a score to settle with my Uncle Wallace. I've never liked that woman, and everyone knows she only attends parties and weddings for the free meals and liquor.
It's enough that I want to tear my hair out, but I won't give Myrtle the satisfaction. Instead, I see us through the rehearsal, and at dinner I ensure that I always have a champagne flute in my hands anytime someone approaches our table. I'm sat between Lisa and June, which isn't all bad. The June part, anyway. Lisa is just as infuriating as ever and has decided that occupying her own seat isn't enough. Apparently, she needs half of mine too because her hot thigh is flush with mine and it's making my body temperature skyrocket. June is like a kid after too much sugar. He drums on the table, creates music with his champagne glass, and is all too willing to keep filling my own.
I have a definite buzz going, and when Chaeng tries to talk to me alone I'm not even mad. I'm not exactly made of hugs and Care Bears, but I'm too drunk to really care what comes out of her mouth. As far as I can tell, she's pissed that Clara's hair is longer than hers and therefore it will take more time creating the classic updo. I nod along and listen like any good maid of honor would, but I'm way past the point of caring about Chaeng's wants and needs.
When I return to the table, my glass is empty. June is gone, Chan is nowhere in sight and Lisa has her head bowed over her phone. She's probably texting a late-night booty call—if any one can find a woman to sleep with on a deserted island, it would be Lisa. I head straight over to the champagne bottle and polish it off, then, because I'm too impatient for a waiter to do so, I pick up an unopened nearby bottle and decide to pop the cork. Lisa has other ideas. She takes that moment to stand up, and attempts to wrangle the bottle from me.
"I think you've had enough, Pop Tart."
"No. I'll decide when I've had enough. Men decide enough in this world."
"Well, it's clear we're at the I-hate-men-and-all-things-penis portion of the evening. Which means you've definitely had too much, because a few short hours ago you were two seconds away from lovin' up on old Lisa."
"I was not loving up on you. I could never love you. You're trying to take my liquor away, and I don't . . . I don't even know why you're here. Why are you always hanging around?"
"I'm the best man, remember?"
"Pffft. The best man. You're no best man. You're just, a girl with junk. There should be a prize for that, because you would definitely win." I wipe the sweat away from my brow. "Why is it so damn hot out here? Who gets married in this heat? Oh, assholes like Chaeng and Chan, that's who. I'm so glad he cheated on me, got her pregnant, and left me, because I would never get married here."
"Okay, rug rat." Lisa wraps one arm around my waist as she wrestles one-handed with the bottle. "Time to go."
"No." I pull away from her just as the cork pops free, flying through the air, and drunk as I may be, I watch as if it's in slow motion.
It smacks Chaeng right in the nose. Blood shoots out of her nostrils. She covers her face and screams. "Oh my God! You broke my nose, you bitch."
My hand flies across my mouth, but not before a nervous giggle escapes. "Holy shit. Did I just break her nose?"
"Yep, looks like." Lisa says, finally snatching the bottle free from my hands. "Now come on."
A very angry Chaeng stalks toward us. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"What? No! I would never. I don't even care that Chan cheated and got you pregnant and that you're marrying my ex and having his baby," I slur and wrestle with Lisa as she tries to cover my mouth. "I'm so over him, and even though you've turned into this raging hormonal bitch, I still support you. Your new in-laws are assholes, though. They were ragging on you earlier, but it's okay 'cause I totally stood up for you."
"Pop Tart, you need to stop talking." Lisa covers my mouth, and I struggle against her, and then I puke all over her hand, my dress, and the white linen tablecloth. Over and over my stomach wretches, until there's nothing left.
"Wow, that just kept on coming, huh?" Lisa says when I'm done. I groan, and open my eyes. I'm met with a sea of horrified faces, and then the puke-covered table rushes up to meet me and the world fades to black.
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