Jhondie
It took me a minute, but I was finally able to slowly stand up when they were gone. I leaned against the wall and thought about all that I had heard. Not everyone liked Manticore. I had never even contemplated that scenario before. I would have thought that all those higher-ups liked the idea of a bunch of transgenics running around to be cannon fodder rather than "real people". Tony was the military guy. Maybe he thought Manticore would edge out regular soldiers. Maybe chimeras just freaked him out in general. He didn't matter anyways. There was no way I would talk to him. I'd end up decking him, and that wouldn't help my case that we could be normal people on the outside. Senator Martin…maybe…but that was still a major what if.
I walked down the hallway looking for a bathroom. I wanted to make sure I didn't look like I had just been eavesdropping on highly classified material. It wouldn't look good if Justin was downstairs and I came down with my hair and makeup messed up. Maybe I should call Zack and tell him everything. He'd probably tell me to get out of Boston ASAP, but maybe he would be interested. This might be our ticket to freedom. Or would they double-cross us and try to recreate Manticore the way they wanted to.
I was thinking too much and looking down instead of where I was going. I had a little bit more on my mind then the wedding or guests or even the bride. Which is exactly why I walked right into her. I didn't know there was a room up here for the bride to repair her hair and makeup or whatever. I jumped back, startled, and for a moment, she looked abjectly terrified. Then she smirked sweetly. I didn't want to deal with her. I wanted to go downstairs and maybe talk to Justin, but I really needed to think things out. I tried nice, I really did.
"Excuse me," I said distantly. The majority of my mind was running through the possibilities. Talking at the wedding was a bad idea. Maybe I could call Senator Martin. No, he'd never believe it unless he saw my barcode. Maybe…
"Are you looking for Justin up here?" Denise asked with saccharine sweetness. She had mistaken my distance for deference. Later I realized that she must have thought she was safe and I was trying to avoid her because I couldn't do anything to her. One look at the smirk, and I knew what she was saying. Maybe he's up here with me.
"If he's in the ladies room, then I don't want to know he's up here," I replied. Be nice. Justin promised interesting if you would just behave. This is not the crowd you want to draw attention to yourself in. At least two people might ask questions you don't want to have to answer. "Beautiful wedding," I added politely. "Congratulations to the both of you." Wow. Even Irene would have to be proud of that one. Time to make an exit. Idiot decided to continue it instead of letting me make a graceful exit stage left.
"It was, wasn't it?" she beamed. I understood that she was about to make a pointed remark somewhere in that sweetness. Walking away right then would have been the best bet. I just couldn't. "Mother and Phillip went so overboard, but I certainly can't complain." She sighed. "It's amazing how all this pulled together so easily." Her eyes fastened on mine, and I could feel her eagerness to see my response when she added, "and to think, nine months ago, Bradley and I didn't even know each other."
I got the jibe. Bitch. So what. Justin and I had been together longer than them, and we were "still dating". Just because we hadn't made a formal, public declaration didn't mean we were less than them. I certainly didn't need some minister to tell me that I loved Justin and that we were bound together. We both knew that already. But, the whole dress and reception thing was kind of cool. And I knew Justin looked so hot in a tux. But it wasn't required to have us in a committed relationship. That was already there, and the rest was just for show. A really cool show, but a show nevertheless.
I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. "Well, I certainly hope your marriage beats the statistics," I said. "Or do you believe that old saying, 'marry in haste, repent in leisure'?"
Her eyes flamed at me. She wasn't expecting a comeback like that. "Bradley," she said slowly and with great dignity, "believes in making commitments. It's so rare to find a man that isn't afraid to make a serious commitment. Most of them turn and run when it's time to get serious." Yeah, like it was hard to figure out why men wouldn't want to commit to her.
I was not in a mood to hear it. "Well, male or female, most people know that commitment is a bad idea when their significant other decides to kill their pets." Justin had told me about the bleach in the goldfish's bowl.
She paled a bit but didn't back down. The girl was obviously mental if she had forgotten our last little girl-talk. Maybe she thought she was safe in Boston, but that was a bad assumption. "Just what the hell are you saying?" she hissed at me.
I gave her my best sneer of superiority. "You," I said firmly, "are a total psycho hose beast, and that's why the love or your life is going to be in my bed tonight and not yours. Want the visual aids to that, sweetheart?"
There is no rational explanation. I could claim temporary insanity after all I had been through that day. I opened my purse, and in about half a second found the exact picture I was looking for. Justin and I were very open with each other about our experiences and what we had done with other people before we got together. There was a little something that Justin admitted to me that he had never liked and had only done when absolutely forced, but he liked with me. What can I say; I believe in regular bathing I guess.
I held up the picture and smirked. "See, proof that once Justin got away from your psychotic self, he did like the fresh taste of sanity."
Her eyes went huge as her face flushed crimson with shock and fury. Her mouth opened and shut several times like a demented guppy as the realization of what she was seeing sunk into her little brain. She had the rich husband, and would get to life the high-class life of a future politician's wife. I would have Justin. Money and power wasn't in the cards, but I would be the one to snuggle up to Justin at night, and that was far more important. And she was staring at the evidence that he would do anything to make me happy. From the smile on his face in the picture, he was really enjoying making me happy.
"You…you…YOU BITCH!" she screamed, grabbing at the picture, her hands hooked into harpy-like talons. Her fingers skated on the edge, ripping off a small corner before I snatched it out of her grasp.
"What's wrong?" I mocked. "Is this what you were hoping for when you broke into Justin's room? Or maybe this is when you pretend Bradley is Justin." I spun around and glanced over my shoulder. "And in case you're wondering, he is *damn* good."
She screeched and jumped at me again, but I was off before she could lay a hand on me. Tearing her apart might have been more satisfying, but I was still smarting from the Senator and his friend's comments. I could handle an argument without kicking butt. Besides, this was kind of fun having her chase me, letting her stay just a hair too far back.
I put in a little extra speed and whipped around a corner, her squeal of frustration music to my ears. She was letting out a series of guttural threats and names, but I wasn't really listening. I was giggling at her and just staying ahead. I glanced back as I turned a corner, the snarl on her face making me laugh harder. This was SO what I needed to feel better.
The hallway was shorter than I thought it would be. I had glanced back, and her snarl suddenly became triumphant. I looked back to my front and there was a large double door in my way. Not a problem for me you nutcase. A second before I hit the door, I jumped, grabbing the top of the doorframe and flipping myself up so that I was basically doing a handstand. Denise was going way too fast to stop, and I knew I was going to enjoy seeing her slam into the closed (and hopefully locked) doors.
The doors weren't locked.
They swung outward.
On the other side of the doors was about a two-foot wide balcony where the bride was supposed to toss her bouquet off of. There was a railing, but Denise had a long train and very high heels.
From my vantage, I couldn't exactly see what happened. But I heard the screams and the crash. I risked a tiny peek. Denise wasn't on the balcony any more.
Oops.
