Author's Note: The last chapter resulted in some mixed feelings. There were some of you who viewed it in a negative manner; while others were excited by the development. I've said it before and I will say it again. I never do anything without good reason. Have a little faith. If you think things are going to be all hunky doory you're wrong. This is a HUGE obstacle for them. One that may or may not destroy their friendship.
Chapter Eight
Only a complete and total moron let themselves get married while drunk in Vegas. The idea that he had fallen prey to the oldest Las Vegas mistake was enough to make Alex ball up his fist and slam it into the wall. Beneath his curled knuckles he felt the sheet rock crumble. Well wasn't that just fan-fucking-tastic. The hotel would probably charge him a couple thousand for the damage. Money he didn't have. He didn't even know how he was going to scrape the money together to file for an annulment. There were few times he agreed with his step-brother, but this time Mark was right. The only way to fix the mistake that had been made the night before was to make it disappear.
"I talked a lawyer buddy of mine. It shouldn't be hard to get an annulment. Apparently if you can claim lack of consent since you were drunk." Mark grinned at him, satisfaction shining in his eyes. He clapped a hand on Alex's shoulder. "Now all you have to do is come up with five hundred dollars."
Five hundred dollars. It might as well have been five thousand. His share of the trip and hotel had drained his meager savings account. He was lucky if he even had a hundred bucks in it. His mind mentally went over the contents of his checking account. Two hundred dollars. Usually that seemed like plenty to have in his account. After all, he owned his home and his bills were usually cheap. Now it seemed like a pittance. "I don't have it," he muttered, scraping a hand down his face. He could feel his fingers shaking. He'd messed up plenty of times in his life but never like this. Never something so life changing.
"I do."
The softly spoken two words had Alex looking over his shoulder. Izzie stood just outside the bathroom door. Some time during Mark's billion phone calls and his personal meltdown she had exchanged his t-shirt for a pair of white shorts and a pastel Aztec print tank top that hung a little lower in the back. She'd scraped her hair into a messy bun on top of her head and applied the bare minimum of make up. "I have it in my purse." She stepped away from the bathroom door and walked toward him. No, not toward him, toward the chair where her purse sat. She dug out a dull brown wallet with the initials LV imprinted all over it and pulled out a stack of hundred dollar bills. Her head remained ducked down as she counted out five of them. Alex watched as her jaw clenched and unclenched. "Here," she spat out, throwing the money in Mark's general direction. It fluttered to the ground.
"What the hell is your problem!" Mark stared at her, his handsome face twisted into a combination of anger and shock. "Jesus, Iz, you don't have to be such a bitch."
"And you don't have to be such a pathetic excuse of a human being," she shot back, gathering up her purse. She slung it over her shoulder and strode towards the door.
"Iz, where are you going?" Alex felt his brow wrinkle in confusion. She couldn't leave. They needed to see if there was anyplace open where they could start the annulment process. He couldn't do anything without her there. It would take both their signatures.
"None of your business." The coldness in her voice had him taking a step back. He'd never seen or heard Izzie act the way she was acting. It was almost as though she were pissed at him. Which was ridiculous. He hadn't done anything to piss her off. Hell, he hadn't even really spoke to her. His sole focus had been on figuring out a way to correct the mistake they'd made the night before. Shit. He hadn't even talked to her, asked her what she thought about the whole thing. He'd just assumed she felt the same way Mark...Shit. He'd freaked out over the whole thing and let Mark take control. Story of his life. His mother had married Mark's father when Mark was thirteen and he was ten. At the time Mark had been bigger and more confident, if not a little bleak when it came to getting close to people. Women especially. Alex's mother had once told him Mark couldn't let women close because he was scared they were going to die...like his mother. For the most part Mark had been a great brother. Nobody was allowed to bully him and if he need advice on girls, Mark had always been willing to give it. Some of it had been pretty awful but most of it had come in handy. Except now. Now, Alex was starting to think letting Mark tell him how to handle the situation was a mistake.
Mark crossed the room and blocked the door. A pained look formed on Alex's face as Izzie's eyes narowed. Under normal circumstances Izzie was pretty chill, but these were not normal circumstances and Alex knew her well enough to know her fight or flight was kicking in. Typically when things got difficult she chose flight. Since Mark wasn't letting her walk out, the fight was going to kick in. "You can't leave, Iz. If we find a place open we..."
Whatever else Mark had been about to say was cut off by an angry growl that escaped through Izzie's clenched teeth. "We? What's this we business Mark? The last time I checked this didn't have anything to do with you."
"Wrong. Alex is my brother, which means it has everything to do with me. I'm not going to let you sucker him into some sham of a marriage just because you're feeling a little desperate since George is getting married.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Disbelief warred with anger in Izzie's voice as she stared at Mark, rage sparkling in her eyes. The blood drained from her face as it became obvious that Mark hadn't been kidding. She turned to look at Alex. "Is that what you think? That I somehow suckered you into marrying me?"
"I don't know," he said lowly. Last night was a fog. He didn't have a clue about how they had ended up in their current predicament. His last clear thought was of the conversation they'd had with George and Olivia over Izzie calling George 'Alex' on prom night.
"Good to know what you really think of me," whispered Izzie. She reached around Mark and yanked open the door. Alex started after her. He had to explain that whatever she was thinking, it hadn't been what he meant. He didn't think she had tricked him into getting married. That didn't feel right. Plus it wasn't part of who she was. It was all so confusing though.
"Let her go Alex. Let her chill out." Mark caught him by the arm before he could leave. He stared down at his step-brother's hand and then shot Mark a hard look. Abruptly Mark let his hand fall away.
"Do you really think Izzie's capable of tricking me?" Alex asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. He wanted to clap his hands over his ears and tell Mark to shut up as he launched into a spiel about desperate women doing desperate things. "She's not like that and you know it."
"Doesn't matter what I know or don't know. What matters is what you know. If you don't think she tricked you that's all that should matter."
Mark made it sound so simple. It wasn't. Not anymore. Nothing about his relationship with Izzie was simple. It never had been. There had always been something simmering beneath the surface that kept their friendship from being like other friendships. It was love. Alex knew that. He loved her. Scratch that. He was in love with her. Which made this that much harder. No, he didn't think she had tricked him. Most likely they had drank to much, got caught up in George's wedding talk, and thought what the hell. It didn't make his feelings any different: he wasn't ready to get married and Izzie sure as hell deserved more than some drunken mid-night run through a wedding chapel ran by a guy dressed up like Elvis.
Taking a deep breath, Alex walked over the mussed up bed. The marriage license was lying right where Izzie had left it. His fingers started to shake as he picked it up. The shaking stopped. "Shit," he whispered, a chuckle forming in his throat. The longer he stared at the paper, the harder he laughed. His name, along with Izzie's, was on the license, but not as the bride and groom. They had signed as witnesses for George and Olivia. Alex wasn't going to touch the weirdness of George and Olivia eloping the night before their actual wedding. He had to find Izzie, show her that everything was okay.
He could hear Mark asking him what the hell was so funny. He ignored him. Mindless of the fact that he wasn't wearing shoes, Alex hurried towards the elevators. "Please let her be waiting," he mumbled. He almost shouted in victory when he seen her leaning against the wall across from the elevator doors. Luck was on his side. "Iz," he called. She didn't look up.
"Go away," she hissed.
"No. You have to look at this." He shoved the marriage license in her hands. He watched as she read it, waiting for the look of relief. It never came. "Iz, we're not married."
"Yeah. I see that." Her chin remained tucked against her chest. "Congratulations. Have you told Mark the good news? I'm sure he'll be ecstatic that you're not really being suckered into a sham of a marriage."
"Who cares what Mark thinks?"
That got her attention. Her chin jerked up. "You. You care! When you thought we'd gotten married you didn't stop to ask me how I felt or what I thought we should do! Oh no, you turned to Mark! You let him do all your thinking and talking. And if that wasn't bad enough, you both acted like I was the one to blame when really we don't know what happened. Maybe if you hadn't let Mark in our business we would have taken a closer look at the license and realized it wasn't ours." Her dark eyes swam with un-shed tears. "I could forgive you for that. I could. What I can't forgive you for is acting like being married to me was the worse thing in the world."
"Iz," he started.
She shook her head. "I think it would be best if you spent the rest of this trip with Mark."
"Iz, I don't..." his voice trailed off as she stepped on to the elevator. The doors slid shut, leaving him alone with a million thoughts that didn't quite make sense.
