This brunette that's built like football player lets his eyes swivel down the length of me before settling with a sneer of his own, "We meet…again," the line ending off like a scene from Mortal Kombat or some shit like that.
For a few teeth chattering minutes, we stare each other down. Both our facial features twitch and it's an undeclared war on who'll crack first. Being the one with lack of self-discipline, I end up breaking out a smile, "You win," I murmur begrudgingly and afterwards wrapping my puny arms around his waist, "Long time no motherfuckin' see, Scotty!"
A familiar snort goes off following Colt's hearty chuckle, "Scotty?"
"Hush up, Punk," he says before winding his log like arms around me, sucking the air out of me, "You're still a proud owner of a dirty mouth, huh?" I chuckle but nod because it's true, "Well, I wouldn't have it any other way."
Dramatic coughing and wheezing ensues only stopping once our attention is garnered, "Is…is there something I'm missing?" asks Punk switching between a raised brown and pointing.
"Scotty and I met at Elle's wedding," I reply with a touch of smarm. I could've said we hooked up just to light a reaction or test for one, "Come on, let's head back in," I tug on Colt's arm and lead him while Punk strays behind.
"You missed out, buddy. Remember, I told you to show up but you were like – OW!" the brunette groans, clutching his stomach as Punk trudges ahead of us, "The hell?"
"Spaz attack!"
Inside, we shiver out the frost that seeped through us before going about anything else. Punk and his main man share glares; glares coming from Punk while Colt sends out a series of smirks and eyebrow wags.
"I had a feeling when I heard your name. I had it," I speak up.
Resting his arm around me, Colt leans back all cocky about it, "I knew I would be unforgettable," he snootily says.
Biting back my retort, I nudge him, "It wasn't until I saw you that pieces came together, sugar."
The man frowns, "Could've done without that statement. Chips a man's ego, you know," he says with a playful pout, "I, for one, couldn't forget those cat eyes of yours. Remember how faced we got? Yep, not even after that!"
My cheeks tint up while Phil rolls his eyes, "Quit it! You little charmer, you."
His bear paws ruffle my hair, "That's just how I roll. They call me 'The Panty Dropper' back home," he says smugly and I almost hurl out a laugh. There's a reason Phil and him are friends.
"You guys could write a cheesy romantic comedy with those lines…" mutters Punk with a tone of annoyance.
"You'd know all about those rom-coms since you watch them all the time," replies Colt with a toothy smirk, "Lighten up, Gloomy. You're always on my ass about me getting me some action, this is my chance!" I slap a hand on my face, laughing.
The man who saved me from my ex-boyfriend's wrath months ago crosses his arms and sits back, "There isn't anything wrong with a good rom-com and for your information, I am Grouchy according to Maria," they have themselves a laugh like they've shared an insider and I just turn on the tele.
"Say, Marleene, why don't you recap the wedding since my dear old best pal wasn't there to witness the birth of our friendship?"
Scrunching up my face, "How about you do story time while I borrow your lighter and steal a smoke?" I suggest pulling off my best puppy-dog eyes.
"Yeah, how about you tell it top to bottom? You can speak, can't you?" comments the Straight Edge punk, "More than that, as well…" he mumbles under his breath.
A shocked escaped me. Is he really going there? What in the…, "Are you shitting me? You're really going to be a dick and put me out there?" I shout, alerting Micks and Wes who hush their conversation from the kitchen, "It's bad enough you know but you'd really go there?" I attempt to stand up, not knowing if I should strike or walk out. Luckily for Phil, his bestie holds me back but that doesn't stop me from going off.
The raven haired man simply enjoys the show, "Okay, okay kiddies. How about ol' Colt tells you the bedtime story?" proposed Colt, in a petty attempt to maneuver the situation into calmer, less hostile, waters.
"I'm not putting you anywhere, sweet cheeks. You're getting all riled up for nothing," laughs Phil, reveling in the anger he evokes.
Fighting to restrain me, his best man shoots Punk a glare, "Stop pushing her."
It's Christmas season, be civil! Great, even my conscience berates me. Huffing and puffing, I wear out and slump down on the couch, "You think I can have that smoke and lighter, now?" I ask the bear beside me.
"For you, pretty lady, I'd gift the world," he replies with a cheeky grin that summons an unwanted smile from me. Jingles and jangles and then appear the items I wished for.
Taking them in hand, "You're lovely, stunner," I wink, straying away from the couch and over to Punk's side of to grab whatever sweater my fingers latch onto.
"You're lovely, stunner," mocks the son of a bitch but I don't poke him anymore, he doesn't deserve anymore satisfaction.
Outside, man, it's fucking Alaska. Snow litters the every square inch, nearing the estimated six inches. I stick the cancer stick between my lips and tent the lighter as the winds is fearless. Once lit, I lean against the paneling and reminisce about the faithful day in which I met the one and only, Scott Colton. It's a fond memory, indeed.
ΔΔΔΔ
Two years ago…
Saint Joseph's Parish, Lockport, IL
Out of all the tasks assigned to me as a proud bridesmaid, I'm surprise to even be able to squeeze in a moment of leisure. Five in the morning is an ungodly hour for anyone to be up without at least a hit of Mary, a line, or Monster. Whatever though, I'll just relish the plush cushioning of this antique couch and not mind a thing.
"Where is he?" and the relishing is over as the shriek lifts me off the couch, "Where in the sane fuck is he?" shrills Bridezilla as if I'd get who's she's asking about.
From her vanity, Mackenzie whirls around to reveal a horribly done cat eye, "Who?" she growls, her eye twitching, "Who are you fucking freaking over now?" excuse us but it's been one hell of a day.
TLC and all those programs that follow women on their special day don't exaggerate their scripts. Elle has all the makings and symptoms of the common, Bridezilla: unnecessary ruthlessness, oversensitive paranoia, OCD like need for perfection – anything, name it. Her face speaks volumes, "Punk, airhead, our fucking brother!"
"Oh…" my girl fiddles with the chain that arrived with the Bridesmaid's Appreciation Package, "About that...you see, our bro is a busy guy. I mean, with his hectic traveling schedule and pressure to be on his A-game for the big leagues...I'm sorry, sissy, he-"
"No!" wails the eldest woman in the room her eyes shining with unshed tears, the one who claps her dainty hands over her mouth, "No, no, no, no, please?"
The dirty blonde clamps her eyes closed, "He isn't coming, sissy."
How I didn't see it coming, I don't know, but what slips from Eleanor's throat the most inhuman, blood-curdling shrill I've ever had the displeasure to hear. Afterwards, the bride marches throughout the sitting room wrecking everything in her path. Who's going to pay for that? She's like Godzilla dressed in Twiggy's wedding dress.
Her barrage stops and then it's me she's aiming for, "It's all because of you!" she exclaims and I just stare at Micks in bewilderment, "You fucked everything up!"
"I'm sorry but what are you talking about?"
Micks steps in, dragging her sister off into the other room, "Why don't you check on the groomsmen?" she suggest before slamming the door closed.
"God save us," I murmur before withdrawing myself.
Saint Joseph's Parish foyer
It's a sin to be amongst all these men. They look fresh as fuck with their mismatched vests and matching pants. This is like men's lingerie. Especially the way Noah's working his get-up.
Sending the cluster a wolf whistle, I sneak up behind my man, "Ya'll look scrumptious!" I compliment them and they ring out in harmonious laugher, except for one, "But not as succulent as my man," I kiss Noah and the men wolf whistle making me smile into the kiss, "You're looking like a dime plus five, babe."
"That's a well known fact," he shrugs off and I pout, "and the fact that you're a goddess is as well," he hugs me.
"Nice save…" I add before pulling away, "Do you know if anybody's covering for that Punk dude?"
Noah's expression sours up like he's eaten a Sour Patch Kid, "No and you shouldn't worry about him," he says sternly. The wedding planner calls for all the groomsmen and he abandons me to go take his seat as he's just a guest.
Stomping off without direction since I'm, apparently, useless for the time being, I miscalculate my step and nearly fall on my ass if not for the pair of arms that caught me in record time.
"Easy there, miss, you could've loss some decency there," comes the voice of my savior. My ears burn and I can feel myself flaming beet red, "No worries, I tend to bust my shit whenever I test gravity with those heels," he jokes, lightning my load.
"I'm really sorry, I was just…I'm sorry," I tell him, meekly, "I'm Marleene, by the way. I'm picking up the wild card and assuming you're here for the wedding as a guest?"
The giant nods his head, "Oh, so you're this Marleene gal I've been hearing about…"
he's heard about me? From who? I cock a suspicious brow, "You're correct though. I'm Scott but I prefer Colt. Kinda last minute but I'm Punk's replacement and you're my designated bridesmaid this lovely summer day," he beams.
Giggling, I get down to business, "So you're the replacement, yeah?" he nods, "Come with me!" I drag him all the way to the Bride's quarters and knock before barging in, "Sorry to burst your bubbles but look who I found!"
Elle quits her sobbing and sulking to look up and Micks stops pacing around, "Colt?" she whispers and then blatantly grins, "Colt!" she jumps at the man, "Oh my God!" she pipes out in her excitement.
Scratching my head, "Okay…? Y'all know each other?"
"More like the three of us, long story not enough time," replies Elle, her voice sounding eerily calm. She manages to upturn her lips into a half smile as she walks into Scott's arms, "Where is he?"
"Eleanor, you look like a Disney princess in the making, truly beautiful," comments the man with the overbearing stature. I know he's putting the poor girl's query off but it doesn't work she just blinks at him, "He's sick, stomach flu," and even I know it's a bitter lie.
The wife-to-be buries her face in his chest and sobs rack through her body. Damn, I never thought a wedding could be so depressing. My heart feels like it's about to drop out of place from all the heartbreak I'm witnessing. Damn that brother who chose to be MIA on her day of days.
"He…he said…he's the only brother I have left! It's my big day and my people can't…"
Half hour later…
"Places, people! We didn't rehearse this just to mess it up!" shouts the planner in her shrilly, scandalous voice.
Bridesmaids touch up the last of their makeup, indiscreetly pull out their wedgies and groomsmen re-do each other's ties and banter amongst themselves as the pianist strums away the first notes of "Here Comes the Bride" Couple by couple, they shimmy down the aisle as guests look on, impatiently waiting on the bride.
My body jitters and I pray to Jesus that I won't completely make a fool of myself. I'm not a big fan of audiences, even if it's for a mere five seconds, "Don't be nervous, I got you," reassures Colt. Oh God, he probably feels my sweaty hands! I return his gentle smile nonetheless.
"You're turn, go!" whispers the planner and even nudges us out.
Out there, I paste on my Colgate grin and pretend to not notice the lingering gazes from the men or dirty looks their women send my way. In the process, I stagger a bit but keep on. At the end, Colt wrenches his hand out of my death grip and winks before taking his place as do I.
Overall, I'd give the ceremony a 'B'. Shit was smoother Jif peanut butter. Aside from the brides overemotional tears whilst her now husband recited his heartfelt vow and her own vow that consisted of sniffles and stutters, all was sweet.
On my part, it wasn't all that sweet. Noah slid in with a frivolously dressed strawberry blonde cousin. Her face was top notch, even with all that clown makeup. He has a thing for chatting up top dimes and it just makes my blood boil. I'm not always jealous but it's as though he forgets why he's even with me. I don't have the greatest self-esteem so that's also a factor.
Outside, the struggle to power through the double doors advances. Everyone is desperate to get the best parking at the party hall which is roughly an hour from here. I blend into the background, leaning over the rail, trying to keep my tears at bay. Noah walked off with the strawberry blonde.
"Hey," it's Colt. I blink a gazillion times before facing him, "You look down in the dumps, were those eternal declarations of love too much?" he jokes.
I force a giggle, "You could say that…"
"I saw you staring at that guy who was all Rico Suave with that chick…" I'm transparent, so much for a career in the FBI, "He's with you, isn't he?" he questions already knowing the answer.
"It doesn't matter."
The guy cracks an amused smile, "If it didn't matter, you wouldn't be moping," I side glare him hoping he backs off, "Look, why don't you dump him for the night and be my date instead?"
"You're nice but we just met, sweety," I scoff walking away.
He holds me back, "I have a girlfriend, sweetheart. You and the girls are the only people I know from this side of the fence. So, what'dya say?"
My eyes wander in search of Noah but he's nowhere to be found and quite frankly, he isn't as fun at parties. I bite my lip and stare at Colt's pleading eyes before giving in, "Fuck it!"
The Broken Arrow, Lockport, IL
Gotta hand it to white folks, they know how to put together weddings. Some of the guests here I haven't ever seen in my life, probably won't after this shindig. I think most of these people are T's kin 'cus the Brooks's were never close to their own.
So far, the party's been in full swing. Unlike Mexican parties, no casualties have occurred in the three hours we've been here. It's nearing eleven and the drinking games have just begun. Colt and I slide, bump, and grind without care as the DJ lays down the mood. Between laughs and hits at his two left feet, we fill each other with laughter.
"So you're a wrestler, that's something!" I shout over the music.
"It actually is! Childhood dream, call me Shawn Michaels!" we laugh, "It's hard on the body though. People don't know how real faking can be sometimes, especially being in the Indies," he shrugs it off, "What can you do?"
I nod comprehensively, "You're girl mustn't like that aspect, right?"
"Nah but the mindblowing sex makes up for it," he deadpans.
I chortle, "You're dirty!"
He smirks, "That's how she likes it!" I lean against him, laughing my ass off. Blame it on the alcohol, "So, what does a beauty like you do for a living?"
"Nothing as adventurous just a plain tattoo artist."
Visibly surprised, "That's unbelievable, no offence, you don't have a streak of ink on you. Well, visible ones at least."
I blush, "I don't know but I love my job. The human body is a work of art, why not add to it?"
He nods, "Woman with passion no wonder Punk's still hoo- Hey why don't we grab a drink?"
I furrow my brows but go with it, "You're paying right?" I ask sweetly.
Rabbit Hole Open Bar
At the bar, women have no restraint. They flood any man that seems single and owns a wallet. I'm surprised how many of these girls were allowed in, their attire is anything but formal.
"Sorry, lady, I've got myself a girl," Colt tells one woman in particular who has been rubbing up against him for a drink, "I'm serious, your fake extensions aren't fooling anybody!" he shouts putting his foot down. The pitiful darling gasps incredulously and trudges off, dumping a random drink all over Colt's front. I guffaw, "Bitches…"
"Oh hell nah!" I shriek on my way down, keeling over a stool. The brunette whines on how his crotch is soaked enough to look like a piss stain and I can't even breathe anymore. After I while, I catch my breath long enough to start again and the man takes it upon himself to dump a drink over my own head, "Bitch!"
My heels come off and I scurry to catch him and dives into a mad dash.
Three hours later…
Lifting my head from the toilet I've spent the past fifteen retching over, "I'm going to die…tell my fam that I love their bitch asses…" I mumble and feel the vile rise once more.
In the next stall, my companion replies, "We should hustle before anybody comes in here and throws us out…"
Abandoning ship, we stumble through the front yard, holding onto each other for support. We walk without end or destination. By the time we're sober enough for food, we stop in this random taco shack. It's a miracle it's even open.
"My brain matter is going to marinate these tacos…" I comment rubbing my pulsating temples.
Colt gags, "That's a disgusting mental image, thanks."
"That party was fun though."
"Hell yeah, I don't think I'll ever forget you and that chick with the crazy titties. All for a half empty bottle of patron," he shakes his head with disbelief.
"Half full, I consider myself an optimist. My favorite part was Elle enjoying her once-in-a-lifetime. It was a good day…"
"Yeah…" a moment of silence and then he breaks out with, "What happened between you and Punk? The man didn't even want to stick it out for his sister's wedding."
My mind goes to mush. Why is he relevant? More so, who is this 'Punk' character? I scratch my itching scalp and shrug stupidly, "Beats me. I can't even think if I tried."
Colt almost grimaces but leans back, "Don't blame it, you went all out tonight. Your ass was one strip of clothing away from public indecency." I nearly choke on my taco.
Swallowing, "Beats embarrassing myself on the dance floor, in front of dozens, attempting an atrocious Spin-o-rooni like somebody I know…"
"I was drunk…" he mumbles.
Holiday Inn, Edgecreek, IL
Sometimes I wonder why people drink to the point of knowing they're going to wake up with their head feeling like it is being cracked open with a screwdriver. Either way, I don't think much of it. I've woken up in a hotel room, wrapped in a comforter, snuggled inside a bed. I look over to the beaming red digital numbers and hop out of bed. It's two…in the afternoon!
"Rise and shine, honey!" I shout whilst shaking the slumber out of Colt who's splayed all over the next twin bed, "I said, wake the hell up!"
His eyes tighten up, "For a pretty girl…you have…one dirty…mouth," he grumbles turning over.
Fifteen minutes later…
Everything's in place, I'm refreshed and ready to go. Colt hovers around the window for the pending cab, "Is this the last time we're going to get crunk?" he inquires and hint of sadness in his voice.
The future holds many prospects and I want to be optimistic but we live miles apart and…we're acquaintances that happened to hit it off out of necessity. I grin either way and hug the kid, "Hopefully not, you're a blast…for a white boy."
We laugh until the familiar sound of a car horn blares through the walls, "Alright, time's up, girly."
My lips quiver somewhat, I'm not one for goodbyes, "I'm going to miss you, Scotty."
He pulls me into another breath sucking bear hug, "Miss me later, you're boyfriend is probably pillaging through the village looking for you."
Him and his jokes. I wipe my eyes furiously, "Alright, ask that Punk dude for Micks's number. I got no cash and ain't selling my ass for a cell so yeah," the cab driver beeps his horn to make a point, "Okay, I'll see you later, studly."
"Of course, cutie with a big ol' booty."
I take my last laugh, broken heels, and head off into the sunlight without a second glance back at the new friend I'm leaving behind.
ΔΔΔΔ
By the time I come back to my senses, my body is quivering so violently and my square is history by now. I hang onto the last drag before discarding the stump. It was a night to remember.
"You know, that little fit in there confirmed it. The guy and you have unfinished history and if you don't know, he still has a thing for you."
The exhaust lingering in my throat clogs up my airway and I struggle to regain oxygen. It's a fit off coughs. My eyes tearstained by the strain, widen and I finally blow out the smoke, "What?" I croak.
A/N- I know, why a Colt centered chapter? But y'all deserve a back story as to why Mar and him are all comfy and shit. Also, why is FF almost all slash these days? I'm no homophobe but it doesn't sway my interest.