Chapter 8
Clarabella
"Is that hammering?" I mumble with my eyes still closed. My cheek is wet from the drool that formed a puddle around my mouth. "What is that noise?" I attempt to pry my eyes open at the same time that I try to swallow, but neither of those actions is working.
"Happy wedding day,” I hear my mother say as she walks into the room.
"What?" I ask, and the hammering continues.
"Oh my God," she says. "What the hell happened in here?"
"It was Shelby's fault," Presley mumbles from somewhere in the room, but then I feel movement beside me. "She was the one who stole the good juice."
"Ugh, no, it's not." I feel the cover pull off me, and then a big thud hits the floor.
"Motherfucker,” Shelby curses as my mother gasps.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" I can hear her running to the bed.
"Did she fall out of the bed?" Presley gets up, sitting beside me. "Is she okay?"
"I think I broke my face," Shelby mumbles. "Mom, get off me."
"I'm not on you," my mother huffs. "I'm trying to help you up."
"Why is it so loud?" I say, trying to fall back asleep. "Can everyone be quiet?"
"Get up!" my mother shouts. "All of you get up."
"Presley," I mumble. "Tell her she's not the boss of us."
"You tell her,” Presley replies. "She looks like she's about to whip our asses."
"She can't touch me. I'm getting married. If I have bruises, Child Protective Services is going to be called.”
"You’re thirty!” my mother yells. "Now get up. The car is going to be here in thirty minutes, and you all stink."
"I don't stink,” Presley defends, and I open my eye just in time to see her raise her arm and smell her armpit. "Maybe a little. I was stuck in the middle of these two all night long." She pushes my shoulder now, and it's just the push I need to fall off the bed.
I scramble to hold on, but my ass hits the floor with a bang. "Fuck," I swear and just lie here. "I think that smell is me."
"You!” my mother shouts and points at me. "You are getting married today, and you look like you just crawled out of a dumpster." I gasp and close one of my eyes because the pounding that I thought was hammering before is my head.
"She does have raccoon eyes,” Presley notes from the middle of the bed, and I laugh at her.
"Whatever, at least my hair is real." I point at her, seeing one of her extensions hanging by a thread.
Shelby sits up from the other side of the bed. "What the hell happened?" We all gasp when we see that her lip is bleeding. "Why do I taste metal?"
"You're bleeding,” my mother says, throwing her hands up in the air. "One time," she huffs as she runs out of the room to the bathroom. "All I asked for is to make one time go smoothly." She comes back in with a wet rag and hands it to Shelby, who puts it on her lip for a second and then takes it off, gasping when she sees the light pink. She gets up and storms over to the mirror, looking at her lip. "Just one time, can I be calm on the day of the wedding?"
"Relax," I say, standing up and falling on the bed. "Everything is fine." I lie back down on the pillow. "Everyone gets drunk before their wedding."
"Really?" my mother huffs. "Name one person." She puts her hands on her hips.
"Shelby," I declare, pointing over Presley toward Shelby, who turns and looks at us.
"That was because my fiancé was fucking someone else," she retorts, turning back to look in the mirror. "Oh my God, it's getting bigger." She points at her lip.
"I think I need to shower," I say, getting up. "Maybe that will help."
I stand, and the room spins again. "I might need to maybe eat something." I walk out to the bathroom.
"You have five minutes!” my mother yells from the bedroom as I close the door and start the shower. I don't even look in the mirror. Instead, I just get in the shower and let the water cascade all around me. Last night was amazing, and all the nerves went out the window the minute I walked down the aisle. He was my choice because I loved him. He treated me like a princess, and when I held his hand in mine, there was a calmness to it. He wanted me more than anything, and every single day, he has proved it to me. I am going to spend the rest of my life showing him that he chose the right woman.
"Here." Presley opens the door as soon as I turn off the water. "You need to wear this." She puts the satin set on the counter.
I look at her in her own satin set that looks like she got it from under her bed. "What happened to that one?" I point at her.
"I forgot it in my bag last night, and I wanted to steam it, but ‘let’s do shots,’" she mimics me, "happened. Well, it's fine. I'll steam it once we get to the bridal suite."
"Is mine like that?" I ask, picking up mine and seeing the creases from it just being taken out of the box.
"It's fine," she hisses. "Just hurry up. The car is here."
I walk out of the bathroom two minutes later and hear Presley yelling for me. "Can we get on with the program?" I walk down the stairs, looking over at Shelby, who is wearing an eye mask around her mouth.
"What the heck is that?" I point at her and try not to laugh.
"It's the only thing that I can think of to help slow down the swelling." She throws her hands up. "Can we just get going?" She opens the door and stops, making Presley and me look over at her. "What is this?" She bends down, and I see a brown bag there. "Who the hell ordered McDonald's?"
I gasp. "That was me." I push her aside and look down at not one but two big bags. "I forgot about this."
"When the fuck did you order this?" Presley leans down and grabs the bag.
"I asked you if you wanted to eat; you said get me a burger," I remind her. "And then the phone fell on your face when you tried to put in your order."
"Oh, yeah," she says. "But"—she gasps—"we ordered forty-seven burgers."
"No." I shake my head. "I put four burgers and seven fries." I grab the bill from her.
"Well, according to that,” Presley states, "you ordered forty-seven burgers and one french fry."
"I told you that you need to wear glasses,” Shelby chides from beside me, and I glare at her.
"The one looks like a seven," I huff, picking up the bag of food and grabbing a burger.
"You aren't going to eat that?" Presley asks me while she grimaces. "It's been outside since three o’clock."
I open the wrapper and smell it. "It smells okay. Mom, can I eat a burger that’s been outside since three o’clock?"
"Yes," she says, walking out of the house. “If one wants to have food poisoning."
I look at the burger and then my mother getting into the waiting limo. "We can swing by and get you something to eat," she tells me, and I look back down at the burger. "You really want to chance standing at the altar and then shitting yourself?"
"Ugh, fine," I say, tossing the burgers in the outside garbage bin. "She's such a buzzkill."
After we get into the car, I put my head back on the seat and fall asleep in a matter of five seconds. I stay asleep until the car stops, and I hear someone slam the car door. "Did we stop for food?" I ask them, and they nod their heads, holding up the brown bag.
The back door of the car opens, and my mother gets out first, thanking the driver. I get out after her and walk toward the bridal suite. Mallory is there outside holding a silver tray with four champagne glasses. "Oh my," she says when she sees me. "Happy wedding day, Clarabella."
I grab one of the glasses off the tray. "Thank you so much." I smile at her, and she looks over as Presley and Shelby climb out of the car.
"Someone had a good time," she notes, rolling her lips.
"You have no idea," I say, pulling open the door and walking into the bridal suite.
The photographer is there to capture the first look, and she just stops. "Someone didn't clean off their makeup from last night," she observes and rubs her finger under her eye.
"I told you that you looked like a raccoon,” Presley says from behind me, walking in and going over to plop down into the chairs, putting the brown bag in the middle of the table.
I walk over to the wall where four stations are set up with gold vanities and matching gold plush chairs in front of them. Mirrors with big chunky gold frames hang down in front of each chair. I look at myself and gasp. I look like I have two black eyes. The black mascara from last night plus the water from the shower is not a good look. "I went out of the house like this?” I question, looking back at Presley while Shelby walks to the mirror and takes off the eye mask that she had tied around her mouth.
"I look like I got lip injections," she whines, turning to look at us.
"Yeah, on only one side," I joke, laughing. "And then chickened out for the other side."
"Okay." The makeup artist enters the room. "How are we doing?" She claps her hands, and the hairdresser behind her just gasps.
"It's like The Hangover without the face tattoo." She looks at all of us.
"And the tiger in the bathroom,” Presley deadpans, biting into her sausage biscuit.
"I need a shower,” Shelby says. "I feel like I partied hard last night."
"You did," I point out, sitting down next to Presley and grabbing a sandwich. "You were jumping on the bed singing ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun.’" I laugh. "Mom came in and said the whole ceiling was shaking."
"And then she went into the bathroom and FaceTimed Ace,” Presley shares. "And tried to have phone sex with him, and he said he was hanging up on her." Shelby gasps, putting a hand to her mouth as she remembers.
"Then she cried that he didn't love her." I can't help the laugh that comes out of me.
"I did not cry," she denies, shaking her head.
"You did, and he had to call Mom to make sure you were okay." I roll my lips, thinking of what else she did.
"Then you went into the bath," Presley says, "fully clothed and started singing nobody knows my sorrow." I can't help but spit out my food. "‘Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen.’ While the rain shower poured down on you."
"I thought that was a dream,” Shelby says, sitting down on the couch in front of us. "It's all like a blur."
"If that doesn't say it was a perfect night." Presley sits up. "I don't know what does." She holds up her hand for me to give her a high five. I slap her hand, missing the first time but getting it the second. "Now, let's get this bitch married."
"Yes, let's," I agree, finishing the glass of champagne. "I'm getting married today." I clap my hands, not knowing what is to come.