Chapter 12

Becky

12:16 PM THURSDAY

I poke at the delicacies on my plate with my fork without putting anything into my mouth.

Sammi, on the other hand, hasn’t lost her appetite. And Percy is picking up a chocolate dipped strawberry. I watch the chocolate drip down onto her plate. She laughs before shoving the massive thing into her mouth.

None of the girls seem to have suffered any long lasting effects from the night—unlike me.

The thought of food makes me want to puke.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fucking eat anything in my life ever again.

I feel as if I’ve been forced into ice skates and pushed out onto a frozen fucking lake. I’m spinning out of control. Probably because I can’t fucking ice skate. The world is spinning, and I’m heading toward a great big iceberg at phenomenal speed.

“You mought mto mtry mmm mthese msmtramwmberries,” mumbles Percy, and if I didn’t know what the fuck she was eating, I wouldn’t understand a word.

I shake my head. I shiver and wrap my arms around my body. The words What the fuck am I going to do? are swirling around my head faster than a tornado.

Sammi pats me on the shoulder. “Come on, Becky. Starving yourself is going to help anyone.”

Mysti May nods, and Percy keeps stuffing those chocolate covered strawberries into her mouth.

Words are stuck in my throat, and I bite back the tears. I’m surprised I’ve still got any fucking tears left. The last few hours, I’ve cried so much, I should be as dry as the dessert.

“I just can’t,” I manage to say, and Sammi shakes her head.

“Why don’t we make a list of all the thing we know?” Sammi signals a waiter and grabs a napkin.

Armed with pen and paper of sorts, Sammi scribbles: Facts we know.

“What’s the fucking point,” I groan and place my head in my hands, elbows resting on the table. The thumping in my head refuses to go away. “We’re fucked.”

“We’re…fucked,” Sammi writes on the napkin. “Good start.”

If the ground opened up right now and swallowed me up, I wouldn’t complain. The image of Gandalf in Lord of the Rings plummeting after the fire monster comes to mind.

But even Gandalf came out after sometime. He rolls up later, new and improved and dressed in white.

For a second, I get a little flash of hope. I’ve got my own white get-up to wear on Saturday, after all. Maybe I could make it through this, too.

But then I remember—Gandalf is a fucking wizard. And me? I’m just a fucking fuck-up.

“Come on, Becky,” Sammi urges. “Let’s use logic here, yeah? If we document what we know, we might get to the bottom of things.”

“I’ve already hit the bottom of things.” I roll my eyes and look at my BFFs again. “Rock fucking bottom.”

We obviously did a lot of messed-up shit last night. But none of my bridesmaids have committed as big a sin as I have.

…except maybe for Mysti May, but the more that I think about it, the more that I think she might be in denial of a larger issue anyway. She always did like watching the cheerleaders more than the football players, come to think.

“We know that we checked in here at the Royale and looked at our room. So far, so good,” Sammi begins.

I still can’t see the fucking point of this exercise, but I go along with it.

“Then we went downstairs. To the spa,” I add. “Where, apparently, we were roofied.”

“I think we had some champagne upstairs,” interrupts Percy who’s nearly polished off all the chocolate-coated strawberries.

There’s a little bit of chocolate running down her chin. Mysti May thumbs it off and sucks her thumb into her own mouth.

“Just one glass, though,” Mysti May adds. “Rule-number-whatever. No drinking!”

“Okay. One glass of champagne, then the spa.” Sammi adds it to the list.

“Then…more champagne at the spa,” Percy adds sheepishly. “I had at least two bottles myself, pretty sure.”

“I…I turned it down, though,” I say, scrunching my eyebrows together.

“Yeah,” Sammi agrees, “Percy got trashed then, though. I remember now—they tossed us out.”

“Then we picked up the showgirls in the lobby! For body shots. We were bummed because Percy got us kicked out,” Mysti May adds excitedly. “Y’all. It’s all coming together!”

Now the serviette reads:

Facts we know:

Shit’s fucked.

Check in at Royale.

One glass of champagne.

Went to spa.

Percy gets drunk.

Get kicked out of spa.

Showgirls.

Body shots.

“See, we’re getting somewhere!” announces Sammi.

I shake my head. I can’t see how this is helping anything.

“I didn’t do body shots, though,” I insist.

“Yeah…but I did,” Sammi admits.

“And I’m pretty sure it was my idea,” Mysti May adds, cringing a little.

“So. Becky was the last one sober. That’s good, right? Stay with us, Becky.” Sammie makes the next entry.

Everyone gets drunk but Becky.

And then:

Celine Dion concert.

“So far, so good,” muses Mysti May. “I mean, we’re in deep shit, obviously, but that’s nothing Dan the Man can be angry at Becky about.”

At his name, I nearly burst into tears again.

Fuck.

I’ve been such a fucking disappointment to Dan. He trusted me and loved me and this is how I repaid him.

My missing engagement ring comes back to hit me like a speeding train.

I didn’t just break his trust. I lost a million dollars’ worth of his love last night. Figuratively, literally—in every fucking way. I won’t ever be able to look him in the eye and confess

It just makes me wish all the more that he’d answer his fucking phone.

“So, after the Celine Dion Concert, we met Celine Dion backstage,” Sammi continues.

Percy sighs. “Wish I could remember that.”

“After Celine, we went to the Post Office,” continues Mysti May. “All those naked men…wish I could remember that.”

I narrow my eyes at her. Considering her antics with the showgirls…somehow I doubt that.

Percy interrupts. “And then we came back here with Elvis. Mystery solved!”

“Ugh,” I groan. “Mystery not solved, Perce. Why would I just bang some random Elvis? It doesn’t add up.”

Percy holds up the costume, raising an eyebrow. Irritated, I snatch it from her.

“You know what I can’t understand?” All eyes are now on Sammi. “Where did the fucking shark come from?”

My friends roll their eyes.

“That’s hardly worth thinking about.” Percy now stabs some cake and eats a mouthful.

“But really,” Sammi does not give up. “Where did it come from? It’s not like sharks are, like, everywhere. They need water and stuff. I should know, right? Who the fuck would put a shark in our pool?”

“I really think the shark is totally irrelevant.” I say and play with a tag in the Elvis suit. “Huh. This seems to be a rental,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.

“Does it?” Mysti May leans over. “Can you work out anything else?”

I turn the tag over and, bingo, there’s an address.

I read it out to Sammi, who puts it into her iPad. Mesmerized, I stare at the screen as the map forms and the little red dot pinpoints the location.

“Let’s get a taxi and go there.”

Percy picks up the cake and we head to the door. Somehow, a car materializes and we all pile in.

My heart beats a little faster. Where else did we go last night? Would my engagement ring be there?

Suddenly, an idea forms in the back of my mind. It’s a tiny little seed, and the more I water it, the more believable it becomes to me.

I could have been drugged. Someone might have spiked that glass of champagne really early on in the night, and thus, I was not responsible for my own actions.

As our taxi driver swerves to avoid other motorists and wayward pedestrians, I cling to that theory. Surely, Dan would have to accept that a spiked drink was not my fault.

And I super seriously need this to not be my fault.

Mysti May announces we are getting close.

I look outside. Nothing seems familiar to me. It seems surreal that I don’t have a memory of anything last night.

And now I know why. Someone spiked my drink, for sure. I’ve heard and read about people whose drinks had been spiked, and how terrible things were done to them.

I hardly notice that the taxi’s slowed to a stop.

What I do notice is the absolute fucking silence in the car.

I’m about to ask what the matter is when I look out the window.

Suddenly, time stands still. It is as if I’ve stepped into a vacuum. My eyes take in what’s there in front of me, but my brain refuses to believe what it says.

This must be a mistake.

My mouth is dry, and I feel the sudden need for a strong drink.

“We should go inside,” Sammi speaks first.

“It’s a fucking wedding chapel,” I mutter and follow the others out of the car, heart pounding.

Inside, we are greeted by the unfriendliest woman I’ve ever met in my life.

“What do you want?”

“I—” I start but am unable to say anymore.

“We’re here about last night,” explains Sammi.

“I’m surprised you dare to show your face here again. But then I suppose you’ve paid for the wedding. Here’s your certificate and your fucking photos.”

She hands a large envelope to me. It falls right through my hands. Percy picks it up.

“Now leave,” the woman tells us, and we’re pretty happy to oblige.

When I’m back in the car, I stare at the marriage certificate with my name on it.

Shit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I close my fucking eyes, and another memory flashes through my mind.

I just really fucking wish it didn’t.