Wedding Bell Blues - Pt. 01

The disclaimers: Every character who matters is at least 18. A work of fiction (more or less). Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental (for the most part).

After reading a metric crapton of Lit stories, I'm resigned to the unfortunate truth that many ideas and plot devices that I'd imagined I alone conceived of have already been imagined and written by others. So there's an explanation and acknowledgment if you, dear reader, say to yourself "Hey, I've read this before!" or worse still, "He ripped off." Many have done it far better, others, I humbly think, less so. My hope is that my presentation stands on its own.

Then there's the MC. Some of you will think the MC is too pure, or too shallow, or perhaps a sad, wimpy, whiny excuse for a man. And you're probably correct. And Hayleigh? Trust me, every man has a Hayleigh. She usually exists only in myth and legend, but she lives in his heart and soul as real as any living person. To my gentleman readers, I hope that you recognize her living in yours.

This isn't intended as a BTB story, though there are obvious BTB elements in it. This is a romance. It isn't whether the guy gets the girl, It's whether he gets THE girl. And I know it takes a long time to get there. I've been percolating this story for at least a year. I have a lot to say about finding a soulmate, and let's just leave it at that!

Finally, this is my second submission, so please bear with me as my writing skills mature (one hopes) down the road. The whole story is basically written; I'll publish the rest if the comments justify it. Otherwise, try and try again.

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So you want to know the backstory. I won't tell you everything, becomes decorum prohibits. I'll tell most of it, but you have to understand that I tell the tale through the lens of my own eyes, and my eyes miss a lot. That's how I found myself in my little drama. I suppose the wedding is as good a place to start as any.

My long-awaited wedding was to be held on the second Saturday in June. My fiancé, Jennifer, chose the date. I couldn't argue with her choice. A mid-June wedding fell nicely between our college graduations in May, and our planned move to Chicago for the start of my law school classes in the Fall. We expected the June weather in our middle Wisconsin home town would be near to perfect, though I would have happily married Jenn on the most miserable day the gods could conjure. Rain, sleet, tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, floods, locusts, frogs, whatever. Bring it! As it turned out, the gods conjured up a soul-crushing disaster of a day. A Class-5 shitstorm worthy of a Cecil B. DeMille epic or J. J. Abrams special effects extravaganza. Imagine the Red Sea crashing in on Ramses' charioteers in the Ten Commandments, combined with the eradication of planet Vulcan in the Star Trek reboot.

The ill-will of the gods aside, the weather was even better than could be hoped for. If there ever was a picture postcard day, this was it. Even the morning air smelled good, which wasn't always the case in a medium-size town plopped in the middle of Wisconsin countryside and dairy farms. The omens were good. Never trust an omen.

I awoke earlier than usual, at about six o clock, which didn't surprise me given the subterranean stresses that a wedding imposes. Still, I wanted to savor every minute leading to the ceremony, so I lay in bed for a good hour pondering my undeserved good fortune and imagining over and over that moment when I would lift Jenn's veil and kiss her as my wife for the first time. My wife! Have I mentioned that I was in love?

My mother broke me out of my prenuptial musings. "Tommy! Tommy! Are you awake? It's almost seven o'clock and you have to be at the church by ten!"

Mom was wired, even for her. Her voice bounced off the walls of the stairwell and rattled around my second-story bedroom. Not that it mattered. Today I would overlook just about anything. Just about. I let her know that I heard her, else she would tromp up the stairs and then talk my ears off about a zillion bits of wedding minutia that had already been talked to death. I tried to shout just loud enough so that she would hear me and then carry on with whatever minor frenzy was controlling her at the moment. Frenzied had been the natural order of things for the last week or so. Though I'd never admit it, I loved it. All of it. I know that a wedding is supposed to be the bride's day, but I'd bet that I was even more into the whole thing than was Jenn. Have I mentioned that I was more than smitten?

I told my mother that I'd be down in a few minutes. Time to get rolling. Places to go, things to see, people to marry.

The first order of business was to take some pressure off my bladder. I had played poker into the wee hours with my boyhood pal and best man, Steve, and another groomsman, Angel, who I met a few years ago at a construction job. Angel and I both worked for his father, Alejandro, who started in the trades and ended up owning his own fast-growing construction business. As it turned out, Angel and I attended the same university, but because he was an EE & ME double-major and I wasn't on the engineering track, we'd never met up at school. On the job we started out with friendly arguments over the merits of our favorite sports teams, and after a few months became close friends.

My Uncle Jim, my father's brother, and also a groomsman, left early because he said he would feel "out of place with a bunch of kids." Steve had suggested that we hang out for a few hours at a topless joint an hour's drive or so away, so I could get one final look at what was soon to be off-limits for the rest of my life. I passed, because as I saw it that would have been disrespectful to Jenn. So the bachelor party, such as it was, basically consisted of punking each other and killing off a few cases of LaBatt and Moosehead over the course of several hours of poker and billiards in our finished-out basement game room. My father was particularly fond of his game room. Picture Packers meets Brewers, right down to one entire wall painted as a mural of Lambeau Field on game day. I was almost named Vincent Bartlett. Dad put in a fully-plumbed wet bar, a killer home theater setup, the obligatory poker table, a billiards table, and even a professional quality shuffleboard table. It reeked gloriously of testosterone.

So we stayed in and drank to our hearts' content. No one got truly drunk though. Jenn would have been miffed if any of us showed up with a hangover, and I wanted to be at 100% so I could enjoy the whole ceremony with a clear head. I rolled out of bed and meandered bare-arsed to the bathroom. In my nakedness I remember pondering that Jenn would be the only girl I would have for the rest of my life. I was completely fine with that, and besides, Jenn took care of my needs well enough, all things considered. Have I mentioned that I was stupid in love?

After getting into the nearest clothes at hand I made my way to the kitchen. The familiar smells of a standard Midwest breakfast filled the entire downstairs. Mom and my sister, Danielle-we all called her Danni-were yakking up a storm. As usual. Dad was nearly silent as he scanned the morning paper and sipped at his coffee. As usual. He peered over his paper at me with a pensive expression. Not as usual.

"You and your crew were up pretty late last night. I hope you have enough gas left in your tank to get through the day," remarked my father. His wry smile suggested he was just messing with me, but the edge in his voice hinted at actual concern.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm great. We knocked off at about three, and I stopped drinking before that. Besides, I can run on adrenaline just fine." My nonchalance prompted a wistful expression and a chuckle from the Old Man.

"Yeah, I remember being able to do that myself when I was 22."

Dad's remark generated a minor outburst from my mother, the upshot of which was that it was a miracle that my father were out carousing all night and barely made it through the ceremony without falling down.

Danni of course put on her trademark dramatic shocked face at that revelation. "Daddy, you didn't! Did you really? Oh my god!" Her hands flew up to cover her mouth to add a visual exclamation point to her feigned shock. How Danni wasn't a theater major or didn't end up as a seedy talk show host remains a mystery.

My father wasn't the least bit rattled at Danni's dramatics. After 20 years, he knew when Danni was playing to her audience. He smiled at Danni and then gave Mom a sideways glance. "I think we managed to get hitched without a hitch, don't you, Susan?" Mom shook her head in mock disbelief, barely concealing her smirk. Danni and Mom returned to their girl-chatter about the floral arrangements and the difficulties in dying shoes to exactly match the color of the bridesmaids' dresses.

Ever the practical one, my father put down his paper and engaged me in a friendly interrogation about various arrangements that were my responsibility. "Tom, I know that you're an adult and all, but let's run the checklist, OK?"

I knew this was coming. My father was a process engineer and a pilot, too, so checklists were embedded in how he did everything. I bet he had a checklist for taking a dump. I bowed to the inevitable. Dad was going to dad.

"OK, Steve is picking you up by 9:30, so plenty of time to get you there by 10:00, right?"

I ran my own checklist from memory. "Right, Steve will be here by 9:30. Uncle Jim and Angel also know they need to be there by 10:00."

Dad nodded. "Alright, then. Finances all squared away?"

I was ready for that one, too. "Yep. I have the gratuity for the minister in an envelope, and that's in the pocket of my tux, visually verified. The hotel for tonight and tomorrow night is prepaid and the reservation is confirmed for a late arrival. Airline tickets are prepaid and all our reservations are confirmed. The resort has confirmed receipt of the deposit on the suite for the week. My credit cards are cleared to nearly zero, and I have $2,500 in cash, just in case."

My father nodded approvingly. "You still think it's a good idea to spring on Jennifer you're going to honeymoon in Nassau instead of Hawaii?"

My father was not a big fan of surprises. If it wasn't on the checklist, it shouldn't be happening, and everyone should be on the same page at all times. He opposed any unnecessary deviations from a plan. He regarded departures from a plan with the same affection that vampires regarded sunlight.

"Yeah, I really do. Jenn has been to Hawaii with her family, and she's joked around often enough that going to Hawaii is so 'typical' for a honeymoon. And I know she's always wanted to vacation in the Bahamas."

My father was not convinced. "Well, you know best." That was Dad-speak for you're making a mistake but I'm not going to press the issue." He resumed reading his paper.

With Dad's checklist completed, I finished breakfast and headed upstairs to shave and shower. The male members of the wedding party had decided to get into our wedding finery at the church, so I had more than enough time to get squared away before Steve would pick me up.

I used the extra time to rehearse my wedding vows, even though I'd committed every word and pause to memory. Jenn really wanted us to make our own vows, in addition to the minister's portion. I sat in my favorite comfy old overstuffed chair in the upstairs sitting room and quietly recited my vows to myself from memory. A least I tried to. I wasn't able to get more than a few words out, because Danni caught my eye as she flitted back and forth between her bedroom and the upstairs bathroom test-fitting her bridesmaid's dress for the umpteenth time. Jesus, Danni looked fantastic! The satiny coral-colored fabric clung perfectly to her slender late-teen curves. That dress made her every step look like she was floating.

I always thought that Danni was a beautiful girl, even if she was my kid sister. She went from cute at 13, to pretty at 16, to knockout at 20. She actually looked like a younger version of Mom, or perhaps exactly what Mom looked like when she was 20. About 5-foot-6, maybe 125 pounds. Raven hair with a slight natural curl that fell just past her shoulders, and incredible blue eyes. If she wasn't my sister I'd have found some way to get her to go out with me. I think both Steve and Angel wanted to ask her out, but dating a friend's sister is generally considered bad form. And also I'd have to kill them, and no one wants that.

I waited until Danni cleared out of the bathroom, grabbed my shower and packed my stuff into a mini-suitcase travel bag.

The doorbell rang at 9:30, right on the nose. If Steve said he would be somewhere at a given time, you could set your watch by it. I grabbed the suit bag that had my tux and the travel bag that had the rest of my stuff, and headed downstairs. With a shout to no one in particular that I was leaving, Steve and I headed to the church. Steve couldn't resist telling me that one day I'd regret passing on my last chance to openly ogle some strange. "I'll make up for that tonight, dickhead" I told him. He shrugged his shoulders and drove on. But Steve being Steve, he didn't leave it alone.

"I still think you should have grabbed your last chance to get dipped into some primo tail. It's not like she's gonna know."

"I'd know."

"If you say so." Steve was lost in a thought. "I remember after my folks' divorce, my dad said that what he thought he knew filled a library, but what he actually knew only filled a book."

Where was that coming from? "And your point is?"

"No point, really. I guess your wedding is reminding me of my parents' divorce. It became final a few weeks ago. 'Take nothing for granted' is his new motto."

"Sorry about that, man. It sucks. You OK, now that it's official?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Still pissed at my mom for what she did, but I can't hate her. My father, on the other hand, he still gets crazy-eyes just hearing her name." We turned the corner into the church parking lot. "We're here," he said, ceremoniously announcing the obvious. Let's get you married to the hottest babe walking, you undeserving prick."

We were to be married in Jenn's church, as is the custom. The huge old building was outfitted with a decently sized space that was dedicated as a changing room for the groom and his attendants. There was separate room for the bride and her contingent, far nicer of course, and I was told that it was strategically located so that there was zero chance of the groom accidentally crossing paths with the bride before the ceremony.

There is an old superstition about it being bad luck for the groom to see the bride right before the ceremony. I looked it up. When marriages were arranged by the families, the bride and groom often had never seen each other before, and if the bride was ugly no one wanted the groom to balk if he got a good look at her before the "I do" part. And so the bad luck superstition was born. Of course, I had seen far more than Jenn's face, so no need to worry about her looks being a deal-breaker. Every inch of her was perfect, in my view. Still, who wants to fuck with superstition? Not this cowboy.

One of the many nice things about being a guy was that getting into a tuxedo is nowhere as complex as getting into a bridesmaid's dress or a wedding gown, so I was ready with time to spare. After getting the finishing touches dialed in on my tie and running out of bullshit banter with my groomsmen, I decided to make my way to the church's kitchen to grab a glass of water. I didn't really need any water, and I didn't need to go to the kitchen to get it. I needed to shake the last-minute jitters, that's what. I thought the distraction of a quick expedition to the kitchen would help dissipate my nervous energy.

Even though I had been to Jenn's church before with her for Sunday services, I didn't know the building all that well. So of course I got disoriented trying to find the kitchen, and I ended up going down the wrong hallway. I found myself in an older, unused part of the building. Not completely unused though, at least not that morning, because I could hear the unmistakable sound of fucking coming from a room at the end of the hall. Vigorous fucking. Stallion-ravishing-mare fucking. You know exactly where this is going. I had no idea who the guy was, but there was no doubt about the girl. I was more than familiar with Jenn's voice and the stuttering "oh-oh-oh-oh" sound she made when she was getting pounded.

My stomach churned and my palms started to sweat. My knees literally buckled. Literally as in literally. I wanted to run as far and fast as I could, preferably into the middle of a busy highway. I didn't run though. I had to see for myself, with my own eyes. I had to be absolutely certain, even though I had no doubt. I crept quietly down the hall, until I was just outside the door. For some reason the door wasn't closed all the way, so I could hear them clearly. Too damn clearly.

"That's it, Dave, that's it! Give it to me!!" yelped Jenn. "Give me that big fat cock! Fuck my tight little cunt!" Then more of the oh-oh-ohs.

I carefully peered through the cracked-open door, being careful not to be seen or heard. I saw plenty. Jenn was sitting on an ancient wooden table, with her left side to the doorway. Her bare arse was perched on the very edge of the table, and her wedding dress was bunched up above her hips and gathered behind her. Her lacy white panties hung from an ankle. The guy--Dave--was standing bent-kneed between Jenn's grotesquely splayed open thighs. He had dropped his pants to the floor, one leg still in the trousers and the other mostly out. He was holding Jenn's legs up by grasping the underside of her knees and lifting them upward. The son of a bitch was pounding his entire cock into Jenn with abandon, and she was taking every thrust with unrestrained glee. The glee part was understandable. This Dave guy was hung like a horse.

My mouth and throat went bone-dry, even as tears welled up in my eyes. I felt sick enough to vomit, and very nearly did. The sour taste of half-digested breakfast teased at the back of my throat, forcing me to rapidly swallow the spit that flooded my mouth to keep at bay the bile working its way up from my churning stomach.

As I watched horse-dick bang Jenn my shock turned to sadness, and then to raw anger. I had never felt such primal outrage in my life. My first thought was to burst through the door and let them know they were caught. It occurred to me that I would have the Dave character by surprise and at great disadvantage, so I would probably be able to kick his ass like they do in action movie beat-down scenes. My fury would supply whatever my rather average physique and dearth of fist-fighting experience couldn't.

I was just about to go through the door and have my satisfaction when Jenn's engagement ring caught my eye. The diamond twinkled at me when she lifted her hand from the table to pull this Dave guy to her face for a sloppy tongue kiss. My temples began to throb so hard I thought I was going to have a stroke. I could actually feel and hear my blood pounding in my ears, almost masking the sounds of their rutting.

It was right then that I had what people describe as a "moment of clarity." I thought that I understood what that phrase meant, but I hadn't. But clarity it was. At that moment it was absolutely clear to me that the love and affection I had for Jenn was completely gone, and that it would never return. There could be no way back. This was unrecoverable.

It was the engagement ring that did it. Jenn and I spent weeks finding what she decided was the perfect setting. I worked for months scrounging up overtime at the construction job to come up with the extra cash to snag a flawless two-caret diamond to put in that perfect setting. Not because Jenn asked for it, and not to show off. I did it because I loved her and I wanted her to have a diamond as flawless as she was. And now there I was, watching her fuck the brains out of some other guy while wearing her wedding dress and wearing my engagement ring.

I had regarded myself as a guy who tried to live decently, and to treat others decently. Not any more. The rules of conduct that had guided my fledgling adult life to that point were O-U-T out. I resolved that from that point forward I would be dealing the cards. The world could kiss my pasty white ass. If revenge was a dish best served cold, the meal I intended to serve was going to be colder than the surface of Pluto. And potential consequences? Fuck consequences. You don't worry about consequences when you're ready to burn the village to the ground and salt the earth.

First things first. There were not going to be competing stories. No denials. I fished my cell phone out of my tux pocket and set the camera app to high-def movie. Getting a good angle to record their fuck-fest was easier than expected. The trick was not being caught. That would ruin the Grand Plan that I was concocting on the fly.

My luck held, such as it was. Jennifer and the Dave guy kept banging away like crazed weasels, apparently oblivious to everything but his cock slamming home. Jenn's little cum-squeaks stopped and she threw her head back, her mouth forming a wide silent scream. Right on queue Jenn's legs began to shake and then her neck went limp, like she often does after a good one. Her head lolled backwards and she mumbled what sounded like "Fuck me with that big cock, baby. Just keep fucking." The Dave guy finally slowed to announce that he was getting close.

He spat out his words between irregular breaths. "Jenny... I have to... pull out.... I'm gonna... cum." Bastard. And what's with calling her "Jenny"? She really hated being called that. Or so she had told me. On other hand, in about 30 minutes she was supposed to make a solemn vow to almighty God to love, honor, and cherish me, so the "Jenny" issue was small potatoes. Still, WTF! Who was this impostor, and what had she done with my fiancé?

What came next nearly made my head unscrew from my neck and explode like a Fourth of July starburst.

"No! Don't pull out! Cum inside me!" Jenn's expression was feral. I had never seen her eyes burn like that. We'd had good fucks, or so I thought, but this was on entirely a different level.

Dave eagerly resumed sawing in and out of Jenn's pussy. "Oh fuck yeah! But... what about... Tom? Won't he want to... want to... fuck you... before... the reception?"

Jennifer laughed at that. A nasty, dismissive laugh, dripping with contempt. "I can hold Tommy off until after I've cleaned up. He won't know a thing. He never does. Now FUCK ME!"

He never does? Are you shitting me?? He never does?? So this wasn't the first time! Then the realization fully hit home. Of course it wasn't their first time! This wasn't a random, spur-of-the-moment hook-up. This was another fuck in what was a long series of fucks. Was it only with this guy, or was he only one of many who she'd been banging? My thoughts were blacker than coal. I was seething. Dear God, what did I do to Jennifer to deserve this? What had I done to anyone on the entire planet to deserve this? God didn't owe me any more of an explanation than he owed Job, but I still felt I deserved an answer as I careened headlong into my own personal Hell.

Dave obliged my former fiancé. He slammed into her like it was the last pussy he would ever get. My cell phone captured him pumping his cum into Jenn's splayed-open pussy. He disengaged slowly and stood between Jenn's legs, which hung limply from the edge of the table. I regarded myself as decently endowed, but this Dave guy easily bested me by at least three inches, and he was already shrinking. He had to be packing nine inches hard, maybe more. Was that it? Was my average-sized cock not enough for her? Obviously not. Maybe it wasn't my relative size. Maybe I was just a lousy fuck. Clearly I wasn't getting the job done.

I was about to stop recording and dash away before being spotted, but what happened next outraged me even more. Jennifer slid slowly off the table, and gathered her wedding dress up so it wouldn't make too much contact with the unswept floor. She dropped to her knees and rolled her tongue around Dave's shrinking cock. She took him fully into her mouth, and I could see from the movements of her cheeks that her tongue was giving his dick a good lashing. She released him with an audible pop, then ran her tongue around the tip for a flourish finale that would put a porn star to shame. And here was me, the guy who begged off a going to a strip joint out of respect for my fiancé's feelings. Was there a bigger chump on planet Earth than yours truly?

She gave Dave a slutty smile. "There! ONE of us is all cleaned up now." Jennifer stood slowly and snaked her lacy white panties back up her thighs and over her freshly-trimmed pussy. The tuffle of auburn fur that remained was shiny and slick, and now mostly hidden by French lace. She patted at the front of her panties and smiled lewdly at Dave. She was positively delighted with herself. Fucking hell!

Dave, on the other hand, was apprehensive. "Hey, you better find time to brush your teeth and find some mouthwash, or Tommy-Boy will be able to smell my dick on your breath. Or do you plan to let him taste me when the 'You may now kiss the bride' part comes?" He snickered at his own joke.

That remark inflicted a deeper assault on my dignity than I could have imaged. It occurred to me that just a few hours ago I was imagining lifting Jennifer's veil and having our first married kiss. Now the very idea of kissing her nearly made me puke up my breakfast. The mere thought of touching her made me queasy. I didn't even want to breath the same air with her.

"Don't worry about it." Jennifer was entirely unconcerned. "I have what I need in my overnight bag in the changing room. What Tommy doesn't know won't matter. But I do need to change my panties. Your jizz is leaking out of me and it just wouldn't do to have your dried cum on my thighs at the reception, would it now? Tommy might see cum stains when he removes my garter." She coquettishly batted her eyes to emphasize her delight at mocking me.

But what came next was worse still, if such were possible. "Besides," Jennifer added casually, "it wouldn't be the first time he got sloppy seconds." With that I for the first time fully appreciated the meaning of another time-worn phrase: mad enough to kill. I was so batshit crazy madman fucking outraged that I actually felt capable of taking a human life. To be honest, the memory of that feeling still scares me.

Jennifer leaned forward and gave Dave a deep-tongue kiss, which for some reason he backed off from fast. "I'm going now. Wait a few minutes so no one who might see us down here suspects anything, OK? I have to get cleaned up and rearranged." She gave him a parting peck on the cheek before heading toward the door. "See you after I get back from Hawaii!" she said cheerily, and winked again.

That was my cue to get moving. I shoved my phone into my pocket and scurried down the hallway and back to the men's changing room. It didn't take me long to retrace my steps. Steve and Uncle Jim were cracking jokes when I entered the room. Angel was laughing at the jokes too, while fiddling with his phone. They stopped laughing the moment I walked in. They stared at me, slack-jawed.

Steve spoke first. "Tom! Dude! What the fuck! You look like a crazy man off his meds!"

I didn't waste time with an explanation. In this case, a video was worth 10,000 words. "Guys, I'll tell you all the gory details later. For now, I'm going to show you something that I just recorded on my phone. I swear to you that I didn't plan this. I didn't suspect a fucking thing. I found out purely by chance. You know, right place at the right time. Here. Watch."

My three groomsmen had to get shoulder to shoulder to see the small screen. I stood opposite them and tapped the "play" icon. I did not watch with them. It was bad enough just hearing it again. Uncle Jim kept blinking and shaking his head, absolutely dumbfounded. Steve's mouth hung open in shock. Angel shook his head "no" again and again, quietly repeating over and over "Madre de Dios!" Not one of them could bear to look at me when the recording ended.

Again, Steve spoke first. "What IS IT with women? Cheating bitches! What do you want to do? What do you want US to do? Do you want us to kick this guy's ass?

Angel was up for a go-round, too. "Yeah, brother. We can fuck him up real good. He deserves at least that."

The idea was tempting, but I had other plans. Makeshift, on-the-fly, idiotic plans. It wasn't like I had time to flowchart the damn thing. "No, don't touch him. I have another idea about how to deal with him, but later on."

I looked to my Uncle Jim first. "Uncle Jim, could I ask you to go get my father from the sanctuary, and bring him here? I may need your help getting him under control once he hears what's up. You're his brother. You know how he can be when he's on his ear."

Uncle Jim patted me on the back, and then hugged me around the shoulder. "You got it, son. I'll handle John." Uncle Jim's eyes cast downward to his feet. "I'm so sorry this is happening," he muttered, and then strode briskly out of the room.

Steve and Angel were next. "Gents, as soon as I've let my father in on this shit-show, I want to talk to Jennifer's father. Just him, not her mother. I'd be much obliged if you'd both would stick around for that little chat, because I can see it getting real nasty real fast."

Then another thought popped into my head. Understand, I really was winging this. "Change in plans. Angel, I'm going to ask Steve to bring Fredrickson here. Could I get you to fetch Reverend Martens? I think she needs to be let in on upcoming events. Though the extra chaos might be entertaining, and I don't want her to do something unpredictable and derail what I'm planning." They both mumbled "Sure thing," or something like that.

My father soon trailed Uncle Jim into the dressing room. Dad was on high-alert. He had that same look as he had when the master caution alarms went off on a flight we took a few years ago to Vicksburg in a rented Beech Twin Bonanza. My father's whole demeanor was "something is up, it ain't good, it has to be resolved now, and panic means death." As expected, my father had transitioned into his take-command persona. If my father had a fault, it was that he was 100% predictable. Best man in the world to have at your side in a shit-storm though.

"Thomas, it's obvious that there's a problem. What's going on? Talk to me." Yep, direct and to the point, as expected.

"Dad, just listen, please. I will explain it all to you and Mom later. For right now, you need to know that the wedding is off, permanently. Purely by luck or whatever you want to call it, about ten minutes ago I caught Jennifer screwing some guy. In her wedding dress, no less." I decided to stop there, or there would be no way to stop my father from going native right there in the church. That would upset the grand plan that was unfolding in my mind.

My father's normally ruddy complexion mottled and he set his jaw hard. In twenty-two years, I only thought I had seen him angry. This was a whole new level of outrage. He started to speak through gritted teeth, but I reigned him in as gently as I could.

"Dad, let me finish. Other than Uncle Jim, Steve, Angel, and now you, no one outside of this room knows what I saw. Not even Jennifer. Not yet. I'm going to talk with her father next. I don't want you in the room for that, because that will be an added complication that I don't need. Please let me handle this, in my own way. I got myself tangled up with that woman, and I am going to get myself untangled. What I really need right now is for you to trust me to handle it. I know that's a big ask, but that's what I need from you. And to be there for Mom. This is going to kill her."

My father didn't say a word for what seemed like forever. He was simultaneously absorbing and assessing. When he finally spoke his voice sounded like it came from some distant corner of Hell. I recognized the neighborhood because Hell was where I was residing at that moment. "Thomas, you do what you need to do. But if I see you letting them walk over you, don't expect me to remain silent. Understand?"

I shook my father's hand, and then gave him a hug. I was 22 years old, but right then I needed a hug from my father as much as did any wounded little kid. "Don't worry, that won't happen. Please go be with Mom. The ceremony is supposed to start in about twenty minutes, and I still haven't had my heart-to-heart with Jennifer's father."

My father walked slowly back to the sanctuary with Uncle Jim. I prayed he would keep his cool. I was in a church after all, so prayers seemed appropriate, though I doubted God approved of what I was praying for. "Turn the other cheek" it wasn't going to be.

Steve was ready for the next task. "Want me to go get him now?"

Gut-check time. Was I really going to do this? Damn right I was. "Yes. Please. Don't let on that anything's wrong. Just tell him that I need to speak with him, and that it's very important, OK?"

Steve nodded curtly. "You got it."

Angel was ready, too. "I'll get the preacher lady."

Angel and the good Reverend Martens appeared right after Steve ushered in Jennifer's father. Paul Fredrickson was a decent guy, all in all. Once he got past the usual hesitations that fathers have about the boys who date their daughters, we got on really well. In fact, Fredrickson and I were on very good terms, and my impression was that he knew I truly loved Jennifer, and he was happy that I was going to marry his daughter. So I felt a bit of remorse about what I was about to lay on him, but there was no helping that now. There were to be tears and anger and recriminations no matter what. Besides, it was time for the world to kiss my ass. This was a good a place to start as any.

Reverend Martens was no dummy. She already surmised something exceedingly bad was unfolding. Naturally, her first instinct was to try to engage me with the pastoral counseling voice. I cut her off with the stop-talking palm right in her face. "Reverend, this is my meeting. I have the floor. I invited you here as a courtesy, but you need to be quiet and listen. If you can't do that, then take it on the heel and toe." She visibly shrank back. She probably wasn't used to being talked to in that way. I think she foresaw that the day's traumas were just getting started.

I took my measure of Jennifer's father. He wasn't a dummy either. You could see in his face that he knew the wedding wasn't happening, but he had no clue why. Despite that, he wasn't in both-engines-are-on-fire panic mode. Not yet. He would be.

I looked Paul Fredrickson straight in the eye, and cleared my throat. "Mr. Fredrickson, you need to know--"

His interruption was expected. "What do you mean, 'Mr. Fredrickson'? Tom, it's me, Paul. I--"

I cut right back in. I had to maintain control of the conversation. "Please don't interrupt." Reverend Martens tried again to jump in, but I silenced her my best don't-fuck-with-me-glare and an emphatic palm to her face, mere inches from her nose. She looked genuinely frightened. Good. I needed to be the biggest, meanest, toughest, remorseless bad-ass in the jungle to pull this off.

"Mr. Fredrickson, about 15 minutes ago, purely by accident, I stumbled across Jennifer and some guy named Dave screwing each other's brains out in an unused room down the hall from the church's kitchen." Fredrickson's eyes went wide and he swallowed hard. Martens blanched and the color literally drained from her face.

"I saw it with my own eyes. There is no mistake about what I saw. Jennifer can't deny that it happened, because I was able to record it on my cell phone." I reached into my tux pocket and brandished my cell phone for emphasis. The good reverend took a step away from me and toward Fredrickson, as if she was trying to re-establish a balance of power. Good luck with that, lady. Perversely, even holding all the cards I still had a losing hand.

"And when I say that Jennifer and this guy were screwing, that is the tamest description of it. Jennifer's betrayal goes far beyond mere sex. You can watch the video if you don't believe me, but I think you would regret watching it for the rest of your life."

Fredrickson gathered himself up as best he could. He was calculating the best way to salvage as much personal dignity from the situation as possible, and think of some way that his family wouldn't be humiliated. He finally croaked out a few halting words.

"Obviously the wedding must be postponed so we can sort this out. Reverend Martens, could you make an announcement to--"

I jumped in again to regain control.

"The wedding is not postponed. It is canceled. Forever. And Reverend Martens will not make the some ambiguous announcement that lets the person who betrayed me off the hook. All of my family and our guests sitting out there are not going to be left to speculate about what happened. There damn sure aren't going to be any rumors that I am in any way to blame for this, or that I got cold feet, or that Jennifer dumped me, or some such bullshit. They will be told that I am the one who halted this wedding, and precisely why I did it."

Fredrickson was sputtering now. Trickles of sweat ran down his temples and soaked into the hard-starched collar of his tuxedo dress shirt. The poor bastard didn't deserve this. No one did, other than the rancid slut I very nearly married. I continued my hastily thought-out speech. I was way over my skis now, peering over the tips and wondering how much it would hurt when I crashed into the ground below.

"You won't believe this, but out of respect for you and because you have treated me well, I offer you the opportunity to make the announcement. But you will make it clear that the reason that this wedding is being canceled is because your daughter was caught cheating on me, in this very church. If you try to hedge on that, I assure you that I will make my own announcement, and I will be painfully explicit about why I canceled this abomination. Hell, I'll broadcast the video to the church's big-screen monitors. It's not fair that this is falling on you, but it's better you doing it than me. I don't think I'd be able to control myself."

The rules of survival in the jungle were harsh. Sorry, Paul.

Fredrickson fumbled around behind himself to find a chair to fall into. Reverend Martens again tried to take control of what was fixing to become an epic disaster. "No! I cannot allow that! I will not allow that! This is a house of God, not a place for you to defile with revenge!"

She didn't get it. This wasn't only about revenge. This was also about justice. This was about me reclaiming some small bit of my personal dignity. But yeah, it was mostly about revenge, and I was not nearly done having mine. Inflicting pain was the order of the day.

"Quite frankly, Reverend, I don't see how you will stop me. Besides, Plan B includes burning your house of God to the ground and pissing on the smoking embers, so perhaps you best be happy with Plan A."

I looked back at Fredrickson, who was now sitting hunched over his knees with his head in his hands. "It's almost time for the ceremony to start," I told him. "People are going to start getting curious. You have ten minutes to break the news to Jennifer, your wife, and your family. But by 11:55 you better be standing at the pulpit making your announcement. Don't fuck around. I will do what I said I will do. If you try to soft-pedal this, like I said, I will broadcast the recording to the TV monitors in the sanctuary. And by tomorrow, Jennifer and her fuck-buddy will be an internet sensation."

Fredrickson stood abruptly. He looked like he could kill me with his bare hands, but he knew that I held the high hand. Luckily, I remembered the engagement ring before he made his way out the door.

"One more thing," I chirped. "I will have that engagement ring back, and I will have it in my hand before you make your announcement. That's non-negotiable. If Jennifer puts up a fuss, let her know that the video caught the tongue-bath she gave her fuck-buddy's dick right after he blew his load in her pussy, and both the video and audio are broadcast quality."

Fredrickson finally bowed up. His voice dripped with contempt. "How do I know you won't put that video on the internet anyway?"

"You don't know. You have my word that I won't, so long as you and my slut ex-fiancé comply fully. Either way, you don't have a real choice. It's down to nine minutes now. Tick-fucking-tock."

That pushed Reverend Martens out of her passive mode. "Please stop with that sort of language, Thomas. This is a church, not a locker room!"

The good Reverend's indignation was genuinely comical to me, given the far more pressing issue of what prompted it. I actually laughed out loud.

"Well, golly-gee-willikers, ma'am, I looked in the Book of Order but I couldn't find an entry for the proper phrasing for when you discover your slut fiancé banging some guy and then gargling his cock right before her wedding ceremony, so I improvised. Anything else on your mind? Any other boundaries of good taste and comportment that I've crossed?" I paused for dramatic effect. "Oh, wait. I'm fresh out of fucks to give. So piss off."

Fredrickson hurried out the door, with Reverend Martens in tow. I would have paid some serious money to see Jennifer's face when Fredrickson broke the news to her that she'd been literally caught in the act. Meanwhile, the organ blared out the standard per-processional wedding fare. I wondered if the organist would be willing to switch from Bach's Prelude in C Major to Linda Ronstadt's "You're No Good" if I slipped her an extra 50 bucks.

Steve broke the silence. "Dude, that was some cold-ass shit. Well done! You ruled!" He chuckled a bit when he said that, which was just what I needed to release a little internal pressure of my own. I laughed with him. Why the hell not? Plenty of time for tears later.

Angel was practical one. He stretched out his arms, gripping the tops of my shoulders with his thick hands. "Mano, you know this could get ugly between the familias when the shit hits the fan, right?"

He had a fair point. "True dat. But that's why I have you thugs around, to throw in if the discussion moves out to the parking lot."

Uncle Jim decided to play along with our totally bullshit macho declarations of bravado. "Hey, I might be twenty-odd years older than you young bucks, but I can still get some licks in."

I don't think I was ever happier to have Jim for my uncle. "Yeah, old man. That's what Aunt Janice would want, you in a brawl and walking into the Sheriff's Department briefing room Monday with a shiner or two. Great plan for career advancement you have there. It would be great when you run for re-election. How about instead you keep my dad from ending up in the hospital or jail?

"You got it, son." I really liked it when he called me "son." I wasn't his son, of course. But Uncle Jim always treated me like I was his own son, and Danni like she was one of his own daughters. My father was the same way with Uncle Jim's daughters. I think Dad loved cousins Sarah and Katey as much as he loved Danni. They were truly good men.

It took less than a minute before we heard mixed shouting coming from the ladies' changing room down the hall. Then crying, more shouting, and louder crying. We could hear it from our dressing room, but what with the organ music and the sanctuary being yet another hallway farther away, I doubted anyone sitting in the pews heard it.

I couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but there was no doubt that both Jennifer's mother and Jennifer's younger sister, Hayleigh, were tearing into Jennifer like rabid wolves. If I heard the word "slut" once I heard it a dozen times, mostly from Jennifer's father. Her mother mostly repeated "How could you!" whereas Hayleigh's preferred epithet was "stupid bitch." Jennifer kept bleating "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

The old saying "you're not sorry you did it; you're sorry you got caught" came immediately to mind. I think I heard Jennifer's father going on about her reputation, his reputation, the family's reputation, and being ashamed and humiliated and disgusted. Yeah, shame and disgust would be appropriate. But I had already cornered the market on humiliation.

Things suddenly became much quieter, and then there was a soft knock on the door to our dressing room. I opened the door carefully, because I really had no idea who was waiting behind it. For all I knew it was Jennifer's father and some of the Fredrickson clan, come to beat me to a pulp. Which would have been fine by me. I was itching for a physical confrontation, even if I would most likely come out on the losing end.

Instead it was Jennifer's sister, Hayleigh. She was a disaster. She obviously had been crying. Her eyes were puffy and red, and mascara had ran down her face, leaving ragged black streaks. Her makeup now looked like it had been put on by a drunken monkey. Another victim of Jennifer's selfish little fuck-fest frolic. And of my revenge. Despite supposedly not caring about the consequences of my revenge plot, I regretted hurting Hayleigh.

Hayleigh wouldn't look at me. She just stood in the doorway, her head bowed and eyes cast downward. Yet even looking as she did, there was a beautiful young woman standing there. And I couldn't help notice that she looked fantastic in her bridesmaid's dress, even though she was a complete wreck otherwise. I felt truly sorry for her, because she didn't do anything wrong except have the misfortune of being Jennifer's sister and agree to be her bridesmaid. I almost felt guilty about how I decided to handle this mess. But not guilty enough to change course. Jennifer still hadn't been paid out.

While I stood there thinking about what to say, Hayleigh spoke in a near whisper, so low that I almost couldn't hear her. "My father asked me to bring this to you."

Hayleigh extended her arm and opened her palm. It was the engagement ring. A beautiful, sparkling, expensive punch line to a hideously bad cosmic practical joke about love, commitment, fidelity, and trust. Hayleigh would not look me in the eyes. "Go ahead," she whispered, her eyes remaining downcast, "take it."

Reaching out slowly, I lifted the ring from Hayleigh's palm using only my fingertips, trying to avoid contact with her hand. Any physical contact seemed improper. I said "Thank you" as I pocketed the ring. I wondered if I would be able to sell it back for even half what I paid for it. Meh, I thought, who gives a damn about that now? The idea flashed through my mind of using the diamond in a pendant for my mother, but that expensive, sparkly chunk of carbon was filthy now. It wasn't fit to touch anyone I cared for.

Hayleigh started to turn from the doorway, then stopped, finally lifting her head to look at me directly. "I want you to know that I think what Jennifer did was beyond horrible. We're all disgusted and ashamed of her. But my parents hate you now." She gave me an appraising look, as if she was sizing me up. "I don't hate you, but I think you're an asshole the way you're handling this. And I think..." She stopped in mid-sentence, collecting her thoughts. Or perhaps deciding if she was going to say something that shouldn't be said. A few seconds of awkward silence ticked by before she resumed. "And I think that if you had done to me what my sister did to you, I would have done worse to you than you're doing to her now. So I guess I'm an asshole, too."

My curiosity got the best of me. "Hayleigh, what is it that you think Jennifer did, exactly?" My bet was that Fredrickson didn't tell his wife and daughters everything he knew. That would make his announcement to the congregation trickier to navigate, given the terms of my ultimatum. That was his problem, not mine.

Hayleigh looked uneasy about answering my question, but she answered anyway. "My father said that you caught Jennifer having sex with some guy here in the church, and that you recorded it on your phone. That is really disgusting and creepy of you, by the way. He said that you're blackmailing him into telling everybody what my sister did or you will post the video on the internet, which I think makes you a huge piece of shit. And he said there's more to it but he wouldn't get into the rest until later."

I made another decision on the fly. It was probably a mistake, but the past few years of my life had been a series of gigantic mistakes in judgment, so what the hell.

"Hayleigh, have I ever lied to you or misled you?"

"Not that I know of," she said crisply.

"Then believe me when I tell you that a lot more happened than just Jennifer having a send-off quickie behind my back."

"So you say." No whispering now. She crossed her arms in front of her, full of righteous anger and defiance.

"Fine," I replied, "I want you to watch the recording. What I am doing will make a lot more sense to you."

I expected her to tell me to go fuck myself and storm off. But she didn't. Instead she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. I saw Uncle Jim, Steve, and Angel in the corner of my eye. They looked like they had front row seats at a UHC championship bout. Hayleigh's tone was challenging, unyielding. "Let's see what it is that makes what you're doing to my family acceptable."

I held my phone close to Hayleigh's face so that she could see and hear clearly, and tapped "play." Almost immediately Hayleigh noticeably stiffened, and then she began to cry. Angry tears, not sad tears. I was missing something. She watched the whole sordid recording, right to the very end. By the time the recording ended Hayleigh looked worse than when I first saw her, which I did not think was possible.

After I pocketed the phone she wiped the new conglomeration of tears and makeup away from her eyes and bee-lined for the door. But instead of opening the door and storming away, she turned and took both of my hands in hers. Her voice went back to a whisper. "I have to get back now. We really need to talk some more. But not now." She squeezed my hands tightly in hers. "Tom, I want you to take care of yourself. I mean it." And with that Hayleigh opened the door and quick-stepped down the hall and around the corner.

Angel was first to say something this time. "That was freaky. What the actual fuck is going on?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "You got me. I have no idea." Angel was right though. What the actual fuck was going on?

Trust Steve to mind the time. "Gentlemen, it's 11:55. It's time for the next round." Steve gave me a thumbs-up, and cocked his head a bit as if to ask if I was ready.

"Yeah, let's do this thing." I didn't feel as confident as I sounded.

Angel was right behind us. "Yeah, let's do this thing." He looked sickened.

Uncle Jim joined, and walked with us down the hallway to the sanctuary. The hallway had a row of windows that looked out to the street. Jennifer, her mother, and her maid of honor were piling into a stretch limousine that was supposed to carry the wedding party to the reception hall. I wondered where they were headed instead. Danni of course was not with them. And who could blame Jennifer and her crew for pulling a Houdini and getting as far away as possible?

Paul Fredrickson was already standing where Reverend Martens would have stood during the ceremony. Martens stood nearby, several feet behind him. Emotional support, I speculated. Fredrickson's arms flapped downward in that way politicians do when they want to quiet the crowd during a speech. It took a while before the chatter of 150 or so people stopped. The sudden absence of organ music added to the unnatural silence.

The groomsmen and I stood mostly out of sight off to the far side, but we were still visible to some of the guests in the front rows opposite us. Several people pointed at the empty front pews where the bride's and groom's immediate families normally would have been seated. Everyone in attendance knew by now that the wedding was a bust.

Fredrickson cleared his throat several times before starting.

"Everyone, I have an unhappy announcement. The wedding will not take place." A murmur rolled through the sanctuary. Fredrickson again gestured the guests to quiet down.

"Because I feel that you are owed some kind of a... ah.... well, an explanation...." Fredrickson was foundering. When he looked to his right he saw me and my crew staring at him. He cleared his throat again and resumed, head still bowed.

"Well, it's like this. My daughter was involved in an indiscretion, one that her fiancé could not overlook. So, we all, ah, agreed that..."

Damn him! My voice boomed through the entire sanctuary. "Stop right there!" I marched directly toward Fredrickson, stopping only a few feet away. Reverend Martens tried to intercede, but Angel and Steve swooped in to block her path. Now I was the one flapping his arms to quiet the crowd. I whispered "I WARNED YOU" to Fredrickson under my breath.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I want all of you to know exactly what happened because I do not want any rumors or stories out there that I am at all responsible, in any way, for the breakup." I had the rapt attention every adult soul in the sanctuary. Parents were shushing little kids. A lot of cell phones were out, obviously recording my humiliation for posterity. The day's favorite hobby. People do love a salacious story when it's at someone else's expense.

I was about to tell the lurid tale of my former fiancé's carnal enthusiasm and oral skills, when in my peripheral vision I saw tears welling up in Fredrickson's eyes. He was almost ready to break down completely. My resolve started to weaken. Was this really the right thing to do? I decided to carry on. Damn the torpedoes, or something like that.

"The indiscretion was that my fiancé very recently had sexual relations with another man. I just learned of this, today, not even an hour ago. Now, many of you probably want to know the juicy details. Well, the details are--"

Then I noticed Hayleigh standing by herself, half hidden behind a column near the pulpit. I had thought she would have left with the others, but obviously she did not, which seemed odd. She had cleaned the trashed makeup from her face. She was shaking her head almost imperceptibly back and forth, and her eyes were pleading with me not to describe Jennifer's fuck & suck extravaganza. What was it that Shakespeare wrote? "The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven." Another snap decision. I picked up where I had paused.

"The details really aren't important. But marriage is challenging enough under ideal conditions, and it hasn't got a chance if it starts off like this. My former fiancé no longer enjoys my trust or my good opinion. So she and I are finished. Her actions, but my decision."

I think I saw Hayleigh mouth "Thank you" to me, but I was too distracted by trying to figure out what to say next to be sure of what I saw. I decided to wrap it up.

"Thank you all for coming. Your presence here today honored me. If you brought gifts, please collect them as you leave. We will return the other gifts in the coming weeks after we get things sorted. Finally, please let's not have any incidents among the families and guests. This day is bad enough as it is. The biggest kindness you could do for me would be to leave peacefully."

I really was going to stop there, until I saw the Dave guy sitting pretty much by himself in one of the pews far in the back. He must not have gotten word that he and Jennifer had been discovered, and apparently he didn't have the good sense to slip away when Fredrickson started his address to the guests. Well fuck him. Mercy has limits, no matter what Shakespeare thought.

"One other thing, everyone. If any of you are wondering what kind of guy screws a man's fiancé and then has the gall to show up at the wedding, he's way back there near the last row of pews, in the blue shirt and tan sport coat, trying to look inconspicuous. Yes, asshole, I see you." I pointed right at him, and didn't stop pointing until the assembled guests had turned around to glare at him. The little chickenshit turned white as a sheet and made a panicked exit.

The sanctuary then filled with chatter as the guests begin snaking out of the pews and filing out of the church. My mother clung to my father in a distant corner while family and family friends approached to give condolences and commiserate over the unhappy circumstances. My father made brief eye contact with me and nodded, which I took as approval of how I handled things. Hayleigh joined her father while I was looking at the throng that surrounded my parents. On the way to him Hayleigh brushed by me from behind and gave my hand a quick, gentle squeeze. What was up with her?

Fredrickson looked a lot better now that the worst was behind him. Or so he thought. Dodging the bullet of merciless shaming that I had promised must have emboldened him, because he had the audacity to give me a ration of shit about his troubles. Troubles that he implied were somehow my doing.

"I hope you're happy now!" he barked.

"Excuse me? Happy? How is it that I'm supposed to be 'happy'? Inquiring minds want to know."

Hayleigh had the good sense to try to get her father to disengage. "Dad, come on! Let's GO." Hayleigh took hold of his arm and tugged at him to follow her.

Fredrickson didn't budge an inch. He was spoiling to engage with me, and it was going to take a lot more than Hayleigh's 110 pounds or so to drag him away.

"You needlessly humiliated my daughter and my family. My wife, who has never treated you badly, is devastated and beyond consolation. I regarded you as a member of my family, and you stabbed me in the back. My closest friends and business associates were here today, and I don't know how I will face them."

I was in no mood to take any crap from anyone about embarrassment.

"If you want to rip into someone, then focus on your daughter. None of this happens if she hadn't betrayed all of us. Just be glad that the marriage got nipped in the bud, before we had kids and THEN I found out that I'd married a two-faced slut."

Reverend Martens decided again that it her time to add her two cents. "Even those who love us most can make serious mistakes, Thomas. If we love them, we work through the hurt and forgive. We must hate the sin but love the sinner."

I couldn't believe my ears. "Work through the hurt and forgive, eh? Look, lady, even if I could one day forgive Jennifer, I could never forget. N-e-v-e-r. Do you really think that there would ever be a day in my married life when I would not remember this? Even if I could forgive the betrayal, I could never make love to her, not the way that a husband is supposed to. This would always stand between us, in every facet of our lives and our marriage. In fact, the mere thought of physical intimacy with her is revolting to me now. Truth is, I could never again trust her. If you don't understand that, then you ought to think about trying a different line of work. So jam your pastoral advice and counseling right up your arse, thanks very much."

Fredrickson decided to get in a few more jabs. "Well I have to pick up the pieces of what you children have smashed to bits. The florist needs to be told what to do with all these flowers, and the caterers at the reception hall have food for 150 people who won't be showing up. Then there's the reception hall and the band, too. I'm out $25,000 at least. All wasted!"

If he was looking for sympathy he wasn't going to get it from me. "Hey, at least you'll have tasty leftovers for the next month. If the money bothers you, donate the food to a homeless shelter and take a tax deduction. Whatever. If we're going to total up money wasted, I'm out for two round trip airplane tickets, a week's stay at the four-star beach resort, and all the rest of it. I'm not going to honeymoon alone, and they don't give refunds. So cry me a river about being left holding the bag financially."

I don't know where it came from, but an idea popped into my head. On a whim, I decided to throw a long ball. As I said, I was making up my Grand Plan on the fly. I spoke to no one in particular as I pondered aloud.

"On the other hand, the honeymoon flight doesn't leave until Monday morning. I suppose I could scrounge up a replacement travel companion."

I looked directly at Hayleigh before continuing. "If you're interested, you're invited. We'd have a resort beach house right on a private beach for the whole week, and it wouldn't cost you a dime. Understand though, it won't be just sun, sand, and surf. It will be sun, sand, surf, and sex. Lots of sex. Jennifer already got laid and more on her wedding day, so I'll be playing catch-up."

I was braced for Hayleigh to slap me down hard. Or likely actually slap me. In truth, I was amazed that she didn't. I didn't much care either way. I was at war with civilized behavior.

"Thank you for the invitation, but I don't think that would be appropriate," she said with a healthy dollop of sarcasm.

Interesting. It was a "no," but it wasn't a "Hell no and what kind of tramp do you think I am that I would agree to do that?" Still, by no means a "yes." Not even a hint of "yes." So much for my long ball. And what was I expecting her to do? Jump at that offer right there? Dumb, Tom, dumb. As I said, I was way over my skis, and too angry to care.

Fredrickson wasn't nearly as diplomatic. "You really are an asshole. Stay away from my daughter. Stay away from both my daughters. Stay clear of my whole family." With that he grabbed Hayleigh's hand and nearly dragged her out of the church.

There was nothing left to do then but make my own way home. I convinced Steve and Angel that I would be OK and that they should go on home, too. We all had enough fun and excitement for one day. They offered to hang out, but I truly didn't want company. It took some doing, but I was able to convince them that I just needed to hole up by myself for a while. At my insistence, my father had already left with my mother and Danni, so Uncle Jim offered to drive me home. He even agreed to stop along the way at a liquor store so that I could pick up a few bottles of bourbon, on my solemn promise that I would not leave my house until completely sober.

"No problem, Uncle Jim. I intend to be sloppy drunk by eight o'clock, completely wasted by nine, and asleep by ten." I phoned my father to let him know we were on our way.

I dreaded coming home. Mom and Danni would want me to talk to them about it, and the last thing I wanted was to talk about it. I was supposed to be at the reception hall right then, celebrating with my bride. Cutting a wedding cake. Going from table to table visiting with family and guests, and being told by everyone what a lucky man I was. Kissing my bride every time the guests started tinking their glasses. Starting our lives together. Instead the highlight of my evening would be to get drunk enough to block out thoughts of my bride fucking some other guy and laughing about how she would make a fool of me for the zillionth time. There was no further plan for the next night, or the next week for that matter. It was going to be a rocky few months. Or years.

Mom and Danni were in the kitchen talking when Uncle Jim and I walked in the door. They had changed out of the wedding attire, of course. Both of them rushed over to hug me as soon as I entered the kitchen. More tears, of course, though oddly none were mine. Numbness had set in to replace the anger, insulating me like a suit armor. My father and Uncle Jim shuttled off to Dad's study. Judging by my father's muffled shouting from behind closed doors, I guessed Uncle Jim was filling Dad in on the nastier details. Better his brother than his son. Uncle Jim was used to delivering devastating news to families.

Then the questions from Mom and Danni started. Yes, I caught Jennifer screwing some guy, and yes, she was doing it in the church while wearing her wedding dress. No, I didn't suspect a thing. Yes, I caught them completely by accident. No, I don't know the guy. Yes, I did record some of it. No, I would not try to mend things with Jennifer. Yes, I got the engagement ring back. No, I wasn't going to go to Nassau by myself. Yes, I still was going to start law school in the Fall. No, I did NOT need or desire any company. Yes, I was going to get drunk. No, I did not want a drinking partner. Yes, I was staying home tonight. No, I was not going to be OK tonight. And not for a long damn time.

They had a lot more questions, but I convinced them that I was too worn out to continue. Danni gave me another hug, and whispered in my ear. "Just so you know, tonight I am going to burn my bridesmaid's dress and shoes and stuff in the firepit, and I am going to send the ashes to her house."

Finally something else to laugh about. "I love you too, sis."

With the interrogations over, I headed upstairs. I kept my word to Uncle Jim. I was completely checked out by 10 o'clock. I didn't even need to open the second bottle. Just as well. It would come in handy the next day.

~~~@~~~@~~~

That's it for Part 1. If there's enough reader interest, I'll submit Part 2, which picks up on Sunday morning. Thank you all kindly for your comments and insightful suggestions. And to those who have followed me after my first submission, V is for Victory - Not!, thank you all for your generous words and support.