Part 16 (1/2)

”Trust me, it would.” I address the line of waiting patrons. ”Hey, everyone? This gentleman expects me to BRIBE him to get into my own reception. Can you believe someone would stoop so low as to extort cash from a bride on her wedding day? However, I choose not to BRIBE him, but I wanted to let you all know it sounds like he's willing to accept money under the table for early entry!” I return the bouncer's mean smile and revel in the fact he's gone completely pale under his tan. ”How 'bout I run in and get my friends now?”

As we exit, I wish the bouncer best of luck with the graft and let him know we'll never be back. He doesn't care, but it certainly makes me feel better.

Somewhere in the past half an hour, I seem to have lost my groom. He and a few fraternity brothers took off to look for me while I was on cake duty. Our remaining group heads to one of the lounges, and we stake out a bunch of couches. After a couple of drinks, I realize how tired I am, but I don't want to leave until Fletch finds us. I wait and wait but he doesn't show up. Around eleven thirty p.m., I tell my brother to make sure Fletch knows I've gone up to the room and to join me there.

As I let myself into the room, the first thing I notice is the crib...but not until after I've fallen into it.

Frantically, I dial the concierge. ”Hi, this is Jennifer Lancaster in one of the honeymoon suites.... Fine, thanks. No, wait, I'm actually not fine. Housekeeping set up a CRIB in my room, I tripped over it, and I want it removed.... Uh-huh, yes.... You know, all the other couples I saw at the chapel today already had children, so I a.s.sume it was meant for one of their rooms.... I suggest you try Child Bride and Tattoo Neck's room first. I'm pretty sure they don't make a lot of good choices, and I bet they kept the baby with them tonight.... Great. Thank you.”

Rubbing my hip where I bruised it on the crib, I survey the rest of the room. The bed is disheveled from where Joel pa.s.sed out on it earlier, but not before spilling what I hope was his beer. Nice. OK, I'm not going to freak out about this because Fletch did the right thing by having him sleep it off. I don't know why he didn't station Joel on the COUCH, but I'm not going to get mad. It's my special day, and everything was perfect. Granted, I didn't get much of a chance to enjoy any of it, but everyone else did, so I guess that's what's important.

Then I notice exactly how smoky the room is. Fletch must have been up here looking for me because everyone in his entourage smokes when they drink. All the ashtrays in the suite are clean so I wonder what happened to the cigarette b.u.t.ts. The smell of stale smoke is nauseatingly prevalent.

Oh...I see. They chose to stub them out in the remains of my room service tray. I am trying very hard not to get mad. I repeat to myself special day, happy guests, looked pretty eating a sandwich, everything's OK.

I toss the cigarette-laden tray into the hall and housekeeping finally arrives to collect the crib. I roam around the suite waiting for Fletch to come up. We're going to open presents together and finally have a few minutes alone. Frankly, it sounds like heaven.

A half hour pa.s.ses with no sign of Fletcher...and another half hour...and then an hour.

By two thirty a.m., I am beyond furious. This is my wedding night-so where exactly is my groom? The one thing I asked him today was not to drink to excess because I didn't want to get mad at him. I begged him, actually, and he promised he'd behave himself. By my calculations, he's had access to c.o.c.ktails for over ten hours, so chances are excellent he's drunk as a monkey.

An hour ago, I changed into a VERY uns.e.xy pair of gray flannel pajamas, took down my elaborate wedding up 'do, and washed off my $180 makeup application. Since he's NOT going to be sleeping in this bed with me anytime soon, he can just forget any notion of a romantic wedding night.

I'm watching the only thing on TV-a Britney Spears movie-when Todd, Carol, and my friend Jen carry Fletch in the door around three a.m.

”Hi! Happpppy Weddinnnng!” Fletch greets me, stumbling into the room.

”WHERE THE f.u.c.k HAVE YOU BEEN?” Steam is blowing out my ears. I crossed from angry into bloodl.u.s.t about fifteen minutes ago.

Todd answers, ”He was downstairs with us. Hey, Jen, I need to borrow a-”

”I have been sitting up here alone for almost four hours waiting for you,” I seethe. ”Did it occur to you to check on me? Perhaps call me and see what I was doing?” I stomp around the room and begin to slam things.

”Whaaaat?” Fletch slurs.

”Oh, I thought you went to bed, so we figured it was OK for him to hang out with us,” Todd adds helpfully.

”Is that the message I gave you? No. I told you to tell him to come upstairs,” I reply. ”By the way, Fletch, thanks for letting your friends trash the room. There's nothing more inviting in a honeymoon suite than a bunch of cigarettes mashed out in an old sandwich. And you'd better hope it's just beer spilled on the comforter, because you are sleeping with it on the couch.” I pick up my bouquet and hurl it at him. It bounces off his chest, but not before a few of the gardenias explode.

While I rage, Carol and Jen slowly back out the door. ”Bye, Jen.” ”Good night, Jen.” ”We'll talk to you when you get back.” ”Thanks for everything.”

”Hey, calm down. We told Fletch it was OK, and we all had a really good time together. Really, you should be mad at us,” my brother says.

”Todd, Fletch made up his own mind. He decided to get liquored up with his buddies rather than BE WITH HIS NEW WIFE. And that? Is not acceptable.”

”OK, I'm going to go, but first give me-”

”GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” I scream while my brother skitters out of the room.

Fletch loosens his bow tie and falls forward on the bed, attempting to cover himself with the blankets.

”Oh, no, you don't! YOU! COUCH! NOW!”

”No, wanna schhhleeep heeeeere becaussshe itsch a haaaapy weddding,” he mumbles.

”Not b.l.o.o.d.y likely,” I spit before rolling him off the bed.

”Ooof. Opletely thaws my heart.

”I'm sorry for throwing your computer.”

”That's OK.”

”And I'm sorry for overreacting.”

”You didn't overreact. You were completely justified. I did exactly what you asked me not to do and I'm really, really sorry.”

”Listen, I don't want to start our married life this way. Let's say we were both at fault and declare it a clean slate.”