Page 12 of The Pucking Grump

The screen splits in two, and Dave Strummer comes into view. My eyes narrow as they settle on him. He looks nothing like her, with graying black hair and a pouchy face, but that’s not the only surprise. I’m almost astonished by how relaxed he appears. His lips are fixed in a thin line, and tension marks adorn his forehead, but that’s about it.

I think of my own father, how much of a fucking mess he would be if my sister suddenly disappeared and didn’t leave word of where she was going. This man looks inconvenienced at best, like he’s only concerned about the management side of things and has not spared a single thought to the fact that he’s missing a daughter.

I glance at Faye. Her face is a mask of worry, and her fingers are slightly trembling. “C’mon, Dad,” she mutters under her breath. She doesn’t seem to notice that her father looks way too composed for the situation at hand.

“Nice to meet you, Dave,” the female reporter chirps, smiling at him. “Let’s cut right to the chase. How’s Faye?”

Dave pauses. A long pause. And then he states in a cool, poised manner, “She’s good. A little embarrassed though, what with all of the commotion she caused today.”

I raise my brows. Faye gives a sudden jerk but remains silent.

“Can you tell us more about that?” the man presses. “Why did she run away?”

Dave’s lips grow even thinner. “She didn’t run away.”

My brows go even higher as I look at the runaway bride in front of me.

“My daughter can be a bit of a romantic.” He gives off a chuckle that sounds so obviously fake that I’m surprised the news anchors don’t react. “She’s been planning this wedding for years, and the whole world has been along for the ride. But a few things went down this morning that made her believe it was wise to put it off for a while.”

“A . . . while?” Faye mutters, her voice thick with disbelief.

I’m even more confused as I look back at the screen. Why in all the universe is her father saying any of this? Sure, the cheating fiancé might make her look pathetic, but it would ensure that her fans remained solidly on her side. Surely that’s the point of his business?

“What things?” the female reporter asks.

Dave gives another, even faker laugh. “For one, our photographer’s flight got canceled.”

Faye is trembling again. “No, no, no.”

“Ouch,” the male reporter says. “Now, I get that. Because if my photographer got delayed at my wedding, I would totally call it off. But I’m certain there was a backup or two somewhere in that massive venue.”

Dave frowns. “Yes, but Faye has long dreamed to work with that particular photographer, so she wasn’t happy about that. There were other things, too. The aisle was lined with roses and not lilies. Oversight from our wedding planner. And her chief bridesmaid got a huge stain on her dress. Faye was determined to walk down the aisle with her sister, and that kind of hampered things.”

The reporters are silent. From their expressions, I can tell they are thinking the same thing: Bullshit.

“I guess, we can say a lot of things went wrong,” Dave says after the awkward pause. “But look, you don’t know my daughter. There’s only so much you can actually know hearing her sing and go on a couple of interviews. Only I understand how much she loves love, how she’s been looking forward to this day her whole life. Her wedding has to be perfect.”

Do his words ring painfully untrue and detached to everyone else too?

The pink-haired guy gives an awkward chuckle. “Well, I guess the celebrities who flew in from around the world to attend the wedding might take some solace in that.”

Dave’s frown deepens. “We are surrounded by a host of kind, supportive people who understand what we’re going through and want nothing more than to show up for us in any way they can. Right now, Ben and my daughter are devastated that they couldn’t get married today, but they know for sure that it’s going to happen soon.”

“Yeah, well,” the female reporter says, “Thank you for joining us, Mr. Strummer. Send our regards to Faye.”

The call disconnects, and both anchors focus on the audience.

“I know I said I’d only believe it when I heard it from her father,” Pink Hair says. “But . . . wow.”

“Yeah. If her dress suddenly caught fire or she fainted just before she walked down the aisle, I guess everyone would understand the sudden change of plans. But to abruptly stop a wedding that cost about half a million dollars just because you wanted lilies instead of roses and your dream photographer canceled? Kind of bratty, if you ask me.”

“X does not disagree,” Pink Hair says with barely suppressed glee. “It’s going wild. Here’s a post now.” The screen flashes with the message, “I’ve adored Faye since I was sixteen. Always thought of her as the perfect celeb musician. Didn’t know she’d turn out to be one of those stuck-up bitches who has no consideration for anyone but herself.”

“I sympathize with the writer,” the woman quips. “It’s been eight hours since the wedding was officially canceled, and Faye has still not released an official apology for how it went down.”

Pink Hair chuckles. “Don’t be mean. She’s probably still weeping about the flower situation.”

As both of them start to guffaw, I decide I’ve had enough. Crossing over the room, I switch the TV off. I expect her to argue, but she doesn’t. She merely stares down at her feet with red-rimmed eyes.

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