Page 3 of Taming Achilles

All in all, there was merrymaking. And in the middle of it all was me and Callum, wearing our kilts, and dodging the old ladies ballsy enough to try and take a peak underneath. Drunk old ladies can get a bit handsy.

I was right, proper blootered. Drunk as a skunk, as they might say.

The men from Lea’s side were all tanned skin and maybe 5 foot 8, like her brother. Many were shorter. They drank like fishes and spoke that fast-paced, plosive language that I couldn’t make heads or tails of. All I knew was that they were laughing, and I was laughing, and the bride and groom were ecstatic.

When they had started, I wasn’t sure if they were going to last. He’d been engaged to a vile witch for five years and never pulled the trigger. A couple weeks with Lea, and he was going to tie that knot by any means necessary. I thought it was a rebound. But I was wrong.

I already told them that their first child, who would come soon, if only to get Lea’s nagging mother off their backs, should be called George. Or Georgiana. Or Georgie. It was good for a boy or a girl.

Callum and I had shown them a proper Gillie Chaluim, and we bounced around a sword on the ground to a highland tune. Wouldn’t you know it? They asked for a second go-round and Lea’s relatives found sticks and other things and tried to mimic us as they went.

I was at least six whiskeys in before the lights turned low and the music switched to modern music for the single people in the audience. That was me, of course. But I wasn’t interested.

I propped up the bar, asking for another Macallan, which was on the bar menu at Callum’s insistence. She got her people’s food. And we got a good Scottish whiskey.

“A’right man?” Callum said, swaying a little as he clapped me on the back.

“Aye, I’m a’right and you?”

“Happy as a pig in shit,” He said with a smile. “Fuck, I’m a lucky bastard. A lucky bastard that’s gonna be losing my innards if I don’t get some scran.” He meant he needed to get some food.

“Yer oot yer face!” I laughed. You’re drunk!

We turned away from the bar to look at the dance floor where the bride, in her beautiful satin gown, was dancing the chicken dance with her brother.

I toasted Callum and we touched glasses. “The wedding’s pure, dead brilliant.”

“She’s amazing, aye?” He said, staring at his bride who was laughing with a cousin, or a friend, or some distant relative as they made chicken noises on the dance floor. “I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.”

The way he glanced at her was something to be envied. He adored her something fierce.

I touched the ring in my pocket, it’s jagged pieces cutting into my skin. I don’t know why I had taken it out of the box where it was stored. When I was dressing this morning, the red velvet box had called to me, and the small Edwardian ring winked at me with the little blue light dancing in the sharp Asscher centre stone.

I had held on to that ring for over five years, for a woman who demonstrated again and again that she was nothing but a liar and a cheat.

“No Simona tonight?” Callum asked, referring to my girlfri… to the woman I was seeing. The woman who was helping me forget the one who haunted me like a fucking specter.

“We aren’t serious enough for weddings.” I choked down my drink to quash the sudden ache in my chest.

“I like Simona,” Callum said, prying. “A fiery redhead suits you.”

Aye. A redhead did. Any woman who didn’t stab me in the back and lie to my face would suit me just fine.

“I’m blootered,” I told him. I’m drunk.

“Well,” Callum laughed. “Don’t get frisky and get in someone on the bridal party.”

“The bridal party is her brother.”

“That’s what I mean.” We laughed. Arsehole.

We had brought Lea and her brother Leo into Caledonia Security, not just because of his affinity with the sister. We hadn’t seen people of their skill in a very, very long time.

“What’s in your head?” Callum asked, his Scottish accent coming back the more he drank. I liked that about him. When his real nature came out, he was as highland as I was.

“I don’t know if I should say,” I smirked, looking at his bride.

“Out with it!” He punched me in the arm.

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