Page 25 of Dirty Daria
My theory on that is that he wants an excuse to spend time with her. And chicks think weddings are romantic. Maybe he’s hoping she’ll change her mind about them being together if they share a romantic day. Because, no matter what Mack says, he is still head over heels in love with her.
I’m not going to lie; Daria has this kind of badass persona about her. Adon’t fuck with mevibe that is scarily effective. Maybe it’s because she’s a bar owner—always having to break up fights or throw drunk guys out on their ass. Makes me wonder why she’s not in law enforcement.
Until I remember she’s not a US citizen—something I always forget. We’ve never really talked about her citizenship status, I know she’s not illegal, because she owns a business, but maybe something else in her past prevents her from as much.
A rapid knock sounds on the door before it opens, the wedding coordinator pokes her head in and tells us we have twenty minutes until go time.
Finally.
I don’t understand why we had to be here so early. I suppose the longer that I have available to me to keep eyes on David, the better. Really, I should be using this time to try and find anyone else who could be involved in this with him. Problem is, I haven’t interacted with anyone outside of these yahoos in the room with me.
I decide to take a quick walk around the church to see what I can before everything begins; slipping out before any of the other guys have a chance to stop me or see me to do it.
The large circular hall that stretches around the chapel portion of the church is quiet, all I hear are my footsteps duly echoing on the polished wood floors. I’m surprised I don’t see more people milling about. They’re expected to have close to six hundred people in attendance, with a wedding that size you’d think guests would be more obvious.
The late afternoon sun is starting to leave shadows around the outside of the building and darken the inside. I slow my pace to take in more of my surroundings, noting exits and corridors, other anterooms, and closed doors. I notice a few men from the bureau, but barely spare them a glance as I pass by. It won’t do for me to acknowledge their presence, or vice versa. To the guests, they are security and I’m in the wedding party. Nothing more.
Who I don’t see anywhere are Mack and Daria and I’m not sure if that should worry me or not. I’m going to guess that they are inside and seated already. I open one of the doors leading into the chapel and peek in, shocked to see that most seats are filled. What kind of organization must it take to pull off an event like this? Better yet, how do they even know this many people?
I’m assuming David and Laurel registered for gifts. I hadn’t bought one yet when I found out about David’s extracurricular activities and now, I don’t plan to. But this means they had to register for hundreds of items, if not more. I shake my head to try and clear it. Why do I care? What does it matter? Fuck David and his wedding plans.
It takes about five minutes for me to complete the circle of the outer hallway perimeter. Whatever it is that I was looking for, I don’t find it. I make my way back to the room where David and the other groomsmen are waiting. Opening the door to hear David and groomsman number three making a five-hundred-dollar bet on whether number three will get laid during the reception, or whether it will be after in his hotel room.
I wonder if I ever really knew any of these guys at all. Because if they haven’t changed, it means I have. I’m not against having fun. Or getting laid. But betting on whether you can get a girl to screw you in the bathroom leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Bile rises in my throat as David slaps the guy on the back as a show of good luck.
David looks up at me and smiles. “Is it about that time, Reedy-boy?” He uses a nickname from college that I abhorred, and he knows it.
I return a more fake smile. “If it weren’t your wedding day, I’d smack that smile off your face for calling me that.”
Anger flashes across his face. It’s fleeting, and he’s quick to mask it with a well-practiced smile. I know what to look for now in expressions and with emotions thanks to FBI training. To do so, I have to view David as though he’s a stranger even though I know him so well. Because this other side of him, the one that will make bets on sex with women and help sell them into sexual slavery, this guy I don’t fucking know at all.
14
Quinn
I keep wondering if there is something more I should be feeling about David getting married today. Not that we were everthatserious. But heismy ex,andhe was my longest relationship at three months.
What can I say? I get bored easily, my attention wanes—turns out guys don’t like it when you don’t pay attention to them. Reed is the longest I’ve ever been interested in a guy. And before you say it, no, it’s not just because I want what I can’t have.
It’s more than that.
Way more.
Reed is like the prize at the bottom of the Cracker Jack box. Or the chocolatey goodness in the middle of the Tootsie Pop. It’s all yumminess to get there, and then it’s even more delicious once you are.
Anyway, from a romantic standpoint, I don’t care that David is getting married. You know, likeOh no, my ex is getting married and I’m still single.It’s more of aWhat the fuck? My ex is a reprehensible waste-oid of a human and is getting married while I’m still single.Or maybe my being single has nothing at all to do with it, and it’s just that someone actually loves him enough to marry him without knowing the truth about him.
Unless shedoesknow the truth about him and the whole family is involved in the trafficking. But that would mean she knows about his debts and I can’t imagine that would be okay with her or her family.
Ha!
I have to laugh at myself. That I assume the embarrassment line is drawn for Laurel’s family at debt and not kidnapping and selling people is crazy.
I pace back and forth in my living room trying to think the entire situation through. Whether I ever noticed anything with David or his behavior. If there was something I could have done differently to prevent all this.
I got nothing.
My heels click on the tile floor as I take twelve steps in one direction, pivot, then twelve in the other.
