Page 29 of Dirty Daria
“Is there anyone here that doesn’t?” I ask.
“I love them.”
I hear a voice from behind me that I swear sounds like Quinn, but I know can’t be because we told her not to come.
And she wasn’t invited.
I look to Daria who is facing me and can see who’s behind me, she shrugs in return.
I turn to Mack. “Don’t look at me, I’ve got a date,” he says wrapping an arm around Daria’s waist. She steps into him and places her palm over his chest in a move that looks like they’ve practiced it for years.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, close my eyes, and turn around.
“Before you yell at me, I figured you could use my help. You never know when you might need it. Don’t forget how helpful I was at the party. And since I’m here I can be your date because I can see that you don’t have one. And obviously, looking at Mack and D here, it helps to have one. You know, to blend in and stuff, so people don’t know who you actually are. And shouldn’t you really just be more impressed with the fact that I was able to get in? I mean, have you seen the security around here? Heavy duty.” Quinn runs all the sentences together, barely making sense.
“Howdidyou get in?” I ask, opening my eyes, even though it’s not really the first thing I want to say.
“I asked the guy at the gate to let me in.”
“You asked?”
She nods.
“And he did?”
She nods again.
I feel like I’m in an episode ofThe Twilight Zone. How is it that the people in my life are doing such fucked up things and getting away with it? First Mack with Daria and the restaurant. Now Quinn at the wedding. If David sees her, he’s going to know she snuck in. And he’s going to wonder why. And that’s going to be a pain in the ass for me to deal with. Which, let’s be honest, is all I’m really concerned about right now. My ass and how many pains arenotin it.
“And, now, we’d like to welcome the wedding party to the dance floor, please,” the bandleader announces from the stage. “Everyone from the wedding party to the dance floor.” He ends every last word on an up note, sounding like an overly enthusiastic radio commercial.
“Fuck. I’ll be back,” I say to Mack and Daria. “Don’t go anywhere,” I tell Quinn.
I make my way to the dance floor and find my paired bridesmaid then go through the motions while the band performs a sultry rendition of “When a Man Loves a Woman.” At first, I worry that it’s not fair to the girl I’m dancing with that I’m not into this at all. But then I realize that the only thing that isn’t fair around here is that I’m at this fucking sham of a wedding, having to pretend I’m friends with the groom, who is a fucking douchebag cocksucker and even if I could skip being here, it’s now my job to do so.
Fuck the bridesmaid.
I wonder if she’s the one number three bet on.
Just in case.
“Hey, you know that guy over there, the groomsman dancing with the brunette?” I ask, nodding in his direction.
“Connor? Yeah. Why?”
“He made a bet earlier today with the other groomsmen that he could get any one of the bridesmaids to sleep with him today, either during the reception or in his hotel room after.”
“Ohmigod, what a jerk.”
“I know, right? Tell the other girls. No one fall for his cheesy lines, it’s just to win a hundred bucks.”
I don’t tell her the real amount, because shit, I don’t know this girl or where her self-esteem is. Maybe to her it’s flattering to have a guy win five hundred bucks for sleeping with her.
“We’re only worth one hundred dollars?” She’s pissed now. Making me fear that I might be a little right about the whole self-esteem-five-hundred-dollar thing.
“Yeah,” I agree. “He’s a real prick. So, just watch out.” I squeeze her waist as a show of support and then step away from her as the song ends. By the time I’m back to where I left Mack and the girls, my bridesmaid already has her cohorts in a huddle and all are casting nasty glances in Connor’s direction.
“Show me to the bar,” I say to no one in particular. “My work here is done.”
