Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I nod and reach for the pen he holds out. “No problem.” I have to push the front of the gaudy dress down just to get my arm to the desk.
Zack leans back, chuckling. “Pardon my rudeness, but that dress is awful. I’m only saying that out loud because I can tell you agree.”
I sigh as I open the folder. “Yes. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It goes perfectly with my day.”
“Why did you choose it if you hate it?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t choose anything, including the groom.”
“Ah.” He points toward the papers. “Sign.”
After reading through the fine print, I gladly sign and initial everywhere I’m supposed to before pushing it back toward him. “Do you have some scissors I could borrow?”
He frowns as he opens the center drawer of his desk to pull out a pair. Before handing them to me, he says, “You’re not going to stab yourself or cut your wrists, are you?”
I cackle. It sounds strange coming from my lips. It’s been a while since I last smiled, let alone laughed. “No. I promise.”
He turns them around and holds the handles toward me. “Good. The blood would be awful to clean up, plus I don’t want to deal with the paramedics and police tonight,” he teases.
I laugh again as I bend forward and start cutting the bottom of my dress.
Zack gasps as he rises onto his feet, plants his hands on the desk, and leans over. “You’re seriously going to cut that dress? You really must hate it.”
“Hate is such a mild word,” I mutter as I fight with the ugly tulle. It’s going to take me forever to cut through the layers so I can remove at least the bottom third of this ugly mess. Eventually I’m going to have to leave this building, and when I do, I want to be able to run without being so encumbered.
I’ve only managed to cut a slit several inches up the front when a door opens. Yet another man enters my line of sight. At the same time, the room fills with the sound of loud club music. When I look around him, I realize the door he opened leads directly into the main club. The lighting is dim, and women are jammed onto what I assume is a dance floor.
His gaze lands on me, and I swear he doesn’t blink. His jaw drops. After a few seconds, he turns his attention to Zack. “Uhhh… Sorry to interrupt, Zack, but we have a situation at the bar.”
Zack responds, “A situation like you’re out of vodka or there’s a girl fight?”
“The latter.”
Zack groans. “Thanks, Roger. I’ll be right there.” He stands and rounds his desk, stopping in front of me. “Don’t cut anything besides that gaudy tulle, you hear me?”
I giggle again, feeling lighter. “Yes.”
Zack follows Roger out the door, closing it behind him. I’m grateful because I’m on my last nerve, and the volume in that club might drive me to drink.
As if I’ve ever had a drink before. Zack mentioned vodka. I’ve never even tasted the stuff. Maybe I should. Maybe tonight is a good night to overindulge.
I shake my head as I lower my attention back to cutting the front of this dress. Other than the fact that it’s white, it reminds me of the curtains my grandmother had in the kitchen when I was a kid. Every time she opened the window, the thin tulle would blow in the breeze.
I miss her. Life was simple back then. Now life is a shitshow, and I don’t see a way out of the mess I’m in. It’s great that the women out front felt sorry for me and gave me cover long enough to convince the bouncer to let me in. It was very kind of them, and Lord knows I haven’t experienced a lot of kindness since my grandmother passed.
I was twelve at the time, and my world flipped upside down. I feel like I’ve been living inside a tornado ever since, spinning around in dizzying circles. Sometimes I get hit by debris, but I never get kicked out of the funnel cloud.
Cutting through the layers of silk and tulle is cathartic. I’ve had the urge to destroy this ugly dress ever since I first set eyes on it. It looks like the sort of prom dress girls wore in the mid-eighties. I know this from pictures. And it’s not surprising, since that was when my mother-in-law married my father-in-law. In this dress.
Well, it was sort of this dress. When the bitch pulled it out of storage for me to wear, she had to have it altered to fit me, which makes it even more hideous.
The seamstress who came to the house two weeks ago was told to simply take out the stitching on both sides of the dress and add several inches of taffeta so it would go around me.