TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 13TH. GRACELAND WEDDING CHAPEL, LAS VEGAS BOULEVARD. 16:35.
This must be the most uncomfortable chair Skip has ever sat in. Skip crosses her legs and immediately uncrosses her legs again when this causes the hard plastic to dig into her pelvic bones, slumping down a bit instead to release some of the tension in her lower back and willing the officiator to talk faster.
'Do you, Hailey Spencer,'
There's a faint crinkling sound to her left, and Skip bolts upright at the thought that Juliette appears to have gotten impatient enough to open up a bag of crisps in the middle of a wedding ceremony. She turns her head, ready to confiscate the smuggled-in snack before they are thrown out of the venue, but there are no crisps in sight. Instead, Juliette is holding a piece of paper and a ballpoint pen she must have nicked at the reception. The tip of her tongue is sticking out of her lips in that particular way of hers, and Skip instinctively thinks: Oh no.
'take this man, Roger Marshall,'
Now filled with an unfortunately familiar dread, Skip wrenches her gaze to the two strangers at the altar again, three if you count the officiator, and starts tapping her foot in a vain effort to take her mind off of what Juliette could possibly be plotting this time. The tapping does nothing to soothe her mind, but it does earn her a vitriolic stink eye from the lady sitting diagonally in front of her, not that this would deter her in any way. If this lady wanted to attend a classy, quiet, and orderly wedding with classy, quiet, and orderly guests, maybe she should have tried harder to deter her friend from marrying in Vegas the week of Valentine's.
'to be your lawfully wedded husband,'
A crumpled piece of paper is unceremoniously shoved into Skip's lap. She throws a quick, confused side-glance at Juliette, but Juliette is staring straight ahead, a manic grin on her face that has nothing to do with the happy couple at the front.
'to have and to hold, in sickness and health,'
As discreetly as her meaty hands allow her to, Skip starts unfolding the small piece of paper. Fingers smoothing out the last crinkle, she takes a deep breath, sending a silent prayer to God, to Jesus, to whoever is willing to hear out a sinner, before reading the delicate cursive letters scribbled on the cheap notebook paper.
'to love, honour and obey, in good times and woe,'
Her prayer goes unheard.
'for richer or poorer'
Skip blinks, rubs her eyes, and blinks again, but the lines unwaveringly stay the same. 'You’ve got to be kidding me,' she mutters, all careful decorum discarded in the face of catastrophe.
'keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live?'
Skip shakes her head. No. No way. This was supposed to be recon. She turns to Juliette, desperate denial nesting in her chest, but she can tell by the wide grin on Juliette's lips that there is nothing Skip can do to stop what has been set in motion.
'I do,' the bride sobs, and around them, the room of strangers erupts into cheers.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 14TH. EL CORTEZ HOTEL & CASINO. 15:06.
'You’ve got a long track record of being an impulsive idiot,' Skip says casually as she watches Juliette dance around the small hotel room in her long, glittering white gown, 'but this, this is by far the most idiotic, insane, brain-dead thing you have ever suggested.'
Juliette continues twirling, her lips stretched into a wide grin. 'And yet you’re going to go along with it.' Her arms are spread out, fingers reaching for the stars or maybe just for the mouldy ceiling. The wide sleeves of her dress flutter along with the movement of her arms like wings.
Skip takes a deep breath and briefly indulges in the vision of Juliette flying off into the horizon with a flock of seagulls before she forces her eyes back to the dancing woman. 'You look like a harpy.'
'Do you feel entranced by me, sailor?' Juliette asks with a simper and rapidly blinks her long, fake eyelashes.
Skip scoffs. 'That’s sirens, idiot.'
'Tomayto, tomahto,' Juliette shrugs, already back to admiring the way the room’s light reflects in the glittering stones on her dress. 'I can’t believe they had such a cute dress for rent here. I always thought Vegas weddings were cheap and tacky.'
Skip raises her left eyebrow, gaze skittering over the plastic gemstones sewn into the fabric with both disdain and disbelief. Knowing that this is an argument she will not win, Skip simply closes her eyes in resignation before the glittery tulle can permanently blind her. 'I thought spouses weren’t supposed to see each other before the ceremony.'
Juliette fakes a gasp. 'Oh no, how could I forget! Seven years of bad luck.'
Skip rolls her eyes. 'That’s broken mirrors. We’ll just have a tattered marriage.'
'A tattered marriage?' Juliette repeats amusedly. 'I never knew you were so superstitious.'
'Broken marriage or not, it doesn’t matter,' Skip says flatly. 'I’m only marrying you for your money. And the chapel’s money. Which we could have easily acquired without getting married. On Valentine's Day. Like saps.'
Juliette snorts. 'Duh.' She tucks the loosened locks of her hair back into the carefully pinned and tiara-adorned monstrosity on her head. 'But this is much more fun.'
'Fun,' Skip repeats dryly. 'Are you sure you didn't decide to get a Valentine's Vegas wedding while dressed up like an oversized disco ball just to spite your mother?'
Juliette shrugs. 'I do a lot out of spite.'
She plucks at Skip’s tie until it looks nice and crisp, only to ruin it when she starts using it to tug Skip towards the door. 'Come on, we have a show to run.'
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 14TH. GRACELAND WEDDING CHAPEL, LAS VEGAS BOULEVARD. 17:25.
The officiant pronounces them lawfully wed, and, with machine-like precision, Juliette lets the waterworks loose. Mascara rivulets stream down her face, and Skip is at once certain Juliette dedicated a considerable amount of time last night to testing different mascaras and picking out the least water-resistant brand she could find for exactly this purpose.
Skip touches the sides of Juliette’s face, covering both of her mouths from the spectators’ view as she leans in to fake a deep kiss. Cheers erupt and Skip whispers: 'You absolute drama queen.'
'What can I say,' Juliette whispers back, dabbing at her tear-stained cheeks with the embroidered handkerchief she miraculously pulled out of the sleeves of her dress. 'I’m a performer at heart.'
'What heart?' Skip snorts, smoothly moving her arm around Juliette when she notices a cameraman to her right side.
Juliette doesn’t deign to respond, instead breaking out in big, dramatic sobs and leaning into Skip just as the shutter of the camera goes off. A perfectly positioned shot.
Skip can tell that Juliette is hiding her laughter, letting it shake her shoulders as she mimics crying into Skip’s collarbone.
Perfect. Skip turns to the nearest staff member with a sheepish smile and a spiel of: sorry, sir, her wife needs a moment to calm down, would it be alright for the two of them to go to one of the backrooms for just a bit? Oh, thank you very much, sir. If you could just unlock this door, the two of them would be back out in a couple of minutes. Thank you so much, sir.
And just like that, Skip leads her wife inside the backroom, the staff member’s keys and wallet resting comfortably in the sleeve of Juliette's rented wedding gown.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 14TH. EL CORTEZ HOTEL & CASINO. 18:26.
Skip is sitting on her bed back at the hotel, admiring their spoils.
The loot is incredible.
Juliette drapes herself over Skip’s shoulders, fingers posed to pluck a wad of cash from the coffer resting on Skip’s knees. Skip swats her hand away.
Juliette pouts. 'What a stingy spouse I have.'
'I’ll be a stingy widow, if you don’t keep your snotty hands to yourself,' Skip snaps, but the edge is softened as she turns back to count the money. Her fingers sift through the papers in something approaching reverence.
Juliette laughs. 'I told you I only have great ideas.'
'You’ve had one good idea,' Skip corrects, but Juliette is not to be deterred.
'Plastic peonies,' she croons ecstatically, her long, intricately manicured fingernails pressing into Skip’s shoulders like needles. They decorated the room with bright pink plastic peonies, and I’ve got a hard drive filled with pictures of it all. Oh, my mother will hate it.'
She leans back, her eyes trailing over the array of kitschy, ugly postcards on the table that she had slipped into the sleeves of her dress after the ceremony. She taps one card that has a picture of a neon sign with big, flower-emblazoned letters reading ‘GETTING HITCHED VEGAS STYLE’.
'I’m going to send her twenty,' she whispers excitedly. 'Imagine her face when she sees this. She will be livid.'
Skip hums. 'Think your grandmother will faint?'
'If I'm lucky, she might even have a heart attack,' Juliette sighs. 'This is the best day of my life.'
'The day is hardly over yet,' Skip chides. 'We didn’t come here just for a chapel, and it’s only a matter of time until they notice that their pockets are significantly lighter.' She closes the coffer.
'So, sloppy casino heist?' Juliette asks.
'It’s not sloppy if I’ve got a plan,' Skip argues, her eyes alight with mirth as she holds out her hand.
Juliette intertwines their fingers, the cheap wedding rings gleaming in the dim light of the seedy hotel room, and pulls Skip up. 'Well then, let's hear this plan you've got, partner.'
Hozzászólások