Dicking Around - one woman, three men, two thieves, a pissed of ex-girlfriend and the bride for hell...coming soon from Evernight Publishing...
Bridget rounded on his sister. “You’re late.”
“It’s a rehearsal dinner for god sake. It’s not like it’s the real thing that we have to suffer through tomorrow.” Carlisle was tired from work and sex and men and the last thing she needed was dealing with her sister. They had never gotten along. There was no point trying to play the happy family now.
“This is what I hate about you, Carlisle. You never take important things seriously.” Bridget then recited a long list of her sister’s faults.
Carlisle yawned as Bridget went off on another of her tirades about Carlisle’s lax attitude on life. Whine. Bitch. Moan. She looked at the ever-so-perfect-not-a-hair-out-of-place Neil. The Groom. Sucker. She heard Bridget draw a breath.
“Finished?”
Bridget sighed. “This is why I didn’t want you in the wedding party.”
“And lord knows I thank you for that as bilious green is so not my color.”
“Bitch!” Bridget yelled and stamped her foot.
“Cow,” Carlisle responded overly politely.
“Girls, please!” Lydia Carson came up to her daughters.
Bridget turned on her sister. “She started it, mother. You should have seen how I found her at her house the other day. She was nak—”
Carlisle yanked her sister’s arm so she banged into her. She whispered in Bridget’s ear. “Say another word and I’ll tell the man of plastic Neil about your liaison with Mr. Phelps and the female hockey coach in the nurse’s room at school. Can you say strap-on, Bridg?”
Their mother stared at them. “What is going on between you girls?”
“Nothing.” They both said at the same time.
“Try and act with a bit of decorum, Carlisle.”
Yeah it’s always my fault. Never perfectly anal Bridget’s.
“Have you got a dress for tomorrow?” Both women looked at Carlisle.
“Yes of course.” Sorta. Kinda. Well—no. I probably should look into that.
“Are you going to have an escort?” Her mother asked.
“Why?” Carlisle said it purely to piss her mother off. Lydia saw the world in perfectly coordinated male-female couples.
“Well, he should be here.”
Carlisle snorted. “To listen to this crap?”
“Carlisle!”
“Actually, I have three ‘escorts’.”
Bridget roiled her eyes. “Disgusting.”
“What? Pissed off that you’re stuck with marrying a Ken doll?”
“Neil is not!”
“Whatever.” Carlisle turned to her mother. She had no connection other than blood to these women and at times even that wasn’t enough. “Do I have to stay for this?”
“Maybe it would be better if you left,” Lydia responded. “And do please remember to bring those data sticks with you tomorrow.”
Carlisle had placed all the old family albums on USB sticks. Her mother wanted to show them at the wedding. And bore everyone’s socks off.
“Great. Yep, Sure. Whatever.” I’m free!
“Drop dead,” the bride muttered at Carlisle as she passed by.
“After you, Barbie.”
Bridget rounded on his sister. “You’re late.”
“It’s a rehearsal dinner for god sake. It’s not like it’s the real thing that we have to suffer through tomorrow.” Carlisle was tired from work and sex and men and the last thing she needed was dealing with her sister. They had never gotten along. There was no point trying to play the happy family now.
“This is what I hate about you, Carlisle. You never take important things seriously.” Bridget then recited a long list of her sister’s faults.
Carlisle yawned as Bridget went off on another of her tirades about Carlisle’s lax attitude on life. Whine. Bitch. Moan. She looked at the ever-so-perfect-not-a-hair-out-of-place Neil. The Groom. Sucker. She heard Bridget draw a breath.
“Finished?”
Bridget sighed. “This is why I didn’t want you in the wedding party.”
“And lord knows I thank you for that as bilious green is so not my color.”
“Bitch!” Bridget yelled and stamped her foot.
“Cow,” Carlisle responded overly politely.
“Girls, please!” Lydia Carson came up to her daughters.
Bridget turned on her sister. “She started it, mother. You should have seen how I found her at her house the other day. She was nak—”
Carlisle yanked her sister’s arm so she banged into her. She whispered in Bridget’s ear. “Say another word and I’ll tell the man of plastic Neil about your liaison with Mr. Phelps and the female hockey coach in the nurse’s room at school. Can you say strap-on, Bridg?”
Their mother stared at them. “What is going on between you girls?”
“Nothing.” They both said at the same time.
“Try and act with a bit of decorum, Carlisle.”
Yeah it’s always my fault. Never perfectly anal Bridget’s.
“Have you got a dress for tomorrow?” Both women looked at Carlisle.
“Yes of course.” Sorta. Kinda. Well—no. I probably should look into that.
“Are you going to have an escort?” Her mother asked.
“Why?” Carlisle said it purely to piss her mother off. Lydia saw the world in perfectly coordinated male-female couples.
“Well, he should be here.”
Carlisle snorted. “To listen to this crap?”
“Carlisle!”
“Actually, I have three ‘escorts’.”
Bridget roiled her eyes. “Disgusting.”
“What? Pissed off that you’re stuck with marrying a Ken doll?”
“Neil is not!”
“Whatever.” Carlisle turned to her mother. She had no connection other than blood to these women and at times even that wasn’t enough. “Do I have to stay for this?”
“Maybe it would be better if you left,” Lydia responded. “And do please remember to bring those data sticks with you tomorrow.”
Carlisle had placed all the old family albums on USB sticks. Her mother wanted to show them at the wedding. And bore everyone’s socks off.
“Great. Yep, Sure. Whatever.” I’m free!
“Drop dead,” the bride muttered at Carlisle as she passed by.
“After you, Barbie.”
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