FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Full Summary in Profile!! Please enjoy, please review.
Chapter 1
Bridezillas.
Evil, difficult, unplesant, she-devil, perfectionist brides. Obsessed with her wedding, a Bridezilla is determined that it will be her perfect day and will disregard the feelings of her family, bridesmaids and even her groom in her quest for the perfect wedding.
Spooky!
I’m not worried about my best friend Moo (Molia Hart) becoming a Bridezilla, and I’m not concerned that some switch will flip in me and I’ll start climbing the sides of wedding cakes beating my chest and demanding things to be done my way. I won’t be a Bridezilla.
I’m worried Momzillas. Crazy mothers who want all ten fingers and all ten toes deep in the wedding cake. They want to find your dress, pick your flowers, throw your parties, pick your groom. Momzillas. Hell, I think I have had a Momzilla since I was five. I’ve decided to call my mother, and Moo’s mom, Paulina Hart, potential Momzillas. Well, maybe Moo’s mom should be called a Devilzilla.
My mother, Marianna Ramos, is a funny creature of habit and narrow-mindedness, and was slow to learn from the past. She’s always been judgmental and abrasive. She told me nearly every day that I would never get married: You’re too gorda, Estela! Stop eating donuts, Estela, no man wants a chubby wife. Ay, you talk to much Estela; you’ll never find a man who likes that. While her comments hurt in the past, I was numb to them now because I was getting married and there was nothing that she could do about it.
On Christmas, after she formally met Caleb and knew that I was very serious about him, my mother introduced me to a man she worked with at Hinohosa Grocery in Queens where she had worked for nearly 27 years. I was shocked and angry when my mother introduced me to Eduardo Ruiz--it was a slap in Caleb's face and had he been there he would have bee pretty upset.
She had obviously learned nothing from the whole Dr. “Pervo” fiasco at Thanksgiving. She didn't understand that she couldn't trust all men whom she knew in her personal life. She thought Dr. Pervo was safe because she had known him for nearly 20 years. She must have thought: Sure, Stella would love a man who pokes around in my coocha annually, let me introduce them so that they can have lovely Hispanic babies together. Dr. Pervo turned out to be an imbalanced psychotic who turned into a stalker and had eventually shot my uncle in a rage brought on by acute psychosis—or so the psychologists said.
She doesn’t like to be reminded of Dr. Pervo, but it’s necessary. Especially when she brings home another man for me after I am happily involved in another relationship. She has since accepted Caleb and gave him her blessing to marry me, but deep down she really wants me to marry a Hispanic man. Because of her feelings toward Caleb, I won't put it past her to find another man to introduce me too.
I glanced at my diamond-studded engagement ring and smiled. Caleb had asked me to move in with him before he asked me to marry him just two months ago. The order was slightly reversed in my opinion but I didn’t care—I was getting married and I was thrilled about it.
The cab that I had taken from my meeting with Vanessa Winwright, owner of the modeling agency that gets Moo modeling gigs, pulled up in front of Caleb’s midtown apartment complex, and my future home. I paid the driver and hastily shoved the door open. Melting snow and ice sloshed under my boot as I stepped out. I waved to the doorman, Sal Carpenter, as I closed the cab door.
“Careful Ms. Ramos!” Sal cried as I charged toward him with determination. I didn’t heed his warning and slid across a puddle of water and smacked into him. Sal, who was beefy and more sure-footed than I, laughed and helped me right myself. “Why the rush?”
“Caleb’s coming home.” I answered trying not to sound as lovesick and needy as I felt. Caleb had been oversees taking pictures of the Susachi line at Milan's Fashion Week. I wasn’t familiar with Erik Susachi or his clothes, but Caleb said it was big potatoes and a great opportunity to get his name out in more European circles. He was due home today, and I was desperately eager for a hug and kiss.
“Oh yes, I saw Mr. Hood arrive!” Sal grinned. “He cut his hair.”
“What!” I cried. Horrified, I pushed through the revolving glass doors and hurried to the elevator.
Caleb had called and told me that he was thinking about getting a hair cut and I had protested. When he left, his black hair had been hanging just past his ears and did this cute little flip thing at the ends and it wouldn’t do that if it was short. I told him not to cut it too much, and he agreed that a trim was all that was necessary. If Sal had noticed a change in Caleb’s hair that meant that he had cut off more than what a trim required.
There are several things that I absolutely love about my fiancé.
First, his eyes. Caleb had these sparkly green irises that remind me, oddly, of pools fresh algae on a summer pond. They were big with glittering flecks of gold around his pupils, which was nearly impossible to see unless you were nose-to-nose with him. His eyes were penetrating, reflective, deep, and flooded with emotions that he never hid from me. If I stared into his eyes hard enough I could see my reflection in his pupils, which was sometimes good and sometimes bad depending on my hair and depending on how much I loved my body that moment. Caleb says a lot through his eyes. I knew when he was worried about me—it had taken me a bit to catch on to that look, though; I knew when he was thinking about how much he loved me; and I knew by “the look” when he was horny as hell.
Second, his innate ability to calm and ignite me with the slightest touch. He knew when I was getting riled and angry; he knew that I had the tendency to pitch a royally immature fit, and he knew that all he needed to do was stroke his finger against any area of exposed skin and my anger would melt into pure desire. When he touched me like that, we normally ended in a quick tussle beneath the sheets and had a long lazy nap afterward.
Third, his unconditional love for me; and the way he fought me to have me. He fought through my insecurities and my imperfections and got me to realize that it was okay to be a bit bigger and still be a superb lover. It had taken him months to woo me to really look at him, and months to get me to trust him enough to where I could just take off my clothes and streak around the apartment in wild abandon without caring if he saw.
Finally, I love Caleb—at the risk of sounding really cheesy and pathetic—just because I do. I love the fact that he wooed me with my poison—caramel-iced Krispy Kreme cake donuts—and still brings me donuts home even though he doesn’t really have to woo me anymore. I love the fact that he can call me his Sexy Cow in bed and I don’t take offense. In the past I would have been scared for life by that comment, but now I just laugh, give a little moo—to his vast enjoyment—and offer up some more free milk.
He would often sigh while cuddling me afterward and touch the diamond engagement ring on my finger. He normally said something like, “This is the receipt that shows that I have technically bought the sexiest brown cow in the world.”
I was giddy as I slipped the key into the door knob of the three bedroom studio-loft that I was to move into next week. I twisted the key and shoved the door open. I could hear the roar of a sports game on the 52-inch plasma screen HDTV and knew he was home. I closed the door quietly and slipped off my boots. I set my portfolio and purse on the side table and unzipped my coat. Trigger, my cat, raced toward me with a meow. I picked him up briefly and gave his head a little pat before I set him down and headed into the living room.
Caleb was lying on the sofa, a quilt and afghan pulled over his head; he was snoring lightly. I smiled at the soft pink underside of his left foot, which was the only part of his body I could see. I gently ran my finger over his arch and smiled when his toes curled. I did it again and he pulled his foot beneath the blankets.
“Caleb,” I murmured as I walked around the couch and sat down beside him. “Welcome home, baby.” I rubbed his shoulder and his groaned. I bent my head and carefully drew the blanket down from his face. He his hair was hidden beneath a grey beanie cap. I smiled and kissed his forehead. “So you cut a lot off, I guess.” He moaned and shifted toward me. I ran my hand down his neck and bent to kiss his cheek. He turned his head slowly and our lips touched. His warm hand reached up to cup my cheek. I smiled and cupped his jaw tenderly. “You feel warm.” We kissed and I let my tongue touch his. He came fully awake and sat up sharply; his hands gripped my shoulders as he set me back roughly.
“What’s wrong?” I gasped. As he blinked rapidly and stared at me.
“Wow, Stelly… you are very good at that kissing thing. Hoo-ra, baby.”
“ADAM!” I stood to my feet and stared down at Caleb’s twin brother. He laughed and fell back against the pillows, he then broke into a fit of coughs; deep, throaty, mucus-filled coughs. Jesus, he was sick, and I had just tongued my fiancé’s twin brother.
“What’s going on?” Caleb’s voice came from behind me; I turned to see him wrapped in a towel, water droplets were on his shoulder and he had a q-tip hanging out of his ear. “Hi baby.” He twisted the q-tip and took it out. I noticed that his wet hair was curled around his ears like I liked. He came into the room slowly his eyes on me.
“What is he doing here?” I demanded as I pointed at his Navy SEAL brother. “Shouldn’t he be off… floating the Nile looking for killer spiders or something? Why is he here? Why is…” Adam broke out into a fight of wild coughing and I went to his side and sat down. I put my hand to his forehead and he moaned and leaned against me. “Are you on medicine?”
“Just some Mexican lovin’,” he cooed as he caressed my knee. Annoyed I slapped his hand away and stood up. “No, Stelly!” He moaned reaching for me. I went to Caleb who was watching us with a smile.
“I thought he was you and I kissed him.”
The smile vanished. “You what?”
“I didn’t know… I thought it was you! He snores just like you, he lays just like you, his toes curl just like yours, he looks like you—I thought he was you!”
Caleb stared at me for a minute and I couldn’t tell if he was upset. “I have a scar, Es.” He pointed to the cleft in his chin where there was a little scar.
“I know, I’m sorry.” I wrapped my arms around him. “I really am—I was just so excited for you to be home, I… I didn’t look.” Caleb nodded and put his arms around me and kissed my neck just under my ear, he loved that spot for some reason. I smiled as I felt his teeth nip me just before he drew away.
“Who's a better kisser, me or him?” Adam asked. Caleb looked at me and I looked at Adam. He had rolled onto his stomach and was staring at me with curiosity. I looked back at Caleb who was waiting.
“Caleb’s a better kisser and besides, you and I…”
“You put your tongue in my mouth.”
“God, I don’t want to hear this.” Caleb said as he walked away. I hurried after him, ignoring Adam’s calls for me.
“You’re better!” I cried.
“I don’t care,” Caleb said. “Adam has the flu and pneumonia—he wasn’t recuperating well in D.C.”
Jesus, I had just given myself the flu! I couldn’t get sick now, I had too much to do!
Here's my to-do list:
1) Plan Moo’s bachelorette party (which included a trip to Tangible Pleasures, a sex shop that Moo buys her kinky stuff from, to talk with Madame Cherry, the owner)
2) Testify in court against Gregory Waller (the father of my friend Olivia "Olive" Hermann’s fiancé, who will go to trial for murdering co-eds that he was sleeping with in effort to keep Christian as his sole heir)
3) Figure out a good date for Caleb and I to get married (he put the decision in my hands)
4) Go to D.C. and meet my father, General Andrew Harper(director of the Central Intelligence Agency, who had been absent from my life for 26 years).
There was much more, too much. I couldn't get sick now or I'd never get anything done.
“STELLY!” Adam moaned from the living room.
I turned my frantic eyes to Caleb who shrugged his shoulder as he dried off and tossed his towel to the overflowing hamper. He grabbed a pair of boxer briefs and pulled them on.
“Stelly, please!”
I frowned at the disgusting gargle of Adam’s phlegm-y coughs.
I looked at Caleb again and he laughed. “This isn’t funny! Does he really expect me to fuss and baby him?”
“You already did!” Caleb cried.
“Is this about the kiss? That was an accident!”
“It’s not about the kiss, Es,” Caleb smiled. “You sat down and fussed over him and now he knows you’ll do it each time he calls.”
“STELLY!” Adam’s voice was whimpered but loud enough to tug at all the right strings. Groaning in frustration, I went back into the living room. He really was a pathetic sight, as he laid shivering, and hugging a pillow to his chest. His body jerked in a coughing fit and he twisted onto his side and continued to hack. I sat down beside him and rolled my eyes as he put the pillow back under his head and reached for me.
“You’re a grown man, Adam Hood.” I reminded him. He opened his eyes slowly.
“I’ll take my tongue bath now, Stelly.” His cocky grin infuriated me and I flicked him in his forehead. He whimpered and apologized on a fit of coughing. I couldn’t stay mad at him for long. He really wasn’t that pathetic, it was almost cute the way he whimpered and moaned. Caleb came out of the bedroom dressed with a magazine under his arm. He stopped at the couch and looked down at his brother.
“We’re different in regard to being sick, Es,” Caleb said. “I’m more solitary and less needy when I'm sick, which I suppose you could say is my opposite—in some respects. And Adam, who is usually solitary and tough, turns into a blubbering baby in need of every ounce of your attention at the slightest sniffle. Mom spoiled him.”
“Why didn’t you just fly home to Audrey?” I asked Adam.
“Because you were closer.”
“Who says I’m going to take care of you?”
He stared at me covering his mouth to block the little coughs that spurted out from his clenched lips. “But… you’re my sister.”
“Not yet,” I grumbled.
“You’re right.” His hand came against my arm. “Sisters and brothers don’t French kiss.”
I tried to get up but he wound his arm around me and kept me at his side.
“I’ll stop!” He cried.
I rolled my eyes at his weak promise. He wouldn’t stop. He would always hold this over my head just like he did with other embarrassing things I did. I peed in my pants one time because he had scared me so badly; the next day he bought me a Suzie Wets A-lot. More recently he overheard (ie: Caleb played) my drunken message to Caleb and heard me gush about how much I loved him and heard me make up jingles about Twinkie sung to random songs, including Sir Mix-A-Lots’ Baby Got Back.
Adam liked holding things over my head and this would be no exception and I feared what he’d do to make me remember.
“Take care of me,” Adam whimpered. “I promise we don’t have to French anymore.”
“Adam, the more you talk about it the more I don’t want to help you feel better.”
“Okay.” He sniffed.
“Okay?”
“I’m done talking about it,” he coughed.
“Okay, let me make you something warm to drink.” I drew the blankets up over his shoulder and patted his shoulder. I stood slowly and headed around the couch to the kitchen.
“Stelly?” Adam croaked.
“What?”
“Could you… swish your tongue it in a little bit? I’d like a little bit more of Sweet Sweet Estela.”
I looked at Caleb who was pretending to read his magazine, but I knew by the smile on his face that he was enjoying Adam’s torment of me.
Adam laughed lightly. “Okay, I’m done.”
I rolled my eyes and went into the kitchen. There was no way he was done—no way at all.
PS. Please note that I have changed Estela's age. She's now 26 years old. I realized that I was writing her a bit younger than 30 and wanted to change her age to fit. If you see any references to her being 29, please let me know so I can fix them. I'm pretty sure I've caught them all. Thanks!!! Also... because I lowered Es' age, Caleb and all of the other supporting characters are now younger as well.