Good Girl Gone Bad 9

(This is my entry for the

April Fools Day Story Contest 2023

contest. Please rate and vote! Thank you!)

"Boy, you sure look like you need a drink..." I look up from the stoop where I'm sitting. The bartender FINALLY is here. Antelope Hill, Wyoming has some stupid law where liquor can't be sold on a Sunday. It's "the Lord's day". Sure everyone stocks up on Saturday and drinks at home but apparently what really God cares about is buying it...NOT drinking it. I always forget about this stupid law when I return home. Today I need to drink....a lot.

The gas station, on the edge of town, won't even sell me liquor. I hiked all the way out on I-80 in 6-inch heels to find that too. Semi-truckers were honking at me. I've never figured out if that's a compliment or an insult. I begged and the answer was still no...losing the liquor license. I might be a cop...blah blah blah. All the usual reasons. I intend on doing some serious drinking today. Luckily, Berta is working. I went to high school with her. Berta takes pity on me.

"Well, there's an underground bar The Red Pony...opens at noon. It's illegal to sell liquor but if the mayor and the police chief drink there what are you going to do?" Berta tells me. I nod. The Red Pony is a block away from my hotel. I've walked 2 miles or 3 kilometres to get out here and now I've got to go all the way back. Walking in high heels and a full-length formal ballgown isn't fun!

"Fuck" I think to myself. Still, I need a drink or several, and "The Red Pony" appears to be the only place I can get it. So I head back. I'm afraid I'll run into somebody if I head back to the hotel so I've been sitting on "The Red Pony's" doorstep for the past ½ hour.

"How can you tell...about the drink?" I ask.

"It's not very often we get a woman in a black full-length ballgown with streaked mascara sitting on our doorstep." says the woman. "I'm Olive...named for my grandmother. Come in."

"Lisel...named for my grandma too," I say. She's about ten years younger than me. My little sister's age.

"What can I get you?" she questions.

"Boilermaker," I say although I don't know why. I hate boilermakers. I'm probably subconsciously trying to punish myself, even though I've done nothing wrong...or some fucked up Freudian bullshit like that.

"I know who you are..." says Olive. "You're the oldest Pffer girl....the one who married a Chinese guy and ran off to Canada."

I take a sip of my boilermaker....there's A LOT to deal with in that statement...BUT Antelope Hill, Wyoming, where everybody knows everybody, has never been the most politically correct town SO I let it slide. Compared to most Antelope Hill residents, Olive has put it politely.

"Yup!" I say. I want a day of heavy drinking. I need a day of heavy drinking.

"Your sister is getting married today over at St. Joseph's Catholic Church...."

"Yup," I say again, everyone knows everything about everyone in Antelope Hill. I'm sure I could hear all about Olive if I wanted to. I'd just need a last name.

Olive serves me up another boilermaker because I've finished the first one. "I've heard of runaway brides...but never runaway bridesmaids."

"I'm NOT a bridesmaid....NOT even part of the wedding party." My not being part of the wedding party is why I'm sitting in a bar drinking. My voice comes out meaner than I intended. But, I'm a person and I deserve to be pissed off, especially after what's happened to me.

I think back to six am. It was time to get up, hair and make-up...all that high-fluting shit...women are supposed to do for weddings. I struggle to get into the fancy ballgown. It's the first of three gowns I'm supposed to wear throughout the day. I can't believe how much my sister's wedding is costing me. It's already cost me more than my own wedding!

At 6 am, I'm envious of my husband. He's probably still sleeping. He has work so he's back home in Saskatoon with our three kids. I've used my vacation days to come down here. I hate using vacation days to do things like this. I'd rather sit around in my sweatpants watching TV and eating pizza. Still, my little sister is getting married. I feel obligated, plus there were the parental lectures "family event" "bring the kids" "blah blah blah" All that shit...

It's too expensive to bring the kids and they have school. The hubby and kids are home, probably enjoying their weekend. I'm here in Antelope Hill, Wyoming where I was born and raised. I have to get ready for the day SO I head over to Dreams Salon to get styled.

"Sweetie...so glad to see you. Sorry, we didn't talk last night...we just had the Rehearsal Dinner and all of that...you know." I nod. My flight from Saskatoon, Canada was delayed. I got into Antelope Hill past midnight and had to get to the hotel by myself. That's hard in a town with no taxis or Uber, walking is your own option. I was supposed to stay at my parent's house but I yielded my childhood bedroom to some out-of-town cousins SO I stayed at the Days Inn by the airport. Stupid... lousy...cheap Days Inn..with the loud jets taking off and highway traffic. Why do I have to be so nice?

"Where should I sit to get my hair done?" I question. Dreams Salon is busy. All the chairs are full and stylists are attending to everyone. Mani-pedis, facials, hair----the whole works. It's been a long time since I've been pampered. Stupid ungrateful kids and bills are always in the way.

"You're NOT getting your hair done. You're NOT a bridesmaid...but if you WANT to pay to have your hair done I can't stop you. You'll have to wait till everyone else gets done though." comes a voice from the back. It's my little sister.

"What do you mean I'm not a bridesmaid....I'm your sister! You said to bring three black full-length ballgowns. " I say to Emily. I'm enraged and see red.

"Didn't you think it was a bit strange everyone else is in a lavender gown and you're in a black one? Also, I didn't ask you to buy a certain style of bridesmaid gown?" Emily questions impatiently, glaring at me as if I've done something wrong.

Well, at the time that did cross my mind BUT Emily, an Instagram influencer, has always known about "high fashion" and since I became a Mom, my fashion ideas come from Better Homes and Gardens or LL Bean. So I assumed the different bridesmaids' dresses were a high-fashioned trend because of the Pandemic...and "high fashion" is confusing.

"I'm your sister! I came all the way down here for your wedding!" I repeat, looking at my Mom to interject and stand up for me. My other sister and some of Emily's future sisters-in-law are bridesmaids

"Did you really think I would have thirteen bridesmaids? Thirteen bridesmaids is bad luck." my little sister angrily tells me. She starts yelling at the stylist to do her hair right.

"It's her wedding, Sweetie." my Mom says to me. I have a million things to say...I can't call my sister a fucking bitch on her wedding day or toss my cup of coffee on her. She's in her wedding dress. So I give my sister her wedding present. I leave without saying or tossing anything. Actions speak louder than words?

While I'm musing on the day, the bell to "The Red Pony" bar rings.

"You must be the bitch sister." a voice says to me. I turn around to see a man in a tux...a very handsome man in a tux.

"I'm Owen. The groom's brother and I need a drink," says Owen as he starts to shake my hand. He's hot, if only I wasn't married. But, this is a true story, not one of THOSE stories...if you want "Lisel does the Wedding Party" look elsewhere on this site.

"How's it going?" I ask Owen but I don't really care. They can all just go to Hell. I just want to drink. I need to drink today.

"They just got to the front of the church," he says casually.

"The wedding has been going on for an hour," I say. Thinking of my own wedding which took 45 minutes at City Hall. My hubby and I weren't poor...we just needed to spend our cash on things like food...rent...student loans. A 45-minute wedding in Calvin Klein jeans and a white t-shirt. I'm not bitter...okay so maybe I am bitter...just a bit. What girl hasn't dreamed of a princess wedding? Emily has a horse and carriage too. I know. I saw while storming out. At least the hubby and I had food and a warm apartment...also each other I guess.

"Yup...just got to the front...you know how it goes...everything in perfect order..carriage ride...a string quartet...yadda yadda. Everyone was talking about you at breakfast you know, you're scandalous," says Owen as he sips his whiskey.

"You haven't had breakfast?" questions Olive. The first person all day to be concerned about me. She'll make a good therapist. It's what she's going to school for. Olive has short green hair, a nose ring and tattoos on both arms. She's the anthesis of my prima donna sister. Olive fires up the grill and starts cooking.

"Breakfast of champions!" I say raising my boilermaker to Olive. I'm just glad that someone is concerned about me. I'd catch the first flight home BUT Antelope Hill's airport doesn't have a flight out till tomorrow.

"We have nachos and hot wings. I'll bring you both," she tells me...like I said she'll be a good therapist.

"So you saw her wedding dress?" Owen asks me. "Not really," I say as I keep drinking. I hear the bar's bell ring. My uncle Ed and Aunt Joan walk into the bar. I wave hello and they whisper to one another.

"Fuck, I'm a pariah...everyone is going to think I'm a fucking bitch.." I think to myself. Not really caring but sort of caring---mostly wishing I was home in Saskatoon with my own family. At least there I wouldn't be drinking and singing the blues. I'd be spending my precious weekend doing things around the house, like cleaning it or taking my ungrateful kids to hockey practice.

"It's a $47,000 Alexander McQueen wedding gown," Owen tells me.

Beer comes out of my nose as I snort. Forty-seven thousand dollars???? I question. I don't know what I expect him to say....47,000 M&Ms make more sense than forty-seven thousand dollars. Forty-seven thousand dollars is a decent downpayment on a house...especially in Saskatoon.

"Yup!" he confirms. "She flew all the way out to LA to that Kleinfeld store where they film "Say Yes to the Dress" and bought it. It's beautiful though."...as if that's supposed to help. I know my sister has three wedding dresses so that $47,000 dress is just one.

Olive passes me a shot of whiskey. I down it in a gulp. It's a day for heavy drinking.

Owen is drinking too. "You know I wasn't one of the twelve groomsmen and my brother Joseph wasn't invited to the wedding. So you're lucky, Emily invited you," he says lackadaisically.

"Kyle and Emily, didn't invite your brother, why?" I question. Maybe there's a good reason like he's in jail or the Army.

"He's a clerk at Target," Owen states. "Things just never panned out for him. I'm a plumber myself SO I suppose I'm lucky to be invited. You weren't at the Church...very ritzy high-end people...straight out of Vogue or something like that."

I nod. Things are starting to fall into place. Emily is marrying a cardiac surgeon and they're moving to Salt Lake City so he can work at Howard Hughes Medical Center. A five-bedroom house, with a pool and a country club membership. You've got to be in "high society" for that. This has all been on the family WhatsApp chat.

I just work as a secretary at a school...not everyone can be a cardiac surgeon. Some of us just gotta make do. Starting to understand I'm "not worthy" is painful. I drink some more of my boilermaker.

It's empty. I look for Olive to get me a new one---to my amazement she's taking orders from the sixty or seventy people who have "escaped" from the wedding. There are even two or three bridesmaids mingled in. I know since they have lavender dresses.

Olive looks stressed and tired. She doesn't deserve this treatment. She has no helper and she's been so sweet.

"You tend bar. I'll waitress." I yell to her. She flashes me the thumbs-up sign.

I grab a pad and start my "job". I'm "so happy" that everyone knows me as "the bitch sister". Still, tips aren't for me, I'm giving them to Olive. She's been so kind. She also has college to pay for. As I take orders, I listen to gossip. "Ostentatious" "prideful" and "show off" are some of the adjectives I hear describing my sister's wedding. "She's really trying to buy that man's love." "Lisel had the real wedding...poor as church mice and they've been together ten years."

More people are still trickling into the bar. My formal ballgown is covered in nacho cheese, buffalo sauce and beer. This bar must be nearing maximum occupancy.

The bell chirps again.

The six-inch heel on my cheap shoe finally snaps. I stumble forward and watch in slow-motion horror as it all lands on Olive, who has fetched some empty glasses. Trying to run from the mess, Olive stumbled and tripped.

"Hello beautiful, did heaven lose an angel? I'm Kyle" says Kyle. He's caught her. She's ensnared in his muscular arms. I'll admit my little sister married a handsome man. One who...well like I said this isn't "Lisel Does the Wedding Party".

"Olive," says Olive.

"Pleased to meet you Olive," says Kyle as he kisses her hand and sets her on her feet. Something is wrong. Kyle isn't wearing a wedding ring and my little sister isn't here to boss him around now that they're husband and wife. Surely, she should be yelling at him about the proper way to take wedding photographs.

Kyle starts using his lavender handkerchief from his tux's lapel to wipe Olive off. The unspoken chemistry between Kyle and Olive is very hot. I suppose I should be concerned about my sister but I'm not. She can go to hell.

"What about the dinner at the Country Club? I ordered a steak on the invite and I want my steak!" Owen questions loudly.

"Right...dinner at the club," says Kyle. I can tell this is the first time he's given it thought. He smiles down at Olive, with lust in his eyes. She stares back enamoured.

"Do you want to have dinner with me at the country club?" he questions.

"Sure. I'd just need a ride" says Olive.

"Great! I'll meet everyone at the country club in ½ hour. I can give you a ride babe." says Kyle winking lasciviously at Olive. They make their way out the door. Most people follow them. Olive's tossed me the keys intending me to lock up, people in Antelope Hill are trustworthy that way.

My cousin Dylan wanders in. He's always been my favourite cousin and I am his favourite. I pour him a shot. "Lisel...it was the best thing I've seen in my WHOLE life. He just left her at the altar...after all the pomp and circumstance. He just said no. He didn't even say sorry or anything like that. He just ditched her. It was SUPER AWESOME!" Dylan is laughing. I'm laughing too.

I suppose I should feel sorry for my sister. She's probably off crying somewhere, with my parents and other siblings consoling her. I can't help but gloat. I feel like I've won this somehow. It's one of the best feelings I've had in my life.

"Come on Lisel, I'll give you a ride to the Country Club. We can break into the champagne there. I'll sure a wedding as fancy as this will have great booze." states Dylan. I lock up the bar and we drive over to the club. It's been way more than ½ hour. My little sister isn't there but neither are Kyle and Olive.

I'm the only "representative" of my immediate family...the same goes for Owen. We look at each other wondering what the proper etiquette is for a wedding dinner where the groom and bride have absconded. Owen and I go to speak with the DJ to see if he's ever dealt with this situation. He says no. Puzzled Owen and I stare at each other.

"Waiters! We're hungry here and not getting younger." yells my cousin Dylan.

Suddenly, waiters start to bring dinner out. They're laid out on fancy linen. Everyone sits at their tables and starts to eat. Everything is normal except there's no bride or groom.

"So what's everyone up to? Can I have the keys to the bar?" Suddenly, Olive is next to me with wet hair. Kyle is next to her. They're sitting in the bride and groom's seats. I pass her the bar keys. "Where were you? We were all waiting and we had to start eating." I hiss but I'm not yelling. I don't really care. This isn't my wedding. This is also turning out to be the best wedding I've ever been to...by far.

"Oh....Kyle and I got busy. I've never been in a limo before...especially one with a hot tub...so Kyle and I had to explore and uhmm I had to bath. He helped me and now I'm all clean and ready to party!" Olive winks at me. She's turned her work uniform inside out to cover the nacho cheese stains or maybe she was so busy she didn't notice the inside-out bit.

"Escargot?" I question. My sister wanted a fancy expensive wedding and everything here is pricey.

"Those look like snails..." Olive says.

"They are snails...it's a French dish," I say. Part of me is wondering why I'm eating the escargot. It is snails...

"So babe, you like snails?" Olive asks Kyle.

" No...I don't like snails. I think I'm allergic to them. I let Emily pick the menu. Why are there snails?" Kyle questions. Olive nods. She takes a stray piece of Kyle's hair and puts it behind his ear.

It's the first time he's mentioned, Emily. So I look at him. I have about a hundred calls from my Mom on my phone but this situation is too interesting. Mom probably wants to have a "serious conversation" with me but I'm too invested in this now. It's like when I used to watch Jerry Springer as a kid. So, I ignore my Mom's calls.

"Fuck!" he swears. "This is my wedding too you know! I'm supposed to have SOME say! A vegan steak...really? A wedding cake with lemon lavender frosting...who the fuck eats lemon lavender frosting? I'm so hungry."

Olive pats him on the back.

"This is why Domino's delivers. What sort of pizza do you like?" she questions as she pulls out her phone. Kyle looks around at his disappointed wedding guests.

"We should have 16 pizzas...all sorts, soda, breadsticks and buffalo wings. The whole shebang!" Olive nods and places the order. The wedding guests mingle and attempt to converse with one another but everyone is disappointed because if we were truly honest formal events like this suck. I'd leave and head back to my hotel room BUT I'm along for the ride.

Eventually, the pizzas arrive and the wedding guests eat. Owen and I have seen that the leftover wedding food gets donated to the local homeless shelter. It's getting late. Still, I stay. It's like a Springer episode where you find out who the baby's father is.

"I'm staying in the honeymoon suite...and tomorrow I leave on my honeymoon. Want to go with me?" Kyle questions Olive.

"Where you going?" Olive asks.

"Don't know promised Emily, I wouldn't look," states Kyle.

"Well for fucks sake, she's not here, so look now! I have to know where I'm going before I go," says Olive. Her eyes are filled with desire as she looks at Kyle. I'm sure she'd follow him anywhere.

"Fuck...not Paris...Emily knows I hate Paris. I think it's ostentatious. I specifically told her I didn't want to go there." states Kyle. He sets down his phone in frustration.

"It's all going to be okay...I promise. Everyone wants to go to Paris. I'm sure we can exchange the tickets and go somewhere much more exciting. How about Amsterdam?" questions Olive.

"I've always wanted to see Amsterdam! It's supposed to be a great city for partying. exclaims Kyle.

"Alright sweetie, then I'll go with you!" Olive says joyfully. "But, if we're leaving tomorrow we'd better get some sleep...or at least try to get some sleep." She winks at Kyle and just like that Kyle and Olive are gone.