Filed To Story: Pretty Poisoned Novel by Elle Mitchell
Another agent runs the handheld metal detector wand over my body, taking his time over my right shoulder. “Clear,” he announces. “You can go.”
“Thanks.”
By the time we get to the gate, our flight is already boarding, and Blakely is losing her shit. Half of the flight is filled with the wedding party and guests. I sit beside the window in a row with my mom and dad with my headphones on, pretending to be asleep.
We had to book the flight months before I ever left for the tour, and I know that guests booking flights late was an issue for Blake and Austin, but still, I wonder if there’s a passenger on this flight who is one of them, put here to watch me, hiding in plain sight the way Sebastian did.
image-placeholder
The hotel looks exactly like the picturestraditional Caribbean elegance with a modern flare, a white-sand beach meeting bright blue waters, and mountains covered in dense jungle to its back. Blakely included me in her spa day, but I had to skip the beach because I have new scars forming on my chest and my hip that I don’t want any of them to see.
But I put on my dress, and I go to the wedding rehearsal and sit in the front, watching, because I wasn’t invited to be a part of it. I try to ignore the way Austin’s family stares and whispers, the subtle digs, and I keep my shitty sarcastic comments to myself.
One way or another, this is my farewell tour.
And when I space out during the stories at the toasts at dinner, I think about what I’d change my name to if I do make it to North Carolina.
After a couple of Blakely and Austin’s friends get up and leave, I lean over and whisper to my mom, “We’re done, right? I can go now?”
“Yeah, just make sure you say something to your sister first,” she tells me.
I push in my chair. “I will. Good night, Mom. Bye, Dad. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
I move to the head of the table where Blakely sits laughing beside her fiancé while he tells a story. “Hey, I’m going to head out,” I tell Blake.
“Okay, well, I think we are all moving inside to the bar on the first floor,” she says. “It’s going to start pouring any minute.”
Then I will be heading to the outdoor cabana bar on the far side of my building.
“That sounds fun, but I’m pretty tired. I’ll see you tomorrow, though, okay?”
“Yeah, we’re all going ziplining early in the morning, so I’ll see you at two to get ready in my suite.”
“All right.”
“Main building, Room 1042.”
“Got it,” I say, turning in the other direction.
“Teagan?”
“Yeah?”
“Everything looks pretty, right?”
“Yeah, of course. It looks amazing.”
“Because I wanted to get the floating candles we picked out and fairy lights for the centerpieces, remember? But Ashlyn and Sophie made me get the brass candlestick holders because they said it would look cheap and I don’t like them, Teagan. It’s not what I wanted.”
I take her hands in mine. “It’s going to be fine,” I tell her. “Everything looks great, and tomorrow is going to be perfect. No one is going to remember what the centerpieces look likenot even a little bit. And they’re probably right anyway. I picked them out, so they probably were cheap.”
Tears well in her eyes. “I hate the bows on the chairs, too.”
I shrug. “Then fuck the bows. You text me tomorrow morning and tell me you’re not just saying this because you’re drunk, and I will cut off every single one of them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you know meI love cutting shit.”
“Okay,” she laughs.
“Okay, are we good?”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
“See you tomorrow, Blake. It’ll be amazing.”
I grab my purse from my chair and head for the door, stopping to grab another martini for the walk over.
“Of course, he broke up with her,” Ashlyn says to Lauren. “Look at her. No serious man is going to want to be with a girl like that, especially not a surgeon.”
I begin playing my favorite game again in my head.
The knife in my cleavage, a fork to the jugular. I could grab a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar, pour it over her head, and knock over one of those stupid candlestick holders she picked out and watch her burn.
Or I could shove them down her throat.
I saw a documentary once about a woman who killed a man with a high-heeled shoe, but that would probably take a while, and someone would intervene before I could finish her off.
There’s a riptide, and I’m stronger than her.
But I have to be on my best behavior. Unfortunately, my best still isn’t good.
Instead of addressing her comment, I look at her husband.
“You need to fuck her better,” I tell him. “You’re clearly not doing a good enough job, and to be honest, you’re already outkicking your coverage. Fuck her betterfor all of our sakes. I’m tired of her fucking attitude.” Next, I turn to Ashlyn, adding on my way out the door, “You’re welcome. I hope your night improves.”
I don’t stick around for whatever happens next.
I walk to the cabana on the far side of the building, where I’m way overdressed, and pull up a seat at the bar.
“What can I get you?” the young bartender asks.
“Better stick with a martini at this point,” I tell him. “I don’t want to mix too many poisons, you know?”
“Are you here for the wedding?” he asks as he takes a glass from the shelf.
“That and my funeral,” I tell him.
“What? Are you in love with the groom or something?”
“No, nothing like that,” I say. “Hey, can you do something for me?”
“Depends.”
“I’m in the market for a new name. What would you name me? Who do I look like I should be?”
“Can I give you a Spanish name?” he asks.
I shrug. “Sure. Why not? Maybe that’s my problemI’ve been limiting myself.”
“Lourdes,” he says.
“Lourdes,” I repeat, sipping my drink. “I like it. Why?”
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.