Starfire (Peaches Monroe #3)(76)
Author: Mimi Strong

He chuckled, looking like a man smitten. He was definitely under Dottie’s spell, and that made me almost as happy as getting my new car. Almost.

“Where is this wedding?” he asked.

“Secret location. Show up at the bus depot and they’ll take you there.”

He looked around for anyone who might be in hearing range, then held up his hand alongside his mouth and whisper-shouted, “I hear they’re setting up tents at Duck Pond Park.”

I held one finger to my lips. “Shh.”

He winked and nodded. “The secret’s safe with me.”

I made Mr. Galloway promise to come to the bus depot anyway, and then I went into the house to join the Shayla-Mitchell gossip session in progress.

CHAPTER 37

The drinking started innocently enough.

We were showing off our booze collection to Mitchell, and he suggested we sample the vodka he’d brought up with him.

The vodka was tasty.

We became too inebriated to go anywhere, but then Shayla called our friend Chantalle Hart and asked for a favor. She got Chantalle to agree to driving us around for a spur-of-the-moment bachelorette party.

With a sober person as our chaperone and driver, the three of us in the wedding party were free to get into as much trouble as we wanted.

And we had no problem finding trouble.

From the house, we proceeded to Cougar Town, where we consumed chicken wings, nachos, and as many drinks as they’d serve us.

That place was pretty dull, even for a Wednesday night, so we left in search of our own fun.

After a dire warning about what I’d do to people if they threw up in my new car, we got back into my sweet ride and started driving up and down Leonardo Street while passing around the vodka bottle.

I can’t say for sure whose idea it was to break into Dalton’s cabin, but we all agreed the idea was excellent.

Chantalle made a few wrong turns, but eventually we found the heritage site for the cabin, at the edge of Dragonfly Lake.

“This is the wedding site?” Shayla asked as we pulled up to the cabin.

“That’s a secret!” I yelled at her.

Chantalle turned back to me. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. I’m just glad I’m invited.”

“Peaches, honey, I don’t think the wedding is going to be here,” Mitchell said. “I think Dalton lied to you, to throw us off. That man is as cunning as he is gorgeous.”

I groaned. “He’s such a liar!”

“This place is a total construction site,” Chantalle said. “There’s no way you can have a wedding here. Are the guests going to sit in those dirt-digger things and have tractor wars?”

“That would be awesome!” Shayla said brightly. “Who cares. We’re still breaking in. I gotta pee.”

We parked the car and all jumped out.

We ran up to the cabin first, but found the door locked tight and all the windows boarded up for the construction.

“I could climb down the chimney,” Mitchell offered.

Shayla and I thought that was a marvelous idea, because after as much vodka as we’d had, we were pretty sure anything was possible.

Luckily for Mitchell, Chantalle ran over to the Airstream, found it unlocked, and called us over.

Giggling, we all climbed up the steps into the trailer.

It was even smaller with four people inside.

We all squeezed into the kitchenette and were absolutely silent. I was trying to figure out where the wedding was going to be, and Mitchell was fascinated by the trailer’s compact interior.

“Hurry up!” I yelled at Shayla, who was in the bathroom.

“These walls are paper thin!” she howled. “You guys have to talk or something. I can’t go if people are listening!”

We all covered our mouths to keep from laughing.

None of us started talking. It was more fun to torture Shayla.

I don’t know why drinking makes you kinda mean toward your friends, but I like to think you only abuse the ones you love.

While we were huddled there in the kitchenette, one of the cabinets began emitting an odd noise.

“The trailer is haunted!” I squealed.

Mitchell and Chantalle screamed, and we all pushed and shoved each other to get out the door. We ran down the steps and to the ground outside.

“Totally haunted,” Mitchell said in agreement.

“I’m never going in there again,” I said.

A few minutes later, Shayla came out with some papers in her hand. “That noise was a fax machine, you dummies.”

“It must be a time-traveling Airstream,” Mitchell said, his eyes wide. “How else would you explain having a fax machine?”

“Probably architectural drawings or some shit for the cabin,” I said.

Shayla gasped and ran to the car with the papers, where she sat on the passenger side. She left the door open and the interior light on. “MOTHERSHITTING MAMA-BEAR!”

Chantalle slid into the driver’s side and grabbed the papers from Shayla. “What’s the big deal? Looks like these are different wording options for a screenplay. This fax is from the office of some writer dude. That makes sense, since Dalton is an actor. Except…”

Mitchell shot me a grave look then asked, “Is the content anything Peaches should be concerned about?”

Chantalle laughed. “That’s a funny coincidence. It’s actually wedding vows for something. Hmm. That’s odd. It says Peaches Monroe in this script.”

Mitchell ran around to the driver’s side of the car, grabbed the papers, and ran back to the Airstream yelling, “No good can come of this! We were never here. This did not happen!”

I slid into the back seat of the car and pried the vodka from Shayla’s hands. The booze had smelled of vanilla and other herbs when we started, but now it went down as easy as water.

It crushed me to learn that Dalton had someone writing his vows. If he actually loved me, why would he hire someone else to say it?

Chantalle was confused and upset. “I don’t understand what’s happening, you guys. What the f**k is up with everyone this summer? Golden is dating Adrian and Carter, and Carter is dating Golden and Tiny-Shirt Trisha, and I can’t keep track of who else Trisha is dating, but I think Lester’s in there, and Kirsten. Has everyone lost their minds? And why is everyone acting like I ate a box of kittens? What’s the deal with the script?”

Mitchell slid into the back seat next to me and wrestled the bottle from my hands. “The fax has been returned,” he said. “We’ll just pretend we were never here.”