What Happens In Vegas

I am a terrible person. I can't live like this much longer. After one week of nothing happening, one week of leisure, meeting the girls and being busy not wedding planning, suddenly it's all starting. A letter from Mike's lawyer, an argument with Andrew and a threat from Gran. And it's not even afternoon yet. Andrew never yells. I tell him it makes his face go red and puffy like when he ears shellfish.

I've locked myself in the dressing room and plan to stay in here indefinitely. Andrew is busy being mad because I wouldn't let him read my letter. I'm sat holding the letter in one hand and a one Jimmy Choo shoe in the other hand. I don't know where the other one is. Probably right where my dream wedding is. There has to be a way to get the divorce finalised in time. It's going by California law. Maybe if I get Mike to bribe some people then it'll go through quicker. Does he have the money though? I could easily write him a cheque.

I reached inside my belt draw and started to search for my phone. It's probably lost, just like my sanity. I found it and called him. Mike. My husband. Those words make me shudder.

"Hello?" Mike asked.

"It's Violet." I whispered.

"Speak up."

"Violet!" I sighed.

"Oh, what do you want?"

"What do you mean what do I want?" I puffed out.

"Did you get my letter?"

"Yeah, I did. You sent it to my apartment and now Andrew is mad at me."

"I'm sure you'll make up. Just buy him a solid gold watch or something."

"Stop being so rude." I snapped. "I'm in my dressing room."

"Right, so what's the problem, sweetheart?"

"The divorce needs to be finalised within four months."

He's laughing. The bastard. "Have you spoken to a lawyer. Divorces don't get finalised within four months. Six months is a push. Didn't your lawyer tell you this?"

"Yeah of course he did. But I'm getting married in four months. I thought because you're actually living in California you could move things along."

"How do you mean?" Mike asked sounding completely confused. They are simple in California.

"Make a few calls, you know."

"I don't know."

"Offer them something."

"I'm not sleeping with them if that's that you mean." Mike stopped me.

"No, you idiot. I meant money."

"What, bribe them?"

"Yes." I sighed.

"No way, sweetheart. No fucking way. I am not getting sent to jail because you want to say I do two times in one year."

"It's not like that." I sighed.

"Like hell it's not. The answer is no."

"But Mike-"

"God, no. What is up with you? I'm not putting my ass on the line just so you can hurry things up." he rushed.

"I just want to be happy and marry Andrew." I muttered, staring off into a rack of coats.

"Then tell him. Christ, I'm not your counsellor, sweetheart."

"You are so insufferable."

"Don't talk to your husband like that." he joked.

"Don't remind me." I whined.

"Just get your shit together and sign the papers." he told me.

"Alright." I replied. No answer. "Mike?" And he's hung up on me. What is it with people not following proper phone etiquette? What ever happened to goodbye?

"Vi?!" Andrew called. "Can you come out, darling?"

"Why?" I asked and pouted at the floor.

"I'm sorry for shouting. I brought you a present."

"What is it?"

"Lipstick."

"What brand?"

"MAC."

"Did you pick it?"

"No the lady did."

"Okay." I sniffled. I stood up and walked to him. He handed me a bag and I peered inside. My face lit up and I went over to the mirror to apply it. I felt Andrew come behind me and wrap his arms around me.
"I hate when we fight." Andrew whispered in my ear.

"Me too." I told him.

"I just don't like you hiding things from me." Ha.

"It's okay. Go and get my phone for me." I urged. Andrew smiled and walked to get it. Then I remembered. Shit. The letter! I ran in after him and saw him holding it. I snatched it away and scrunched it up into a ball. "Did you look?" I rushed.

"No. What is it?"

"It's a joke!" I exclaimed. Manic laughing again, I think I have a problem.

"A joke?" Andrew echoed.

"From Fran. It's a prank. Edible paper."

"You can eat it?"

"Sure!" I grinned. Then I put the entire thing in my mouth. I sometimes wonder if my parents dropped me as a child. Perhaps off of a ten story building.

"What does it taste of?"

"Strawberry!" I lied. It tastes of shame, depression and my own tears. Then I committed. I swallowed it. Oh God, it just gets worse. I'm going to end up on t.v. On that show, you know the one. With all of the people who have weird and absurd eating habits. They're going to tell me that eating divorce notices cause cancer. Then I'll die. It'll be Mike's fault. Why did I even go to Vegas?

Notes

Hey! What did you think? I'm getting good at this updating thing. I'm trying to find things to do to distract myself from the excitement that is Sunday! Do you like Vi more? What will happen? What will she do? Will she see Mike again? Fave line? xo