That Moment


Sitting with a coffee in hand and doughnut sugar upon his cheek, James hears the news. Ain’t this a bitch! The father of the bride is calling the wedding off. James drove sixteen hours, in his raggedy car, so that he could support his boy and the girl’s father is canceling. Damn, this is messed up.
Tension now fills the room, but it was not so just a moment ago. Only a second ago people were communicating, laughing, and bonding. Only a moment ago James was checking out all the bridesmaids and their sisters, even their mothers. Just a minute before people drank hot liquid from hotel paper cups and talked of the couple’s future. People were smothered in joy and happiness, even though the hotel breakfast lobby is lit poorly. That is what weddings do: bring joy and content emotions even to the heaviest of hearts. Sometimes jealousy is evident, but only for those players of the world. Guests who never heard of one another were talking with each other as if they had been friends for ages. Women were making plans for the first baby shower and men were smiling as they remembered the bachelor party that occurred the night before. If details were to be given the LORD may strike down all those who attended. That was all a moment ago though. Everything can change in a moment.
James could not figure out what could have happened for such news. The bride’s father just walks into the lobby and shouts that the wedding was off, then turns and leaves, just as subtly as he enters. Images run through James mind about every incident he could recall from several weeks ago until this very instance, this very moment. Nothing! Absolutely nothing has happened, that he could recall, that could end the wedding ceremony the day of its horrendous, commitment ritual. There is no reason for such news that he can conclude. What did John do? What the hell happened? Wait! James catches the glance of the slender maid next to the pastry filled table. She looks familiar; her long, straight brown-blonde hair, that petite waist line, and that tight backside. James is drawn in now, by the hot body of the cream colored maid, and as he approaches her he notices something that sends shivers down his spine. He notices her shoes. Oh shit! The shoes are the same glittery pink sandals a stripper from the bachelor party wore last night. Sweet!
“Hey you,” pointing at the maid, James calls, “I want to talk with you.”
The maid steps back and shrugs her shoulders, “Me?”
“Yea you,” James grabs her left hand and turns it over, the same exact tattoo that the stripper had last night. “I’m right! You were at the bachelor party last night. You were the one that was all over John.” James pauses and strains his eyes, “Why the hell are you still here, and in a maid’s uniform nonetheless?”
“I’m a maid, duh,” she fires back, “not a stripper you asshole.”
“But, last night, I…I swear you were there.”
“Last night, I…I, never mind.” She snatches her hand from James’ grip and tries to walk away.
“I don’t think so,” James grabs her by the shoulder and clutches her tight, “if you’re a maid then why the hell were you taking off your clothes at my guy’s bachelor party? Not that I’m complaining, it was fun, I’m just intrigued to know what you were thinking.”
The maid turns toward James smirking, she looks so devilish and sneaky, “I saw John when he arrived to the hotel four days ago, and I liked what I saw. He was so fucking hot.” The maid peeks around searching for prying ears, “When I found out that he was going to be at the bachelor party last night I decided to crash it.”
“So you stripped for us, just to be close to him?”
“I stripped for John, not you or any of the other cheap asses.”
“Wait,” James looks into the maid’s eyes and sees something that makes his spirit quiver violently, “what happened? What did you do to him?” The maid only grinned, a sinister type of grin that made James shiver, and then shrug her shoulders. Gripping her tighter, pretty sure he is causing her some uneasy tension, James roared, “Tell me.” He is trying so hard to express true concern.
Seductively into James’ ears she whispers, “You really want to know?” She twists her lips look up and her eyes flame as her brows arch evilly, “You would!”
“Didn’t you know that he is the groom?”
“I don’t care. I wanted him.” The maid releases herself from James’ grip and places her soft vanilla hand upon his cheek, “I always get what I want.”
James’ jaw drops as he watches the maid switch off towards the kitchen. That bitch, that sexy hot bitch. She just may have ruined a man’s life and she doesn’t care.

James, being the best guy and all, decides that he has to do something. He can not let that bitch of a maid ruin his friend’s life. He did drive sixteen hours after all. As he leaves the lobby area in search of the dressing room James snickers to himself, “Crazy shit. John is about to marry this Mary girl, vowing to only tap one piece of ass for eternity, and yet he still has more game than me.” Shaking his head, he stumbles up the stairs.
James is on the correct floor now: the twelfth floor of the hotel, which is rented to the groom and his groomsmen. The entire floor belongs to the men. And the entire floor roared last night. James continues to pursue the dressing room, room 1215, with only one thing on his mind: that maid and the strippers last night. It was a great bachelor party. Hell, it was the best fucking party ever. A man always knows when a party has gone well; he wakes up with a lady on each side. Last night James woke up with a lady at each side, and another two on the floor at the foot of his bed. Wow, I’m the man. I handled four babes last night. But I wish that maid was one of them. Oh yea, shaking his head and smirking, that would be nice. Hold it, I have to stop. James tries to straighten his thoughts. He has to be there for John now. It is true that James thought that John should not get married, no more bar hopping and club pimping, but James did back his friend, one hundred percent. John is very serious about Mary, James thought, well at least he was, and friends have to be there for each other. What could James say? Are there any correct words to say? Should he just walk in and hold John? Wait, maybe John does not care. Maybe John wants the marriage to be called off. James could only wish and hope. He finally reaches the door. James raises his left hand to knock but something seems to force him to stop. His entire body freezes and not a single thought crashes around in his depraved mind.
Standing outside John’s changing room, twiddling his thumbs, James overhears John’s mother yelling. “What the hell did you do?” James does not hear John’s answer but he does hear his mother’s response, “You did what? You fucking dumb ass. Why? How could you? I thought that I…no, I know I raised you better than that.” James hears glass shattering against the door. Yea, I think that John’s mother has him in control now, James thinks to himself as John’s mother continues her rampage. “John! You fucking asshole! You are just like your father.” I’ll let her handle him. Maybe Mary needs to talk with someone.
He steps off the elevator on the ninth floor, the bride and bridesmaid floor, only to enter the ester gene capital of America. Females of all ages, from both sides of the family crowd the floor, all wanting in with the bride; all wanting to know what is happening. James forces himself through the mass of breast and emotions, a quick touch here and slight brush there, only to reach the brides’ door where her brother is pretending to be a bouncer. “Let aside kid. I need to talk with the bride.” The bouncer lifts his chin and shakes his head. James grabs his strangling arm and tightens, “Move, I want to talk with Mary.” Mary’s brother moves aside and allows James to enter. Why? James does not know; he did not say anything persuasive. Maybe the grip on his arm was enough. James does not know his own strength. The door opens and James enters. A trap. Mary’s brother knows the condition of the room and its contents. He allowed me in here so that I could be cried to death. That bastard. Mary is crying, no, she is weeping; alone on her knees with her face buried into her hands. The only evidence of sane life is her mother in the next room, on the phone ranting at family that could not make the special occasion. James decides that the best man is better off with the groom and tries to sneak out, but he is spotted.
“Wait,” sobbing and drenched in her own salty misery, Mary attempts to stop James’ exit. “Why are you here? Are you here to gloat about your buddies’ achievement?”
“No.” James tries not to laugh. Mary thinks she knows me so well.
“Then why are you here, huh?”
Stumbling over his words and grinding his right foot into the carpet, “I thought that maybe, you needed someone to talk to. I mean somebody to hear you moan and all.”
“You came here to console me. Ha. That is hilarious. It’s your fault that John did what he did. Your fault.”
Mine, James thought to himself. This bitch is crazy. How is it my fault? “What the hell are you saying? I didn’t tell John to fuck that bitch. You can’t put this one on me.”
“John learned the game from you, James.” Mary stands accusing. She walks over to James and her eyes snarl. “He learned the game very well. You were a great teacher.”
“Game? Teacher? What are you saying?”
“He did what you would have done.”
“To hell he did. I would have never been at my own wedding. I’m not a one woman kind of guy.”
Mary jerks her head, “I guess that’s true. You’re a dog. But you did have a helping hand in this.”
“Helping hand? Whoa. I don’t think so. I don’t play that. I’m a real…”
Mary interrupts him, “You told him that it was a mistake to marry me. You reminded him that I would be the only partner he would have for the rest of his life. You’re an ass. The love of my soul slept with a whore because you couldn’t be a friend and let him be happy.”
James only looks at Mary as she continues her rant, “You wanted him to be so much like you. I’m sick to my stomach just looking at you.” Mary begins to weep again. Tears rushed from her eyes. Her pain is so vibrant and sharp. “My life is over because you couldn’t let go of your friend.” Mary falls to the floor like thunder. “You asshole!” she shouts.
James left the bride, with her misery, on the floor. He never saw such pain before, so much pain. He actually felt an intense swelling inside when Mary began to cry again and fell to the floor. It was like Mary had slapped him. What he is feeling he cannot explain, only thoughts race in his mind. Do all the women in my life feel, like that? Do they all cry when they talk or think about me?
They couldn’t, I’m James. I’m a real man. Shaking his head and throwing his arms up James gets on the elevator to go back down to the lobby. Whatever, maybe Mary’s sister needs some consoling.


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