DRASTIC (Book 4 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 87: Drummer Boys Get Hitched

Bodie on his Wedding Day

I'm in one of the guest suites of the Paramour Estate—a 1920's Hollywood mansion where our wedding, reception and wedding night are happening.

This place is Louis Fourteenth meets Andy Warhol. French furniture, psychedelic color.

Marley loves the rich glamour. Her choosing this place for our wedding lets me finally understand her taste, and tells me...an old school Hollywood mansion decorated to period is probably in our future.

That's fine by me. Legacy has made us so much bank, my "money worries" during incarceration have faded. I'll wait til the right place comes on the market in Matt and Leed's neighborhood.

It probably seems weird that I am thinking about real estate just half an hour from my vows, but I'm trying anything and everything to stop my hands from shaking.

It's so bad that Mac has pushed them away from my pitiful effort to button my tux shirt.

"I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me," I mutter to the top of her head. "I'm all in. What the fuck is this?" I show her my vibrating hands.

Mac the Maneater is nowhere to be seen as she tucks back a thoughtful smile. "It's not so strange. Getting everything you ever wanted is scary as fuck when you think you don't deserve it."

She moves to the bowtie dangling around my neck. "You deserve it, Bodie. Nothing bad is going to take this love from you. Trust me."

She steps back, her tie task complete. We both stare in the mirror. She takes one of my shaking hands in both of hers and kisses it.

The girl has grown, and she's doing a very decent substitute for the actual Doc, who of course can't counsel me through my freak-out, because she's gotta meet me at the alter in half an hour.

But for all her comfort, Mac doesn't really get it. I'm not so worried about me fucking up, like maybe she was back at the beginning with Adam. I've learned the hard way, even if you have your shit together, life can spiral and you can't always control it.

God, I need Marley so bad right now. Need to touch her, breathe her in. Need to trust in us. I couldn't sleep last night, without her in my bed. We haven't spent this many hours apart since I got out of jail. Right here, on the edge of pledging myself to her forever, I'm afraid something else is going to happen to fuck it up, to deny us our happy ever after.

Leed comes from behind, draping himself over both of us, looking at us both in the mirror. He grins. "You gotta relax, man. Listen, let me give you some advice, because I've got this marriage thing all figured out."

"Do you now? After only five months?" Adam grins as he walks up with Marley's wedding band on the second knuckle of his pinky. He shows it to me for reassurance, but he's gotta tie it on the ringbearer's pillow, so he doesn't give it to me. He crosses his arms and looks at his brother-in-law. "Okay, Leed, tell us the secret of your marital success."

"It's the hair!" Trace yells from across the room where he is tying his Italian shoes.

Leed rakes his hair and puts his hands out, leaning forward conspiratorialy. "The hair helps, but it's not that. The secret to happy ever after is beginning like you mean to go on. It's all about the first married kiss. You get that right, karmically, you can't lose."

Adam sniggers. Mac laughs so hard, she ends up punching Leed as she waves her other hand before her watering eyes. "See what you did? Shut-up before I ruin all my makeup."

Leed snags a piece of tissue from a dresser and begins to carefully pat, catching tears and preserving artificial beauty Mac doesn't need.

"I'm serious, Bodes. Trust me. You put on your rock star and you kiss your bride like the fucking band depends on it. Because it gives Marley the memory of the best kiss of her life and it gives the photographer the money shot. Next step, you have that photo hung up in your house in the most romantic and perfect light possible. Every time Marley gets a little irritated with you, you make sure you walk her past that picture...and you're golden, man."