Page 45 of Anger Bang
Not a semi-understandable mumble.
Nothing.
“I can’t blame her,” the other bridesmaid, Piper, chimed in, her tone sickly sweet. “A woman like her has to grab the opportunities when they come. Good for you!”
Thea could feel the camera’s focus on her, as heavy as a thick wool blanket. It made her palms sweaty as she fought the urge to make a half-hearted chuckle of agreement. Really, it wasn’t like they were wrong.
“Don’t answer where you were!” a member of the production crew yelled as they rushed over, mic pack in hand.
The bridesmaids used the pause to adjust their hair and add another coat of lipstick. Meanwhile, Jackie didn’t move an inch—unless you counted the way her tight, narrow gaze combed over Thea as if she was noting every flaw, every not-quite-up-to-par spot, and making notes to herself about areas of improvement. It was an exact replica of every time her mom had looked at Thea, clocking each zit and wild hair slipping free of her ponytail, right before she’d quit acting for good.
“Here,” the crew member said after wrapping the mic pack belt around Thea’s waist and holding out the mic. “Clip the lav mic on the collar of your shirt, and you’ll be good to go.”
Her hands were clammy enough that she was afraid she’d drop the mic, but she managed to get it hooked to the bright-yellow Cabbage Patch doll T-shirt that Jackie had made her wear today. Of course, Thea was wearing it long and loose over the electric blue bike shorts Jackie had insisted they wear today, making Thea look like an overgrown toddler. The other bridesmaids and Jackie, however, had done that thing that some people could do to modernize even the most retro of outfits to make it look cool to modern eyes. One of the bridesmaids had tucked the ends of the shirt into her sports bra, giving her an instant crop top that didn’t leave her drowning in miles of cotton. Another had tied it into a knot at her waist in a way that highlighted her curves. Jackie, meanwhile, had threaded the long hem through her bra and tied the ends between her breasts so it looked like her Cabbage Patch T-shirt was actually a cute bikini top.
Girding herself for yet another game of which-one-of-these-bridesmaids-doesn’t-belong, Thea grabbed all of the hair she’d missed on her walk and stuffed it through the hair tie at the base of her ponytail. This event was going to be fucking delightful.
“Okay,” the production crew member said as they whirled around and went behind the camera line, “let’s do this.”
“Wait!” her mom called out in a stress-strained voice as she rushed over with a freckle-faced Cabbage Patch doll in her hand. “She has to have a doll or the sponsor is going to freak the fuck out.”
Thea took the soft-bodied doll with long dark hair that went down to her waist and was dressed in hospital scrubs with a BabyLand General Hospital logo on them. “Thanks, Mom.”
Her mom smiled, a grateful curl of her lips, and that frazzled, overwhelmed look in her eyes receded. “Thank you,” she said, her voice low. “It has been a morning, let me tell you.”
Thea looked around at the bridesmaids who were watching them out of the corners of their eyes like a pride of lions pretending to be asleep as the gazelle that had been separated from its pack wandered by. It took all she had not to take a step back before taking her chances and running for the high ground. That’s when her gaze landed on Jackie, whose pinched expression and tense jaw left no doubt about her mood.
“It seems a little tense,” she whispered to her mom.
Her mom raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in acknowledgment. “I’ve been backstage when someone says good luck to the entire cast instead of break a leg and the mood was more relaxed.”
“Are we ready?” the production assistant called out before Thea could ask for details.
“Yep,” her mom responded, her titanium-level momager mask dropping into place with a nearly audible thump. “Everything is perfect.” She gave Thea a quick squeeze. “You got this, champ. It’ll be like old times.”
Got this? What did she meangot this?
Unease skittered along Thea’s spine and up the back of her neck, the same kind that haunted her at night when she had a stress dream that put her right back to her most dreaded place to be—the center of attention. The camera crew focused their lenses back on her as her mom backed out of the shot. From her spot a few feet away, Lakin over-enunciated a few vocal exercise tongue twisters as she shook out her arms before turning her attention back onto Thea. Her gaze was glacial and her smile anything but friendly.
Fuck.
Thea felt sick, a wave of nausea knocking her off-kilter as her entire body, from the tiny hairs on her toes to the weird overlong hair that grew out of her right eyebrow, yelled at her to do whatever it took to make this all go away. It was her nervous system equivalent of stop, drop, and roll.
“Like I asked,” Lakin said, each word as sharp as knives in a professional kitchen. “Were you off having shy-girl-gone-wild sex with that rough-looking best man?”
“Rough?” Piper said, taking a few steps forward and angling her body so she was centered in the shot. “Really? Come on, Lakin. Some of us prefer guys who look like they could take on a mountain lion and win.”
“I guess I like ’em a little more refined.” Lakin all but hip-checked Piper out of the best spot in the camera’s line of sight and gave Thea a slow up and down before her lips curled upward in a sickly-sweet smile. “Then again, not everyone can be as picky.”
On instinct, Thea stepped back, getting out of the line of fire as her brain filled with white noise, and her gaze dropped to the ground as she clutched the soft, oversize doll to her stomach like a shield.
“Lakin,” Jackie said, her voice barely above a whisper, but it didn’t need to be. Everyone—absolutely everyone—turned their attention to the bride. “Stop. Being. A. Bitch.”
“What?!” Lakin threw up her arms in frustration, then planted her hands on her hips. “It’s a reality TV wedding. I’m not here to make new friends. I have you two, and even if I was looking for a new wing woman, I highly doubt a suitable one could be found in this hellhole.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she let out a sad whimper of a groan. “I can’t even get the special chef-made meals my agent insists I eat or he’ll drop me delivered here, so I’m either bloated or starving because my body hateseverything.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and she sucked in a dramatic, stuttering, gaspy breath. The move triggered Thea’s sympathies because she was a softie and no amount of working on her panic responses was going to change that. Not to mention food sensitivity was no joke. She could have exactly one scoop of ice cream before her whole body sent up flares.
Meanwhile, Jackie stood there, her arms crossed, and waited—not giving an inch.
