"Oh my freakin hell! Are you inside my head?" I asked.
"Yep, and you're in mine. Answer the question," he insisted.
"We are so going to talk about this new party trick later," I said.
"The question?"
God, he was a nag.
"No. No, she has no daughters."
"That is the answer I was hoping for. Ask her to help you find a dress," he told me as his voice bounced around loudly in my brain.
"Hell no," I shot back. "I'd rather remove my boob with a dull butter knife."
"That can be arranged," Dwayne snapped, "but right now you will ask that heinous woman who looks like she wants you dead to help you find a dress."
"Ester," Mrs. Wilson hissed as she advanced on me and the crowd drew closer. "I find your silence to be rude. I have no idea what my son sees in you and I think… "
"Will you help me find my wedding dress?" I shouted at the top of my lungs, causing everyone to clap their hands over their ears… including Mrs. Wilson.
Her silence was deafening and I wanted to curl up and die, but not before I decapitated Dwayne.
She slowly peeled her perfectly manicured hands from her ears and looked down at the ground as her body began to tremble. She was so going to try to kill me. What a clusterhump. Tonight was supposed to be an evening of celebration and magic and now it was turning into a death match. My heart thumped in my chest so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. I could kill a Dragon, but Hank's mom scared the pants off me.
It was so going to suck if she tried to off me. Hank might be unhappy if I tore his mother's head off… I mean, I knew they didn't get along, but me killing her could put a real crimp in my sex life.
She looked up and her eyes were glassy. Pulling a perfectly starched white lacey handkerchief from her ample bosom, she dabbed at her eyes. What the Hell was happening? Did she feel bad that she wanted to kill me? I really didn't want to kill her, but if she left me no choice…
"What did you say?" she asked so softly I had to lean in to hear.
"I, um… I forgot," I choked out. This could not be happening.
"She asked you to help her select a wedding gown. Actually, what she meant to say was do you still have yours? She would be honored to wear it," Dwayne cut in as he casually smoothed out the wrinkles in his gauchos as if the future of my life wasn't pending.
"You are so dead," I threatened.
"Already dead. Doesn't scare me," he shot back.
"Do you really want to wear my dress?" Mrs. Wilson asked in a high-pitched voice. Her tears now flowed freely.
What was going on here? Did she want me to wear her dress? Confusion didn't begin to cover my rioting emotions. I was ready for a smack-down and now I was negotiating a dress? Shit, when did she get married? It had to be at least thirty or forty years ago. Her dress was probably poofy and horrid. I wanted something strapless and simple… A painful pinch from Dwayne halted my inner monologue.
"Tell her you want to wear her damn dress," he shouted inside my head.
"It's probably fugly," I shrieked in a panicked tone.
"You have a choice here," Dwayne explained. "Wear a heinous, more than likely white wedding gown and live reasonably non-deadly holiday seasons with your mother in law—or get your ass handed to you."
"I think I could take her," I said with confidence.
"Just don't see that going over real well."
"Point. Do I really have to wear her dress?"
"Yes. Yes, you do."
"You suck so bad," I snarled at him. "You will pay for this."
"Doll face?"
"Yes?"
"Everyone is staring at you," Dwayne said.
He was correct. They were all watching me to see what I was going to say. I knew half of them probably were hoping for a fight. We really were a violent species. However, there would be no bloodshed tonight. I hoped…
"Yes, Mrs. Wilson, I would be humbled and honored to wear your dress," I said as I tried not to gag on my words. I was certain it would have huge sleeves and a train from hell.
She whipped around on the blood-thirsty crowd, scaring the hell out of them. I was glad to see it wasn't just me…
"Did you hear that?" she shouted, getting the attention of the entire Pack. "My daughter wants to wear my wedding gown at her nuptials."
The crowd went wild and Mrs. Wilson took a bow. This was all kinds of weird, but I was quite sure I was going to live through the evening now. I knew in my heart the gown would be awful, but it did save me from having to try on any more.
Next thing I knew I was in a rib-crunching hug from Mrs. Wilson. Getting beaten to death was one thing, getting loved to death was another. However, they both hurt.
"Go for the home run while you're ahead," Dwayne insisted.
I couldn't see him as I was trapped in Mrs. Wilson's enormous cleavage, but I could hear him… and he had a point.
"Can we get married here?" I knew it came out muffled, but she heard it. I was certain that she liked the idea because I heard my sternum crack.
"Oh dear sweet baby Jesus, all the angels and saints, the Goddess, Mother Earth, all my ancestors and Dolce and Gabbana, my prayers have been answered! We'll be hosting the nuptials of my son and my darling daughter-in-law on our land. Praise Buddha," she shouted.
Again the crowd went nuts.