AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Really?” His brows shoot up like he’s about to tell me it’s not a good idea. How can I trust my comedy if I can’t also trust myself? So I hold firm.
“Yes. It’s not like we have time for me to do an open mic. This is my chance.”
“I feel the same way.” Nick pulls something from his pocket, holding it between his shaky fingers. It’s his wedding ring. Not a speck of drain gunk on it.
“Why do you have that?” I ask.
“I’m going to try some new material too. About my divorce. I think it’s time. And I think it’ll help.”
I place my hand on his leather-clad shoulder. “I’m proud of you, buddy. Are you using the ring as a prop?”
“No, I thought maybe I could pawn it after the show,” he says, stuffing it back in his pocket like it’s nothing but a nickel.
“I don’t know if the shops stay open that late.” Who knows what kind of funny stuff people in Vegas pawn in the middle of the night?
“Then we’ll take a drive and I’ll chuck it in the desert or something,” Nick says, and I watch his expression to see how serious he is. “I don’t want this thing that happened to hold me back anymore, you know?”
I nod. “Take your pain and play with it.”
“Exactly.”
The emcee begins my introduction and I stuff my notes in my back pocket. “I have to go,” I say, and lean up on my toes, laying a little kiss on Nick’s cheek—right where his dimple is. “Wish me laughs.”
His eyes lock with mine for a moment before I turn for the stage. I stretch out my hands, my mouth, and adjust my glasses as the emcee calls my name. “Let’s give it up for Olivia Vincent!”
Now I have to trust my comedy.
“Hello, Las Vegas! How y’all doing tonight?” They all cheer. “You know, Vegas is a great city. I absolutely love it! Don’t you?” The crowd gives a little cheer, like the city hasn’t taken their money yet. “Yeah, it’s amazing—the lights, the shows, the creepy men on the street peddling escort flyers. It’s the best!” This gets a laugh so I take a beat. Make that two.
“Vegas isn’t for everyone. In fact, for single women approaching thirty”—I point to myself with a cringing expression—“Vegas is the worst place you can be. Everywhere you go, some chick in her twenties is tying the knot. You know there are drive-thru chapels? That is the most American invention I’ve ever heard of. What’s next? Drive up for the vows, then drive around to pick up your divorce papers at the second window?”
Hahahahahaha!Hear that?
“I’m not gonna lie, I’m straight up jealous of young brides. They’re always flaunting around in their bedazzled bride tops with their posse of girlfriends, who wish her well to her face but secretly think she’s making a mistake by marrying Gary. I know, it’s not a great husband name. Sorry, Garys—you’ll have to die alone this round.”
I don’t know any men named Gary but I do hope he has a good sense of humor because the audience gets it. “But seriously, I’m just jealous because my bedazzled shirt says, Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. Except the always is crossed out and it says never a bridesmaid.” I gesture to my white T-shirt, getting into a little of my own story.
“It’s true. I have married friends but never make the wedding party cut. You see, brides are very particular about the aesthetics. It’s like they get engaged and then become judges of America’s Next Top Bridesmaid.
“I’m not kidding. Did you hear about that bridezilla that kicked her friend out of her wedding party because the friend got cancer and lost her hair?” I make an aghast face. “I know, it’s terrible. But don’t worry. Karma will bite her in the ass. Because you know who she’s marrying? Gary.” Now I’m just being playful, having fun. “Ah, bless your heart, Gary.
“I know why I never get picked though.” I let out a sigh. “Because I slept with the groom.” This gets a nice laugh but I keep going. “I misjudged Gary. He is good in bed!”
I wait for the break, the silence after the laughter dies. “I’m kidding—I’m not a terrible human being. But I do wear glasses and brides don’t make passes at friends that wear glasses. Seriously, have you ever seen a four-eyed bridesmaid? No, exactly, because if you did, the flash from the group photo would reflect off her lenses making it look like she’s shooting lasers out of her eyes. And the only person allowed to shoot lasers out of her eyes is that bitch, bridezilla.”
Considering it’s the first time I’ve told this joke, the laugh is pretty respectable. I continue, “So yeah, I’ve never been a bridesmaid but I have been asked to be a reference on a girlfriend’s résumé, which is probably because... I wear glasses.” The crowd laughs and I spot several four-eyed women in the audience who totally get it. They’re my people. I transition into my usual set with some new material sprinkled in. By the end of it, the crowd roars with satisfying laughter.
“That’s my time, everyone. I’m Olivia Vincent. You’ve been great!” I hand the mic off to the emcee and walk over to Nick, who’s waiting for me.
“I got ’em all warmed up for you,” I say, just like the first night we met.
“Now that’s the kind of foreplay I like.” It takes every ounce of strength I have not to grab Nick by the collar and pull him in for a kiss. Maybe more. But instead I wish him laughs and watch him walk onstage.
—
After the show, Nick completely sells out his box of merchandise. “I think that’s everything I have,” he says. “There’s nothing left for L.A.”
“What are you talking about, there’s like five more boxes in the Jeep.”
