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Oh hell to the fucking no. I want to back out of the contract until I see the money. Then I scream. This man isn’t just paying my student loans. He won at auction, which means I getmore.No fucking way. Okay, if you told me some wasp-waist white girl who looked creepily young and had giant blue eyes got a man to buy her on the internet for $350,000, I would say, hell something kinda like that happened to a former First Lady of ours…
But me? Lachelle was right, lying about my weight wouldn’t have stopped my buyer from seeing my pictures which means he spent $350k on a plus-sized black woman from therealUpstate part of New York. No way this is fucking real.
The documents include my flight confirmation number to Alaska. Per the website contract, I have two weeks to plan my move and say goodbye to all my family and friends once I e-sign and send a “message” back to my fiancé. Still suffering from some intense disbelief, I download the app for Alaska Airlines and type in the confirmation number to prove to myself that this shit is really going down.I’m getting married.
Holy fuck. I’m going to Alaska in two weeks. Thank God it’s still summer. I’ll have time to get ready for the cold and I can bring my bikini up there to tan and go to the beach or whatever people do when it isn’t snowing up there. Whereverthereis. I know Alaska is near Canada, but it’s never been important enough for me to give a fuck about, so I have absolutely no information about the place except it gets damn cold and it’s somewhere near Canada.
I hope this motherfucker doesn’t expect me to cook him no damn moose or whatever.
Without Lachelle to stop me and with the promise of $350,000 and an end to my troubles, I make a simple choice. It’s a choice women have been making for centuries without anyone fussing too much as long as they achieved what we’ve been told is the single most important achievement in a woman’s life.
I do.
I marrya complete stranger and all I know about him is his name.
Augustine Lockwood.
* * *
ChapterThree
Augustine
Ifeel like a monster. Jim convinced me to pull the trigger on this thing and just when I’m weak, sad and vulnerable enough to stop myself from thinking, I blow $350,000 on a woman. Ibuya woman. The saddest part is — I’m really that fucking lonely. Jim tried cheering me up by reminding me that I bought asmartwoman who probably has more education than every woman in our small Alaskan town combined.
Hm. What women? There are about ten men to every one woman out here, meaning most of the women ain’t too particular about who they lay down with. If I wanted to share STDs with Jim, I’d take up one of his porno-watching offers. No fucking thanks. It’ll be worse knowing that my captive is smart. I’ll feel the weight of what I’m doing to her. That woman will be a bird in a cage and I’ll be the one responsible for her.
Responsible for keeping her. Holding her. Fucking her.
It sucks to admit, but I’m just too fucked up to care. I just want a woman’s touch, the softness of a woman’s hand. Love isn’t a part of this equation and considering the size of the payment needed, I doubt this woman will love me very much at all. But I still try to make things nice for her.
Money ain’t a problem for me, but money doesn’t seem to matter too much once you’re out here because there isn’t much to buy quite frankly. If you don’t want a brand new truck, a fuckton of liquor or enough cigarettes to smoke bees out of a hive, there isn’t much to furnish a place or give it a woman’s touch. I have three bedrooms because my dang sister pushed me to buy a bigger house, and I suppose I finally have use for them.
I can’t expect this woman to sleep in my bed the first night she comes, so I set up one of the bedrooms as best I can with information from her profile. Jim and I couldn’t agree on a message to send and his ideas were all perverted as fuck, so I sent her nothing. Trinity will find out what type of bastard I am when she gets here.
Jim was pretty keen on her looks, but I don’t know. She doesn’t look like any 120 lb woman I’ve ever met and based on her curves in the photos, she sounds like she might be 4’11” tall, which might be odd considering my height is around 6' 9".
Yes, I’m a freak of nature, but that’s only one of the reasons I left all my shit behind to come up here. The taller you are, the harder it is to run from your problems in a small town. Everybody looks at you.Always.
I guess I just needed the company and those internet folks were offering it. I didn’t think about right or wrong at the time. Now, it’s too fucking late.
See, this place is all about customer experience. At least that’s what Jim tells me. They send me the paperwork and everything once the new Mrs. Trinity Lockwood agrees to my arrangement. We aren’t even in the same damn house for our wedding day. But I get everything in the mail right on time, within seven days of sending my offer.
It’s gloomy and grey when I get the message I’ve been waiting for – the true oh-shit-there’s-a-woman-coming moment you get when you’ve been living in your own filth for as long as I have.
Despite what it might seem like, I was raised right. I’ve just fucked everything in my life up so bad… I don’t deserve a second chance or a bride. At least I could give the money to someone who needed it. I sip on some bourbon as I read the note.Holy fuck, Augustine. You really have fucking lost it up here.
Your bride will arrive in a white Hummer limousine 7 days from the date we sent this notice.
Congratulations on your nuptials!
What a load of bullshit. Now that the liquor is out of my system completely, I feel like a dick. It’s not about the money. I got plenty of money. It’s about what the hell I’m planning on doing with a woman.She’ll be here right on time for my birthday at the end of August.
It’s one thing to fantasize about her body or her lips, but this place has gotta be her home too. I’ve gotta find a way to keep her here and keeping my life together so far hasn’t gone well.
I spend every minute of those seven agonizing days trying to make my house look like somewhere a bachelor hasn’t sat down to rot for the past decade. Clearing out my cans of Coor’s Light is a painful fucking reality check. I drink too much. I’m way too lonely. And it has beenwaytoo long since I’ve had any decent company. I get myself thinking that maybe she’ll like me. Maybe we’ll like each other. It’s stupid, but thinking about what Trinity might be like keeps me going.
I never thought I’d be in this situation.What the fuck was I thinking getting a mail order bride?
