Froggy Style (24 page)

M
y naked brush with Pretty sobered me up considerably. Good thing too, since I now had less than twenty minutes until the wedding procession began,
if
the wedding procession began. The look of hurt in Sleeping Beauty’s eyes would haunt me for a lifetime. The pain in her gaze went beyond the typical betrayal.

She looked . . . devastated.

Frog! I staggered to my feet, thankful Pretty had dressed and vacated the room minutes ago. Her nakedness was a distraction I didn’t need. Not right now. Hell, not ever. In fact, out of all three Vaniteuse sisters, Pretty terrified me the most. Probably had something to do with the blatant greed in her cold, green eyes.

Callous eyes unlike the passionate inferno burning in Beauty’s gaze only minutes ago. I grabbed the Windsor knot around my neck and yanked the forest green tie off. How could I not have seen it earlier? Sleeping Beauty was in love with me. It was so obvious. She’d tried to fight it, and even enlisted Lollie’s help to end our engagement, but in the end, like all the others before her, she’d succumbed.

And really, who could blame her?

Guilt pooled in my intestines.

Beauty probably thought that I loved her back too. She wasn’t the first woman to fall under the frog prince spell. Why did I have to be so damn charming?

Not to mention handsome beyond compare.

And rich, even without my father’s money.

A sudden thought occurred to me. How jealous was Beauty? Jealous enough to kill her own sister? I pictured the Rose as it exploded into a fireball with Lollie locked inside.

The farther I stayed from Lollie, the safer she would be. The thought sent a sharp pain through my heart. Either that or the leftover Frog Eye Salad I’d eaten for breakfast was taking its revenge on my organs.

I needed to set things straight with Beauty. If only to protect Lollie. I headed for the door, acid swirling in my gut. I had to convince Beauty that loving your significant other was no way to start a marriage.

I reached for the doorknob, rehearsing exactly what I would say to my demented bride. “I’m sorry for sleeping with your one sister, but I swear I didn’t do your other sister” didn’t seem quite right. My fingers started to twist the knob when the door flew open and smashed me in the face. I staggered back, purple pansies filling my eyes as tiny princesses circled my damaged noggin. A few seconds later, my world went from emerald to black.

I
blinked against the lamplight filling the bedroom, my head pounding like all five monkeys jumping on a bed. Once my vision turned from black to merely semi-blurry, I glanced around the bedroom, unable to move more than my head. My hands and feet were bound tightly with some sort of pink ribbon.

Frog! Was this Beauty’s final revenge? Would I soon find myself slaughtered and stuffed in a grave out back? I wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not until I told Lollie . . .

A crackle of maniacal laughter filled the room. “I see you’re awake,” a small voice whispered.

“Beauty?” I called out. “I swear it wasn’t what it looked like. Pretty was just showing me—”

“Shut up, you dolt,” my attacker cut me off.

My stomach rolled as I recognized the tiny voice, if not the words. Words I’d heard before, outside this very room. Panic filled me. I pulled against the ropes binding my arms, feeling a lot like Gulliver when he took that wrong turn and wound up at an S&M club.

The faint sound of the wedding march floated from the hallway. I swallowed hard and glanced down in time to see my small assailant pointing a very large pistol at my head. I was going to miss my own wedding thanks to the manic insect with a Napoleon complex, a top hat, a tiny shovel, and a gun.

“Jimmy, good to see you. Now how about you be a good cockroach and untie me?” I glared down at the miniature assassin, barely visible against the shag carpet.

He cackled with insane, malicious glee. “I think not.”

“That’s a shame.” I sighed. “So what’s the deal? Did you come here to wish me luck on my wedding or something?” Oh, I hoped it wasn’t the “or something” because I really didn’t want to die. Not on my birthday, for frog sakes.

“Or something. Something slow and painful, I think.” He cocked the gun, which sounded like a cannon in the silence of the bedroom.

“Whoa. Wait a minute,” I said quickly. “You can’t kill me yet. Where’s your grand, probably incredibly boring, reveal? The one where you tell me why exactly I must die. Come on, man. Don’t short yourself now.”

His beady eyes blazed at the short comment, but he lowered the gun a quarter of an inch. “If you insist,” he said, “it all started—”

“I take it back,” I said. “Just shoot me.”

The roach scowled, his tiny face growing red.

“Please?” I added.

“In due time, I assure you.” Jimmy cleared his throat. “As I was saying . . .”

“Oh, what’s the point?” I blew out a harsh breath, and then in a rush outlined his dastardly plot. “You’re in love with Beauty. She’s in love with me. So you decided to take me out of the equation. Blah. Blah. Blah.” I paused to take a mouthful of air-conditioned air. “You die and I get away in time to marry the love of your life. The end.”

“It’s rude to interrupt when your better is speaking.” He jabbed the gun at me.

“Not as rude as attempting to murder me.” My eyes narrowed to slits. “Three times so far.”

“Five,” he said.

“What?”

His beady eyes rolled in his tiny-top-hat-wearing head. “Five times. I’ve tried to kill you five times, and until today, I’ve unfortunately failed. I cannot abide inaccuracy of any kind.”

“Five? Are you sure?” I mentally counted the number of attempted murders.

He nodded. The smug bastard.

“The black Unicorn attacks? Sleeping Beauty’s bedroom? The warehouse? The bomb? Those attempts were all you?” I felt sick. Lollie was telling the truth. Beauty had nothing to do with any of this. She was nothing more than an innocent, albeit sleepy bystander. I owed Beauty a major apology.

“Sadly, you arrived a bit late for the bomb to work.” He caressed the gun with his tiny fingers. “I blame myself. I did not take into account traffic on the strip.” He gazed down at his tiny, manicured fingernails, black with grave-digging dirt, and then glanced back up. “As for the other misfortunes, I will make up for my failures soon.”

“But why kill Beauty’s fiancées? Why not just tell her that you love her and see what happens?” I scratched my chin. “Hell, you gave us your blessing, for frog sakes. What was that about?”

“If you would pay attention, I’ll explain.” He jabbed the gun at me, the barrel looming even larger in his small hands. A bead of some nasty insect secretion dripped down the trigger. “Many years ago, young Beauty was cursed with a terrible fate.” He started reciting the curse, the one written on the back of the picture frame in Beauty’s bedroom:
“A pin-pricked finger, will sleep eternal, until his true heart Be.”

“Not exactly Shakespeare.” I pulled against the silk ropes. “Besides, as of a few minutes ago Beauty looked just fine to me. No eternal sleep or pinpricks to speak of.” I motioned to the doorway with my head. “So suck it up and tell her how you feel.” I pictured Lollie’s face last night when she ran up the stairs and out of my life. Swallowing past the words I should’ve said, I croaked, “Curse be damned, before it’s too late and you lose her forever.” Like I had.

“If only it was that simple.” The gun wavered in his hand. “Princess Beauty has not yet been stricken by her curse. She has taken great care over the years to avoid any prick.” His eyes narrowed on me.

“Ha, ha.” I gave an affected laugh. “So she’s not actively cursed. Good. What’s the problem?”

“The only way Sleeping Beauty can avoid her sleepy fate is by true love’s kiss.
Until his heart Be
.” He grimaced. “For some ridiculous reason, she believes that heart is yours.” My mind flashed to my B-shaped birthmark, the birthmark that sat squarely above my heart, but Jimmy wasn’t finished. “I tried to tell her how stupid that was, but she refuses to listen.”

“What makes you think I’m not the guy?” I asked. She was, after all, my
One
. It only made sense that I would be hers. Of course, curses rarely made sense. In fact, they just loved to frog with you. Take my curse, for example. As if it wasn’t hard enough to sit around and eat flies all day, they had to top it off with finding a princess willing to kiss a frog, and not one of those hippy chicks who lick toads either, but a bona fide princess.

He snorted, aiming the gun at my chest. “Look at you,” he said, waving the gun at me. “You don’t love her. You don’t love anyone but yourself.”

Again, an image of Lollie’s crooked smile filled my head.

Cocking the weapon with one hand, Jimmy backed up to the door and gave me a tiny finger wave. “Good-bye, Jean-Michel. I’ll give Beauty your regards.”

“S
ir? Have you seen my rose petal potpourri? I had it specially delivered to the hotel for the flower girl . . .” Karl called as he flung the bedroom door wide, knocking Jimmy to the floor. The gun flew from his hand and bounced under the bed. “Karl,” I shouted. “Look out!”

But it was too late.

Karl stepped into the room and right onto Jimmy Cockroach, assassin and marriage broker to the stars. The awful squish of shoe meeting killer insect filled the room.

Karl glanced down and glowered at the goo on the bottom of his shoe. “Sir, did you leave gum on the floor again? How many times have I told you . . .” His eyes narrowed on my tied-up form on the bed. “Oh, shame on you, sir. Playing sex games while your guests wait downstairs. I have half a mind to—”

“Hurry up and untie me, Karl.” I pulled against the ropes. “I have to find Lollie—”

“I’m sorry, sir.” He lowered his gaze. “But Ms. Bliss isn’t downstairs.”

“What are you talking about?” No woman would dare miss her sister’s wedding, not even Lollie, the black sheep of the family. “Fine,” I said. “If she’s not downstairs, I’ll go to Handsome’s place.”

“She’s not there either, sir.” Karl’s eyes filled with tears. “Ms. Bliss is gone, sir. Forever. She asked me to tell you . . .”

“What?”

“To forget her. Marry Beauty and live happily ever after.”

I closed my eyes, letting Lollie’s final good-bye sweep over me. She was right. I wouldn’t make the same mistake my father had. I was my own prized possession. Not some tattooed girl who I couldn’t stop thinking about. I would marry Beauty, end my curse, and have my happily-ever-after.

Or not.

Only one way to find out.

Karl glanced at his watch as the faint chorus of the wedding march began again. “Princess Beauty awaits you downstairs.”

S
tanding at the altar, Handsome at my side per Beauty’s “suggestion,” my palms started to sweat. I wiped them on my tuxedo pants and swallowed back a wave of regurgitated scotch. I caught sight of RJ and Asia seated in the fourth pew.

RJ, the bastard, winked.

My mouth grew as dry as the desert air.

My gaze shifted to the front row. Karl beamed at me from his seat next to Candi, who wore a surprisingly un-stripper-like dress and ballet flats. Karl wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders and smiled. The two of them looked mismatched, Karl pudgy and eager in contrast to Candi’s jaded gaze and blatant, albeit diluted sex appeal, but as a couple, they couldn’t have looked happier. Which both pissed me off and warmed my heart. Why couldn’t I fall in love like that? Why didn’t anything come easy for me?

On the other side of Karl sat my father, the Frog King, who was the only man in the room wearing a rented tuxedo. Shortly before I’d made my way downstairs, the Frog King had knocked on my bedroom door. He apologized for disowning me and had welcomed me back into the froggy fold. I wasn’t sure what caused his change of heart, but right now, it hardly mattered.

Nothing mattered.

I tried to smile at the crowd, but my lips, now fused to my teeth, refused to comply. I looked to my father’s right where a subdued Elly sat, avoiding my gaze. What was up with her? If anyone should be happy about my upcoming “I do,” it was Elly.

The wedding march began again, loud enough to rattle my back teeth. The temple doors opened. A flash of white caught my eye. Frog! This was it.

I closed my eyes.

Handsome gasped.

The crowd sucked in a collective breath.

My eyes flew open, nearly bursting from their sockets at the sight in front of me. Sleeping Beauty stood, alone, at the back of the room. White lace and satin swirled around her. Gone were her sleepy eyes and disdain, replaced by a thin white lace veil that covered her face. Her long hair shone like spun gold, falling around her shoulders in waves. Her eyes shimmered like the purest of violets at dawn through the lacy curtain obscuring her face. She looked absolutely beautiful and terrified.

I shot her a small, hesitant smile.

She glared back.

Oops. Someone had missed her afternoon nap.

Anger quickly replaced the terror in her gaze, and she stomped up the aisle toward me, apparently still a little upset about our earlier run-in. The king ran up the aisle behind her, followed by a fully dressed Pretty.

We all took our places, Beauty at my side.

Forever.

The room grew even hotter.

Sweat beaded my upper lip.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister began.

I sucked in a deep breath as the room spun around me.

The scent of strawberries tickled my sense.

And something else.

Something familiar.

I spun around, searching the crowd for Lollie’s face.

“Do you . . . Princess . . . this . . . man . . . till death do you part . . .” the minster droned on, but I wasn’t paying any attention. My heart pounded in my chest. My fingers itched to take Lollie into my arms, to feel her skin against mine, if only for one last time. But we weren’t meant to be. My future lay with the sleepy princess next to me, the one who looked ready to, and probably would, murder me in my sleep.

For a second my attention returned to Beauty. A woman I would never love. “I do,” Beauty mumbled, a slight hitch in her voice.

“Do you, Jean-Michel La Grenouille,” the minister began.

Did I what? Know I was making the biggest mistake of my life, one that would haunt me, like the taste of Lollie on my lips, until my dying day? Yeah, I had an idea.

I pictured Lollie’s tattooed skin and her slightly slanted smirk. I pictured her holding a baby, our baby, in her colorful arms. The words “prized possession” flickered through my mind.

“. . . your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness . . .”

The scent of strawberries grew stronger. My eyes searched the pews. No sign of Lollie, but she was here. I had no doubt about it. I could feel her. Almost taste her inky flesh.

“. . . till death do you part . . .”

A lump formed in my throat from the urge to shout her name, to end this charade once and for all, to spit in the face of fate. Green wasn’t that bad a color.

A low murmur swept through the guests.

“Jean-Michel?” the minister prompted. “Do you take her?”

What? Take who? I tried to focus on the question, but the smell of strawberries had addled my thoughts.

“Jean-Michel!” the minister yelled again.

I snapped to attention. “Sorry. What was the question?”

Beauty screeched, “Just say ‘I do’!”

“I do,” I repeated dully.

Sleeping Beauty let out a choked laugh. Or maybe a snore. Could’ve even been a sob for all I knew. One could never tell with her.

“All right then.” The minster paused to glare at us, and then at the rest of the wedding guests. “Now, if anyone has reason to believe these two,” the minister’s eyes darted between Beauty and me, “should not be wed, let them speak now of forever hold their—”

“I do.”

“Me too.”

“Not the best idea . . .”

“I could use a drink.”

The minister rolled his eyes as he stared out at six raised hands of those unable to hold their peace for a second longer. One of the hands was mine, and another, well, that hand belonged to my not-so-sleepy and currently enraged bride.