Romancing The Fairy King

"No! Are you out of your mind?"

"Maya, please!"

"You've got to be kidding me, woman." Amaya Petterson looked at her best friend, Mary, and questioned if the demented plan she'd just heard came from her best friend's mouth or if she'd merely imagined the words.

"Please, Maya! Please, please, I need your help!" Mary sighed and looked at her. "You're the only person that I could think of who could achieve this—"

"Achieve my *ss."

"Please."

"Hmm! Wait a minute there," Amaya said, standing up and pacing her friend's huge, feminine bedroom. "It's the night before your wedding to Tyler, and you expect me to go to his bachelor party, invade it—discreetly, of course—and make certain he's not doing it with one of the strippers?"

"Yes."

"You are crazy!"

"I am." Mary nodded, her chin-length chestnut hair gently swaying against her exquisite jaw. "That just about covers it all. What could go wrong?"

"This is madness! But what this actually indicates is that you're thinking about marrying a man you don't trust tomorrow!" Amaya groaned.

"No," Mary answered, settling back on her bed, which was piled high with ruffled, too-bright-green pillows.

"What this means is that I know Tyler is a man."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amaya groaned and watched her friend bite her lips.

"Amaya, come on. You know that old joke about the brain and the penis sharing the same blood supply, right?"

Amaya couldn't help but chuckle. Yeah, right! "And when the blood goes to the little head—"

"The big head can't think properly. And presto! Tyler’s a goner!"

"Seriously, Mary?"

"I’m serious here. I need your help!"

Amaya approached the window and looked out. This mid-November evening, leafless oak trees decorated the quiet suburban streets of Water St., Lewistown, just north of Montana. The two-story house across the street twinkled with multi-coloured lights. She'd flown in late from Los Angeles, almost missing the rehearsal dinner earlier this evening but arriving in plenty of time for the wedding itself. Tomorrow, at two o'clock in the afternoon, was the big day. She served as maid of honour.

Amaya and Mary had gone to boarding school in France. Her best friend had been as reserved and fearful as Amaya had been bold and daring. They'd handled their years away from home as roommates, becoming good friends in the process. Now, on what should have been one of the best nights of Mary's life, she was scared that her soon-to-be husband would be seduced to cheat on her.

Amaya sat in the window seat and used her fingertips to massage her temples. "God, I'm having a headache already."

"I know, and I owe you one," Mary smiled.

Amaya was getting anxious, which was a terrible sign. She despised violence, and Mary's ideas were no more than sheer war.

"Okay, okay! Run the whole thing to me again," she instructed.

Mary sat up more upright and glowed, saying, "Oh, thank you so much, you are an angel."

"Yeah yeah!"

Amaya beemed, "So okay. Tyler knows you're going to the ceremony tomorrow, but he's never met you in person, so he won't recognise you."

"Are you sure?" Amaya asked, raising her brow.

"I'm sure, and we can also fix you up with some kind of, um, makeup, a hairstyle, or something, you know, maybe a dark wig?"

"And?"

Mary smiled and said, "Well, I managed to find out where the party was tonight. It's just a couple of blocks from here, at Chase's residence. He's Tyler's cousin. You might head over there and come right back as soon as you were certain about—"

"There's no funny business going on." Amaya growled.

Mary took a big breath and said, "Yes. No funny thing happening with my Tyler."

"But I'm not sure if I can pull this off, Mary."

"Maya, you're a dancer, what could go wrong?"

Amaya rolled her eyes.

The bedroom was silent. Amaya was dumbfounded that she was thinking of doing this. Mary, on the other hand, drew out all her cards, even sobbing.

"Really, Mary?" She couldn't bear seeing her best friend weep.

"Please…"

"Okay, you win."

"And," Mary continued, "you told me about that dance performance where your entire troop wore only electric-silver body paint, so it's not as if—"

"I'm excessively modest about that part, and you know that, but I'm not stripping." Amaya concluded as she rolled her eyes again. She was a part-time dancer, and Mary knew that. She stood up and walked over to the bright vanity, where she sat down next to her best friend in the world. "But Mary, you do realise what you're asking me to do, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Mary's pure, dark brown eyes were solemn.

"Do you want me to tell you if I find Tyler having... you know, doing it with one of the girls, and if I tell you, are you going to call off the entire wedding?"

Mary halted, "Um…well—"

The grandiose wedding had been planned with no money spared. It was something that Mary's parents could afford. Amaya was aware that two hundred people were expected at church tomorrow to witness the marriage.

The exquisite flowers, the designer bridal gown, the sit-down dinner thereafter, the lovely cake, the country club celebration—Amaya was astounded by the amount of preparation and expenditure that was put into this wedding.

"Well?" Amaya inquired. "Would you call it off?"

"Yes. Absolutely I would! Well, I would call it quits! Because if I couldn't trust Tyler tonight, how could I build a family on such shaky ground?"

Amaya frowned. "You make a good point."

"Yeah, I guess so," Mary sighed.

"Jesus," Amaya said, feeling herself weak. She took a deep breath and said, "I'm going to regret this tomorrow."

"Of course not."

"Yeah, right. Okay, show me Tyler's picture again."