She turns to show us, Ava and I sharing a quick look behind her back.

“Yep, you did it!” Ava cheers as Charlotte turns back around with a smile. “You moved the zipper a whole centimeter. Well done, fatty.”

Charlotte lunges at Ava and I quickly jump forward, wrapping my arms around her and holding her back while she pulls and struggles and curses.

“You dick-bag-whore-fuck-ass-licking-twat!” Charlotte screams, not even bothering to keep her voice down.

“Fuck right off, you selfish cunt!” Ava yells back.

Charlotte stops struggling and I let out a low whistle.

“Damn, going right for the C U Next Tuesday, huh? That’s harsh,” I tell her.

Ava shrugs. “It couldn’t be helped. Can we call a truce for now and get this shit show over with? Aunt Claire is going to start throwing punches if she goes much longer without champagne.”

I drop my arms from around Charlotte and she takes a deep breath for courage. I decide to keep my mouth shut for now and suck this crap up a little longer. I’m pissed and I’m frustrated and I just want this whole thing to be over with, but I know it’s just as bad for Charlotte. She’s nervous about everything running smoothly with the wedding she’s been planning since she was a little girl, she’s pregnant and scared and now her dream dress that she loved the minute she first tried it on six months ago doesn’t fit. And least I have one good thing in my life that makes all of this bullshit better, even if I’m now afraid of his penis.

Ava and I leave the dressing room first and I hold the curtain open for Charlotte to walk through. Mom, Aunt Claire and Aunt Jenny stop talking and stare at Charlotte as she walks out of the room.

Mom immediately bursts into tears and Aunt Claire silently grabs a box of Kleenex from the table next to her, shoving it into mom’s stomach.

“Oh, honey, you look so beautiful,” Mom gushes as Charlotte smiles at the praise, lifting up the skirt of her dress and doing a little twirl.

“Why isn’t your dress zipped?” Aunt Claire asks when Charlotte stops twirling.

“I’m stressed. I’ve been stress-eating and gained a little weight, and it’s no big deal and it happens to every bride,” Charlotte rambles.

“Oh, my gosh, you too?” Aunt Jenny asks. “I’m so nervous and excited about the wedding I’ve been eating in my sleep. I’m sleep-walk eating.”

Mom blows her nose and Aunt Claire holds up her empty champagne glass, signaling to the owner of the shop. “Something tells me I’m going to need a refill.”

Aunt Jenny continues as Mom tosses her tissue and box of Kleenex to an empty chair. She walks behind Charlotte to try and zip the dress, glancing at the camera man and sound guy standing next to Aunt Claire with their equipment pointed right at Aunt Jenny.

“Do you guys ever take a lunch break or anything? Now might be a great time for that,” Mom informs them.

Daren the camera guy, or Dicky Daren as Uncle Drew likes to call him, who has been recording our family’s every move for the last two weeks, tilts his head to the side of the camera and shrugs.

“Sorry, folks. Producer says I have to get everything. Don’t worry, they’ll edit out anything they don’t think is interesting.”

At this point, the documentary their filming will be approximately 85,000 hours long instead of a two-hour special. Our family doesn’t know how to do anything uninteresting.

“Does that mean you’ll include the footage of you letting Drew fondle your wanker? Because that was pretty interesting, Dicky Daren,” Aunt Claire says with a wink.

“He didn’t fondle it; he grazed it on accident when he tripped over the microphone chord! I have never let a dude fondle my penis!” Daren argues. “I mean, not that it’s wrong or anything. I’m down with the gays and they’re cool and everything, but I prefer chicks on my dick.”

Stan, the sound guy, elbows him in the side and nods to the camera.

“Fuck! Of COURSE I didn’t stop recording,” Daren mutters, shifting the camera more securely on his shoulder and moving his face back behind the eye piece.

“You should be loud and proud about that shit, Dicky Daren,” Aunt Claire says with a laugh. “You got at least an hour of footage of Drew going on and on about how big your penis is and how he’s pretty sure it’s the size of his forearm. Do you know how many women you could bang if that airs? Seriously. You’d have to beat them off with a stick.”

Mom laughs, her fingers still trying to pull up the zipper that won’t budge. “Forget the stick, he could just beat them off with his python penis.”

Daren starts muttering to himself behind the camera, something about crazy women and how he doesn’t get paid enough for this shit, and we go back to pretending like he’s not there.

“Okay, back to what I was saying,” Aunt Jenny continues. “I couldn’t understand why I gained like ten pounds in two weeks until I woke up one morning with an empty box of Ho Hos on my pillow and chocolate smushed on the sheets. Drew assumed it was poop and thought I wanted to try some skate play. I tried for over an hour to convince him it was just chocolate, but he didn’t believe me. Now he won’t shut up about it and keeps telling me there’s no shame in admitting I like poopy sex.”

The shop owner who was on her way to Aunt Claire with a freshly opened bottle of champagne immediately turns on her heels and runs away.

“I believe you mean skat play, not skate play, Jenny,” Aunt Claire mutters. “And can we please get out of here so I can find the closest drug dealer? I’m gonna need to shoot up some meth or something to erase that information from my mind.”

Mom gives up on trying to zip Charlotte’s dress, telling her not to worry and that she’ll just have the seamstress sew a piece of fabric in to hide the problem.

Ava and I help Charlotte out of her dress and we all head out to the car to leave the poor owner in peace so she can cry alone after what she just witnessed, while Daren and Stan load the equipment in their van to follow behind us. Aunt Claire tried to lose them last week just for fun and it ended in a high-speed chase, three annihilated mailboxes, one flat tire, two dead squirrels, and my mom never letting Aunt Claire behind the wheel of a car again.

My phone beeps as Mom pulls out of the parking lot while Aunt Claire complains there’s a guy with a walker moving faster than we are. I smile when I see a text from Marco and block out the sounds of my mom and my aunt arguing from the front seat.

Clear your calendar tonight and plan on getting naked. Puking permitted, but not required.

He always knows just the right thing to say to make me feel better.

Chapter 20

– Pez Penis –

Marco

“It’s fine. It happens to a lot of guys.”

Molly rubs the palm of her hand in slow circles against my back and gives me a sympathetic smile.

“It’s not fine and it doesn’t happen to me!” I yell, immediately feeling bad for raising my voice when she’s being so nice and understanding. She shouldn’t be nice. She should be laughing and making fun of me and storming out of here in disgust. It’s what I deserve.

“Seriously, it’s no big deal. Stop beating yourself up about it.”

She leans in closer and kisses the top of my shoulder.

“This is embarrassing. I swear to God this has never happened to me before, ask anyone,” I mutter.

All I wanted was to give Molly a perfect, romantic, wonderful night. Was that too much to ask? Am I being punished because I still haven’t told her about Alfanso D.? It’s not like I can just blurt it out. I thought if I turned on the charm and left her feeling satisfied, she’d have no choice but to forgive me. I can’t do anything right.

“Marco, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We can try again later,” she encourages, running her fingers through my hair.

Her touch makes my dick stir, and I’m honestly a little surprised I can still get it up at this point.