Calamity Jayne Goes to College (25 page)

"What," I said, pointing to what appeared to be a boob in each hand, "are those?"

"It's called the Au Naturelle bra," she said. Why wasn't I surprised she owned one?

"They look like nursing pads," I said.

"It's a strapless bra. It's made of the same thing them boob implants are."

I looked at it. "Silicone?" I said. "Where's the rest of it?"

"What do you mean? This is all there is," she said.

I looked at her. "That's it? How does it stay on? Su-perglue? Velcro? Thumbtacks?"

Gram shook her head. "It's got this here adhesive backing. Gives you lift. And the silicone adds on a full cup-size!"

I took another look at the skin-toned circles. "A cup size?" I asked.

She nodded. "And you could use a little help in that area," she added with a look at my chest.

She had a point.

"I'm not sure...," I said. "What if it comes loose and slides down my dress?"

"It's guaranteed to adhere to your skin," she replied, and the thought of something adhering to my breasts and nipples didn't
exactly thrill me. Still, my only other strapless bra was black and would show up like white old lady briefs under white polyester
slacks.

"I suppose I don't have a choice," I said. And all it had to do was stay in place long enough to get Kari wedded and pictures
taken. And this time, I was staying away from the cocktail weenies.

At least until after the wedding photos were taken.

With Gram's help, we fastened the Au Naturelle contraption to my boobs.

"I'm not sure about this, Gram," I said, looking down at my brand-new, artificially enhanced, freaky-looking bosom. "Do these
appear natural?" I said, frowning at my profile in the full-length mirror behind the door. "I wouldn't want to look top-heavy."

"If you don't want 'em, I'll take 'em," she said, and I cast a look at her bustline that also nearly served as a waistline.

"That's okay, Gram. I'll deal," I said.

Standing at the front of the church sometime later-- after dealing with strapless cups that were guaranteed to lift, separate,
oh, and stay in place, but were already starting to come loose and beginning to migrate to forbidden and unnatural places--I
realized I should've let Gram have the pair with my blessing.

I also found myself wishing the good Reverend Browning would speed up the ceremony. In addition to a brassiere that kept peeling
away from my body a section at a time, the friggin' crotch of my panty hose had slid down to midthigh level. I stood next
to Kari with a dopey, serene smile pasted on my face and all the while my left boob was migrating toward the center of my
chest, rapidly creating a "trititty" phenomenon that I didn't think would ever catch on. I bit my lip and tried to think of
a way to reach down and pull the malfunctioning C-cup out of my dress front. I looked at the two bouquets I held. Okay, it
might work. I slowly transferred the flowers to my left hand and slipped Brian's wedding ring--which as maid of honor I was
holding for safekeeping--onto my right index finger.

I took a sidelong look at the happy couple. They were making goo-goo eyes at each other and were oblivious of my distressing
condition. I checked out the minister. He had his nose in his prayer book or wedding vow book or whatever they call it. This
was my chance. Behind the cover of the floral bouquets I'd shoved a hand down the front of my strapless gown and groped my
own boobs for a second (how pathetic is that?) when I felt Brian's wedding ring slide off my finger and down-down-down into
my decolletage.

"And now for the exchanging of rings," I heard the minister say. I winced.

I caught Townsend staring at me with a wicked, knowing grin on his handsome face. Kari nudged me.

"The ring," she said, putting out her hand.

I gave her an
I am so sorry for what I'm about to do
look and plunged my hand down the front of my dress and felt around for a second before I started to hop up and down. Kari's
eyes grew big and wide. The minister pulled his glasses off and looked at me. I kept hopping. My panty hose slid down farther.
One-half of my Au-Naturelle brassiere fluttered to the floor and landed between my feet. Two more hops and my panty hose crotch
was around my knees. The sound of metal hitting the floor rang out.

I bent over to pick up the shiny gold band from the floor, a look of success at last on my face. I held the ring out in front
of me and caught a strange look on the minister's face. Beside me Kari gasped, Brian gaped, and Townsend cleared his throat.
He motioned toward my chest. I looked down. My maid of honor bodice had slipped and two "au naturelle" boobs--one size C and
one size B--had popped out of my dress and were hanging over the top of my gown.

Red-hot mortification scalded me from head to toe. I wished I could go throw myself into the baptismal behind the altar.

I looked up and met the minister's eye.

Hand on the Bible, folks, I swear I saw him wink.

"Well, as usual you caused quite a stir, Calamity," Townsend observed as we waited for the traditional tossing of the bridal
bouquet. We were at the Silver Stone Cultural Center (yes, we do have culture in the sticks), which rented out its huge hall
for wedding receptions. I'd shucked my remaining, dangling C cup and had lifted a blue old lady cardigan from the coat-rack
and slipped it on.

"I do have a reputation to uphold," I told Townsend, tipping a cold bottle of Bud Light to my lips and taking a long swallow.

"I thought Brian was going to keel over," Townsend said, sipping his own beer. "And Reverend Browning--"

I swallowed. "Yes?"

"Let's just say, most of his weddings from now on will seem pretty tame in comparison."

I smiled and spotted Uncle Frank across the room. He raised his glass of beer in my direction and grinned.

"I see all is forgiven between you and your uncle Frank," Townsend observed.

I nodded. "Carson College agreed to cover the costs of repairs on his Suburban," I told Townsend. "Once they learned about
the newspaper article I was writing, that is. Guess they wanted to squeeze at least a little good press out of a totally bad
situation. So I'm back in Uncle Frank's good graces and back at the Freeze again. If I want."

"You sound like you're not sure about going back," Townsend said.

I shrugged. "Now that Taylor's there, I'm not really needed." I took another long swig of beer.

"There you are, Tressa!" My gammy rushed up to me and grabbed my hand. "Kari is looking all over for you. She's getting ready
to toss the bridal bouquet! All us single ladies have to get ready to catch it. I've already rounded up Taylor."

"You better go," Townsend said. "You don't want to miss that."

"Who says?" I said, but allowed myself to be led away. Gram positioned us in prime spots. We waited for the photos to be shot.

"Aren't you warm in that sweater?" Gram asked.

I shrugged. "I don't want to take any chances."

"Kari will go postal if you're wearing that in her reception pictures," she told me.

She had a point. I slipped it off my shoulders and hung it on the back of a nearby chair.

"See what matrimony can do for you?" Gram nudged me. "Kari looks so happy."

I nodded. "She does," I agreed.

"Of course, it could also be the sex," Gram suggested.

"I suppose that's true, too," I admitted.

"You gettin' any ideas?" Gram asked. " 'Cause if you want me to stand down, I will."

I looked at her. "What are you talking about, Gram?"

"Joe asked me to marry him. And I'm thinkin' that if I was to catch Kari's bridal bouquet, that would be like a sign from
God that I'm supposed to say yes."

I stared at her. "Joe Townsend asked you to marry him? When?"

Gram looked at me. "Which time?"

"Oh my," I said. "Does Rick know?"

"I don't think it ever came up in a conversation," Gram admitted.

I was pretty sure she was right. If he'd gotten wind of it, Townsend would be running around with patches of hair missing
and tearing at his clothing.

"Let's keep it that way for the time being," I suggested.

The party planner stepped up to the microphone and made the customary jokes associated with the tossing of the bouquet. I
felt Gram tense next to me.

"Take it easy, Gram. Remember you have brittle bones. I don't want to see you break a hip," I told her.

"It's every woman for herself," she said.

Not a comforting thought.

Kari moved into position. I noticed she made a great point of observing where I was standing. I waved my hands and shook my
head at her, praying she'd get the message and send the bouquet in the opposite direction. Hopefully right at Abigail Winegardner.

Kari made a couple of fake tossing motions and the audience began to count.

"One! Two! Three!"

Kari heaved the bouquet. Yep, and right in this cowgirl's direction. I suddenly thought about having Joe Townsend for a step-grandfather
and then realized that would make Rick Townsend my cousin by marriage. A kissin' cousin, at that. I winced. I shook my head.
I wasn't emotionally prepared to deal with the complications this little blended family could bring.

Gram's sign-from-God remark drifted through my head. "Forgive me, Father, for what I am about to do," I prayed.

The bouquet arced and began to descend right in front of me. I prepared to mow down anyone in my path to possess the posies.
It continued on its path right at me. This was gonna be like taking candy from a baby, I decided. I made a wide grab for the
bouquet and suddenly felt my back dress zipper spring open and my chest runneth over. I made a frantic attempt to cover up
and my gammy reached over and snatched the prophetic petals right out from in front of me.

I turned to see who the smart-ass zipper fiend was. joe Townsend stood behind me.

"Talk about your wardrobe failures," he said with an evil grin. "Tough break, girlie." He moved to take the bouquet from my
grandma. He sniffed it. "Lucky catch, Hannah," he told her, and gave her big kiss.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," I said, and felt strong arms around me.

"I'll hold your head if you hold mine," Townsend said, pulling me close.

"Sounds fair," I agreed, turning so he could zip me back up. I picked up the sweater to put it back on, and Townsend took
it from me.

"Nice sweater," he said. "But I think the old lady you lifted it from wants it back." He dropped it onto the chair and ran
his hands down my arms. "Nice arms, too," he said.

"Oh, they're nothing special," I remarked, always uncomfortable when talk turned to parts of my body. "I've had them forever."

Townsend smiled. "Speaking of which, I bet you didn't realize that it is after midnight and, therefore, officially your birthday,"
he said.

"It is?" I grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. "It is! I'm a year older!" I paused. "I'm a year older," I repeated,
not quite sure how I felt about being twenty-four.

"May this humble carp cop be the first to wish you happy birthday, Tressa?" Rick asked, hauling me close to his chest. I knew
my strapless was probably gaping open, but since Townsend had already gotten more than an eyeful during the vows I figured,
big deal.

"I suppose no harm can come from a simple birthday kiss," I said. "Plant one on me, Mr. Ranger, sir," I said, my teasing words
at odds with the breathless quality of my voice and the sudden
thump, thump, thumping
of my ticker.

"Well, then pucker up, birthday girl, 'cause here it comes," he said. "Happy birthday, Tressa Jayne Turner." He drew my lips
to his to give me a long, wild, hotter-than-twenty-four-candles kiss.

I closed my eyes to receive his gift.

"What the hell is goin' on?"

I opened one eye, but didn't break lip contact. My

open eye came to rest on one very large, very menacing, very pissed-off Aunt Mo.

"Aunt Mo?" I said, ending the birthday kiss.

"Don't you 'Aunt Mo' me!"

"What are you doing here?"

"What? You've never seen
Wedding Crashers?
What the hell you doin' lettin' that handsome man kiss you like that?" Aunt Mo said.

"Is there a problem?" Townsend asked the woman.

"I reckon that's up to my nephew, Manny," she said.

Townsend frowned, and I began to back away.

"What does Manny DeMarco have to do with this?" Rick asked.

"I'm thinkin' my nephew might not be too thrilled about his fiancee swapping spit with a nice-looking man like you, especially
with her titties hanging out."

Townsend's mouth flew open.

"Fiancee?" he said.

I gulped.

Will Tressa Jayne Turner please report to the principal's office?

Oh, buddy. Circle the wagons. Here we go again.