I stood in the bridal shop the next day, frowning at the hideous hot pink Bambi had forced me to try on.
“Oh I love it!” she exclaimed when I exited the dressing room.
I raised one of my freshly plucked eyebrows, “Really? You really shouldn’t be smoking pot while carrying a baby, Bambi.”
She glared at me, although it took effort since she got a fresh treatment of Botox earlier that day.
“I’m not wearing this to your wedding,” I told her as returned to the dressing room to take the ugly rag off.
Grabbing my shoulder before I could close the dressing room door, Bambi pulled me around so our faces would be a mere inch apart.
I could smell her Chanel Number Five as if I was wearing it myself.
“Listen you little punk, you’ll do whatever I say or I will make sure you pay,” she threatened me.
Her words didn’t faze me.
“No, you listen, my dad has hooked up with plenty of young girls like you and none of those relationships have lasted longer than Kim Kardashian’s marriage. You may be pregnant but trust me honey, someone new will come along a lot younger and sexier than you and you’ll be old news.”
With that, I shut the dressing room door leaving Bambi speechless and frozen in place.
A rush of adrenaline passed through my veins, did I really just say that?
Never had I said something so gutsy to someone, let alone one of my dad’s girlfriends… or in this case fiancée.
I quickly slipped the dress off my slim body and placed it neatly on its hanger.
Without saying another word to Bambi, I stormed out of the dress shop.
It was pure torture spending every waking planning a wedding I in no way supported.
Dialing Jake’s number, I walked down the busy street.
He answered on the first ring, “Hazel! What’s up?”
“Meet me at Chez Nous, I have so much to tell you about my latest bridezilla stories,” I responded.
Without hesitation he agreed to meet me there in a short five minutes.
I had only waited in the bistro for a few seconds before I spotted Jake’s brown mop of hair in the crowded café.
“What kind of monster of a dress did Bambi make you try on?” he asked as we settled into our seats at our favorite table in the place, right next to the window.
It was a perfect spot for people watching.
“Hot pink, sparkles, and ruffles. Do I need to elaborate?” I asked.
Jake let out a big laugh, “Oh god! So did you actually buy it?”
I shrugged my shoulders, “I didn’t stay long enough to find out. After she threatened me about following her every command I told her off and left.”
His mouth formed a big o, “No you didn’t!”
Flashing him a devious smile, I giggled, “Yes I did.”
Before he could ask any more questions my phone buzzed.
My iPhone flashed, informing me I had an incoming call from my father.
Dreading his wrath, sure that Bambi had ratted me out, I hesitantly answered the call.
“Daddy!” I exclaimed, trying my best to sound innocent.
The tone of his voice let me know I was in deep trouble, “Hazel, I just talked with Bambi. I am very disappointed in you. And after listening to some of her suggestions on how to deal with the situation we have decided it would be a good idea for you to see a psychologist.”
I couldn’t believe my ears, “You want me to see a shrink?”
“Don’t think of it so negatively,” he informed me, trying to be upbeat, “It is obvious you are taking me moving on from your mom hardly. I will always love her but—”
I cut him off before he could continue, “But you love that, that sloot Bambi? Real classy dad.”
With the click of a button I ended the call.
Screw him. Screw Bambi. Screw my life.