Marieve and Adam
Chapter 1
Marieve and Adam were married in Paris,
not that she would have had it any other way. M was the kind of girl who demanded the finest of everything
Not only at the surface, but down to the bare elements of the substructure
Every building block needed deep roots in strong organic soil.
America was simply to flimsy for the occasion.
The menu was, of course, perfection.
Heirloom tomatoes were demanded for the salad. After all, her love for Adam was unique.
And every other tomato was farmed with mass produced seeds
And were immediately axed from the nuptials
Marieve baked the wedding cake herself.
Not because she couldn’t have afforded to order from anyone and anywhere, but because she needed ultimate control over each element in this supreme emblem for her lasting and perfect love.
The water needed to be purified not distilled
The eggs needed to be organic but, more importantly. Cage free, as absolutely nothing suggesting that marriage was like a would be allowed anywhere near this cake,
Or near anyone’s perception of this marriage.
And if this sounds a little anal to you, know it came from the sweetest of intentions
That there would be no potential poison to mar the spiritual effect of that first bite she fed to
Her perfect fiancé.
The flowers were a mix of calallilies, hydrangea, and birds of paradise
Which were not only beautiful but had survived Marieve’s rigorous testing process
Where she googled on her laptop for hours.
Meticulously shed screen each flower for any unsuspected history of violence or depravity.
The rose for example, would never have worked.
As its history is particularly sordid with psycho ex-lovers, Shakespearean tragedy,
and Alan Ball screenplays starring Kevin Spacey.
Carnations, gladiolas and all other funeral decor were of course, out of the questions
One of her favorite flowers, the marigold turned out to be far too popular with the Lebanese
And those people had recently celebrated the release of a prisoner who had murdered a 12-year-old.
And clearly this energy was not acceptable.
The wedding was small, only 10 guests
Because outside of her family, whose presence couldn’t be avoided, only her friends with the finest of pedigrees
Were worthy to witness this occasion.
Even their names had to drip with class, history and solidity of character.
Marieve’s voice was white chocolate, and her agent had connections at the Disney channel. So, her voice was matched with Princess, fairies, and other such children’s fare for Saturday morning cartoons
In her travels, she had handpicked the finest of friends
Born in Australia, Daniella came to Los Angeles from Sydney's answer to Broadway.
She had soared effortlessly into series regular roles on the only hippest of television shows.
Always the lawyer, the business woman, or the shrewd best friend of the ingénue.
She had never been cast as a mistress, a hooker, a junkie, or any of the other characters that would have made her presence at the wedding unacceptable.
Gerri was a writer; whose first film had won multiple awards at all the right festivals.
Josie worked at LACMA as a curator specializing in Hudson River art.
And after careful consideration, and long conversations with Adam, Marieve conceded that these painters had been almost entirely been consumed by landscapes.
No battles.
No blood.
No inappropriate baring of unacceptable body parts.
So, Josie couldn’t have been more welcome today.
Victoria was a designer with a small boutique in China town.
Last March Kirstin Dunst and Kate Blanchet worn her prints to the Berlin Film Festival making them the new range of Hollywood’s elite.
Less fortunate was the fast Lindsay Lohan wore one of her dresses last week while snorting cocaine in the back room at Short Stops.
Those photos had landed on the front page of People and Variety, a spectacle that had almost been enough for a last minute shut down.
But then again, Vicky had been the one who introduced her Adam in the first place.
After long sleepless deliberation,
Marieve decided this transgression was excusable.
The wedding was like nothing else.
The night was balmy
Her friends looked fantastic.
Laughter scored the entire affair.
The food. The wine and the music blended like a smoothie.
Across the room full of flowers, Marieve’s eyes met Adam's.
And neither of them had any no doubt that this would be eternal.
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Chapter 2
Marieve and Adam were married in Vegas, because nothing says eternal love
Like a 15-year-old stripper vomiting up cum behind a dumpster.
Just one of the less than stellar views from the balcony of their hotel.
The chapel was sandwiched between Hurricane Pats frat boy beer factory
And Déjà vu, the kind of strip club where doubling up your condoms is highly
At the end of the day the food was a little trying too hard to be something it wasn't, as everything is Vegas is.
Why anyone should be eating seafood in the middle of the dessert was never discussed because by the time dinner came, every wedding guest was too fucked up to think anyway.
But M and Adam were young, only 23 and 25.
Perhaps it was appropriate that two impulsive stage brats too attractive for their own good would marry in a place where the word permanence had no resonance whatsoever.
Marieve’s voice was white chocolate, making her a hot piece of ass in LA seediest nightclubs
So her friends were, not surprisingly. the lowest of the lowlifes
Vicky was a stripper with fake hair and fake boobs, and most likely, a fake name.
She was working that weekend in Vegas anyway, so slipping on a pink dress over her thongs and pasties for a few hours between gigs was no sweat off her back whatsoever.
Josie had come for the wedding, but also to see Victoria strip at the pink cheetah, and she was counting the hours till she could lose the fucking dress
And put on her suit and tie, and outfit that were infinitely more her style.
Gerri was raging alcoholic fresh off her third car crash, so thank god flights to Vegas were cheap that weekend, because her car was in no shape for travel.
Her last binge had lasted almost a week,
And to be honest that prawn didn’t sit so well in her still nauseated stomach and a few trips to the dumpster to vomit herself could not be avoided,
But at least she kept this hidden from Marieve, who was giddy and sweet and in Gerri’s opinion, deserved to have better friends,
Back in Australia, Daniella's husband considered her the most beautiful girl in the world,
So he continued to watch stocks rise and fall, sending her money for the gym, for her hair, her apartment, her car, and of course a large expense account for networking.
The truth was Daniella spent most of her husband’s money on looking cute, going out, and then shacking up with anyone who might get her the next hot acting gig.
And it seemed to be working.
From what anyone could remember
The wedding was fabulous.
The food was amazing; the drinks flowed all night long,
The girls stood on tables, mooning the groomsmen
Daniella slipped out behind the dumpster to fuck one of them after hearing he was a producer for FX.
And Gerri managed to lay off the liquor for a good five hours before giving in,
And across the room of shaking tits and asses, Marieve’s eyes met Adam’s.
And neither of them had any doubt that this would be eternal.
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Chapter 3
I am talking about the same wedding
On the same day
Of the same two people very much in love,
And if that seems impossible to you, all I can say is
Peel of the layers and dig deeper because the only reality is personal perspective
M is simply getting married.
All presuppositions about her attitude, be it tight assed, half assed, high class, low class,
Is all malleable putty dependent entirely on who is telling the story.
M wanted to get married in Paris
And in Vegas, the Paris casino is a short walk down the strip,
And as much as M would have loved to go to France,
Her closest friends had neither the time nor the money to make such a pricey wedding,
And for her this was second best
M had fallen in love with genuine charm of Paris the casino
Enclosed within their wedding suite, they might as well have been in France
The walls were murals of veranda clad rues, street markets, and flowers.
Diamond chandeliers dangled from and a ceiling of ethereal clouds.
So it did not matter that the chapel was smacked between a beer garden and a strip joint,
After all M and Adam were clearly not getting married by that infamous dumpster.
M’s dream was to become a singer and that cartoon voice over work was good training,
And quite frankly, paid the bills well.
But even a white chocolate voice
Cannot instantly catapult anyone to solo shows at the Greek Theater.
Those seedy lounges on the edge of Echo Park
Were all she at least an opening, and place to hone her skills,
And an outlet for a dream which could early die without constant nourishment
M was the kind of girl who nourished as hard as she could
The fact that her friends were submerged in under layers is hardly surprising, we all are.
That a writer could be a struggling alcoholic.
That a LACMA historian may dabble into the finer art of the female flesh should hardly be tough to swallow
And the fact is Victoria has stomach cancer and those medical bills added up without insurance
The fact that her fledgling boutique simply did not pay the bills as well as her surgically enhanced body did and sometimes, you just do whatever it takes to survive.
We do not know enough about the story to judge Daniella
Perhaps she is lying cheating bitch,
But maybe she and her husband had an open marriage,
And for all we know he jiggles a myriad of mistresses as well
So, who the hell are we tell her how to live her life
The thing is that amidst the sin, there is purity and beauty in Los Vegas
The thing is, admits the sin, there is purity and beauty in every human being