Happily Never After

“Smile, Mackenzi, smile. Just a little longer, then you’ll be set for life”

A proposal: the big question that could bind two people as one in marriage. If only it meant something to Mackenzi Laurel. The beautiful 26-year-old with two-toned pink hair. Instead, she looked at her college sweetheart, Jovi Westwood, and saw the hope in his eyes as he fell further for her act. His eyes lit with fear and hope. Still, the ring was something, a diamond set on a rose gold band, big and flashy, just how she wanted. Still, something wasn’t right.

Mackenzi forced the biggest smile across her lips, bounced on the spot in her platform heels, and clapped her hands in excitement. She nodded in acceptance of a proposal she had little care for. She dared not voice her agreement; she dared not risk her act slipping in front of a restaurant full of ogling strangers. Then Mackenzi realized what was wrong: the lack of love on her end didn’t bother her; it was the plan, after all. Her friends’ absence was the problem.

Mayriah and Paget would be thrilled and jealous to hear the news. She’d be the first down the aisle if all went to plan. Jorgie would be happy, but her mind would probably be focused on work, the stress of an office job instead of joining the “business” Paget and herself had going, the one that gave them ample free time and built up successful social media presences. The only reason they weren’t there now was that Jovi didn’t like them. He was on the fence about Jorgie, but Mayriah and Paget were a hard no.

Mackenzi thought she should have worn the sexy white mini dress she’d brought not too long ago; it would have been perfect to symbolize her new journey into being a bride. Her new path led to the aisle and the gold at the end of the rainbow. Instead, she’d worn an old, sequined dress, one that was no longer in fashion. She’d put little effort or care into this date with Jovi and now kind of regretted it. Not that Jovi appeared to notice; he had stars in his eyes. A fool being led to his own doom.

A sigh escaped Mackenzi when the whole parade ended, when the pair headed to the car; still, she smiled, pretending to be giddy about the engagement she had no real love for. Her cheeks hurt from the forced smile, but they always said beauty was pain. So Mackenzi endured it. Just a little longer, then she could let it all drop and return to her normal self. The side Jovi never got to see.

“Night, Handsome,” sweetly spoke Mackenzi, pecking her man on the cheek before leaving the car, glad she’d made up the excuse of being on that time of the month earlier in the night. His expectation of sex vanished with it. Her duty to act as if he satisfied her with it also. Another sigh escaped Mackenzi as she walked down the street, toward the little apartment she shared with the Turncoat sisters, Mayriah, Jorgie, and Paget. Nothing special, almost depressing compared to what the four envisioned for themselves. Still, it worked for their needs. Even if the neighbors were pricks in Mackenzi’s opinion.

The moment the rundown apartment block came into view, Mackenzi’s envy bubbled. Her college friends were out there in the city; they had proof of their success. Most of them had businesses of their own, apartments they shared with no one but their thoughts and the odd messy pet. She wanted that for herself: the apartment, the little life, and success. Still, she questioned how they’d achieved it; she was better than them, she was their Queen Bee, but still they had outshone her. They didn’t share an apartment with three high school friends, nor did they have to peddle hair care products that caused more damage than good. They didn’t have to constantly post on social media.

They had lives of their own, and she hated it. Still, she needed them, now more than ever. Despite each of her college friends going off to achieve success without her permission, most of them had gone into a useful industry. The wedding industry. They could make up for their disobedience now; they had the tools to turn her dream luxury wedding into reality, and if she was lucky, she could get it at a discount or for free. After all, they, like Jovi, were blind to her; they fell for the act back in college. Despite the odd slip of her mask, she kept control of them so she could exploit them now.

Another sigh left Mackenzi’s lips; her feet hurt, and the stupid lifts were on the top floors or not working at all. Which meant ten flights of concrete stairs and passing the idiots that couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves. The teenagers who always had a comment to say, and Mackenzi always flipped off. She had to pass the neighbor always playing ridiculously loud music and the dogs that barked at the slightest noise. She passed one sickly green door after another until she reached apartment 10-12.

A smile tugged at her lips as she reached her front door; it stood apart from the rest, a glass door separating it from the rest like a little porch. The moment Mackenzi entered the apartment, the smell of lavender assaulted her, followed by the sound of something vibrating and Mayriah cursing as she attempted to cook without burning the kitchen down or knocking out the electricity again. No doubt the slouched woman would give up and order takeout if she hadn’t already.

“How’d it go?” asked Paget, her eyes bright. Smile quirky. Surrounding her were boxes from Pure Romance, the latest stock of sex toys she’d be promoting on social media. Which also meant Mackenzi’s own shipment would be there, more monate hair products that would inevitably end up in the trash if they weren’t recalled first.

Mackenzi didn’t say anything, just held up her hand, allowing the giant diamond ring to glitter in the glitchy lights of the living room. Instantly, Paget tossed the sex toy she was checking worked to the side before clapping happily, showing more excitement about the engagement than Mackenzi had during the big question.

“You bitch!” yelled Mayriah, popping her crooked oval face through the kitchen door. Still, she smiled, her teeth yellow from years of smoking. Mayriah would say something different, that she inherited the ugly gene from her father. “How did you fool him into proposing? The rest of us can’t even get a wealthy ticket to look twice at us?” she asked, wielding a greasy spatula as a weapon. Her smile said she was proud; her eyes screamed jealousy. Perhaps Mayriah thought she would be the first down the aisle; she was the oldest, even if by minutes.

“Easy, he’s blinded by my beauty,” laughed Mackenzi, kicking off the platform heels, returning to her usual height, a relieved expression taking over her. She’d change into the white mini dress before she took pictures to share on social media. Still, Mackenzi noted the quietness; Jorgie wasn’t there. No doubt, with her loser boyfriend, who had no hope of going anywhere or going to work, she was the responsible one, grocery shopping since no one else could be bothered.

“Paget and I are gonna look for our mom,” Mayriah said casually, ignoring the frustrated expression on Mackenzi’s caked-up face. “We found several names in Dad’s old black books; most are duds, but some have potential,” she added, slipping back into the kitchen as the smell of pancakes burning assaulted each of them. The fire alarm blared moments later when a box or plastic carton caught fire near the gas burner.

“Who are they?” asked Mackenzi, trying to act supportive. Still, her eyes burned with unspoken anger, at least before she pushed it away. Tomorrow she’d call her college pushovers to the normal meeting spot, tell them about her engagement, and revel in the attention they’d bestow on her as their queen bee. Revel in the attention as they rushed to be the first to help her. After all, nothing was more important to them than what she wanted. They always dropped everything to attend to her; she’d trained them to be as such, even if the gothic one had been more troublesome than the rest, even inspiring a rebellion in the gobby one.

“Alina Monroe, Alyssa Balor, Catalyn Berry, and Sienna Cole,” replied Paget, not noticing the recognition flash behind Mackenzi’s eyes. One of those names was familiar. Still, Mackenzi said nothing; she had no reason to reveal Alyssa’s connection to one of her “fake friends.” It wasn’t important, plus if Mackenzi remembered properly, Alyssa was gone, passed away some time ago.

Mackenzi nodded but smirked; what a shame their attempt to find Alyssa Balor would end so quickly. But the sooner it did end, the better, as if it meant her wedding-year attention could begin. They could get started on planning the ridiculously lavish wedding she dreamed about, the one she’d convince Jovi to bankroll by weaponizing sex against him. Using it as a reward when he did something she wanted. Using it as a punishment when he did something she hated; simply denying him her body would be enough to correct his mistakes. Like a puppy in training.

Mackenzi’s phone buzzed, a message from Ryder. One of her other toys. The one that promised to make her famous using her favorite hobby. Sex. Plus, he could actually satisfy her when it came to the bedroom, more than Jovi could, but still not as good as her high school lover, Troy.

“I got to go,” sang Mackenzi, a wicked smile painting her lips. “Celebrate my engagement with Ryder,” she laughed as if it was some joke. Quickly, she ran to her room, if only to find the skimpest outfit she had, one that would be on the floor of Ryder’s apartment within minutes of arriving, as was the usual. Maybe it would be another movie production, or just a casual hookup to celebrate being one step closer to her goal of becoming a rich housewife. Either way, it would be fun and stupid, and Jovi wouldn’t be any the wiser.