AN: Coffee, please.

Chapter 65

Jacob Black was the worst DJ of all time. Not that I had much experience having to suffer through events that needed bad party jams, but he was pretty terrible.

"Aww...damn! Hold up! Hold up! Where is that song?" He was scrolling through his iPod. The Sound of Music started playing. "Noooo! That's the wrong song! It's my mom's! Really!"

I couldn't stop myself. "Hey Black, what exactly are a few of your favorite things?"

"Not when bugs bit or bees sting..." He started to sing without realizing it. Jacob stopped and looked upset. "That's whack, Bella!"

Hee hee.

Then he put on that weird child Justin Bieber. Supposedly, he was older than me. I truly believe he's twelve. His voice hasn't even changed yet. I put my hands over my ears and went to find my kid.

I clomped around the not completely clean yard. We did an admirable job removing the garbage from the lawn, but Emmett's relatives didn't believe in trash receptacles. I was stumbling over the beer cans on the ground. It was an obstacle course for drunks.

I didn't miss one. I blamed the shoes I was wearing. They were Baseball Boy's. They might be way too big, but they were so much more comfortable than the pointy death traps.

I saw my kid, in his sock clad feet, waving to me by the food table. The box of Triscuits I brought still sat in the box unopened. Classy shindig.

"Hey kid, anything to eat that won't cause Montezuma's revenge?" I looked at the food skeptically. The fish sticks smelled funny. The Jello mold was dripping. There was bubble gum stuck on top of the bowl of Goldfish crackers. I wondered if it belonged to Trailer Trash Barbie. She and the giant were practically fornicating in a lawn chair.

"What's that?" My kid asked. "Montezuma's revenge?"


He dropped the chicken nugget shaped like a dinosaur he was eating on the table. The giant's junk yard dog, Bojangles jumped up and ate it. Then started licking the Jello mold, that Grandmaw proceeded to take a big old scoop of. My kid looked ill.

I opened my Triscuits and started munching away. Then I noticed a pile of juice boxes. I grabbed on of those too. Reception dinner of champions.

Baseball Boy grabbed a juice box and followed me to a little plastic kids picnic table. Seating was limited at this fancy event.

I held out my cracker box. "Triscuit?"

"You are too good to me!" He got all gooey eyed. It's just a cracker. The crumbs fell onto his jacket. I was tempted to wipe them off, but I ate another cracker instead.

That's when I heard the moaning. It was coming out of an old Ford that had seen better days. It was rocking. Auntie Sue's head popped up. Then Uncle Joe's. Those to were not married to each other. Uh oh.

Actually, several cars were moving. This wedding reception was amazing for it's potential for disaster. It was great.

I wasn't able to enjoy the show, because my kid pulled me and my box of crackers up. "Let's dance."

It was New Kids on the Block. I thought they were in a nursing home. It was like geriatrics singing bad teenage love songs.


"It's romantic!"


"Please?" He had those puppy dog eyes again.

"Fine, but I'm still eating my crackers."

Stupid, cute boys.