"Trust me, it would." I address the line of waiting patrons. "Hey, everyone? This gentleman expects me to BRIBE him to get into my own reception. Can you believe someone would stoop so low as to extort cash from a bride on her wedding day? However, I choose not to BRIBE him, but I wanted to let you all know it sounds like he's willing to accept money under the table for early entry!" I return the bouncer's mean smile and revel in the fact he's gone completely pale under his tan. "How 'bout I run in and get my friends now?"

As we exit, I wish the bouncer best of luck with the graft and let him know we'll never be back. He doesn't care, but it certainly makes me feel better.

Somewhere in the past half an hour, I seem to have lost my groom. He and a few fraternity brothers took off to look for me while I was on cake duty. Our remaining group heads to one of the lounges, and we stake out a bunch of couches. After a couple of drinks, I realize how tired I am, but I don't want to leave until Fletch finds us. I wait and wait but he doesn't show up. Around eleven thirty p.m., I tell my brother to make sure Fletch knows I've gone up to the room and to join me there.

As I let myself into the room, the first thing I notice is the crib...but not until after I've fallen into it.

Frantically, I dial the concierge. "Hi, this is Jennifer Lancaster in one of the honeymoon suites.... Fine, thanks. No, wait, I'm actually not fine. Housekeeping set up a CRIB in my room, I tripped over it, and I want it removed.... Uh-huh, yes.... You know, all the other couples I saw at the chapel today already had children, so I a.s.sume it was meant for one of their rooms.... I suggest you try Child Bride and Tattoo Neck's room first. I'm pretty sure they don't make a lot of good choices, and I bet they kept the baby with them tonight.... Great. Thank you."

Rubbing my hip where I bruised it on the crib, I survey the rest of the room. The bed is disheveled from where Joel pa.s.sed out on it earlier, but not before spilling what I hope was his beer. Nice. OK, I'm not going to freak out about this because Fletch did the right thing by having him sleep it off. I don't know why he didn't station Joel on the COUCH, but I'm not going to get mad. It's my special day, and everything was perfect. Granted, I didn't get much of a chance to enjoy any of it, but everyone else did, so I guess that's what's important.

Then I notice exactly how smoky the room is. Fletch must have been up here looking for me because everyone in his entourage smokes when they drink. All the ashtrays in the suite are clean so I wonder what happened to the cigarette b.u.t.ts. The smell of stale smoke is nauseatingly prevalent.

Oh...I see. They chose to stub them out in the remains of my room service tray. I am trying very hard not to get mad. I repeat to myself special day, happy guests, looked pretty eating a sandwich, everything's OK.

I toss the cigarette-laden tray into the hall and housekeeping finally arrives to collect the crib. I roam around the suite waiting for Fletch to come up. We're going to open presents together and finally have a few minutes alone. Frankly, it sounds like heaven.

A half hour pa.s.ses with no sign of Fletcher...and another half hour...and then an hour.

By two thirty a.m., I am beyond furious. This is my wedding night-so where exactly is my groom? The one thing I asked him today was not to drink to excess because I didn't want to get mad at him. I begged him, actually, and he promised he'd behave himself. By my calculations, he's had access to c.o.c.ktails for over ten hours, so chances are excellent he's drunk as a monkey.

An hour ago, I changed into a VERY uns.e.xy pair of gray flannel pajamas, took down my elaborate wedding up 'do, and washed off my $180 makeup application. Since he's NOT going to be sleeping in this bed with me anytime soon, he can just forget any notion of a romantic wedding night.

I'm watching the only thing on TV-a Britney Spears movie-when Todd, Carol, and my friend Jen carry Fletch in the door around three a.m.

"Hi! Happpppy Weddinnnng!" Fletch greets me, stumbling into the room.

"WHERE THE f.u.c.k HAVE YOU BEEN?" Steam is blowing out my ears. I crossed from angry into bloodl.u.s.t about fifteen minutes ago.

Todd answers, "He was downstairs with us. Hey, Jen, I need to borrow a-"

"I have been sitting up here alone for almost four hours waiting for you," I seethe. "Did it occur to you to check on me? Perhaps call me and see what I was doing?" I stomp around the room and begin to slam things.

"Whaaaat?" Fletch slurs.

"Oh, I thought you went to bed, so we figured it was OK for him to hang out with us," Todd adds helpfully.

"Is that the message I gave you? No. I told you to tell him to come upstairs," I reply. "By the way, Fletch, thanks for letting your friends trash the room. There's nothing more inviting in a honeymoon suite than a bunch of cigarettes mashed out in an old sandwich. And you'd better hope it's just beer spilled on the comforter, because you are sleeping with it on the couch." I pick up my bouquet and hurl it at him. It bounces off his chest, but not before a few of the gardenias explode.

While I rage, Carol and Jen slowly back out the door. "Bye, Jen." "Good night, Jen." "We'll talk to you when you get back." "Thanks for everything."

"Hey, calm down. We told Fletch it was OK, and we all had a really good time together. Really, you should be mad at us," my brother says.

"Todd, Fletch made up his own mind. He decided to get liquored up with his buddies rather than BE WITH HIS NEW WIFE. And that? Is not acceptable."

"OK, I'm going to go, but first give me-"

"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!" I scream while my brother skitters out of the room.

Fletch loosens his bow tie and falls forward on the bed, attempting to cover himself with the blankets.

"Oh, no, you don't! YOU! COUCH! NOW!"

"No, wanna schhhleeep heeeeere becaussshe itsch a haaaapy weddding," he mumbles.

"Not b.l.o.o.d.y likely," I spit before rolling him off the bed.

"Ooof. Owww. Hitsch my headdd. You're a baaaad wiiiife. Shun't a gotten marrieeeeed."

Can you honestly blame me for hurling his laptop at him?.

PART TWO.

Pandora.

Opening the Box.

From the desk of Miss Jennifer A. Lancaster Jen's Post-Wedding To-Do List:.

Find a job!.

Stop frivolous spending.

Lose weight.

Fix up Courtney and Brett.

It's the first day of my honeymoon, and the phone is ringing. I've barely slept. Fletch pa.s.sed out immediately after our fight, but I was too mad to sleep and only dozed off as the sun rose. Groggily, I pick up the receiver. "Someone better be dead."

"Jennifer!" Oh, great. It's my mother and I can already tell she's in a state. "Todd told us what happened! Are you getting a divorce?"

"Excuse me?"

"Todd's here and he said you had a huge fight with Fletch."

This has got to be a joke. "Why are you calling me at"-I lift my head and squint at the digital clock, "seven a.m. to pry into my day-old marriage? I'm going back to sleep now. GOOD-BYE." I bang down the phone.

Two minutes later, the phone rings again. "What?"

"GOOD MORNING, FLETCH'S WIFE! HOW THE h.e.l.l ARE YA?" Five foot ten, 225 pounds, steroid-free, and without an ounce of fat, Joel is the toughest guy I've ever met. But all that extra testosterone means he tends to speak in capital letters, and right now I'm not in the mood for a (VERY LOUD) chat. At some point while I slept, Fletch-still wearing most of his wedding garb-crawled into bed with me. I shake him and hand him the phone. "Deal with this."

Fletch doesn't dare defy me. "h.e.l.lo? Oh, hey, Joel...Yeah, thanks...What? I'm not sure.... Sorry, I don't think that's a good idea.... You know, you missed the whole reception? You're kidding.... You're kidding! That's unbelievable.... OK...OK...All right, see you at home. Bye."

Curiosity supersedes my fury, and I demand to know what Joel said.

"You're speaking to me?" Fletch asks tentatively.

"For now."

"First he called to tell us he's in the lobby. He wants to spend the day together."

"No f.u.c.king way."

"I a.s.sumed as much. Then he told me what happened to him last night after he left our room. He tried to get back in the reception but the bouncers wouldn't let him-they said he was too drunk-so he decided to take a nap again. In the landscaping. The police found him, and they brought him back to his hotel."

"Maybe when the police here find someone pa.s.sed out in the bushes, they figure, 'This guy has thoroughly enjoyed everything Vegas has to offer' and they're nice to him."

"I think he got lucky."

Funny, but just having a simple conversation reminds me how much I love Fletch. Even though I'm still upset, I decide to forgive him for last night. I'm not happy with some of the choices he made, but I may have let my mother's situational insanity (and that bovine bouncer) unduly influence my mood.

Also, I did ruin his laptop. "Fletch?"

"Yeah?" He takes off the rest of his tuxedo and changes for bed. The sight of him in his SpongeBob jammies pants completely thaws my heart.

"I'm sorry for throwing your computer."

"That's OK."

"And I'm sorry for overreacting."

"You didn't overreact. You were completely justified. I did exactly what you asked me not to do and I'm really, really sorry."

"Listen, I don't want to start our married life this way. Let's say we were both at fault and declare it a clean slate."

"You sure?"

"Sweetie, think about how many episodes of COPS we've watched together. Technically you could have me arrested for felony a.s.sault. Granted, we were in a luxury suite and not a trailer, and you were wearing a dinner jacket and not jeans without a shirt, but the concept is the same."

He considers this for so long, I start contemplating my life behind bars. On the one hand, I'm a delicate flower who'd wilt without access to a hairdryer and MTV. On the other, I bet I'd be Queen of the Prison in no time. Although I'd eschew those awful jail tattoos, I could see my way to allowing the other inmates to give me a flattering but powerful nickname. I'm thinking "Her Majesty" might be nice-I can already picture the other inmates bowing before me to kiss my ring while I dole out cigarettes and favors- "Agreed."

Perhaps avoiding jail is for the best. We exchange our first marital kiss sans audience and settle in to our respective sides of the bed to sleep.

"Hey, I have a good idea. When we look back on our wedding day, why don't we just blame everything on my mother?"

My mom shows up at noon while I'm drinking coffee and recounting wedding loot. I'd expected to become rich, but I guess when you only invite a handful of people you only get a handful of gifts. b.u.mmer. However, I am the proud owner of a Cadillac and now am allowed-nay, obligated-to start bugging my single friends about when they're "going to settle down already."104 "I thought you'd want some of the centerpieces," Mom says, nudging her way into the room. Bulls.h.i.t. She's here to get the dirt on last night. She settles into the suite's sofa and kicks up her feet. "We missed you at breakfast." I am SO not buying her faux-casual att.i.tude.

"I told you from the get-go I wasn't attending a nine a.m. brunch the day after my wedding."

"Everyone had a wonderful time. My sisters said it was one of the best weddings they've ever attended."

"I'm glad."

"The whole family is going home today. Todd left for the airport a few minutes ago." She toys with an obscenely large calla lily on my bouquet until she can't contain herself anymore. Wait for it.... Wait for it.... "So where's your husband?"

"Showering."

"Are you getting a divorce?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Then are you going to share what happened with me?"

"Mom, I already told you it's none of your business, and I'd appreciate it if you respected my privacy."

"But Todd said-"

"I don't care what Todd said. Everything is fine. Don't waste one minute worrying about us. This isn't the first sc.r.a.p we've had, and it won't be the last. But we're generally pretty good about communicating, and when things boil up, they pa.s.s quickly. Now we're cool like Fonzie, OK?"

"I'm glad to hear it." By the way she's fidgeting, I can tell she's not satisfied with my explanation, but she wisely drops the subject anyway. "What's on our itinerary today?"

"When Fletch is done, we're going to the photography office to look at our proofs."

"The pictures are done already?"

"Mom, this is Vegas."

"I'll come with you."

"Buzzzzzt, wrong answer."

"But I want to see them!"

"Today is the first day of my honeymoon and I am spending it alone with my husband-meaning without you. I'll run the photos by your room later."

"Then where are we having dinner tonight?"

"Mom, I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but the mother-daughter togetherness part of this trip is over. Fletch and I are having dinner in the Foundation Room at the House of Blues. Alone. It's supposed to be all funky and rock and roll and I'm sure you wouldn't like it."105 She pouts. "Well, you certainly don't seem very grateful after-"

"I told you I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for us. You truly gave us everything we'd want in a wedding, and we're incredibly grateful. And as soon as I start working, I'll start paying you back."

"Jennifer, that's not necessary."

"I want to. But my point is, as thankful as we are, it IS the first day of our new lives together, and we want time alone. And stop smirking, I don't mean that in a naked sense because I will DIE before I ever discuss s.e.x with you. Think about it-would you have wanted Noni and Grampa tagging along on your honeymoon?"

"I guess it would have been awkward having my parents there the first time your father and I-"

"Shh, stop, too much information. Say any more and I'll have to wash my brain with vodka. Why don't you go have a nice day with Dad? That is, if he isn't still hiding from you."

"He did mention wanting to see the Hoover Dam."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll see you later," I say, shooing her toward the door. When I hug her, I notice she's still wearing yesterday's false eyelashes.