A Little More Than Convenient

|Carmen Remington|
“Are you hungry?” I asked Trent at around twelve that Sunday after the bar incident.
He shook his head. “I feel too crappy to eat.”
I chuckled. “My family never feels too crappy to eat. Eating is our thing.”
He smiled. “My family never feels too crappy to drink. Drinking is our thing.”
I shrugged. “I guess our family’s aren’t too different, then.”
The doorbell rang. “It’s barely seven in the morning,” I complained, “who’d be coming at this hour?”
Trent remained silent and apathetic. He shrugged. “I haven’t got a clue. Um, I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” I replied. That was weird, I thought to myself. I guess I’ll open the door.
I flew to the door and said, “Who is it?” 
 “It’s Lana!” the voice on the other end.
Who the hell’s Lana?
I opened the door. A woman who looked around my age, with long, curly red hair and big green eyes stood in the doorway. She wore a short, tight purple dress and matching purple platforms, that clashed. She looked cheaper than boxed wine. I’m serious. That dress was so tight that I half expected her to pop at any moment. She took a huge wad of gum out of her purple purse, popped it into her mouth, snapped it, re-latched the purse and said, “Is Trent home?”
I nodded. “Yeah, he’s here. May I ask who you are?”
She took another chomp and said, “Like I said, it’s Lana. Lana Partridge. And who the hell are you?”
Let’s be rude, I thought to myself. “I’m Carmen San...Remington,” I caught myself.
She sniffed. “You his sister?”
I chuckled. “Not even close.”
She made a disgusting face at me. “Then who are you?”
I sighed. “I’m his wife.”
She snorted. “Liar. Trent and I have been going out for six months. I would know if he was married.”
Crap, I thought to myself, he’s got a girlfriend! I am such an idiot! “Well,” I retorted, “you may be his girlfriend, yes, but I am also his wife.”
She gnawed on her bottom lip. “Can I at least come in? We need to sort this out-” I could’ve swore she murmured bitch after out. But, I ignored it and waved her into the apartment.
She sat down on his beige couch, and crossed her legs primly. “Where is Trent?”
“The bathroom,” I replied, looking over Lana once more. She was munching furiously, and checking her phone. She also had seriously long purple nails. Purple is a beautiful color, yes, but this was a little much. Besides, her red hair clashed with all her purple. It seriously bothered me.
“Stare much?” she asked.
My blood boiled. “Sorry, I’m just not used to strangers popping into my apartment.”
She pointed at me with her index finger. “Trent’s apartment,” she corrected, “and I’m not a stranger. Trent knows me, bitch.”
That time, I knew she’d called me the “B” word. I’d seriously had enough. “Listen here, you little ska-”
“Lana!” I was interrupted, as Trent bounced into the room, “I thought we talked about showing up unexpectedly?”
Immediately, she jumped up, shoved me out of the way, and wrapped her arms around Trent. “Trent! I’ve missed you sooo much! It’s been sooo long!”
He looked from me to her, helplessly. “Um, Lana, this isn’t really a good time...,” he trailed off.
She snorted. “This bitch claims that she’s your wife.”
I bit my tongue. I seriously wanted to kick her ass, but I didn’t. Trent wasn’t done speaking.
“Lana, that’s because she is my wife,” he retorted.
Her jaw dropped, and she just kind of stood there, dumbstruck. “But, but. I don’t understand. When did you two get married?”
“Yesterday,” I replied, smirking. I didn’t like Trent that way, but it was still funny to watch Lana squirm.
“Yesterday?! How long have you been dating?”
Trent looked at his socked foot. “Since yesterday,” he whispered, almost to himself.
She clenched her teeth. “Please tell me that you didn’t meet her yesterday...,” she grimaced.
I smiled smugly at her and said, “I can vouch for that!”
She flipped her head my way. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
I rolled my eyes. “It means that we got married, had one date, and got married. Yesterday. Duh.”
Trent shook his head. “What Carmen is trying to say, without being politely,” he said through gritted teeth, “is that we met and fell in love yesterday.”
I wanted to laugh. Like, seriously, just start guffawing hysterically, until I had tears and peed myself. But I didn’t, because see, I didn’t want Lana to see that.
Lana’s face fell. “B-but, what about us, Trent?”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Look, Lana, there hasn’t been an ‘us’ for six months.”
“There has, too!” she argued, “what about all those nights you came to me because you felt lonely!” She looked toward me. “You see, Carson-”
“It’s Carmen,” I corrected, teeth clamped.
“Whatever. The point is, every Friday or Saturday night that one of us doesn’t have a date, we call the other. Even though we supposedly broke up six months ago.”
Like I cared. It was none of my business what he did before we were married. Besides, it wasn’t like I cared if he dated; just as long as he didn’t get caught. We weren’t in this marriage for love, we were in it for strictly expedience. But whatever...
Trent sighed for the umpteenth time. “It has to stop, Lana. I don’t love you, not anymore. Too much has happened.”
She shook her red curls, making her boobs bounce. Bet she did that on purpose. “I don’t and won’t believe until you prove it.”
“Prove it?” I asked.
“Kiss. Right now, in front of me. Make it as graphic as possible.”
“This is ridiculous, Lana. That’s our business, not yours,” Trent reasoned, “I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
She shrugged and ran her tongue over her front top teeth. “I’m not you. So, kiss, or I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Lana-”
“No,” I interrupted Trent. Lana was an annoying little pixie-thing, and I was seriously tired of listening to her whining. “Trent, we’re married, we love each other. Kissing should be no problem. So, kiss me.” Now, yes, I wasn’t sure if he’d go along with this, but maybe if he knew it wouldn’t bother me, then he would actually kiss me. Then, maybe Lana would leave us be.
He shot me a confused look. In turn, I smiled and nodded. He got closer to my face and whispered, “Are you sure?”
“Yesss,” I hissed, “now please, kiss me.”
He did. Surprisingly, Trent was a very good kisser. And French kisser, not that it matters. He knew exactly what he was doing, and after a while, I think he (well, I know I did) forgot why we were even kissing. Luckily, before it got too far, Lana said tearfully, “Okay, I understand! I’ll just leave.” Before I could even look up good, Lana had a shot out the door, and slammed it so hard that the whole apartment shook.
I looked back at Trent. “I’ve got an idea. Just like the, uh, bed deal, let’s forget that this ever happened.”
He smiled. “I totally agree, but before we forget, let me say that you’re a fantastic actor.”
I blushed. I certainly didn’t hope that he meant kissing-wise. “Thanks,” I replied, “you’re not too bad yourself.”
“Like you said, forget this ever happened.”
“Right,” I replied, “couples who aren’t in it for love, don’t need to make out.”
He chuckled. “Okay, then. I’m off to the shower.”
I nodded. “And I’m off to somewhere far away from there.”