Simon's Satisfaction System

Ch 2. Unexpected Groom

“Anne will be a laughing stock if the groom doesn’t appear soon,” whispered a middle-aged woman dotted with expensive jewelry.

Simon waited for her to take a glass of champagne. The older man next to her gave his a bottom-up and took another one.

"At the very least, we have front-row seats to her humiliation. That is why I never miss a wedding."

The woman chuckled in response, her face marred by wrinkles and a dull expression.

"We should leave now," said a young man wearing an expensive suit. He was clearly from a family that could afford anything. "We made an appearance. Who would want to see Anne marrying a scoundrel?"

Simon was well-versed in dealing with the upper crust of society. The catering company he worked for only hired him after rigorously testing his etiquette and understanding of manners. That book he had to read was approximately 800 pages long!

But the interactions between the high and mighty baffled him. Gossiping about the missing groom with such obvious pleasure made Simon’s skin crawl. 

How come people could attend a wedding and bask in another’s dismay? It wasn’t Simon’s place to judge the aristocracy. All he had to do was smile and bow.

Once empty cups filled his tray, Simon headed back to the kitchen. He heard the priest's words as he went past the altar.

"I'll be attending another wedding soon. We'll have to reschedule if the groom doesn't arrive within 5-10 minutes."

The bride removed her veil and tossed the silken cloth at the podium's base.

“I’ll not have the first page on all tomorrow’s tabloids. No one messes with Anne Parker. I’ll marry today even if I have to get a low-life animal to pass as my groom.” 

Careful not to drop the glasses on his tray, Simon jumped over the white veil on the floor. 

The bride turned around and looked at him from top to bottom. Her eyes lingered on the bruise on his cheek and then on his index finger, and she smirked at the lack of a ring.

“I guess you’ll have to do,” she said, grabbing his collar and pulling him onto the podium. 

He lost his balance at her sudden tug. The glasses fell from Simon’s tray, crashing in thousands of shards on the marble floor. The guests turned around to see what had happened.

“Your uniform resembles a tuxedo, so you’re dressed for the part,” Anne whispered. “All you have to do is say ‘yes’ when the time comes.”

Arranging his uniform as if she were a mother preparing her son for school, Anne groped more than was needed on her part.

With the black platter now held tight against his chest, he looked her over too. She was stunning. Hair swept into a neat bun, makeup flawless, and a wedding gown matching the fluffy clouds in a summer sky.

"If anyone asks, I'll tell them we met last night and fell in love instantly." She chuckled in his ear. "If you're a good boy, I might let you kiss me."

Simon froze in place, speechless as she announced the beginning of the ceremony. Everyone sat down, and the whispering stopped.

“We’ve gathered here to witness the union between Anne Parker and—”

The priest leaned toward Simon and whispered, “What’s your name, my boy?”

“S-Simon,” muttered the poor waiter.

The priest coughed to cover his words. “Your full name!”

“Simon Turner.”

“We’ve gathered here to witness the union between Anne Parker and Simon Turner.”

“Hurry up and skip the intro,” the bride ordered.

“We’ll now hear the vows of the bride and groom.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The bride pulled the papers closer to her on the small desk between her and the priest. She clicked her tongue. “Tsk! Do you really think he has any vows prepared?”

An older woman oddly resembling the bride rose from her seat.

“Anne, what are you doing?”

“Shut up, Mom!” the bride yelled as she turned around. Then she gave a forced smile. “You can scold my husband and me all the time after the ceremony.”

The man next to the bride’s mother grabbed his wife’s sleeve and pulled her back on her chair. “Honey, you know very well that we can’t say no to Anne.”

The priest coughed two times to get everyone’s attention.

“Do you, Anne Parker, take Simon Turner to be your lawful wedded husband?”

“Yes, I do.”

Anne leaned down, signed the papers, and then pushed her own ring onto her finger.

The priest turned to Simon.

“Do you, Simon Turner, take Anne Parker to be your lawful wedded wife?”

Simon’s eyes widened but no words came out. He looked toward Anne in search of a way out, but her green eyes spoke more than a thousand words. He was a dead man if he said anything other than the magic word she was waiting for.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered.

Simon even gasped when Anne’s hand gripped his wrist. She pushed a ring on his finger which was a bit too large for his size. Then, she pulled him over the desk, stuffing a pen into his hand.

“Sign it,” she whispered, but her voice was more demanding than a shout.

Watching Simon signing the papers, the priest sighed in relief. “Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. Simon, you may kiss the bride.”

Anne tilted her head to obscure the sight of the people gathered there. She then placed a hand over her lips and pressed her head forward to appear like they were kissing.

“You’ll have to work harder than this for a kiss,” she whispered.

When everyone rose from their seats and applause started, Anne smiled cheerfully. Then she turned to Simon and peered at the tray. He was still holding tight onto his chest, so forcefully that his knuckles were white.

“Well now,” she sneered. “All these congratulations are for me. You can go and continue your job. See you when the party's over.”

As Simon — lost in his focus on Anne — unintentionally collided with the same young man who had previously expressed a desire to leave before the wedding. The tray slipped from his grasp, tumbling to the ground with a resounding thud. Thankfully, it was devoid of any fragile glassware at that time.

“You should be careful,” the young man sneered. “A man like you can never satisfy a woman like Anne. Better keep your nose in the gutter where it belongs, you idiot.”

Simon didn’t answer the insult. As a server, he grew to not care about what people said, or else he would have quit long ago. 

He leaned down and scooped up the fallen tray. When he stood back up, the young man disappeared into the bustling crowd, leaving no trace behind. But he didn’t spot any sign of Anne either.

Instead, a large man in a black suit walked up to him. He ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair, giving it a glossy sheen. With an open collar and no tie, he had a more casual look than anyone else in the room. His body was bulky and strong as if he was a bodybuilder. 

“Simon Turner?” he asked. “Please follow me.”