Your Toxic Bestie Is My Payday

When my fianc, Wesley, casually suggested that his female bestie should be one of my bridesmaids, I didn't even try to hide my grimace.

Ive read enough of these stories, I said, setting my coffee cup down with a deliberate click. The platonic female friend always ends up sliding into the wife slot, while the actual fiance gets cast as the villainous third wheel. Honestly, maybe we should just call the wedding off.

Wesley panicked instantly, reaching across the table to squeeze my hands. "Gwen, baby, don't talk like that. You're overthinking it. Roxy is basically a guy. Shes loud, shes crass, she drinks beer out of the can. Were just bros. It's pure camaraderie."

I nodded slowly, pulling out my phone and opening TikTok. "Just to make sure she isn't using the 'bro' card to slowly chip away at our boundary lines, you need a crash course in 'Pick-Me Girls' and their endless playbooks. Heres a playlist of a hundred videos documenting their classic moves. Once you watch them all, we can talk about setting a date."

A hundred videos later, Wesley sat there, blinking in sheer disbelief at the calculated maneuvers of the modern Pick-Me. "Okay, some of these are wild. But it's all just coincidences, Gwen. Roxy would never do stuff like this."

I didn't argue. Instead, I slid a pre-printed piece of paper across the counter. "Great. Then you won't mind signing this 'Pick-Me Liability Agreement.'"

"What's this?" he muttered, scanning the page.

"A penalty clause," I said smoothly. "Every time she pulls one of these classic stunts, you owe me. Sharing a water bottle or cup? Ten grand. Falsely accusing me of something? Twenty grand. And if she ever pulls some dramatic stunt that results in me being pressured to donate blood or organs to her? You sign over the deed of our new house to me entirely."

Wesley looked at the terms, shaking his head with a patronizing laugh. "Fine, fine, Ill sign. But youre wasting your time, Gwen. Roxy isnt like this. You wont see a single dime."

The universe, however, loves a good irony. It didn't take long for reality to slap him across the face.

"Wes! Holy crap, I'm dying out here! Give me some water!"

Roxy burst through our front door without knocking, drenched in sweat and wearing an oversized men's basketball jersey. She didn't care about personal space, let alone manners.

There was a brand-new, unopened bottle of water sitting right on the kitchen island. Naturally, she ignored it. Instead, she grabbed Wesley's half-empty tumbler, threw her head back, and chugged.

"Ah, much better," she sighed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I swear, Wes, water just tastes sweeter out of your cup."

My eyebrows shot up. Before I could say a word, Wesley jumped in defensively. "Gwen, don't start. That's just how Roxy is. If we make a big deal out of a little water, we'll just look petty and insecure."

I didn't waste my breath arguing. I unlocked my phone, clicked play on a video, and slid it directly under his nose.

On screen, an influencer was explaining: Rule #3 of the Pick-Me Girl: Indirect Kissing disguised as 'sharing.' She will always prefer his cup over her own.

The defensive lecture Wesley had prepared died in his throat. He cleared his throat, his face turning a brilliant shade of crimson.

"Uh, Roxy," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe don't do that. Its... you know, kind of unsanitary."

Roxy froze, her jaw dropping. She clearly hadn't expected her fiercely loyal "bro" to take my side.

"Wes, are you serious right now? You think I'm dirty?" Her eyes welled with instant, theatrical tears. "We literally shared popsicles when we were kids! Now that you've got a fancy fiance, I'm suddenly an outsider, is that it?"

She slammed the tumbler onto the coffee table with a loud thud and spun on her heel.

I tapped the screen again, loading the next video. Rule #4: The Strategic Exit. She will storm off to play the victim and make him chase her.

Roxys back stiffened for a fraction of a second. Then, letting out a dramatic sob, she fled out the door and into the humid night.

"Roxy! Wait! Don't do anything stupid!"

Right on cue, Wesley bolted upright from the sofa. But before he crossed the threshold, he couldn't resist throwing a glare back at me. "Gwen, she's just simple-minded and blunt! Can't you be the bigger person for once?"

I stared at him, genuinely amused by his sheer lack of logic. "She's the one who engaged in indirect kissing, slammed my cup, and threw a tantrum in my house. How exactly am I the one lacking grace here?"

Wesley cut me off without thinking. "She did that because she considers you family! Youre the future wife here, Gwen. You need to show her some grace and tolerance."

"So, what youre saying is, I should sit here and smile while the two of you swap saliva right in front of me?"

Wesley exhaled a heavy, exasperated sigh. "Just... apologize to her, okay? Give her an out. If she gets hurt out there tonight, its on us."

"Demanding the victim apologize to the instigator is a classic trope for the spineless male lead in cheap soap operas," I remarked coolly.

Wesley's face went rigid. He didn't dare utter another word.

I opened my bank app, pulled up my QR code, and held it out to him. "Rule one of our agreement: sharing a drink. That'll be ten thousand dollars. Pay up, sweetie."

Apparently, Wesley found Roxy at some dingy dive bar downtown. She was completely wasted, draped all over a group of shady-looking guys.

When Wesley finally hauled her back to our place on his back, she was still kicking and screaming.

"Let me go! I don't want to be here... Gwen hates me! She thinks I'm a scheming bitch, oh god..."

Wesleys heart clearly bled for her. He gently wiped her tear-stained face as if she were made of fragile porcelain.

"Roxy, stop. Nobody hates you. Youre just too honest for your own good, and people misinterpret it," he cooed. "No matter who I marry, you will always be my best friend. Nobody can ever replace you."

Roxy squinted up at him through her drunken haze, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Pinky promise? If you lie, you're a dog..."

I watched the entire display with detached amusement. The internet forums weren't lying: when confronted with a "friendship" that has zero boundaries, a fiances dignity is treated like scrap paper. Thank God I had mentally checked out early on. If I actually loved him, this would have broken me.

Wesley noticed my cold, observant gaze, and his face instantly darkened. "Roxy is practically alcohol-poisoned, and you're just standing there like a statue? Do you have a single shred of empathy, Gwen?"

I shrugged. "What do you want me to do? Juggle fire to keep her entertained?"

Wesley choked on his anger. "Go wring out a warm washcloth so I can clean her up!"

Getting a washcloth? Simple enough. I went to the linen closet, selected a thick, plush white towel, folded it neatly, and brought it back.

Roxy was half-squinting. As her hand reached for the towel, Wesley turned his back to grab a glass of water. In that split second, she looked directly at me and raised an eyebrow in a silent, mocking challenge.

Ah, yes. Episode 12 of the Pick-Me Playbook: The Martyr's Trap. I remained entirely still, eager to see just how far she was willing to go to hurt herself.

Roxy took the folded towel. I watched her fingers slip deftly into the inner folds for a split second before she pressed the steaming cloth flat against her face and dragged it down hard.

"Ahhh!!!"

The white towel tumbled to the hardwood floor. Rolling out from the fabric were two silver sewing needles, gleaming under the vanity lights.

"My face! Wes... what did Gwen put in this towel?!" she shrieked, clutching her cheek.

Wesley didn't even pause to think. He spun around and shoved me out of the way. "Gwen! Are you insane? You hid needles in the washcloth?!"

Caught off guard, I stumbled backward, the sharp corner of our wooden sideboard slamming hard into my lower back. A sharp gasp of pain escaped my lips.

"Gwen, I am so incredibly disappointed in you! Are you really so threatened by Roxy that you'd resort to disfiguring her?"

Gritting my teeth against the throbbing pain in my back, I pulled out my phone once more.

"Attention, viewers," the TikTok creators cheerful voice echoed through the bedroom. "When a toxic friend feels her grip slipping, she will resort to extreme self-sabotage. Watch out for needles or razor blades planted in towels or cosmetics to frame the partner."

The actress on screen was executing the exact same hand gestures Roxy had just pulled off.

"Did you forget the videos already, Wesley? Or is that brain of yours purely decorative?"

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

Wesleys righteous fury instantly evaporated. He awkwardly shuffled out of the room, mumbling about finding a Band-Aid. He didn't even glance at my lower back, which was already bruising, let alone ask if I was okay.

Once Wesley finished patching up his "bro" and calming her down, my phone buzzed. A banking notification popped up: Wesley sent you $20,000.

Excellent. Day one, and I was already up thirty grand.

Driven by a deep sense of guilt, Wesley was on his absolute best behavior over the next few days, catering to my every whim. Roxy, too, seemed to have undergone a sudden personality transplant. Suddenly, she was all smiles, bringing me bowls of sliced fruit and pouring my tea with sickeningly sweet devotion. "Here you go, Gwen! Try some of these grapes!"

Wesleys eyes practically welled with tears at this display of sisterly harmony. "See, Gwen? I told you Roxy doesn't hold grudges. She's got a heart of gold. Lets put the past behind us."

To reward her "good behavior," Wesley took her on a massive shopping spree at the luxury mall downtown that afternoon.

On the fourth day, Wesley's younger cousin, Cody, returned from his study abroad program in London.

"Wes, check it out! I got you this vintage Dunhill lighter!" Cody announced, throwing open his suitcase in the living room. "And Roxy, I got you that signed soccer jersey you wanted!"

He had gifts for everyone, even a box of Belgian chocolates for our housekeeper.

I was the only one left empty-handed.

I didn't care in the slightest. I quietly retreated to my room to check my bank account balance. It was far more comforting than any souvenir.

But Wesley finally noticed the awkward gap. "Cody, where's Gwens gift?"

Cody scoffed, crossing his arms. "Gwen? Please. Roxy is the only sister-in-law I recognize."

Grandma Helen, who had just walked through the front door, caught the end of that sentence. She marched over, grabbed Cody by his ear, and gave it a vicious twist.

"You little punk! What did you just say? Say it again!"

Grandma Helen was seventy-five, but she had the voice and grip of an army general. "Gwen is the woman Wesley is marrying. She is the future mistress of this house. Who is this Roxy girl? A freeloading hanger-on! Since when does she deserve your respect over Gwen?"

"Freeloading hanger-on." The words hit Roxy like a physical slap. Her face flushed a deep, ugly red, but she didn't dare talk back to the family matriarch. She could only glare at me with pure venom.

Cody was wincing in pain, but his teenage stubbornness won out. "I don't care! Roxy takes me go-karting and plays video games with me! Shes way cooler!"

"You absolute idiot!" Grandma Helen brought her mahogany cane down hard against his backside. "You've rotted your brain with those games! You don't even know who your real family is!"

As Cody yelled in pain, Wesley rushed forward to intervene. "Grandma, please! Cody is still young. He doesn't know any better. Don't hurt him..."

Grandma Helen gave a disdainful snort. She reached into her handbag and pulled out an exquisite, velvet-lined jewelry box, snapping it open in front of everyone.

Inside was a breathtaking, flawless golden bangledeep green and glowing with history.

"Gwen, sweetie, I've got your back," Grandma Helen said, sliding the cool gold onto my wrist. "This is a family heirloom. It is passed down strictly to the wives of our family. Today, it belongs to you. No one else even deserves to look at it."

Roxy stared at the bangle, her eyes brimming with tears of jealousy. Wesley, unable to bear her distress, spoke up hesitantly. "Grandma, don't you think we should get something for Roxy too? She spends so much time keeping you company..."

"Ha!" Grandma Helen scoffed loudly. "My belongings are reserved for family. If certain outsiders had any self-respect, theyd pack their bags and leave."

It was as direct an insult as it got. No matter how thick-skinned Roxy pretended to be, she couldn't take this.

Wesley frowned, his tone laced with quiet resentment. "Grandma, thats uncalled for. Roxy might be a bit rough around the edges, but she has a good heart. Why do you have to be so cruel to her?"

Grandma Helen glared at him, her disappointment palpable. "You blind fool! Mark my words, that girl is going to be the ruin of you!"

Because of the scolding, Codys hatred for me reached a boiling point. He started launching a petty guerilla war: pouring superglue inside my heels, mixing hot sauce into my toner, and even leaving a dead mouse on my pillow.

I didn't care. In fact, I looked forward to his daily stunts. According to our agreement, Wesley had to pay for his familys hostile behavior. Every little prank cost Wesley a hefty penalty. In just one week, I racked up another 0-050,000 in damages.

Cody was practically vibrating with rage. "You're just a gold-digging parasite! You only care about my cousin's money!"

I smiled inwardly. Well, yes. What was love anyway? Liquid assets were the only real source of security in this world.

"Wes is going to dump you eventually! Roxy is his true soulmate!" Cody sneered before running off to find his beloved "Roxy-sister" in the backyard.

Looking through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw the two of them whispering conspiratorially near a pile of dry brushwood at the edge of the lawn. My gut told me they were up to no good.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the afternoon quiet.

I looked out the window. Cody's shirt was caught in flames, and he was rolling frantically on the grass.

Meanwhile, Roxythe self-proclaimed "one of the guys" who supposedly feared nothingwas standing ten feet away, screaming with her hands over her mouth, too terrified to even step forward.

There was no time to waste. I grabbed the fire extinguisher from the hallway and bolted into the yard.

By the time Wesley and Grandma Helen rushed outside, the fire was out, but the lawn was covered in white chemical powder. Cody lay panting on the grass, covered in soot.

"Cody! Oh my god, what happened?" Wesley cried, dropping to his knees.

Cody coughed up a cloud of dark smoke and immediately pointed a trembling finger at me. "It was her! She wanted to get back at me for the pranks! She tried to burn me alive!"

Wesley spun around to look at Roxy. "Roxy, you were here. Is that true?"

Roxy shrunk back, her eyes watering on cue. "It happened so fast... I just... I saw Gwen running toward him with something in her hand..."

Before she could even finish her sentence, Wesley's hand flew out and struck me across the face.

Slap.

"Gwen! He is just a kid! How could you try to kill him?!" he roared, his eyes wild with fury. "You are absolutely monstrous!"

Grandma Helen looked shocked, momentarily silent.

I tasted a trace of copper in my mouth. Slowly, I pulled out my phone and loaded the live feed of our outdoor security camera.

"Watch this," I said quietly, "before you decide whether you need to get down on your knees and beg for my forgiveness."

The screen displayed the scene with crystalline clarity: Cody had been playing with a lighter and lighter fluid, accidentally igniting his own shirt. I was the one who had sprinted out and saved his life. Roxy, on the other hand, had done absolutely nothing but scream and retreat.

Wesley froze, the blood draining from his face. "Gwen... why didn't you just say so?"

Why? Because if I stopped you, how could I cash in on that slap? I smirked inwardly.

Wesley stammered, trying to deflect. "Why do you even have cameras hidden in the yard? Isn't that a bit paranoid?"

"Paranoid? It seems to have saved me from a felony charge," I retorted.

Overcome with shame, Wesley looked away. Grandma Helen, absolutely livid, slipped off her leather shoe and began raining blows down on Cody.

"Cody! You reckless little liar! You set yourself on fire and then tried to frame Gwen? I am going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget!"

Roxy shot Cody a frantic look, and the boy immediately scrambled behind Wesley. "Wes, help me! I didn't mean it! I was scared!"

Wesley gave him a few performative taps on the shoulder. "Your sister-in-law is a forgiving person. She won't hold it against you. But if you ever lie like this again, Ill deal with you myself!"

I had zero interest in their family drama. I pulled up my QR code. "That physical assault, plus the false accusation, plus the rescue fee. That'll be one hundred thousand dollars. Instant transfer, please."

Wesley didn't even attempt to negotiate. He immediately initiated the transfer. Perhaps out of guilt over the red handprint blooming on my cheek, he added an extra ten thousand as a silent apology.

Listening to the satisfying chime of my bank app, I decided my face could probably take another hit for that kind of money.

The compounding guilt drove Wesley to his knees. In a desperate bid to make things right, he insisted we move our engagement party forward and formally announce our wedding date.

The night of the gala, the estate was bathed in warm light, packed with high-society guests. Wesley held my hand tightly as we stood on the elevated stage, a picture-perfect smile plastered on his face.

Only Cody sat in the far corner, still wearing a sour expression.

Right as Wesley leaned into the microphone to announce our wedding date, I began counting down in my head. Three, two, one.

Right on cue, his beloved "bro" made her move.

Episode 50 of the Pick-Me Playbook: The Eleventh-Hour Emergency. She will always have a crisis right at your most critical milestone.

Wesley's phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it, and within seconds, his face drained of all color.

"Roxy slit her wrists?! What? We're on our way!"

Without a single word of explanation to our guests, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the exit. "She did this because of the stress we put her through! We have to go!"

Cody followed close behind, sobbing. "Roxy! Don't die!"

Outside the emergency room, the harsh red light flickered. Through the glass window, I could see Roxy lying perfectly still on a gurney.

A young doctor in scrubs rushed out, looking suitably panicked. "Are you the family? The patient has lost a critical amount of blood. We need RH-negative blood immediately, but our blood bank is running dangerously low. If we don't transfuse right now..."

Wesley spun around to face me, his hands shaking. "Gwen! Youre O-negative, aren't you? I saw it on your medical checkup! You have the rare type!"

Cody yelled, "Drain her! She's a walking blood bag! Do it now!"

I let out a dry laugh, looking at this ridiculous chamber of bad actors.

"Wesley, honestly, isn't this plot a bit too clichd? A suicide attempt, massive blood loss, an empty blood bank, andlo and beholdyour fiance is the perfect rare match?"

It felt like a textbook scam. But before I could pull out my phone to find the exact video breakdown, Wesley lunged forward and slapped the device out of my hand. It shattered against the tile floor.

"A life is on the line, Gwen! How can you be so incredibly cold and cynical right now?"

I stared at my shattered phone, my eyes growing ice-cold.

"Fine. I'll save her." I held up five fingers. "Five hundred thousand dollars for 400 milliliters. Not a penny less."

Cody flew into a rage, swinging his fists at me. "I knew it! You're just a greedy leech! Roxy is dying and all you care about is cash! I hope you rot!"

Wesley looked at me with absolute disgust. "Fine! You'll get your money. Just go in there and give her the blood. After today, we are done."

The moment the wire transfer cleared on my backup device, I turned and walked calmly into the blood donation room.

Wesley and Cody remained glued to Roxy's bedside. Neither of them cared if the sudden blood loss would make me dizzy, let alone ask if I would be okay.

As the 400 milliliters finished draining, I prepared to pull the needle out. But the young doctor sneered, pinning my wrist down to the armrest.

"The patients vitals are dropping. We need another 1,000 milliliters."

My survival instincts flared. "1,400 milliliters? That's lethal for a single donor! Are you a doctor or a murderer?"

Before I could scream, two nurses rushed out from the shadows of the room, pinning me down with brutal force.

It hit me then: Roxy wasn't trying to win Wesley back. She was trying to kill me.

The world began to spin as my vision blurred. Just as darkness started to creep in, a thunderous voice shattered the silence.

"Who dares touch a daughter of this family?"