The Marriage Plan

by Ford, Brenda

  It hurts to see it burned down but more than that, I’m angry. Furious. I want to grab whichever mobster scumbag did this and show them what lifting weights can give you the power to do to a human face.

  “They knew I’d be here,” Rose says.

  “What did we expect? We made up this story we were married.” I cast her a sideways glance and give her something of a sad smile. “At least we stuck to our story. Here you were.”

  She shakes her head, staring down at the ground. “I’m so, so sorry, Darren.”

  “Ssh.” I silence her with a kiss. “I don’t want to hear ‘sorry’ again. This isn’t your fault and I knew what I was getting into.”

  “You don’t deserve this.”

  “Neither do you.”

  * * *

  Once the fire had been put out, I spoke with the firemen and police, and then at last Rose and I were free to go. It was almost midday by the time we checked into a cheap motel on the outskirts of town. I made sure to pay I cash.

  We head straight to the room, lie down side by side and sleep for hours. When we awake, evening is already upon us.

  I’m the first to wake. Rose is still sleeping although it’s a fitful rest. She’s frowning in her sleep, her expressions fleeting one after the other; mostly expressions of fear.

  I let her sleep while I take a long hot shower. I still stink of smoke. It’s clung to my skin and swirls of dark water circle down the drain as I wash. The motel’s provided soap is cheap and makes my hair feel brittle, but at least it smells better than fire.

  I’ve just stepped out when Rose quietly knocks then enters. She’s still wearing her jeans and vest but her hair is a ruffled mess and her eyes are squinting in the bathroom light after coming from the bedroom and its blackout curtains. Her voice is dry and croaky when she speaks.

  “What time is it?”

  “Just gone seven.”

  “We slept all day.” She scrunches up her vest to her nose, snuffs and pulls a face. “I smell like a bonfire.”

  “There’s a 24-hour store up the road. I’ll go pick up some fresh things.”

  Rose bites down on her lip. “I left my purse in the condo.”

  “It’s okay. My wallet was in the pocket of my jeans. I’ve got it.”

  “I’ll call the bank and get a replacement card sent out. I’ve got savings—in a account of my own; nothing my father can touch.”

  I nod. “We might end up needing it. I’ve got some cash in my account but it won’t last long if I’m out of work.”

  I wrap a towel around my waist and check my reflection in the mirror after wiping away the steam. I look tired but clean, at least.

  Standing on her tiptoes, Rose kisses me gently. “I’ve got enough to put us up for a while and get us back on our feet. Somehow.”

  “We’ll talk about it when I get back.”

  She nods. “Okay.”

  I go to the store and pick out some fresh jeans, a couple of plain tees and some underwear for myself and the same for Rose plus a pair of sneakers as she’d been wearing heeled boots. I browse around to pick up some other stuff we’ll need—toothbrushes, a hairbrush, a couple of cheap cell phones and chargers, and a whistle.

  It’s not long before I’m back at the motel. Rose has just finished up in the shower and is toweling her hair dry as she steps into the bedroom.

  “You’re back,” she says. “Everything okay?”

  “There was nobody waiting outside to shoot me if that’s what you mean.”

  She takes a deep breath and nods. “Good.”

  The mattress bounces as she sits beside me on the bed. In spite of all the drama and chaos, I still find my eyes drawn to her long legs and bare shoulders. She looks both cute and sexy with her wet tousled hair. She smells of peppermint body wash.

  I reach over for the bag of things I’ve bought. “I got us the basics—some clean clothes and toiletries.”

  She picks out the whistle with interest, letting it swing from her finger. “A whistle?”

  “In case you need me.”

  “Wouldn’t a scream work as well?”

  “They didn’t have any pepper spray, okay?”

  Rose kisses my cheek affectionately. “You’re sweet, Darren. Too good for me.”

  “Stop that. We’re in this together from here on out, okay?”

  “In what, exactly? What happens now?”

  “I guess that’s what we need to talk about.”

  I lie back on the bed and stare at the grimy off-white ceiling with the garish plaster swirls. The wallpaper has a ghastly pattern on it and is peeling from the walls to reveal tar-stained plaster underneath from years of guests smoking inside. The carpets are a shade of sickly pink, marked with stains from god-knows-what bodily fluids and spills.

  There was no good going to a decent hotel—the Alfonsis and Russos have their fingers in too many pies in central Las Vegas. Besides, who knows how long we’ll have to make our money last?

  “I’ve already called the bank to get a new card sent out and canceled my old one. It’ll be here the day after tomorrow.”

  “That gives us some time to make plans, I guess.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  I turn to her and shrug. “The world’s our oyster.”

  “Maybe it’s safer to get out of Las Vegas.” She examines my expression. “How would you feel about that?”

  I smile. “Pretty good.”

  “You’re being too calm about all of this. You’ve got to be feeling pretty pissed off.”

  “I am, but I’ll get over it.”

  “You’ve lost your house, your job…all because of me.”

  “I had insurance on the house. And the job?” I turn to her seriously. “Let me tell you something about working in that casino, Rose. I would have quit years ago if it wasn’t for you.”

  “For me? Why?”

  “Because I had a feeling you didn’t know how deeply your father’s connections and criminal activities went and I was worried that something would happen to you one day.”

  “So you were watching out for me?”

  I nod. “Someone needed to have your back. I’m glad I stayed. My instincts were right.”

  “Instincts—what are those?” She flops down to lie on her back beside me on the bed. “I’ve been in my father’s and Silvio’s company for years and I never realized how dangerous they’d become.”

  “They’d probably always been dangerous. You’ve just had your eyes opened.”

  She shudders. “This is what happens when I don’t follow my father’s orders. Imagine what kind of life I’d have had if I had… Someone was willing to smoke us out tonight—if their intent wasn’t to kill us.”

  “We’ll sure be safer away from Las Vegas.” I nod slowly, thinking over our options. I shrug. “To be honest, I could do with a change anyway. I’ve been in Vegas long enough to have seen it all. Eventually, the neon grows old.”

  13

  Rose

  It feels good to be in fresh clothes and flat shoes. I don’t care that I’m dressed casually when we decide to find a local bar and have a drink. Both our nerves are shot and a drink sounds good about now.

  We end up at some dive a few blocks over from the motel. It’s called Elvis’ Shot Glass and it’s a shadow of the kitschy garish celebrity-themed bars on the strip. Inside, the top half of the walls are papered with a black and white Elvis-print pattern and there’s a chipped and pale full-size fiberglass model of the King himself standing at the doorway with his trademark curled smile.

  It’s one of the few bars that have decided carpet is a good idea. Years of spilled alcohol makes the floors sticky and almost squelchy. In the background, an old jukebox plays Elvis vinyls on repeat. It’s no wonder the bartender looks like she’s already gone mad.

  We stand at the bar.

  “Wine?” Darren asks.

  I pull a face. “It’s not a wine kind of night. Give me something hard.”

  “There’s th
ose rough edges.” He gestures to get the bartender’s attention. “Four shots of tequila and two old fashioneds.”

  I raise my eyebrows in pleasant surprise. “A man who knows how to order. I’m familiar with tequila, but remind me—what’s an old fashioned?”

  “Bourbon.” He grins and shrugs. “You said you wanted the hard stuff.”

  “I do. I want to drink until this night is a blur. I don’t want to think about anything at all.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a half-bad idea.”

  The bartender lays down our drinks on the counter and Darren and I toast each other before downing the shots one after the other. We take our old fashioneds at the bar, sitting at a couple of the high stools at one end to make it easier to keep the drinks flowing.

  “My head’s a mess,” I confess. “Everything I know is gone and I don’t know what happens next.”

  “Cheers to that.”

  He tilts his glass in my direction and I cringe at what I’ve just said. “I’m sorry. You’re in the same boat now. I’ll never stop feeling guilty.”

  “Nonsense.” He orders two more shots of tequila and asks the bartender to leave the bottle. He pushes a full shot glass my way. “After a few more of these, you won’t be worrying about a thing.”

  I happily knock it back and quickly accept another. He’s right—I am loosening up.

  I take a chance to really look at Darren for maybe the first time since this whole thing began. I admire his handsome face, looking even more rugged than usual with a few days’ stubble on his cheek. The white t-shirt he bought himself is perhaps a little too snug but it does wonders for his muscles. I can count the rows of his six-pack through the material.

  “To think it took all this for us to get together,” I say. I’m already feeling a little tipsy and I shoot Darren a goofy smile. “Does this mean I’m your girl-friend?” I sing the last word teasingly.

  He chuckles. “I sure hope so.”

  “I don’t feel so bad turning your life upside down if I’m your girlfriend. Girlfriends have a reputation for doing that.”

  “The ones you never forget sure do.” Darren looks at me starting to wobble a bit and laughs. “I thought a girl who was raised in a casino would know how to handle her liquor.”

  “I don’t drink on the job. Makes it too easy to lose your inhibitions and trust me, there are plenty of patrons about who are hoping for just that.”

  “Have you ever got with one before?” he asks.

  “With a patron?”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” I reply honestly. “I’ve had exactly one boyfriend. His name was Billy Westborough. He went to the private boys’ school and I went to the private girls’ school. We used to have mixers for sports days and things like that. I was sixteen. We dated until high school graduation and then he went off to school. He’s a rocket scientist now, I think.”

  I watch Darren’s eyebrows shoot up and I laugh, nudging him playfully. “I’m kidding. I think he became an accountant or something.”

  “You’re funny, Rose Russo,” Darren says. His gaze travels across my face and his eyes are warm with affection and humor. “It’s nice to see you let go a little.”

  “I’m already five drinks in.” I look down at my empty cocktail glass and giggle. “Jesus. How did that happen?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll catch up.” He picks up the tequila bottle and necks back a few fingers, placing it back down on the bar with a grin. “We’re both going to be stumbling back tonight.”

  “Good. I want to fall into bed and sleep until tomorrow evening.”

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll have my debit card. I’ve got $40,000 or so in savings.”

  “Jesus, Rose. Really?”

  I shrug. “Dad paid for my apartment but I still got a wage. I’ve pocketed it all for the last however many years.”

  “I’ve maybe got another six grand.”

  “We’ll have no trouble putting down a deposit on a place, then.” I bite down on my lip, looking up at Darren from under my eyelashes coyly. “That is if you think you could handle living with me after all this. To be honest, I don’t want to be on my own.”

  “I don’t want you to be on your own, either. Of course we’ll stick together.”

  “This relationship is going from 0-100 pretty quickly, huh?”

  Darren laughs. “We’re just making up for lost time. I wanted you years ago.”

  “I felt the same.” I tilt my head back slightly and close my eyes. My head is woozy from the booze and I’m feeling sentimental. “I remember the first day you joined the team.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You were so handsome. I grabbed Natalie just to point you out. …I’m going to have to get in touch with her to let her know I’m okay.”

  “Forget that. You were telling me about how handsome I was.”

  “That’s right.” I laugh. “You’d tried so hard to look the part. You even had that ridiculous little earpiece in that Silvio made everyone wear and I remember you kept fiddling with it and it ended up dropping out onto the floor.”

  Darren smiles. “Ah, yes. And that’s when you came along.”

  “I picked it up and handed it to you. It was the perfect excuse to get chatting.”

  “That was a long time ago now.”

  “Yes. It was.”

  “And you fancied me all that time?”

  I bow my head in false modesty. “Like crazy.”

  He leans in to kiss me. It takes me by surprise and I have to catch my breath. He tastes of sweet bourbon and his stubble has a pleasant graze; just a little roughness.

  He pulls back and I feel like I’m blinking back stars. I smile at him warmly. “How is it that one kiss from you makes everything else fall out my head? This is starting to feel like a date.”

  “Cheers to that.” He pours me another drink. “To dating.”

  “To us.”

  * * *

  We must have walked for miles because we’ve ended up back on the Las Vegas strip. We’ve both drank so much that we’re stumbling but I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard. My cheeks hurt from smiling as Darren and I bounce arm in arm down the strip.

  We throw back our heads and laugh at the sky, howling as we make jokes and pass through the city.

  “I can’t believe we’re on the strip.” I should be terrified but my sides hurt from giggling. “We could get caught.”

  Darren tickles me. “You’re a naughty girl, Rose.”

  I’m kind of cross-eyed at this point. All the lights are blurring together like a kaleidoscope. It’s beautiful and dizzying. I let my head loll back and let Darren pull me along down the street.

  “Hey Rose, look at that.” Darren points to a classic Vegas chapel. It's lit up in neon with a giant sculpture of a bride and groom in a Cadillac sitting at the front. There’s a big sign out front saying ‘Get hitched’. “We could make this legit.”

  I laugh so hard tears squeeze out from under my eyelids. “You want to get married?”

  “Why not? We’re already pretend husband and wife. Let’s cut Raffaele out for good.”

  I can’t tell if he’s joking or not but I’m not going to be the first to lose a game of chicken. I grab his hand and pull him after me into the chapel.

  It’s cheesy as hell inside. There are fake flowers everywhere; many of them in need of a good dusting. A wedding march is playing on loop and the ‘vicar’ is chain-smoking at the altar. He puts out the cigarette on a golden plate when we arrive and jumps up to greet us.

  “Young lovers, come forth!” He throws out his arms wide. He’s a red-haired balding man with a potbelly and glasses but his teeth have been whitened to a glaring gleam. He’s wearing a black cowl with white collar. “Are we tourists eloping? Are we long-time lovers tying the knot?”

  I giggle and look up at Darren, wondering if he’s going to back out now. But he doesn’t.

  “We’re Romeo and Juliet.” He chuckles l
ike a schoolboy laughing at his own joke. “We’re not supposed to be together.”

  The vicar taps his nose knowingly. “Nothing more romantic than forbidden love.”

  “How much does a marriage cost?”

  “Three hundred dollars for the ceremony and marriage certificate. Five hundred dollars if you want to throw in a full photography package and bottle of champagne.”

  Darren holds out his bank card. “One full package, please.”

  I laugh at the way he says it. “Are you for real, Darren?”

  “I’m for real.” He runs his hands through my hair and pulls me close into a drunken kiss that fills me with butterflies and makes me lose all my inhibitions. “Let’s get hitched, Doll.”

  I place my hands on my hips defiantly and lift my chin in a childish challenge gesture. “I’m not going to back out.”

  “Neither am I.”

  The vicar disappears for a while to get prepared. While he’s gone, an assistant dressed like Marilyn Monroe takes our details and gets some paperwork ready. Soon a photographer has appeared with a heavy camera with a professional flash.

  We stand at the bottom of the aisle. I look down at my jeans and sneakers and giggle. “I’m not dressed like a bride.”

  “I can fix that.” Darren steals a bunch of fake flowers from a nearby vase and pushes them into my hands. “Your bouquet, my princess.”

  “Why, thank you!” I clutch the fake roses, swaying slightly from drunkenness. Darren’s also unsteady on his feet. The stupid grin on his face hasn’t wavered for a moment since we left the Elvis dive bar.

  “Here you go, sweetheart.” The Marilyn impersonator fixes a cheap veil in my hair. “Gorgeous.” She ties a bowtie around Darren’s neck. “There’s the bride and groom.”

  The vicar returns and someone turns up the wedding march. Darren jogs to the front of the chapel and strikes the pose of the waiting groom. I straighten my back and roll back my shoulders, and hold my bouquet in front of me.