Wedding Roulette

by Leandra Logan

  Michael touched her elbow. “I’ll be right back. Allan wants to show me a belt buckle he bought at a pawn shop.”

  They’d been hours away from a window, as was common in casinos, so Krista was eager for a look outside. She wandered over to a wide glass pane for a view of the Strip. The night was inky black while stories below every color of the rainbow flashed or glimmered.

  “Quite a scene, isn’t it?”

  The deep voice startled her. The powder-blue suit blinded her. “Oh, Mr. Stewart!”

  “Didn’t mean to startle you. Please call me Gerald.”

  “All right, Gerald, if you like.”

  His eyes twinkled merrily. “And your name is…”

  “Krista Mattson, sir. You announced my engagement earlier to Michael Collins.”

  Another man soon joined them—a wiry man of about thirty-five with a lean handsome face, slicked brown hair and small wire-rimmed glasses. His stark black tuxedo was in direct counterpoint to Gerald’s folksy getup. His eyes were also hard in a way that Gerald’s were warm.

  “Ah, Jon.” Gerald smiled. “Jonathan Smithers is my right hand. Jon, this is Krista Mattson.”

  “Yes, I recognize her from the crowd as Michael Collins’ fiancée.”

  Krista couldn’t resist meeting Jonathan’s cold observant eyes in kind. She knew his type, the detail man behind the man. He made it his business to know exactly who everyone was. She wondered how much of what Gerald knew of his own people was due to Jonathan’s efforts.

  “Are you from Chicago, as well?” Jonathan inquired politely.

  “No, I live in Minneapolis,” Krista replied evenly.

  “This Michael is out of Chicago?” Gerald asked Jonathan.

  This Michael? Krista tried to control her dismayed expression. Was it possible, with all Michael’s aspirations, expectations and attention to this charade, Gerald wasn’t aware of him?

  “Our hosts, the Larkins, are out of Chicago, too,” Gerald informed her jovially.

  Krista moved in on the opening. “Michael got his start in their original shop, I understand.”

  “Oh, he’s the prodigy, then.” Gerald absorbed the news with interest.

  Plainly, he didn’t know Michael for dirt. This would have to be a grand-scale sales job, starting from the ground up. “That’s right. He’s certainly thrilled to be a part of the Decadent family. Running the shop is much of his life.”

  Gerald Stewart looked pleased. “How nice to hear.”

  “He’s entered your contest, too.”

  “Has he?” The heavy brows jumped this time.

  “Fully intends to win.”

  “I like that sort of ambition.”

  Without question, Michael would be crushed to learn the extent of Stewart’s passivity concerning him. Krista winced, and it wasn’t strictly the shoes this time.

  “The Larkins are a fine couple, I must say,” Gerald continued. “Stood out even before they moved here, always so attentive to personal remembrances. Too bad about Allan’s health trouble, forcing him to relocate out of his beloved neighborhood.”

  “I imagine he and Norah have made themselves at home right here in Nevada.”

  “Yes, they have, in fact. Going way beyond the call of duty frequently. Taken this old widower under their wing, you might say, with their barbecues and cocktail parties and sightseeing excursions. Their request for a shop right in my territory has been of great benefit to me.”

  How odd that despite the coziness shared by Gerald and the Larkins, Michael apparently was never a topic of conversation!

  “Has Allan’s arthritis improved here?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  “Seems fit to me, all right. A real shame about that particular affliction, though, as I have some opportunities opening up very soon that probably won’t suit him.”

  Opportunities? Krista grew alert. “So you have new plans within your organization?” she prompted. “How exciting.”

  Jonathan appeared nonplussed by the turn of subject. “This probably isn’t the time or place to discuss such matters, sir.”

  Gerald chuckled, his brown pile rug bouncing on his head. “I do often throw caution to the wind when talking to a lovely woman.”

  “Mr. Smithers,” she said sweetly. “Would you mind getting me a glass of mineral water, with a wedge of lemon?”

  “Not at all,” Gerald replied firmly for his assistant. “Thank you, Smithers.”

  Krista didn’t miss the right-hand man’s reservations at leaving them alone, but he had no choice. Presumably, Michael wouldn’t want her to press too hard here. But he didn’t have all the facts. Didn’t know how capable she was, and didn’t know the urgency of the situation. With some kind of expansion on the rise, it was crucial for Gerald Stewart to have a clear picture of Michael Collins. She had to hurry, Smithers was pushing hard through the line at the portable bar.

  “Your company stands as quite a success story,” she ventured.

  “Oh, my yes,” Gerald enthused. “Nine hundred shops in twenty-seven states now. Quite an achievement for a man who started as an errand boy in his father’s bakery.”

  “I can respect how you’ve managed to get your employees rallied round you like a huge family,” she praised. Even if you can’t tell them apart.

  “Keeping the essence of family alive is mighty important to me,” he said with a proud brace of his shoulders. “My wife Gloria’s been gone five years now. All I have left of real kin is a brother in Kansas.” Pain deepened the creases in his tanned face. “So the business has become my sole concern. It’s a frustration sometimes, trying to keep my people straight—like your Michael, for instance—but damned if I don’t try.”

  Her expression softened. Perhaps he was as sincere as his reputation suggested. That gave her hope that Michael still could somehow make an impression. It would take aggressive personal contact. Michael was on the right track in coming to conventions, entering this year’s contest. But there was much work to be done if he wanted the chance at higher things—higher than a mere contest.

  Suddenly Jonathan was back with her drink. And Michael was at her side, with an arm around her waist. “Hello, Mr. Stewart, Jonathan.”

  Smithers merely nodded, but Gerald Stewart extended his hand.

  “It’s Gerald to you, of course, Michael. Must say, your fiancée has been charming company.”

  Michael nodded. “She’s been marveling at the weather here in your hometown.”

  “Has she?” He seemed surprised.

  “I understand from Allan that temperatures have been mild, though a bit drier than usual.”

  Gerald winked at Krista. “We weren’t discussing the weather, were we?”

  “The hotel?”

  “No.”

  “Gambling?”

  Gerald chuckled. “Krista and I went straight beyond those clichés. She’s wasted no time in singing out your praises. Telling me how much you enjoy your franchise.”

  “Really?”

  “And I look forward to tasting your contest entry.”

  “Wonderful, sir.”

  Gerald put a hand on his shoulder. “How does it feel to be competing with the Larkins? Considering your relationship and all.”

  Michael was glowing. “Nice of you to remember.”

  “Of course I remember!”

  “They are wonderful friends to me,” Michael intoned. “I don’t expect the contest to ruffle anyone too much, though.”

  “I had no idea the Larkins were entered in the contest, too,” Krista said.

  Gerald confirmed as much. “They’re serious contenders. Norah’s been teasing me to death about how great their entry is.”

  “She’ll have some stiff competition from this fella, I can promise you,” Krista assured heartily.

  “That’s fine,” Gerald enthused, stepped away. “Good luck now.”

  Michael’s face settled into a frown as he steered Krista off. “What have you to say for yourself, Simona?”

  �
��Fair to partly cloudy?” she peeped.

  LATER, BACK IN THEIR HOTEL SUITE…

  “Ooh, Michael, that feels so good. Rub me right there with your thumb, just a little deeper…”

  “I probably shouldn’t be so attentive.”

  “You’re the one who insisted I buy those death-trap shoes.”

  “Well, the glittery ones were all wrong.”

  “Tell that to my poor feet.” With a groan Krista readjusted her lounging position on the sofa, wishing she hadn’t let Judy talk her into bringing only her kimono for cover-up. No matter how she tugged at its hem, it kept sliding open on her thighs.

  Seated at the end of the sofa with her sore pink tootsies in his lap, Michael seemed to be enjoying her writhing a little too much. He was at ease in a T-shirt and cotton sleep pants, his feet bare and white and pain-free.

  “I think it’s high time we review the evening,” he said firmly.

  “Seems a high price to pay for this massage.”

  “The best deal you can expect,” he retorted.

  Her mouth twitched in amusement. “Exactly what did I do wrong?”

  “Let’s start with the reception, that crack about the Larkins moving onto Gerald’s doorstep.”

  “Well, they have done so.”

  “But you made it sound like a sneaky business maneuver, when the move was for health reasons.”

  “You must admit, Allan’s hands don’t look arthritic.”

  “It’s all too real, believe me. I’ll never forget the traumatic phone call from a very distraught Norah. To save my feelings, they’d withheld telling me until the move to Vegas was set with Gerald.”

  Business sharks frequently kept their deals under wraps until the last minute, she thought. “What did they want of you when they did finally call?”

  “They needed me to help with the transition from Illinois to Nevada. I had to leave my own shop with my assistants to help them prepare for the move. I made some big sacrifices to help them relocate. But I wanted to do it. Repay them for helping me out. Wouldn’t you do the same for someone you cared about? In a good cause?”

  How could she deny it, considering this kettle of soup the aunts had pushed her into? “Been there, done that,” she admitted.

  He beamed with a devotion that made her heart twist in envy. “The Larkins do try especially hard with Gerald. But the personal touch is a very effective and common business tactic. Don’t expect you to fully understand having no real competition with your column. You just receive letters, sift through them, and fire off glib replies from the safety of your office. Those of us within a system full of people have to deal with numerous obstacles in order to stand out, make progress.”

  How Krista longed to discuss these matters under her own efficient colors. Instead she settled for the next best thing, a petty retort. “Everybody understands the art of sucking up to the boss.”

  “My life is so separate from the Larkins these days, I prefer to simply relax and enjoy their company when I do see them.”

  “Regardless, you’re bonded in some high-stakes competition.”

  “Yes. But at worst they are my friendly rivals. I should know.”

  Krista realized the Larkins were a sensitive issue. And she probably had no right to cast doubts about his friends. At least not without just cause. “If they are half as wonderful as you say, I’m sure all is well.”

  “Just be good to them. As much as I cherish my business, my friendship with them is of the utmost importance.”

  “Message received.”

  “As for the party in the Larkins suite—”

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she cut in. “But Gerald Stewart lives here, Michael. He’s not interested in discussing the local weather.”

  “So of all possible topics, you chose to drill deeply into my business.”

  “You should be on your knees, thanking me for getting out the drill.”

  “For Pete’s sake, why?”

  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was responsible for refreshing Gerald’s failing memory on the subject that Michael existed. “Because I found out something useful.”

  He squeezed her feet a bit too hard, causing her to yelp. “What!”

  “Gerald is planning some kind of expansion.”

  “Really?” His brows settled into a frown. “Funny I never heard a rumbling. You sure?”

  “Positive. Must still be at the hush-hush stage, because Jon Smithers cut him off.”

  “Perhaps you misunderstood.”

  “No!”

  “Even so, I don’t like to think of you gleaning such information. Not when you routinely put one of these in your mouth column after column.”

  She was affronted to see he was holding up her foot.

  “Still, what’s done is done.” He continued his massage, growing pensive. “If this news is true, it must be hot off the presses. There hasn’t been the slightest rumor.” He gazed upon her with wonder and irritation. “Amazing, of all the employees surrounding him, he chooses to confide in you.”

  She fluttered a hand. “My loveliness was mentioned as a distraction.”

  “You are lovely,” he conceded.

  “I am?”

  “As if you don’t know it.”

  Krista’s heart quickened. She felt like Cinderella as this man surveyed her new dazzling image with longing. She couldn’t help thinking once again that he was very much like the prince of her dreams—handsome, successful, dead-bang sure of himself. It was a fairy-tale moment, without doubt, right down to placing her foot in the prince’s waiting hand.

  His waiting hand was presently on the move, over her ankle to her calf with a massaging glide. Only to be interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Reluctantly, he leaned back to the end table to reach for the receiver.

  “Hello, Norah.” His body language changed abruptly. Krista nearly bounced off the sofa as he sat upright. “No, we’re still up. Krista’s feet are sore from tight shoes. Yes, they looked spectacular with her dress. Got them here in one of the shops. I don’t recall the name of the place—she’ll know.”

  She socked him in the arm, mouthing, I don’t want her to have the same shoes.

  His blank expression suggested he didn’t see why. “You’d probably find them just as uncomfortable, Norah,” he offered lamely. “Oh. Maybe…”

  “What?” Krista whispered, clinging to his arm.

  He continued the conversation, trying unsuccessfully to shake her off. “Really?” he eventually said. “Hang on a minute.” He cupped a hand over the mouthpiece. “I don’t know what to do about this. Norah intends to have some of the wives to her house for lunch tomorrow. Wants you to come.”

  “Is that necessary?”

  “She does head up a small clique, makes a point of getting the women together in some way at every convention.”

  Norah would cover every conceivable networking angle, thought Krista.

  “I’ll understand if you don’t want to….”

  But his eyes told a different story. And Krista knew it would look mighty strange if Michael’s devoted fiancée passed up time with his surrogate mother. With misgivings, she agreed.

  “She’d love to. Great. Sure, I’ll tell her.” Michael hung up. “She will come for you in the morning around eleven-thirty. Plans to fit all of you into her new Cadillac.”

  Krista folded her arms over her gaping robe. “How cozy.”

  “Oh, and she says to dress casually.”

  “What was the verdict on my shoes?”

  “She has to have them.” He touched her chin as it fell. “Couldn’t you take that as a compliment?”

  “I’d rather she find her own shoes.”

  “I really don’t see the difference.”

  “Because you are a man content to wear a red uniform shirt day after day!” She made a sputtering sound. “It’s a girl thing, Michael. The quest for uniqueness.”

  “You are unique, I promise you.”

&
nbsp; She couldn’t help throwing him an appreciative look.

  “You did hear me try to stop her,” he offered in solace. “Told her you found them a tight fit.”

  “How did she respond to that?”

  He hesitated. “Says her feet are bound to be smaller than yours.”

  “The smug old operator!”

  “You probably won’t ever wear yours again. So what does it matter?”

  “Of course I’ll wear them again! I love them!”

  “After tonight’s agony, you’d really wear them again?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So, this foot rub wasn’t as necessary as you made out.”

  “As if I’d turn down the offer. My first, by the way.”

  “And my last. You con!”

  Krista popped up from the sofa in a huff. “I’m a con because you’ve made me one!”

  “Calm down.”

  “Maybe I should rethink this lunch tomorrow.”

  He slapped his thigh. “Oh, c’mon.”

  “Considering all your insults—and Norah’s—I think I deserve a treat.”

  He sighed hard, leaning forward on the cushion. “Okay, what are your terms?”

  She lifted her nose in the air. “I am ordering something from room service. My favorite late-night snack.”

  “I can only imagine what the temptress Simona craves at night.”

  Her face glowed with anticipation. “Fresh fruit, crackers and milk.”

  He was delightedly surprised. “After a long day that’s my favorite, too.”

  Once they ordered and shared the feast, they parted company for the night. Michael put his hands on her shoulders, kissed her forehead. “Thanks for today.”

  “You are very welcome.”

  “And thanks in advance for your stint tomorrow.”

  “Don’t close the books on that tab yet. You still may owe me.”