by Gini Koch
He hugged me back, tightly. “No, I don’t think so.” He was quiet. “Run though the things you’d think you needed for your wedding. No pause, just rattle them off.”
“Um, location, reception, dresses, tuxedos, rings, gifts for the bridal party—which I don’t have. Shoes, gift for you and for Jeff—which I also don’t have. Flowers, deejay, wedding cake—”
Reader cursed. “I knew it!”
“What? No cake? We can live without a cake.”
“Possibly. However, not without flowers.” His heart was pounding. I was used to this with Martini, but not Reader.
I dragged him to Pierre’s chair and made him sit. “James, it’s okay.” I went behind him and started to massage his shoulders. “Really, it’s okay. Breathe, deep breaths, deep breaths. It’s Vegas, for God’s sake. They have everything here. You seem to know everyone here, too.”
“I’m from here.” He said it like it was a confession.
“So? I’m from Pueblo Caliente. We’re Southwesterners, desert dwellers. Makes us great under pressure. James, really, stop stressing.” I hugged him. “James, you almost died, and you’re miraculously here, doing everything for my wedding. It’s more important to me that you’re with me than if I’m carrying some dead plant life. Okay?”
He closed his eyes. “No, but I’ll take it.”
“So dramatic.” Pierre was back. “As if, as our darling girl said, we don’t have florists all over. We’re a wedding capital, Jimmy.” He shook his head. “He’s such a doll, isn’t he? I know he adores you, he only gets like this with people he cares about.”
“The flowers have to be right.” Reader sounded anal again.
“No, they don’t. They just have to be there. James, I don’t care. I mean, I do, but not this much. You found the most gorgeous dress for me, in a sea of gorgeous dresses. Same for all the other dresses. And I’m sure I’ll love Jeff’s tux. We’ll love everything else, too.”
My phone rang. Made the exasperation sound, let go of Reader, dug it out. Got it on the sixth ring. “Not such a great time.”
“I know,” Martini said. “That’s why I called. Look, what’s wrong with James? Your worry is off the scales, and it’s centered around him. And the less said about what I’m picking up from him the better.”
“Uhhh . . .”
He sighed. “He’s right there, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Me or Paul? Who’s going to solve the problem best?”
“Option two. Fast. Like, really fast.”
“Got it. Love you.” He hung up.
“Who was that?” Reader asked me, sounding stressed.
“Uhhhh . . .” I didn’t know how to answer.
Pierre rolled his eyes where Reader couldn’t see. “She can have a call you’re not privy to, Jimmy.”
“No she can’t.”
“Sure she can, Jamie.” Gower was with us. I tried to remember if I’d ever been this happy to see him before and came up short.
“Paul, what are you doing here?” Reader sounded upset.
Gower shook his head. “What happened?”
“Major screw-up,” Reader snapped.
“We forgot about the flowers. It’s not a problem, Paul.”
Gower nodded. “Jamie, can I talk to you, privately?” Reader looked ready to argue. “Now, Jamie. I mean it.”
“Tanning room, just over there, is quite free and very private.” Pierre pointed and arched his eyebrow meaningfully. Gower nodded. Reader heaved a sigh, got up, and went with Gower into the room. “He’s strung a little tight, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. I think it’s my fault, too. I think I’ve made him feel bad for complaining about him being sort of beyond analretentive about all he’s been doing when I should have been saying thank you, only.”
Pierre snorted and shoved me back into the chair. “Darling, please. I’ve known Jimmy a long time. Straightest gay man I’ve ever met. Other than that gorgeous hunk who, if I’m any judge, is who has Jimmy’s heart these days?”
“Yeah, for a long time. They’re really great together.”
“Then our tall, dark, and fabulously handsome will solve the issue. Jimmy’s got just enough straight man in him to demand everything be in his control at all times. But his beloved should be able deal with him. Sometimes it takes a talking to, sometimes a cuddle. He’ll be fine in a bit.” He looked at me critically. “Sleeveless with spaghetti straps?” I nodded. “I think we’re going to do something simple yet effective. But before we start, must make another call.”
“Florist?”
“You got it, sweetness.” Pierre shook his head. “My darling drama king—face it, can’t call Jimmy a queen, now, can we—needs to relax and let others handle the little details for a bit.”
“I agree. And thank you for handling them.”
Pierre waved his hand to indicate no big deal. “Rebecca! Darling, we’re in a level-five emergency. Yes, for you, the usual. You know how they make the arrangements sound so large and lovely? Well, I have a darling girl from our nearest neighbor of any import, and they have trashed her flowers. Her family refused them, they were that awful. Yes! I know. And, of course, since she’s in my chair, the wedding is today. I know! No, lips are sealed. If I told you who did this atrocity, you could never look at them again, and we’re still a small town, aren’t we?”
Pierre was good. I was impressed. Reader had this entire network of people he never talked about, and they were all interesting. I thought about it. I had interesting friends, too. And the only reason my A-C circle had met any of them was because Brian happened to have been an astronaut, Chuckie had become a C.I.A. bigwig, and some of my sorority sisters had made my bachelorette party. Otherwise, Martini had met Amy, no one had met Sheila or Caroline, and I almost never saw my other friends much because how did you lie to their faces about what you did and who you were in love with all the time?
I reminded myself that at least those friends had been invited to my wedding and, thanks to Chuckie, most were here. I hoped the big extravaganza would cover some of my total lack of good friend-ness for the past year, but I figured it wouldn’t. My luck so rarely ran that way.
Pierre looked at me. “Colors, darling? Of the wedding.”
“Black and white.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Our Jimmy. Always so dramatic.” Pierre went back to his call. “Black and white. Yes.” He looked at me. “Fair, excellent skin, no tanning booth for this one. Oooh, Rebecca, darling, that sounds divine.” He looked at me again. “Darling, where are you at?” I looked at him with what I knew was a blank expression. “The wedding, darling, where is it to be? And the reception?”
I had no idea. “Uh, hold that question.” Trotted to the tanning room and knocked softly. “Paul? Can I come in? I’m so sorry, but I have to ask James something.” The door opened. I slipped inside. Gower had his arms around Reader and was rocking him. Reminded me a lot of Martini and me. “Is James okay?”
Gower kissed the top of his head. “Yes. Just overdoing it a bit.”
“I’m fine,” Reader said as he shifted to look at me. “Just sort of feel like you did when you called me the other night.”
Gower reached out and pulled me into the group hug. “Now, before we tell Jeff we’ve decided to go bi and steal Kitty from him, you think you can calm down and remember that we all love you, and if you forget one, or even two, little things, it won’t really matter to her?”
“It won’t James, I promise.” I hugged him harder.
The door opened. “Oh, my. A camera phone would mean I was a rich man, I’d guess. Darlings, Rebecca has to know the location, wedding and reception both, and the times. Can’t save the day without those teensy details.”
Reader took a deep breath and seemed to relax. He stepped away from Gower and me and put out his hand for the phone. He left the room, and Pierre closed the door behind them.
“He doesn’t want me knowing anything,
does he?”
“No. He wants this to be perfect for you and Jeff. He doesn’t want you to regret anything about it.”
“Because it’s the only one we’ll have, right?”
“Somewhat.” Gower hugged me. “But mostly it’s because he loves you.” He kissed my forehead. “We both do. And we love Jeff, too. And,” he added softly, “he almost died. Before he could take care of this. He’s trying to make up for lost time that I know you don’t care about, because we both are happier to have him still with us than anything else.”
“Yeah.” I leaned my head against Gower’s chest. “I just want to get it all over with and go to Cabo. Nothing’s worth getting James this upset.”
He kissed my head. “I know. Jeff feels the same way. But you’ll be glad you have the memories of all of this, trust me.”
“Will do.”
Pierre popped his head in again. “Darlings, while I think I’d adore hanging with you people after hours, Dennis is here with some options, and we need to get moving.”
We separated and went out to see another nice-looking man who was carrying a selection of veils. Reader was back to channeling Karl Lagerfeld. He had me try on all of them, discussed the fabrics with Dennis and Pierre, and seemed back to normal. Gower stayed with us, which I thought was probably a really good idea.
Reader finally settled on a fine silk mesh with a solid silk border and white roses embroidered in it. “This reminds me of what my Nana Sadie told me she wore at her wedding.”
Dennis nodded. “You going under the canopy?”
“Fairly nonsecular,” Reader answered quickly. “Kitty’s a Jewish-Gentile mix, Catholic on the mother’s side, and her fiancé is Protestant.” Well, that was technically true: They’d protested the world religion. The world religion of Alpha Four, but still, I could say that without feeling a total liar.
Dennis shrugged. “Half of your family will still appreciate the nod.”
Reader paid for the veil, and Dennis shook hands all around.
Pierre sighed. “Lovely man.” He looked at me. “Straight, more’s the pity.” He scrutinized the veil. “Darling, hoping not to sound sacrilegious here, but if we’re going to drape it over your head, once the ceremony is over, it would make a lovely wrap.”
Reader looked shocked, but in a good way. “Yeah, it would.”
“My Nana would consider that a great way to get double out of it, so no worries. I think that’s a good idea, too.”
“Fabulous. Now, let’s get started on making you look just as your Jeff’s used to, only more so.”
CHAPTER 68
PIERRE DID WONDERFUL THINGS WITH MY HAIR. Bouncy curls that made it look thicker and would look great with the dress. Reader had the veil safely wrapped up, and Gower finally felt it was safe to go back to the other men.
I insisted on giving Pierre a huge tip in addition to whatever Reader had given him. I still had a lot of Martini’s cash on me, and I didn’t think he’d mind. Pierre said I was always welcome. Then we gathered up the other gals, and Reader hustled us to our next location.
It was just before noon now, and we were headed to the girl’s luncheon. I had no idea how Reader could be berating himself for forgetting flowers when he’d managed to plan everything else down to the smallest detail in a matter of hours.
This time I knew we had paparazzi because they were all over the place. The fine dining area wasn’t inside the casino, in that sense, and there were cameras and men shoving themselves at us. It was weird and not at all pleasant. The only one missing was Mister Joel Oliver.
My mother seemed unperturbed. “Why are you so okay with all this?” I hissed to her as we walked quickly past a clutch of them.
“It’s amazing. You work for Centaurion Division and have no idea of how this will play out?”
I thought about it. “Oh. Just like last night—Imageering will handle it?”
“And the reports will show that there was a huge wedding with a lot of money spread around. We call it a ‘cover story’ where I come from.”
“You want them here, don’t you?”
“I understand how to use and influence the weapons at my disposal, yes.” She heaved a sigh. “Somehow they made you a Commander and yet barely tolerate Charles. I wonder about Centaurion Division’s judgment sometimes, I really do.”
“I’m wondering about your judgment, so that’s fair. You really think it’s okay that they’re getting pics of you and Chuckie, too?”
She sighed. “An international playboy-millionaire being in attendance enhances the cover story. I’m your mother, where else should I be when my daughter’s getting married?”
“Chuckie honestly has a playboy rep?” He’d told me so, but I was still having trouble seeing it in my mind. I loved him, but I didn’t see Chuckie as Batman. Then again, maybe Iron Man—Tony Stark was brilliant, after all. I didn’t figure Mom would appreciate discussing which comics character Chuckie would most align with, so I kept these thoughts to myself.
“In the circles we need him to, yes, particularly internationally. It covers why he travels so much, has a home in D.C. as well as Sydney, and so forth. Why is this even remotely surprising to you?”
It was surprising mostly because I still wasn’t sold on the paparazzi being useful to covert ops in any way, but I decided not to argue this any longer. “I’m distracted.”
“Good line. Stick with it. Doesn’t work on me, but maybe someone else will fall for it.” My mother—the love was overwhelming.
We shoved through the men with cameras, and Reader deposited us at Shanghai Lily, then left to meet up with the other men, who were having their lunch across the way at Lupo. Strict instructions were left that I wasn’t to go to the bathroom alone, since I might manage to meet up with Martini and have sex in the middle of the casino or something.
Casino Security showed up and moved the paparazzi away just as our food arrived. I was impressed and was finally able to relax. I didn’t know how the celebs handled it on a regular basis, but I was fine with never seeing another camera again.
All the female guests were here with us, though my wedding party, complete with mothers and grandmothers, was in its own section. I tried not to think about the costs of this. I knew there was no way Chuckie or the C.I.A. was footing these bills, and, during the second course, I started to really wonder if Martini had any idea of how much money we were spending like it was water.
My phone rang. “How’s Lupo?”
“Food’s great. Is your theme for today ultra worrying?”
“Jeff, it’s just . . .” I didn’t want to say what it was in front of everyone, his mother in particular. My mother in the other particular.
He sighed. “James explained a little of why you might be worried. In our culture, the groom’s side pays for everything.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not. If you can’t afford to pay for everything, then you can’t afford to marry the girl. It’s an A-C thing. Ask Victoria, for God’s sake. Alexander just confirmed it’s still the same on the home world.”
“Okay, but still.”
“But still nothing. Baby, this is how we do things. I realize we added in some human customs, but marriages are a huge deal for us. Mate for life, remember? We do them big, we do them expansively, and we do them with gusto. Huh?” I heard him talking to someone else in the background. Martini started to laugh. “To reassure you and your father, no, this wedding is not going to cause me or my family to go bankrupt. Is that what you’re worried about?”
“A little.” A lot.
“Been saving for it for years. Now, stop worrying, and enjoy yourself. Because if you don’t, then that’s a waste of the money.”
He was good, and he was right. We hung up, and I decided to be a good girl and enjoy the heck out of this. Wasn’t too hard, I liked food, and this was good food. The luncheon lasted around three hours, which was nice because it was three hours I didn’t have to run to do something
else. But, finally, it was time to head back and start getting ready for the actual wedding itself.
It was a blur of activity. Had to get the dresses and everything else. People had to run back for all the things forgotten the first time. And the second time. The paparazzi had to be removed again. And again.
The Mandalay Bay had a nice set up, and we were all installed into the various locations within it—women’s dressing room, men’s dressing room, and foyer for those involved but not intimately. The majority of our guests were being routed to the actual room where we were getting married. I caught a glimpse of Martini, but Serene dragged me around a corner so no unauthorized sightings were committed.
The A-C side of my wedding party had spent most of lunch explaining the ceremony to me. I’d already researched it and gone over issues with Richard, but we hadn’t had time to rehearse what, in fact, I was supposed to do once things started.
By A-C custom, if both parents were living, both parents gave you to your intended. I thought this was a nice custom. I wasn’t clear on the giving, but Mom assured me that Lucinda had given her the skinny on what to do, so I stopped worrying.
Denise Lewis ran in. “We have a ring-bearer emergency.”
“What happened?” twelve women asked in unison. Yes, the unison thing was definitely wedding-related.
“Jeff’s nephew, George, has come down with some typical childhood ailment. None of the other Martini boys are old enough or young enough, at least according to James.”
Much consternation ensued. By A-C tradition, the ring bearer kept the rings secure and hidden until they were requested, usually in a suit pocket somewhere, so no pillow or ring basket or whatever was required, making it a fairly simple job. As far as the A-Cs were concerned, anyone could bear the rings and anyone could toss the flower petals, with no age restrictions.
Of course, Reader was representing the human view that said ring bearers and flower girls needed to be adorable moppets. I was fine with this, but whatever George had, I didn’t want, nor did I want him sharing the contents of his stomach with us, right moppet age or not.
“Could Kimmie carry the rings, too?” This was met with dead silence. “Or another girl?” More dead silence. “Okeydokey. That’s a big no.” I looked back to Denise. “You have two, right?”