Cop a Feel (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters)

by Robyn Peterman

  I could hear them yelling at me and I wanted to make them happy and answer, but it was too late and I was too tired. It was a relief when the darkness came. I just wanted to be with Luke.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” Jack said, slipping the plain gold band on Rena’s finger beside her beautiful diamond engagement ring.

  “Back at ya, Big Guy.” Rena laughed and slipped a matching gold band onto Jack’s finger.

  “Now, Rena, I know I’m a nontraditionalist, but you have to say the vows correctly or the karma of the wind fairies will blow dust of discontent on your nuptials,” Rena’s aunt Phyllis admonished lovingly. Her long flowing green robes blew wildly around her in the balmy Minnesota spring wind. Much to the horror of Rena’s mom, Phyllis had gotten ordained specifically to perform the wedding of her favorite niece and the man of her dreams. Surprisingly there was very little mention of the supernatural during the brief ceremony . . . until the end. The grounds of the country club were in bloom and the air was fragrant if still a little chilly.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Rena said with a laugh, also to the horror of her mother, who sat in the front row clutching Rena’s father for dear life. “Fine. With this ring, I thee wed, sexy pants,” she told a grinning Jack.

  “That should work,” Aunt Phyllis said with a sigh. She knew if she pushed it any further, Rena might possibly start describing her new husband’s body parts during the vows. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  Jack dipped Rena back and kissed the backtalk right out of her. She came up flushed and almost a little shy. Her love for her man was so clear, it brought tears to the eyes of the small group gathered to witness the joining.

  “Edith and Mrs. C, you’re up,” Aunt Phyllis said, making a bizarre salutation to whatever invisible entity was flying around her head.

  “All right, goddammit, I need everybody’s attention. You two ready?” Edith asked nervously. Mrs. C stood beside her sister, holding a Bible. They wore matching black-sequined tuxedos and lime green bowties. The choice of footwear appeared to be green house shoes.

  “Yes,” Kristy answered shakily. Mitch stood beside her and held her up. He was so happy it was ridiculous and Kristy, despite her jitters, was positively radiant.

  “I took the obey shit out,” Edith confided loudly enough for the entire crowd of thirty or so to hear. “Unless you guys are into the bondage thing and I didn’t know. I mean, we can leave the obey thing in and I can even add some master and sub references.”

  “Holy shit,” Kristy gasped, turning pink. “Just take out the obey part and leave the rest like it is.” Mitch bit down hard on his lip to keep from laughing and Mrs. C, recognizing her sister’s faux pas, punched Edith in the head.

  “What the fuck?” Edith rubbed her head and gave her sister the finger. “I’m trying to do a fucking wedding here,” she yelled at Mrs. C, who was holding the Bible up as a shield against Edith’s possible retaliation.

  “Ladies,” Aunt Phyllis cut in. “There is to be no bloodshed. The Tree Sprites don’t like blood and the Swamp Trolls will destroy the reception if even one drop of blood is smeared on these hallowed grounds of Pookieladoompada.”

  That made everyone pause. No one knew what on the hell she was talking about, but everyone decided that ignoring it would stop any further explanation. “No prob,” Edith and Mrs. C said at the same time. Giving each other a quick hug and a shrug of apology to Mitch and Kristy, the second ceremony started. It went off without a hitch until Mrs. C corrected Edith’s pronunciation of a word and Edith pulled her Glock out. Steve had to come up from the group seated out front to demand she hand it over. Shockingly, she gave it to him without a word of complaint and apologized profusely to the bride and groom.

  “It’s fine,” Mitch said, laughing. “Just get to the part where she’s mine and I’m hers. Otherwise I’ll pull my Glock out.”

  Edith, with the occasional comment from Mrs. C, got through the ceremony without doing any major damage. Kristy and Mitch’s kiss rivaled Jack and Rena’s and the small group of guests applauded with delight.

  “Shoshanna, you’re up,” Edith grunted, clearly happy to have finished without having killed anyone.

  The guests went silent as Shoshanna made her way to the front. She carried two brass urns, and her demeanor was solemn. She approached the flower-draped platform and took her place at center. She gently placed the urns on the ground in front of her and lovingly kissed them before she stood back up.

  “My son Luke loved Candy more than anything in the world,” she started.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” a stunning woman in the second row groused. “You don’t have a son.”

  “Sue Junior, I have had enough of your goddamned lip. You have a brother now, whether you like it or not. So I would suggest shutting your cakehole before I let Edith and Mrs. C teach you some fucking manners.” Shoshanna laid it out to her daughter, who clearly didn’t want any part of what was going on.

  Apparently, Shoshanna had called Sue Junior and told her she’d had a heart attack. Sue Junior flew home that very day only to find out her mother was fine—more than fine. Suffice it to say, Sue was furious and wanted nothing to do with meeting the nice boy named Jim her mother had found for her. Shoshanna’s suggestion that Sue only had to get knocked up by Jim and give Shoshanna a grandchild didn’t exactly go over well. No one was quite sure how Shoshanna was able to convince her daughter to come to the wedding and no one asked.

  “You are fucking insane,” Sue muttered, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

  Jim sat three rows behind her, watching with narrowed eyes. He did not like the way Sue Junior treated her mother and had told Shoshanna under no uncertain terms would he never sleep with someone as bitchy as Sue. It was a match made in heaven . . .

  “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by my evil spawn . . . Luke and Candy loved each other dearly, and the day of their double funeral was one of the saddest days of my life.”

  Several guests began to snicker and Edith and Mrs. C had shit-eating smiles on their faces. Even Sue Junior seemed to be enjoying herself.

  “The best part was trying to get Luke to lie still in an open casket for six hours,” Rena said, laughing.

  “Or how about when we put Candy in the casket and she did the rigor mortis thing. That one gave me nightmares for a month,” Kristy added, giggling.

  Steve and Kevin were with their children. They now had full custody due to his ex-wife Helen’s extended prison vacation. The small, beautiful nontraditional family was enjoying the banter immensely. Steve volunteered a few unnecessary facts about the ass-shooting debacle, and the crowd begged for more. The wedding day had taken a turn and landed in an impromptu roast of the dead Luke Blakely and Candy Sanderson . . .

  “All right, people. Calm down. The important piece and what we are here to celebrate is the fact that they loved each other and that is a beautiful thing . . . Candy and Luke wanted to be married and since they’re dead and gone, I thought we could honor them by marrying their ashes on this special day too.”

  The crowd laughed and clapped their approval of Shoshanna’s tasteless and appalling idea. A beautiful melody came from the four-piece string quartet and the guests waited anxiously in their seats.

  “Are you ready, baby?” my dad asked as he handed me my cane.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, rolling my eyes at the mess Mrs. C had made of my cane. She had stolen it for three hours yesterday and when she’d brought it back, it had been bejeweled within an inch of its life. I smiled and grasped it firmly in my hand.

  I watched the love of my life walk to the platform with my brother, his best man, to wait for me. He had not been shot through the heart as I’d assumed. The bullet had gone through his shoulder and came out the other side. He had been knocked out by the force of hitting his head against the wall from
the kick of the bullet. His recovery had been fairly quick. Mine had not.

  I was thinner and still a little weak. My leg was healing slowly. All major arteries had been missed, but the bullet had lodged itself in muscle and bone. Two operations had repaired most of the damage, but the cane would be necessary for a while.

  The scar on my cheek was always going to be a reminder of what could have been the worst day of my life—or more accurately, the last day of my life. The crazy love of my life thought the scar was hot and I believed him. I kind of liked it too. It had a dangerous girl feel to it. Shoshanna was delighted we had matching scars and planned to write it into a book.

  I placed my arm through my dad’s and we slowly made our way to the fragrant and beautiful platform that held the future I so desperately wanted. The beautiful man waiting for me watched me with such fierce love and adoration it was difficult to breathe. I knew I would die for this man. I actually had died for him . . . and he’d died for me.

  My father kissed my cheek and my brother lifted me up and onto the platform to stand next to the reason I wanted to live. I felt beautiful in the cream-colored strapless gown that Rena and Kristy had insisted I buy. They had been right. I would not tell them because I would lose all rights to dressing myself ever again, but I was so happy they were my friends.

  I glanced out over the array of guests. Most of them I knew well, several only vaguely or through stories. Kevin, Steve, and the kids were there along with the odd couple of Mariah Carey and her sister Boo, no relation. The Careys were friends of Kristy and the old dykes and apparently could be trusted with the super secret knowledge that the dead had risen.

  Shoshanna’s pals, Nancy, Poppy Harriet, Joanne, and Fred were among the few who were let in on the secret. They were Shoshanna’s extended family and had taken care of us at the hospital and afterward. Also present were Kim and Hugh, the Bigfoot enthusiasts, from the raid where my brother had met Kristy, and if I’m not mistaken, and I’m not, Hugh was beat boxing with the alarmed quartet.

  My parents, dressed to the nines and affectionate with each other for the first time in many years, were beside themselves that two of their children were getting married on the same day. My younger sister was in attendance and was doing really well. We had all benefited from therapy and moving forward with our lives. I had chosen Jim as my maid of honor since Rena and Kristy were also brides today. I had actually considered Pat, but she was not in on the secret. I felt bad that she thought I was dead, but I knew from Shoshanna that Pat had laid her feelings on the line to Junsen and the two were now a hot item.

  Our deaths had been necessary. In order to eliminate the threat of more of the cartel gunning for us, we had to die. Publically. The bodies of Cheech and Cesar were never found. The brothers simply disappeared. Edith and Mrs. C refused to discuss the matter, but gave each other covert looks of satisfaction whenever the subject came up. Only a small group knew the truth of our resurrection. It was safer that way.

  “You ready, Pretty Girl?” my soon-to-be husband whispered. “God, that scar is fucking hot,” he added, grinning.

  “I’m ready. Are you?”

  “I’ve been ready for this since the first time I laid eyes on you,” he said, and I gripped my cane tighter, afraid my already weak legs might give out.

  “Okay, then . . . let’s um, do this,” I stammered, hoping the entire gathering wouldn’t notice that I was flustered and horny. The sex thing had been a no-no for a while and then dumbass decided we would wait till after we got married to re-consummate our luuurrve. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of abstinence, but he gave in halfway and said as long as we didn’t actually have sex, we could do other fun stuff . . . that worked for me.

  Shoshanna couldn’t stop smiling. She reached out and touched both of our cheeks. Her eyes filled and I knew there had been many days of pain for the people we loved. I was touch and go for two weeks and her son had refused to eat unless he could be at my side. It took five days of a hunger strike to convince the hospital administrators that he meant business. Needless to say, we caused problems at the hospital. Hell, we caused problems almost everywhere we went.

  Our plan was to go away. Far away for a few years and maybe come back eventually. The nice thing was that my fiancé happened to have homes all over the freakin’ world. We would start at his island and move on when we were ready. Rena, Jack, Kristy, and Mitch were joining us for two weeks and we’d have a triple honeymoon. The guys seemed a little uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a honeymoon, but pictures of the island and the accommodations put all unease to rest.

  We’d have plenty of interesting material to read when we weren’t busy doing other things. Shoshanna had a new book out, along with her friends Poppy Harriet, Nancy, and Fred. But the best and most anticipated read was Hanky Panky in the Pokey by Evangeline O’Hara. Not only had she dedicated the book to Shoshanna and Rena . . . she had given the main couple their names too. Rena about crapped her pants and Shoshanna thought it was the funniest thing ever. She even called Evangeline to thank her. Evangeline was doing well. She had married Yvonne and was apparently quite the underground hit among Christian lesbians . . .

  “Attention, everyone, let’s get this show on the fucking road. My girl here can’t stand for too long yet and I want her on her feet to say I do to my son!” Shoshanna yelled.

  The crowd quieted and a feeling of calm and warmth washed over me. I truly was ready to recite our vows.

  “All right, you wanna repeat after me or did you memorize the damn vows?”

  “I memorized them,” my hot fiancé yelled. “I want to say them now and then I want to kiss her and then I want to carry her out of here and get her ass pregnant.”

  “You need a goddamned anatomy lesson, boy,” Mrs. C grunted, and laughed.

  “Enough.” Shoshanna giggled and stopped Mrs. C before she decided to teach an anatomy lesson at the wedding. “Have at it, son.”

  He took a deep breath and gently replaced my sparkly cane with the strength of his hand. Jim held my cane and stood behind me in case I needed the support. I was surrounded by so many people I loved, and amazingly, they loved me back. But the one who meant the most was right in front of me.

  “I, Bruce, take thee, Donna, to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” He smiled down at me and I melted. I gripped his hands tighter and he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I’ll always have your back and I will fuck you senseless daily. I promise to try and raise the toilet seat, but I won’t give any guarantees on that one. I will change diapers and I will watch whatever you want on TV as long as you give me a blow job at least twice a week. Does that all work for you?”

  “I heard most of that,” my brother Mitch moaned in disgust.

  “I thought it was lovely,” Shoshanna chimed in.

  I blushed to the roots of my hair, which was now red—a dark rich auburn. Bruce, my husband, had a dark brown look going that he carried off beautifully. I’d thought about going blonde, but it really wasn’t my color.

  “Are you going to stare at me or say your vows, Donna?” Bruce asked with a wicked sexy smile on his very pretty face.

  “I’m going to say my vows, Bruce,” I shot back, grinning like an idiot. It was hard to keep our new identities straight, but we were getting better. It was a no-brainer what names to pick. I’d been following the antics of Bruce and Donna the entire time of my courtship with Luke. They were based on us, and Shoshanna had retired them after Luke and Candy had died. She explained to her fans why and they embraced her decision with love and support. So the names were up for grabs and we took them . . . along with the most common surname we could think of. Smith. We were now Bruce and Donna Smith and had all the paperwork to prove it. The dykes worked fast, God love them.

  Vows. Now.

  “I, Donna, take thee, Bruce, to be my lawful wedded husband, to
have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” I leaned in and added my own special extras . . . “I promise to double down on the blow jobs as long as you return the favor. I promise not to shoot you when you annoy me. I think we’ve both been shot enough to last a lifetime. I think we should take one week a month when we wear no clothing at all and I’d like to have sex in the next half hour or I will explode. Deal?” I whispered, and heard my brother groan in agony.

  “Deal,” Bruce said.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. Kiss your goddamned bride,” Shoshanna shouted and the guests clapped joyously.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Yep. Totally.”

  My husband, Bruce, kissed me senseless and I forgot anyone else was even there. It was me and him, together . . . forever. My own happy ending . . . God, life was fucking great.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Robyn Peterman writes because the people inside her head won’t leave her alone until she gives them life on paper. Her addictions include laughing really hard with friends, shoes (the expensive kind), Target, Coke with extra ice in a Styrofoam cup, bejeweled reading glasses, her kids, her superhot hubby, and collecting stray animals.

  A former professional actress with Broadway, film, and TV credits, she now lives in the South with her family and too many animals to count. Writing gives her peace and makes her whole—plus having a job you can do in your PJs works really well for her. You can follow Robyn at robynpeterman.com. She loves to hear from her fans.

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  Copyright © 2014 Robyn Peterman

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