Wedding Bell Blues

by Meg Benjamin

  Pete looked back at Otto.

  He shrugged. “Sorry. Thought you were finished.”

  Horace turned slowly, fixing Otto with a look. “That’s twenty-one. Thirty-two total, unless we disqualify you for being an asshole.”

  Otto’s expression turned mulish. “I said I was sorry, Doc.”

  Horace’s gaze flicked to Pete. “Right. Your shot.”

  Pete stepped back to the line, sighting down his arm, then sent the dart arcing toward the target.

  “Thirty-six,” Horace yelled. “Way to go. Eighty-three total. Pete takes it.”

  “Two out of three, you said,” Otto snapped.

  “So I did.” Pete dropped his dart onto the table beside him.

  Next to Cal, Wonder momentarily returned to consciousness. “If you’re going with Janie Dupree, you’re one lucky man, Friedrich. She’s one of the sweetest ladies in Konigsburg. Even if she can’t make scones.”

  Otto’s dart thunked into the target. “Double bull,” he crowed.

  Cal ambled toward the target, squinting. “Not quite. Still in the outer circle.”

  “Like hell,” Otto pushed Cal to the side.

  “Hey, don’t push my little brother.” Lars was on his feet suddenly, lurching toward Otto until Horace stepped in his path.

  “Best have a seat, Lars, game’s still on. Wouldn’t want you to get darted.” Horace guided Lars into a chair and dropped next to him. “It’s a single bulls-eye, Friedrich, live with it. Twenty-five.”

  Pete stood at the line, aiming for the double twenty. Of course, aiming never worked too well for him.

  “Twenty-four,” Horace called.

  Otto shot Pete a look. “Stay away from her. I’ve been working on her for three months. Just keep your distance.” He tossed his dart with considerable force. It bounced off the metal ring with a clatter.

  “Oooh!” Horace grinned. “Another goose-egg. Tough luck, Friedrich.”

  “Working on her.” Pete stared at the target. “You make her sound like a construction project.” He sighted down his hand again. Maybe if he didn’t aim… He let fly.

  “Thirty-six,” Horace called. “Total of sixty.”

  Otto stepped up to the line again. “She may not be a construction project, but she’s built like a brick shithouse. My brick shithouse. Back off, asshole.”

  His dart hit the exact center of the target.

  “Okay,” Horace sighed. “That one was a double bull. Seventy-five.”

  Pete stared at the target as Otto ambled slowly forward. If he got a bulls-eye of his own, single or double, he’d beat him. That would be the mature way to take his revenge.

  Otto reached languidly toward the target, deliberately drawing his time out. His voice still echoed in Pete’s brain. Janie Dupree. Sexy, sylphlike Janie Dupree. She’s built like a brick shithouse.

  Ah hell, screw maturity.

  Pete raised his hand and let fly. The dart pierced Otto’s ass neatly through his left rear pocket.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Okay…” Docia wiped the tears from her eyes, “…what else have you got in those magic bags? I think I’m in the mood for it now.”

  “Right.” Allie’s lips twitched. “Well, these are the interesting presents. I got them off the Web, and before you ask, I have no idea how well they work.”

  “Maybe you can tell us when you get back from San Francisco,” Bethany chirped. She took a long look at the box Allie had lifted from the gift bag, then blew out a quick breath. “Or not.”

  The picture on the box looked a little like ponytail holders, but Janie had a feeling that wasn’t what they did. “What are those?”

  “Cock rings.” Allie’s voice was breezy. “My understanding is they’re supposed to make things, well, bigger and better.”

  Docia cleared her throat. “Yes, well, thanks for the thought but bigger is not exactly a problem here.”

  “Not with the Toleffsons,” Sherice muttered darkly.

  Docia glanced at her then looked back at the sack. “I shudder to ask, but what else have we got here?”

  She reached in and pulled out a box with a picture of another ponytail holder, this one made out of six rows of small pearls. “What on earth?”

  Allie shrugged. “Sort of more of the same, except these are supposed to work on both partners simultaneously as it were.”

  Docia studied the beads for a moment, then fanned herself with her hand. “Oh my, my, my. This has some possibilities.”

  “Indeed it does.” Bethany picked up the ponytail-holder-that-wasn’t and held it up for study. “Indeed it does.”

  “Is there more?” Janie felt slightly giddy.

  “A couple of things.” Allie pulled two more boxes out of the sack, handing the first to Docia.

  “Glow in the dark condoms?” Docia raised an eyebrow. “Won’t this make him look like a monster out of some fifties horror movie?”

  “The Attack of the Monster Penis?” Janie blurted and then slapped a hand across her mouth.

  Bethany and Allie both shrieked, as Docia stared at her wide-eyed, then dissolved into another series of whooping guffaws.

  “Oh god,” Allie gasped, “I can see it now. Bouncing across the room. Sort of like this giant green pogostick.”

  All four of them were gasping for breath. Janie fumbled for a tissue in her purse.

  “Okay, what’s so funny this time?” Ken stood in the doorway, his all-American boy face perplexed.

  Janie’s cheeks were flaming again. “Oh, gosh, Ken, I’m sorry. Were we too loud? Did we upset the blue hairs?”

  Ken shook his head. “The blue hairs are safe, but you’re intriguing the hell out of me. What have you got there?”

  Docia handed him the box—her cheeks were flaming too, Janie noted.

  Ken read the label, snorted, then collapsed into snickers. “Oh, no, Docia. Don’t do this to your sweet doctor. No, no, no.”

  “Don’t do what?” Lee set another tray of tapas on the table, peering over Ken’s shoulder. “Oh sweet lord, Docia.”

  “All right, all right.” Docia grinned at them. “I get the message. I’ll refrain. At least on the wedding night. Who knows what we might do if we get bored later on, though.”

  “In San Francisco?” Ken shook his head as he collected empty wine bottles. “Not likely, sweetie. I brought you all some more syrah and a new gewürztraminer from Sonoma.”

  “Enjoy, ladies.” Lee smiled at them indulgently. “We’ll check back on you in a little while.”

  “What’s the other box?” Bethany nodded toward the box beside the glow-in-the-dark condoms.

  Docia picked it up, her brow furrowing. “More condoms?”

  “Specialized.” Allie shrugged. “Or so they tell me.”

  “‘Uniquely Textured’?” Docia frowned at the box. “What does that mean?”

  “Got me.” Allie shrugged again. “You won’t know until you try it, I guess.”

  “But texture? I never thought a textured dick was a necessity.”

  Bethany choked on her wine, then let Allie pound her on the back.

  “You could ask those two queers who run this place if they work,” Sherice said flatly. “I’ll bet they use stuff like that all the time.”

  The silence in the room was suddenly deafening. Janie’s fingernails bit into her palms. “What did you say?”

  “Those two. They’re queers, right? Geez, they do everything but swish.”

  “They don’t have gay people in Iowa?” Docia’s voice was dark. She was no longer smiling.

  Sherice shrugged. “Probably. I don’t interact with them. Except at the hairdresser’s, but there you expect it. I guess it’s different here.”

  “Yes,” Janie snapped, “it’s definitely different here.” She swallowed hard, trying to loosen her shoulders. “Lee and Ken are my friends. Our friends.”

  Sherice shrugged. “Whatever. I figure they wash their hands before they do any cooking.”

  Janie stared a
t her, her breath catching in her throat.

  She’s Docia’s sister-in-law. She’s a bridesmaid.

  She’s a hairy-assed bitch.

  Janie stood abruptly. “Get out.”

  Sherice raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to tread on toes. Since they’re your friends and all.”

  “Yes, like I said, they’re my friends. But you aren’t. Now go away. Or I’ll probably do something both of us will regret.” Although Janie didn’t figure she’d regret it much. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake.” Sherice stood, straightening the creases from her skirt. “All right. It’s not like I said anything other people don’t say all the time. You’re sure touchy about this.”

  “Yes—” Janie nodded, “—I definitely am. My friends are important to me. Can you find your way out or do I need to show you where the door is?”

  Sherice gave her a quick, pointed look. “I’m going—don’t get your knickers in a twist.” She undulated toward the door, giving them the full treatment. In the doorway, she paused. “By the way, that lavender dress wouldn’t have looked nearly as good on you as it will on me.”

  Janie stood watching the empty doorway for a moment after Sherice had gone. Docia’s voice came from beside her. “Did I ever tell you Lee Contreras was the first person to say ‘Hi’ to me in Konigsburg? The second day I was here.”

  Janie practiced taking deep breaths, willing her pulse to slow down. “Really?”

  “Really.” Docia’s voice was flat. “That woman will not be part of my wedding. I don’t care who gets upset. I wonder if I could rescind her invitation, assuming I could do it without excluding Lars.”

  Allie stepped to Janie’s other side, giving her a quick hug. “Way to go, tiger. You did what the rest of us wanted to do, and you did it with style. Want some gewürztraminer?”

  Janie shook her head. “I’m designated driver. Why don’t you all just have several glasses in my place?”

  Not for the first time, she wished she could be just a little irresponsible, at least for tonight.

  The party broke up a half hour or so later. Sherice’s exit had put a bit of a damper on things, Janie reflected.

  “So are you going to tell me what happened to send the Cotton Bowl Princess stomping out into the night?” Lee packed the remaining tapas into Styrofoam boxes, throwing in a little extra cilantro mayonnaise for good measure.

  “Nope.” Janie had already decided she’d rather have her fingernails torn out than admit that she’d thrown Sherice out to protect Lee and Ken’s honor. Among other things, she figured they’d both find that hilarious.

  “Ah well, at least Docia is smiling again. Or is that the result of the six bottles of wine you all consumed?”

  Janie sighed. “They consumed. I had club soda, remember?”

  She surveyed her three remaining guests. Docia was indeed smiling, although Janie wasn’t sure whether her smile was the result of Allie’s gifts or Sherice’s exit. Whichever—the smile was worth it.

  “You think that bachelor party’s over yet?” Bethany raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen Horace drunk. I’d hate to miss it.”

  “Well, if it’s not over yet, let’s crash it. They can’t keep us out of the Dew Drop, can they? It’s a public place.” Allie was grinning, not entirely as a result of the wine.

  “You’re on.” Bethany hopped to her feet. “Come on Docia, don’t you want to see what they’re up to?”

  Docia sighed. “Down to is probably more like it. By now they could all be under a table at the Dew Drop. I may need help getting Cal upright, although I’m not sure the four of us would be able to do it by ourselves.”

  Lee handed Janie a bag of Styrofoam containers. “Here, sweetheart, lunch for tomorrow. Or you can share it with the drunks at the Dew Drop. Give ’em some of the wasabi dip if you want to sober them up!”

  Outside the night air was like velvet, perfect late summer, with a slight breeze blowing down Main. Janie could hear the faint sounds of music from the patio stage at the Silver Spur, the hum of cicadas from the hidden front lawns, and the sharp bark of angry voices.

  Several angry voices.

  “What the hell?” Allie murmured.

  A knot of men stood in front of the Dew Drop, yelling at each other. Actually, Janie realized, only one of them was yelling. The other voices were too low to hear.

  The crowd shifted as the yelling man took a swing at someone else. Janie strained to see who it was, but the men kept moving around the two figures at the center.

  And then she recognized the yelling voice—Otto.

  “Oh, man,” Docia groaned as they approached the crowd, “what now?”

  “…assault, goddamn it! He threw that goddamn thing at me on purpose! I want him in jail!”

  Janie moved into the outer circle of the crowd, staring at Otto. The only time she’d ever seen him that upset was when Johnson City beat one of his teams in the state semifinals. He kept swinging his fists at somebody she couldn’t see until Cal grabbed hold of his arm and spun him around.

  “Oh for god’s sake, Friedrich,” Cal snapped, “nobody’s arresting anybody. You really want to take Pete to court over jabbing you with a dart? You really think anybody’s going to take that seriously?”

  “He did it on purpose, I tell you,” Otto snarled. “I don’t care if he’s your freakin’ brother. That’s assault.”

  Cal blew out an exasperated breath. “Friedrich, just get over it. You go to court over this, and you’ll have everybody in town laughing at you. Is that what you want?”

  Janie was close enough now to see the other man at the center of the circle. Pete Toleffson stood opposite Otto, long arms loose at his sides, his mouth curving into a faint grin. Janie suddenly knew exactly which Toleffson had thrown that dart.

  “I’m going to whip your ass, Toleffson,” Otto yelled at Pete, moving toward him. “You smug son of a bitch.”

  Cal shoved Otto back again. “Knock it off, Friedrich. If you don’t stop throwing punches, I’m going to call a cop to take you in so you can sleep it off.”

  Horace, Wonder, and Lars lounged on a bench in front of the Dew Drop, watching Cal, Pete, Otto, and the crowd of interested Dew Drop customers who surrounded them.

  Docia walked to the other side of the crowd and slid her arm around Cal’s waist. “My, this looks like a fun party. Didn’t they give you anything in the way of bachelor gifts?”

  Cal glanced at her and smiled. “Just entertainment. Looks like the party’s over, though. Time for everybody to go home now.” He narrowed his eyes at Otto.

  Otto grunted but stayed where he was.

  “Good.” Docia nodded decisively. “Let’s get out of here, Doc. I need to show you my booty.”

  Cal raised an eyebrow, grinning.

  “I mean gifts,” Docia stammered. “I need to show you my gifts.”

  Lars pushed himself up from his seat beside Horace. “Where’s Sherice?”

  “She left early,” Docia said quickly.

  Lars shrugged. “Probably walked back to the hotel. It’s not too far from here, right?”

  “You want a ride back, bro? Maybe we can find her if she’s still walking.” Cal glanced back at Lars.

  “Nah.” Lars shook his head. “Let her find her own way. I’m going to stumble back there myself. Too drunk to drive anyway.” He gave them a slightly vacant grin, then shambled up the street toward the Silver Spur.

  Cal turned back to where Otto and Pete still faced each other in the middle of the street. “Come on, gents, get over it. Like I said, it’s time for everybody to go home.”

  Allie helped Wonder to his feet. “Okay, Steve, you need to sleep it off. Tell me you don’t have a root canal scheduled tomorrow morning.”

  “Nope.” Wonder leaned heavily on her shoulder. He looked a little the worse for wear. “Nothing until noon. See, I planned ahead. Of course—” he glanced back toward Pete and Otto, “—I never planned on it being this exci
ting. Maybe somebody will knock some teeth loose.”

  “You can tell me all about it while you have your cocoa,” Allie crooned, nudging him up the street.

  “Cocoa,” Wonder mumbled as they moved away, “you are kidding, right?”

  Janie and Bethany sat on the bench with Horace. Bethany leaned her head against the wall. “You think this is gonna take much longer?”

  “Depends on Friedrich’s stamina,” Horace rumbled. “Personally, I’m ready to go home.”

  Bethany dropped her head on his shoulder. “Me too,” she murmured.

  Janie watched them. Horace was in his late sixties and looked sort of like Wilford Brimley in The Firm. Bethany was probably pushing fifty, although Janie wasn’t sure which side she was pushing. Now they snuggled together like a couple of teenagers.

  It gave a person hope.

  Cal still had one hand on Otto’s beefy chest, holding him back from Pete. “Are we done here, Friedrich? You ready to go home now?”

  Otto’s mouth was pursed in a thin line, his gaze fixed on Pete. “You son of a bitch. You did that for no reason. Just because you were losing.”

  “I had a reason, Friedrich,” Pete snapped. “You shouldn’t go tossing Janie Dupree’s name around in a crowded bar.”

  “Janie Dupree’s my girl, Toleffson. I’ll toss her name around if I feel like it.”

  Janie leaned her head back against the wall, feeling utterly exhausted all of a sudden. “Oh for pity’s sake.”

  She pushed herself up from the bench and stepped in front of Pete. “Go home, Pete,” she snapped. “You’re just making it worse.”

  Behind her, she heard Otto snicker. She turned, pushing him back up the street in front of her. “Go home, Otto. Just go home. It’s over now. We can talk about it later.”

  Otto squinted at her, as if he wasn’t sure exactly who she was. His close-cropped hair was slightly mussed, his eyes bloodshot. He flexed his large hands at his sides. “Janie?”

  Janie thought of all the nights in Otto’s monster truck. His damp hands, his thrusting tongue. “Just go home now,” she repeated, giving him a slight push on his chest.

  Otto caught her wrists, gazing down at her, his eyes suddenly dark. “Don’t want to.”