by Vickie Fee
Taylor was busy telling us all the things Mama could add to her wedding package—for a price, of course. Suddenly we heard some raised voices and scuffling noises coming from out front. We rushed down the little hallway leading to the reception desk and found my cousin and the Elvis minister we’d seen performing the wedding up in each other’s faces, exchanging angry words and chest thumps.
“. . . you should try putting in an application at one of those sad, little chapels downtown, where the standards are low. Even with your shoe lifts, you’re too much of a shrimp to perform here. Not to mention, your singing sucks.”
The idea that my cousin might be so short even with shoe elevators caught me by surprise. But a more pressing concern was that it looked like he was about to throw a punch at a guy who stood a good half foot taller than him. Before I could take it all in, Mama had marched over and stepped between the two men and given her nephew a sharp shove to the middle of his chest.
“Little Junior, you stop this nonsense and behave yourself, right now,” she said, giving him one of her mean, squinty looks.
Taylor had grabbed the other man by the arm and said firmly, “That’s enough, Steve.”
Taylor jerked her head sideways, indicating Steve should beat it, and he pouted as he shuffled away.
“I apologize for my nephew’s behavior. Acting like a blamed schoolboy,” Mama said, shooting Little Junior a withering glare.
“No need to apologize. Steve was completely out of line. But, you know, boys will be boys,” Taylor said with a weak laugh.
I jumped in, “Mama, have you seen everything you need for now?”
She nodded.
“Thank you for the tour, Taylor. We’ll be back tomorrow for the rehearsal,” Mama said.
“Of course. It was so nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand for shakes all around, and handing me a business card emblazoned with her name and the chapel’s contact information.
Little Junior retrieved the taxi and pulled up to the front door. Di and I climbed into the back while he ran around to open the front passenger door for Mama.
Once we were en route back to the hotel, Mama said, “Little Junior, what in the world came over you, getting into a tussle? You’re a grown man, for Pete’s sake.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Virginia. Steve Warrick just gets under my skin. He’s so full of . . . himself.”
Junior explained that Steve got some pretty good club gigs performing as Elvis, both solo and in revues, including a run he’d recently finished at our hotel.
“Before he got on as a regular at the wedding chapel, he drove a cab part-time, too. Now he acts like he’s all high and mighty. Too good to talk to the likes of me. But what galls me the most about him is the way he treated Crystal. She went out with him a few times—back before she met me. Fortunately, she saw through his phony act pretty quickly.”
That Steve had dated his girlfriend was clearly what upset Little Junior the most. In just the short time I’d seen him with Crystal in front of the ice-cream parlor, it was obvious he was crazy about her.
“It’s okay, sugar,” Mama said, reaching over and patting him on the arm. “But you can’t let guys like him goad you into a fight. You’re too good for that.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, shooting Mama a boyish smile that almost made me want to tweak his cheeks. “You ladies want me to take you on a little tour and point out some of the highlights of Vegas? The meter’s off. It’s my treat.”
“That’s sweet, hon, but it’s been a long day. I think I’d better get back to the hotel before Earl starts to worry. My, the way that man fusses over me,” Mama said, feigning annoyance when anyone could see she was pleased as punch with her attentive fiancé.
Little Junior pulled up in front of our hotel.
“’Night, ladies.”
Mama reached in her purse and pulled out her wallet.
“Put that away, Aunt Virginia. Your money’s no good here.”
“That’s not right, Little Junior. You hauling us around kept you from taking paying customers. Let me at least give you a few dollars,” she said.
My cousin waved her off. “Earl already bought me supper. And besides, y’all are family.”
He ran around the car to help Mama out of the front seat. She leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks for the ride, Little Junior,” I said. “Will we see you tomorrow?”
“You can count on it.”
Inside the hotel lobby, Di and I parted ways with Mama, who was anxious to go upstairs and check on my mother-in-law and make it an early night.
“Good night, Mama,” I said, giving her a little hug.
“’Night, darlin’. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Mrs. Walford. And thanks again for including me in your wedding trip,” Di said, reaching over and giving Mama a pat on the arm. Di’s typically not much of a hugger.
“You’re very welcome, hon. You two should probably round up your men in the casino before they lose their shirts.”
Mama headed toward the elevators, moving slowly. I could tell she was worn out.
“I can’t imagine Dave parting with too much of his cash,” Di said. “Does Larry Joe have a weakness for gambling?”
“Not that I know of. We’ve only been to the casinos down in Tunica a few times, and honestly he seemed more interested in the all-you-can-eat buffet.”
Di and I started wending our way through the huge casino. Dave and Larry Joe were nowhere to be seen, but as we passed the blackjack tables, Di suddenly froze in place.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” I said.
“You could say that. The guy in the red shirt there,” she said, nodding toward the table directly in front of us. “That’s my ex, Jimmy.”
“I thought he was still serving time in a Texas prison.”
“So did I,” she said.
Jimmy spotted Di, gathered up his winnings, and started walking toward us.
He extended his arms and shared an awkward hug with Di in which both of them seemed to be trying to embrace without actually touching.
“I didn’t know where you landed when you left Texas,” he said. “Can’t believe you ended up in Vegas, too.”
“Actually, I’m just here for a few days with friends,” she said. “This is my best friend, Liv McKay. Liv, this is Jimmy Souther, my ex-husband.”
We shook hands tentatively.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. I just nodded.
Di hadn’t taken her eyes off Jimmy since he approached us. I felt uncomfortable, unsure if I should stay or go. But when Jimmy offered to buy Di a drink and she accepted, I made my exit.
“I should really find my husband before he loses too much money,” I said, making an excuse. It seemed to barely register with Di when I started walking away.
I scanned the room looking for Larry Joe, but had an uneasy feeling about leaving Di with a man I’d never heard her say a nice word about.
I walked a short way and slid behind a slot machine where I could discreetly keep an eye on her. I assumed they’d just have a drink for old time’s sake and a short, awkward conversation. But they seemed to be having an amiable and lengthy chat.
I texted Larry Joe, describing my whereabouts, telling him I was ready to call it a night, and ready for him to call it a night, too. He ambled over with Dave in tow—a possibility I should have anticipated.
“Hey, Liv. Where’s Di?” Dave asked.
I didn’t know quite how to respond, but absently glanced toward the bar. Dave, a sheriff and detective by trade, followed my gaze. He spotted Di sitting at the bar, sharing a drink and a laugh with another man.
“Who’s he?” Dave asked with an angry glare. I was familiar with that glare. It was the same one he’d laid on me and Di whenever he felt we were meddling in a murder investigation.
“She just ran into someone she used to know.”
“Then maybe she’d like to introduce me to h
er friend.”
I doubted it, but Dave charged toward the bar before I could say anything.
I grabbed Larry Joe by the arm and started leading him in the direction of the elevators.
“What’s your hurry?” he asked.
“I don’t want us to be witnesses if something should happen that we might be called upon to testify in court about.”
“Whaaa?”
“I’ll tell you after we’re out of the casino.”
I briefly filled him in once we were in the elevator.
“I only got a glimpse, but he looked like a normal guy to me,” Larry Joe said. “From what little you’d told me about her ex, I expected him to have horns and a tail.”
“The devil takes on many disguises,” I said.
Chapter Three
Larry Joe was snoring by the time his head hit the pillow, and I wasn’t far behind him.
I woke up about 8:00 a.m. as he emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and running an electric razor across his face.
“Hey, honey, you been up long?” I said, stretching my arms over my head before walking over to give him a kiss.
“Probably only fifteen or twenty minutes.”
That qualified as sleeping in for Larry Joe, who by seven is generally at the office of the trucking company he co-owns and operates with his dad. I usually arrive at my office between eight-thirty and nine o’clock. But since my work as a party planner includes plenty of evening and weekend work, including some late nights, my schedule varies much more than his.
We had gone to bed earlier than usual for us, but a full day of travel and near-constant togetherness with my mama and Larry Joe’s parents had been exhausting, so we both had slept soundly and slept in.
Before getting in the shower, I checked my cell phone and saw I had a voice mail from Mama time stamped 5:45 a.m. Thank goodness I had put it on silent.
“Liv, this is Mama.” As if I couldn’t see the caller ID or wouldn’t recognize her booming voice. “Earl and I are going with Betty and Wayne to the early bird breakfast buffet downstairs. It starts at six-thirty.”
“So what’s the word from your mama?” Larry Joe asked.
“The lovebirds and your folks hit the breakfast buffet at six-thirty this morning.”
“I’m surprised Dad waited on that late. He usually has breakfast at five-thirty.”
“If he was able to slip away from your mom, I bet he sneaked down to the doughnut shop while he was waiting for the buffet to open. Which reminds me—we should try to encourage lunch and dinner options at someplace other than an all-you-can-eat buffet. Your mother is worried sick about your dad eating himself into another heart attack, and wants to encourage moderation.”
“I know,” Larry Joe said. “I don’t understand how somebody can be married to a man for forty years and still believe she can change him.”
“We cling to hope.”
Larry Joe snapped a towel at my backside before giving me one of his trademark lopsided grins, which showed off his left dimple. He had to put on a broad, toothy smile to show off both dimples. I think he’s kind of cute either way.
“If you still have to shower and put on your makeup, I think I’m going to wander downstairs and get some coffee and a doughnut myself. I’ll call Dad and see what the plan for the day is. I’ll text you when I know. So what’re your plans for this morning?”
“Until Mama tells me differently, I’m going to go roam around the meeting rooms area of the hotel and see if I can find the American Association of Event Planners conference.”
“I thought you said you didn’t register for that.”
“I didn’t. I’m not going to go into the sessions. But it never hurts to network, exchange business cards, and chat informally with other planners. I might even run into someone I know from Memphis or a previous conference.”
“If you do that, can we write this trip off as a business expense on our taxes?”
“I doubt it. Besides, we’re not paying for it; Earl is.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I better get moving. Dad and Earl have been up for hours already.”
“Okay, honey, I’ll see you later. Don’t forget your room key,” I said. He gave me a quick kiss before leaving.
I put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door so housekeeping wouldn’t walk in while I was in the shower. I showered, dressed, and put on my makeup. Just as I was about to leave the room, Larry Joe texted: We’re off to do man stuff. I’ll call later.
Some wives would have been concerned about the exact nature of the “man stuff” their husband was getting up to in Sin City. But I trust Larry Joe. And I trust Daddy Wayne and Earl even more. I knew if Earl was wandering from Mama’s side, she most likely had given him a to-do list.
I called my mother’s cell phone, which went straight to voice mail. So, I texted Di to see if she wanted to join me for coffee. No reply. Di is an early riser, typically arriving at the post office every day by 7:00 a.m. to start her job as a mail carrier. I assumed she had a late night and was sleeping in. I was dying to know how things went after Dave and Jimmy were introduced.
I took the elevator down to the lobby level. Since I appeared to be on my own, I decided to turn right and explore the hotel in the direction opposite the casino. I assumed the meeting facilities were in that direction, since I saw a sign with an arrow that said MEETING FACILITIES. I wandered down a corridor that appeared to be designated for meeting rooms, but saw only a few people chatting in tight circles. I turned to leave, but as I did I heard someone call out, “Liv. Liv McKay!”
Unfortunately, I recognized the shrill voice, but it was too late to hide. I mustered a faint smile as she hurried toward me with tiny steps.
“Jana.”
I leaned into her outstretched arms to share a limp shoulder hug. “It’s so good to see you,” I lied.
“I didn’t think you ever attended event planners conferences, what with your little business still standing on shaky start-up legs,” Jana Hively said, with her usual charm. I knew her only well enough to dislike her. She had been a member of the American Association of Event Planners in Memphis and I’d had the displeasure of once serving on a committee with her.
“Honestly, I’d forgotten all about the conference until we were on the airplane. I’m here for a family wedding.”
“Oh, my. Who’s getting married?”
“My mother.”
“Good heavens, I can’t imagine my own mother, or anybody really, wanting to get married in Las Vegas. Is your mother not a churchgoer then?”
I took a deep breath, trying to keep good thoughts rather than murderous ones. Be kind. Reap heavenly rewards. Gather stars in my crown . . .
“Actually, she is a churchgoer. But Mama and Earl are both widowed and had the big church wedding the first time around. They decided to do something different, something fun this time. So, they’re getting married at the Burning Love Wedding Chapel with an Elvis-impersonator minister. After the wedding, the two of them are taking off in a Winnebago across the Southwest for their honeymoon. And I couldn’t be happier for them.”
“Well, good for them—going against convention. I wish them the best.”
“Thank you, Jana.”
I was planning to say my good-byes and make a hasty retreat, but Jana cut me off.
“I know you didn’t register for the conference, but I can slip you into one of the sessions. The next one is on Web sites for small businesses.”
I didn’t relish the idea of hanging out with Jana, but I was at loose ends at the moment and a presentation on Web sites could be useful, since I needed to update mine.
“Well, if you’re sure it’s okay for me to crash, maybe I could sit in for part of the session. If my mother texts me, I may need to slip out. We still need to do some shopping and such.”
“Oh, I completely understand. It’s fine. People are coming in and out all during the sessions.”
Still feeling a bit hesitant, I said, “And I haven’t h
ad any breakfast or even coffee yet. . . .”
“Oh, there’s still plenty of doughnuts and muffins, and even rice cakes and fruit cups for people who are into that,” Jana said, deflecting my last real excuse.
We filled paper cups with coffee and I grabbed a couple of mini muffins. Jana introduced me to a couple of people as we made our way to our seats. Since it was a presentation, at least I wouldn’t have to chat with Jana.
I sat through the whole session without a word from Mama, or Di or Larry Joe. But it was informative and I scribbled down notes on the back of business cards I dug out of my purse. Naturally, this caused Jana to look at me askance, but she didn’t offer me any paper. After the session I was determined to get away from her before she asked me to lunch.
“Jana, it was so nice running into you. Thanks so much for slipping me in for the Web site presentation. I better go tend to my mama.”
At this point I had a huge lapse in judgment and asked Jana for advice.
“By the way, I’d like to take my mother and a couple of other ladies in the wedding party out for an elegant little dinner tonight—a kind of bachelorette party, if you will. But very low key. I think the men are taking the groom-to-be out for drinks. Could you recommend a restaurant? Something a bit more intimate than the big ones here in the hotel. Have you encountered anything like that since you arrived for the conference?”
“Oh, hon, didn’t you know? I’m not just in Vegas for the conference. I live here now. I’m the event planner here for the hotel. You go shopping with your mom, get a manicure. I’ll arrange everything—gratis, of course.”
“Oh, no, Jana, that’s much too generous. I couldn’t possibly accept. . . .”
“I won’t take no for an answer. What are friends for? It’ll be my wedding gift to your mother, from one Tennessee gal to another. Besides, it’s no trouble. All I have to do is make a couple of phone calls. I can reserve a small, private dining room at another hotel—I have a friend there. The food is wonderful.”
I started to speak, but she raised her hand, anticipating my question.
“And it’s very affordable. I’ll book it with my it’s-all-in-who-you-know discount and you can dine on beef tenderloin for less than sixty dollars a head, including a bottle of house wine, and use of a very private dining room.”