by Vickie Fee
“You still on the outs with Dave?”
“He’s still acting ridiculous. He asked me if I’d seen Jimmy again. ‘Again’ being after he came over and stood between us while we were having a drink the night we arrived in town. I told him that yes, Jimmy and I grabbed a quick lunch here at the hotel yesterday. And he just said, ‘I guess you’re grown,’ and stormed off. He couldn’t have acted more like a gorilla if he had beat his chest and flung poo.”
“Are you maybe trying to make him jealous? Just a little?”
“No, I’m not trying to make him jealous, even a little. But I don’t like him acting territorial. I can talk to whomever I please. It’s not like I’m romantically involved with Jimmy.”
“Does Dave know that?” I asked.
“Of course he knows. I haven’t seen Jimmy in more than six years. He knows that.”
“He knows you haven’t been seeing Jimmy. But maybe he’s worried you still have feelings for the guy. You were married to him, after all.”
“So are you telling me I shouldn’t talk to Jimmy?”
“No. And I’m not saying Dave hasn’t behaved badly. I’m just saying, try to see it from Dave’s point of view. What if he had an ex-wife he hadn’t run into in six years and then started spending time around her as soon as you arrived in Vegas? Would you be a little jealous?”
“No. I wouldn’t. We’re not married or even engaged. What right does either one of us have to be jealous? Could we please talk about something else?”
I spotted a bistro on the corner and suggested we stop there for an early lunch—and maybe a drink. We had a lunch of deli sandwiches and fries, and some wine.
Di and I chatted about work and friends back home and seasonal vegetables—just about everything except Dave and Jimmy, which was fine by me.
Strolling through the mall after lunch, we passed a photo booth with backgrounds, such as the Eiffel Tower and the New York skyline, and Di said she wondered if Jimmy’s plans for his photo booth business included anything like that.
I didn’t know what to say, but fortunately I was saved by the buzz of my phone.
“It’s Holly, I better take it,” I said. “Hi, Holly, what’s up?”
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just a little noisy here. We’re at an outdoor mall,” I said, walking a few steps into a void away from the walkway and pressing my fingers over my non-phone ear. “How’s it going?”
“Things were going pretty well. I’m working my list, double checking with vendors and the caterer. But, the reunion-goers started arriving in town en masse today and suddenly the reunion committee is acting like I’m their personal tourist information bureau. They’re calling me to ask questions about Memphis attractions, including quizzing me on prices and hours of operations—stuff they could easily look up online or pick up the phone and just call the place they’re talking about, which is what I’ve been doing for them. I’m trying to be kind, but the constant interruptions are getting a little annoying.”
“I’m sorry, Holly. If it’s mainly one or two people who keep calling, don’t answer those numbers. Call them back in, say, half an hour when you’re at a stopping point with what you’re working on. Maybe if they have to wait a bit, they’ll actually pick up the phone or Google something themselves. They didn’t engage us to plan activities for them today, so you are not at their beck and call. Is everything worked out for George to prepare the Saturday night dinner at the Moose Lodge?”
“Yes, I took him by and let him have a look at the kitchen. We’re good. I’m sorry to complain. I guess I am a little nervous about handling a biggish, multi-day event without you here. But we really are in good shape. Just slightly annoying clients. So what’s new, right?”
“Always.”
“So is tonight the big night?”
“Yes, tonight my mama gets married. I think I’m more nervous than she is.”
“She’s marrying a wonderful man and you’re there to share the moment. I’m sure everything will be great. Give Virginia my best.”
I walked back over to where Di was standing.
“Problems with the fiftieth reunion?” Di said.
“Not really. Just touching base.”
“Have you ever been to a high school reunion?”
“We’ve only had one, so far. My tenth. And, yeah, Larry Joe and I went. It was mostly people we see fairly often. But there were a few who’d moved away. It was nice to see them.”
“I can’t imagine going to my fiftieth class reunion. I guess it’s nice they still have such a large group of classmates,” Di said. “Your mama is only a couple of years behind this class, right?”
“Yeah.”
“She seemed pretty impressed with what you and Holly have cooked up for this group. What you wanna bet she’ll be calling on you to plan her class’s fiftieth reunion in a couple of years?”
“Perish the thought.”
I started looking for a bar that gave entry into one of the hotels. We found one, so we began snaking our way through the hotel-casino, where we could catch a taxi at the entrance. I wanted to get back to the room to rest up before the wedding tonight, or at least before Mama came up with some to-do list for me.
Di didn’t specifically say so, but I gathered she was meeting up with Jimmy again today. She didn’t ask for my advice, so I didn’t offer any.
Di had been typing on her phone during my call with Holly. I assumed she was just catching up on social media, but I was wrong. When we got to the front of one of the downtown hotels, I started to wave at one of the cabs parked out front, but Di grabbed my arm.
“Our ride will be here in just a minute,” she said.
“Did you call Little Junior?”
“No, Jimmy’s picking us up.”
Chapter Seven
Di’s ex pulled up in a Toyota that looked brand new.
Di got in the front passenger seat and I climbed into the backseat.
Jimmy briefly glanced back at me, nodded, and said, “Hi,” before turning his full attention to Di.
“We noticed a photo booth along the promenade under the long canopy, with backgrounds of the New York skyline and the Eiffel Tower. Is that the kind of photo booth you’re looking to invest in?” Di asked with keen interest.
“Yeah, eventually. We’ll start out with the smaller, portable kinds. But later expand to some larger ones in leased spaces like at the Fremont Experience. They’re pretty cool, right? And there’s an endless variety in the kind of photo experiences you can create with them. Truly something for everyone.”
Hearing Jimmy launch into a sales pitch that sounded like it was lifted from a sales brochure worried me. I hoped he wasn’t going to try to hit Di up for money. But that concern wasn’t one I planned to share with Di.
As Jimmy pulled up to our hotel, I spotted Larry Joe and his dad getting out of a taxi. Dave was with them. Apparently, he’d hooked up with them at some point—probably for lunch. I was hoping Dave wouldn’t see us getting out of Jimmy’s car. But Jimmy made absolutely sure that was not the case.
He revved the engine a bit, sped up, and zipped up to the curb, sliding in between two taxis.
Dave’s dark glare cast a shadow over us as we got out of the car. I walked briskly over to join Larry Joe and his dad. Di was lagging behind and Dave remained statue-like next to the entrance. After we made it into the lobby, I glanced back to see what was going on with Di and Dave. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could tell it wasn’t a friendly conversation.
I started asking Larry Joe and Daddy Wayne about their day so far. As expected, it included lunch at some big buffet at a neighboring hotel that Daddy Wayne had seen an advertisement about. He was recounting the highlights of the dessert bar when Di came storming past us toward the elevators.
Dave spoke as he walked slowly past, saying he might try his luck in the casino for a bit.
Daddy Wayne said he thought he should check on m
y mother-in-law. We were following behind him moving in the direction of the elevators. I told Larry Joe I wanted to rest a bit before Mama returned with a to-do list for me. Larry Joe said he thought maybe he should keep Dave company.
“He seems kind of down,” Larry Joe said.
“I think it would be nice of you to spend some time with Dave. I’ll try to gently nudge Di in his direction if she gives me the chance.”
Upstairs, I stretched out on the bed, but my cell phone buzzed almost the minute I closed my eyes.
“I plan to go downstairs and drink for a while. Care to join me?” Di said.
“I suppose I could join you for an afternoon cocktail.”
I wasn’t really enthusiastic about drinking, but I was hoping I could encourage Di in the direction of moderation—and in the direction of making nice with Dave.
I met her at the elevators.
There wasn’t much conversation as we walked across the lobby, into the casino, and straight to the bar.
We ordered two strawberry daiquiris and sat silently for a few moments before Di said, “He could clearly see that both of us were in the car with Jimmy. That would seem to make it obvious there was nothing romantic going on—even for somebody as dense as Dave.”
“Maybe he just wonders why you want to spend time with your ex at all, knowing what Jimmy put you through.”
“Then why doesn’t he ask me instead of making assumptions, stupid assumptions,” she said, staring straight ahead.
I wanted to suggest maybe she needed to be the one to start that conversation, but I didn’t know how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t make her even madder.
My phone vibrated. I looked down and saw I had a text from Mama about shopping. I decided to ignore it for the moment. In hindsight, that may not have been my best move.
Since Di didn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation about Dave and Jimmy, I changed the subject.
“So, what are you planning to wear to the wedding tonight?”
“A cute sundress in a green print. I got it on sale at that place up on the highway, near Rascal’s Bar and Grill.”
“Green sundress? I can’t place it. Have I seen you wear it?”
“No, it’s new. Prepare to be wowed,” she said with sarcasm, but also with a hint of a smile.
I thought I might broach the subject of Dave again, but then I caught a whiff of Mama’s signature perfume, overpowering the fragranced air-conditioning, clouds of cigarette smoke, and the food aromas wafting from the neighboring restaurant buffet. This olfactory assault told me that, as usual, Mama was wearing too much perfume. It also alerted me that she had spotted us.
I swung around on my swivel bar stool. I heard her before I saw her.
“Olivia Louise.”
Being called by my first and middle name meant I was in trouble.
“You,” she said as she widened her eyes and nodded her head forcefully toward me. “You were supposed to go shopping with me before the wedding to complete my trousseau for the honeymoon.”
I’m not sure just how much she thought she could fit in a Winnebago.
“Where’s Earl?” I said, trying to deflect attention away from myself.
“All the guys are in the casino. I can’t believe you two are bellied up to the bar in the middle of the day,” Mama said, half sitting on the bar stool next to me.
“We were just having a little girl talk—about things,” I said, looking at Mama and nodding sideways toward Di. I hoped the forlorn look on Di’s face might elicit a smidge of sympathy.
But no. Mama leaned around me to make eye contact with Di.
“Wayne told me about her tooling around Vegas with her ex-husband. Di, until now I’d always reckoned you to be above average in the smarts department. You need to send your ex packing and fling your arms around Dave’s broad shoulders.”
Di maintained a stony silence.
“Mama, I really don’t think it’s our place to tell Di what to do. She has to think things through for herself.”
“Hmm, let me see if I can help,” Mama said, raising both hands, palm sides up. “Handsome sheriff who’s crazy about her. Or fresh-out-of-prison ex-husband who left her in a world of hurt.” She raised one palm higher for Dave and dropped the other for the ex.
“Di Souther,” Mama said, giving Di a squinty-eyed look. “Pull yourself together. Liv McKay, come with me. I don’t have all day.”
Mama grabbed my hand and tugged—hard. I acquiesced and waved good-bye to Di, who had drained her daiquiri and was waving the bartender over to order another drink.
I asked Mama if she wanted to look at any of the shops in the hotel.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want to pay a fortune for something I could buy at Walmart.”
She walked hurriedly toward the door and hailed one of the taxis lined up out front. We got into the back and she asked the driver to take her to the nearest discount department store.
“What specifically are we looking for?” I asked.
“I’d like a housecoat or a lightweight robe and a pair of terrycloth slippers.”
“Oh, okay. That shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
I was relieved beyond words to learn the kind of lingerie Mama had in mind. As happy as I was about her impending nuptials, I didn’t relish the idea of shopping with my mother for any barely there sleepwear.
We pulled into the parking lot of a department store I’d never heard of—this particular chain must not have stores in the South.
Our driver dropped us at the door and Mama asked him if he would wait.
“I don’t expect we’ll be more than fifteen minutes,” she said.
“I keep the meter running while you shop,” he said without inflection.
“I’d expect nothing different,” Mama said as we got out.
“Hey,” he called out, this time with inflection. “You have to pay me for the ride thus far. Just in case you don’t make it back, for some reason.”
Mama started to argue with him, but I took some money out of my purse and handed it to him.
“Thank you. We won’t be long.”
I tugged on Mama’s arm.
“We don’t want to stand around arguing with the man while the meter’s running.”
Inside the store, we asked directions to the plus-size department. The taxi driver had chosen well. The stock, at least in the plus-size department, seemed aimed at a more mature demographic. Mama made short work of completing her trousseau. She held two snap front housecoats up in front of her and eyed them in the three-way mirror before handing one of them to me to hold for her. Then she looked through a bin of slippers that were on clearance. She steadied herself by hanging on to the shelving fixture while she held the bottom of one slipper up to the underside of her shoe.
“These should work,” she said, before hot-footing it to the checkout lanes. After paying for the items, Mama walked briskly out the door and waved to the taxi driver, who was parked illegally on an end space, cross-hatched with yellow lines. He pulled over to pick us up.
The taxi ride to and from the store cost considerably more than the eighteen-dollar housecoat and four-dollar clearance slippers. But Mama seemed content. I decided not to ask why she didn’t call Little Junior for a ride. But maybe she felt, as I did, that we had already kept him away from paying fares too much.
* * *
I was dressed and helping Larry Joe with his tie when I received a text from Di. She said to go on to the chapel without her; she’d meet us there. I took this to mean she’d left the bar at some point and met up with either Dave or Jimmy. I wanted to believe it was Dave, but I had a sinking feeling it wasn’t.
Little Junior wanted to handle the transportation, so shortly after we arrived in Vegas Mama had canceled the limousine she and Earl had hired for the wedding. My cousin had mentioned to Di and me that he had a surprise planned for Mama. He didn’t say what it was, and after seeing her less than enthusiastic response to Earl telling
her he had a surprise in store for her, I decided not to mention it.
Since Mama didn’t want Earl to see her before the ceremony, Little Junior would be taking the women, minus Di, apparently, and plus Crystal, to the chapel first. The men would be traveling to the chapel in the new Winnebago Earl and Mama had bought earlier in the day. I hadn’t seen it yet, but Larry Joe said it was a luxury barge on wheels.
Mama, Miss Betty, and I waited at the front entrance for Little Junior. I was holding the garment bag containing Mama’s dress, and my mother-in-law was carrying Mama’s oversized makeup bag. Mama was holding a hanky and a small handbag.
We didn’t have to wait long to discover what Little Junior’s surprise was. He pulled up in a 1959 pink Cadillac convertible. His smile was broader and shinier than a car grill as he hopped out of the car and rushed around to open the front door for Mama. Crystal climbed into the backseat and Miss Betty and I joined her.
“Your chariot awaits,” he told Mama, motioning for her to step inside. “And don’t worry, Aunt Virginia, I’m going to put the top up, so your hair won’t get mussed before the wedding.”
Mama did look relieved—and pleased.
I had half expected Little Junior to be dressed as Elvis, but he looked normal, or close to normal. He was wearing a blue suit. He still had the muttonchop sideburns, but his hair was combed in a more contemporary, less greased fashion. My cousin actually cleaned up nicely.
Crystal also looked attractive, wearing a blue knee-length dress instead of her casino uniform.
We drove to the Burning Love Wedding Chapel, with Elvis tunes playing on the stereo. Apparently this car had been retrofitted with a CD player. Little Junior pulled up to the door just as a florist’s delivery van was pulling away.
“Oh, good. Hopefully that means Mama’s bouquet will be fresh,” I said.
“I should hope so,” Mama said. “They’re charging us a blamed fortune for the flowers.”
Mama stepped out of the car, turned to Little Junior, and with a stern look said, “I don’t want any foolishness between you and Steve today. You hear me?”