3 Ways to Wear Red

by Janet Leigh

  “When President Johnson developed the WTF, they sought me out again. My husband and daughter had both died of cancer. Liam’s father had run off with a floozy, and I was the only one Liam had to take care of him, so I refused.” She took a big gulp of wine to wash down a tear. “I was really getting too old, anyhow; my landings weren’t what they used to be.”

  We toasted Aunt Itty. I told them about Caiyan taking me to Berlin and the horrors of the war. We finished off the brownies and two bottles of wine and then moved on to a bottle of Glenfiddich Caiyan had given me for a special occasion. I asked Itty if she knew why Caiyan would get Mahlia to take him back to Berlin.

  “My nephew has always been attracted to the ladies,” Itty said, licking the last bit of chocolate brownie from her fingers. “His good looks and Scottish charm draw them like the royals to a polo match.”

  “I thought he had given all that up for me,” I said. My lips felt a bit swollen as the words came out of my mouth.

  “How come you don’t give Marco a go?” Gertie giggled. “He’s BEooootiful.”

  “I agree that boy has muscles in all the right places,” Aunt Itty said. She tried to coax the cat back into her lap. “Here, pussy, pussy.”

  “That’s what Caiyan probably says to Mahlia.” Gertie laughed, downed her Glenfiddich, and threw another peanut M&M in the blue bowl on the coffee table. It was her way of tracking how many glasses of alcohol we drank. We each had a different color bowl. My red bowl was starting to fill up.

  I frowned at the comment about Caiyan and finished off my glass. Plink. Gertie added another M&M to my bowl. She was probably right; perhaps I should give Marco his payment. I mean, Caiyan hadn’t even spoken to me after our meeting. I was tired of his arrogant Scottish ways. Wait here, Jen. Be root back, Jen. Jen, ye jest wait here and let me kiss yer breast before I ride off into the sunset and take Mahlia to Berlin fer the last god-knows-how-many travels.

  “I’m goping to visit Narco—I mean, Marco,” I announced, jumping to my feet and swaying slightly.

  Gertie and Itty raised their glasses in a toast. “Go for it, girl!”

  As I stumbled to get my jacket from the peg on the wall, I heard Itty say, “Do ye think we shoob let ’er drive?”

  “It’s OK,” Gertie slurred. “She’s not going far. I hab her car keys.”

  She held up my keys in victory as I exited the house and staggered toward my vessel.

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  I focused really hard on the rooftop garage where Marco stored his vessel. It was always a hard landing in such a small space with no room for error. If I missed, I could end up dangling from the Empire State Building—but the word hard made me more motivated to see what he had under all that sex appeal. I was confident Jake would find Isla and save Marco’s future, but there was a slim possibility this might be my last chance to pay my debt to Marco. If Caiyan was going to go flitting to the past with Mahlia, maybe our relationship wasn’t what I’d thought it was. My inner voice gave me the thumbs-up and did a shot of tequila.

  I landed with a scoot and a thunk. Not bad. I pushed open the door to my outhouse, and a whoosh of cool air hit me. I stumbled out, tripping over the threshold. I caught myself before I fell facedown on the cement floor. Not a good way to start my first rendezvous with the blond giant.

  I managed to pull myself upright and ran my fingers through my hair. Top bun—I forgot. Not my best look. I pulled out the hair elastic and shook my head, feeling the world go a little wonky. I stabilized myself and sashayed past Marco’s vessel, running my fingers along its tail fin on my way to his back door. The car shuddered, or at least it seemed that way in my drunken state. My hand was lifted to knock when the door swung open. Marco stood there naked from the chest up, his key glowing in the darkness, wearing boxers and a half-cocked smile.

  “Do yoob just open the door fir anyone?” I asked, trying to enunciate. My mouth felt fuzzy, and my head was light.

  “You set off the alarm when you landed.” He had obviously been asleep, and the scent of sleepy Marco intensified my level of intoxication.

  He moved aside, and I shuffled into his warm lair. Closing the door, he leaned against it and looked me up and down. “What did I do to deserve this visit?”

  “I’m ready to pay my doobs…my dues,” I said, opening my arms wide and smiling.

  “Jen, have you been drinking?”

  “Maybe jest a little bit.” I held up my fingers, indicating about an inch of drinking. “But I’m good to go.” My inner voice kicked back in her chair and nodded approvingly as I walked up to him and wound my hands around his neck.

  “I don’t think we should have sex with you in this condition,” he said, placing his hands on my arms, ready to extricate them from his neck.

  “I don’t want to have sex—I want to fuck!”

  “Oh, damn,” he said. “I’m a goner.” He kissed me long and hard on the mouth as he flipped our position, and then I was the one backed up against the door. Heat shot through my arms as he pinned them above my head with one hand, and I felt his other hand creep up under my sweatshirt. This was so hot. My head was doing that spinny thing as Marco and I realized at the same time I wasn’t wearing a bra. The stroke across my already hard nipple had me moaning as I ran my tongue up the curve of his neck.

  He released my arms, and I grasped the hard, muscular mounds of flesh most people call an ass. He had a super ass. Yep, I bet Superman’s ass felt just like this. He groaned, and I could feel his arousal pressing against my thigh. My legs gave way beneath me, and he lifted me off the ground.

  I wrapped my legs around his middle. We were both sweating. My heart was pounding, and then I had a vision of me kicking ass like the first mate on the Firefly. Marco was my defender, and we made an excellent team. He didn’t hold me back the way Caiyan did. We were flying through space, right toward the burning sun. It was so hot. We were going to crash, and I screamed.

  Hot was all I remembered. I woke up in Marco’s bed wearing only my panties. The bedroom was dark, except for a sliver of light coming through the slightly open door.

  I heard voices in the outer room over the clanging in my head. Did I have sex with Marco? I couldn’t remember. Damn. One minute I was drowning in his kisses, and the next minute I was in his bed with a lingering feeling I had been on a spaceship.

  I swung my lead-filled legs over the side of the bed. The clock on the nightstand read 5:00 a.m. What time had I arrived? I couldn’t remember. I stood slowly. My ankle felt better, surprisingly. My head was a different story. I searched for my clothes. Nada. Maybe he had torn them off me. I wrapped the blanket around my bare body. I opened the door and shuffled down the hall. I passed by a mirror mounted on the wall. My eyes were bloodshot, and I tried to swat down my hideous hair, which was standing on end. The voices caught my attention. I took a deep breath, and my Medusa-possessed body stepped out into the living room. Marco was sitting on the couch, and across from him was Jake. Crap!

  Jake had his back to me. Marco stood, turning toward me with a small smile on his face. He was showered and dressed in standard Marco wear of jeans and a T-shirt. His blond curls were still slightly wet from a shower, and I had that uncomfortable feeling I was in trouble.

  “Sleeping Beauty has risen,” Marco said, coming forward and kissing me on the cheek as he passed into the kitchen.

  “Jake, what are you doing here?” I squeaked. My throat was as dry as the Arizona desert.

  “I might ask you the same thing.” Jake stood and turned toward me. His eyes widened at the sight of me, but he didn’t remove that annoyed frown he gets when someone has royally pissed him off.

  He watched as Marco returned with a glass of scotch, a bottle of water, and two aspirin.

  “Hair of the dog,” Marco said, handing me the scotch.

  I took two sips and felt my stomach roll. Marco rescued the glass before I dropped it on his Persian rug.

  “Maybe just the water,
” Jake said. “She never really did well the morning after.”

  I drank the water, and my throat felt a little better. “Why are you here?” I asked again.

  “Pickles caught you landing in SoHo. I thought I should come rescue Marco.”

  I licked my lips and looked at Marco sheepishly. “Did he get here in time?”

  Marco looked hurt. “Jen, you don’t remember?”

  I really couldn’t remember a thing. After the hot kisses, my memory was a blank. Maybe that was part of Marco’s power. Could he wipe memories?

  “I’m a little fuzzy.”

  Marco leaned in and whispered, “You were fantastic.”

  That didn’t really answer my question.

  “We have to get to Gitmo. The meeting’s in an hour.” Jake tapped his watch.

  I took the aspirin and borrowed Marco’s shower. By the time I extracted myself from the glorious steam shower, my clothes were laid out on the bed, clean and folded. I dressed and finger combed my hair. My reflection in the mirror showed dark circles under my eyes. A veil of embarrassment covered my face like the pimples on the pizza-delivery boy. I sighed. I might as well get the dreaded walk of shame over with. I was surprised Jake hadn’t called my mother to report her slutty daughter shacking up with various men.

  My legs felt less like lead and more like Jell-O as I made my way toward the kitchen. Marco and Jake were sitting at the kitchen table, running over possible scenarios of why Toches was teaming up with the Mafusos.

  “I got you a present,” Jake said when he noticed me standing in the hallway. In the middle of the table was a bag of McDonald’s french fries and a Coke. Best hangover cure ever. Jake may have been my boss, but he was also my best friend.

  I smiled, sat down at the table, and enjoyed that first taste of french-fry heaven. Marco excused himself to get ready to travel to Gitmo, now that his houseguest had vacated his bedroom. Jake gave me a few minutes to enjoy my fries while he made some notes on a small notepad.

  “Who brought you here?” I asked Jake.

  “Ace, and he’s plenty mad I interrupted his night out on the town, so you will have some groveling to do.” Jake snatched a fry and checked his smartphone. “Time to go. I have things to do before I meet with everyone.” Jake tucked the notepad into his jacket pocket and stood. I scarfed a few more fries and took a last sip of the Coke.

  Marco met us in the hallway, and I kept my head down. Avoiding eye contact was the easiest for me right now. Jake and I left Marco to lock up and climbed into my vessel.

  I felt ridiculous. Flying off to Marco had not been the right thing to do when I was mad at Caiyan. I let out a big, deep sigh.

  Jake patted my knee. “Don’t worry. Marco didn’t have his way with you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I called Gertie, and she told me how many M&M’s were in your bowl.”

  “And?”

  “And I know you, Jen. You probably threw up on the poor guy. That’s why he was showered by the time I got here and your clothes were in the washer.”

  The memory came flooding back, and Jake was right. I dropped my head in my hands and groaned.

  Jake gave a little chuckle. “Marco has good sense. He won’t invade Caiyan’s territory until it’s completely safe.

  “I’m nobody’s territory.”

  “This is not your normal club scene, and these are not normal people.” Jake searched my face to see if his words of warning had made an impact.

  They rang loud and clear: I needed to be careful. I knew Caiyan had his own agenda. He had killed before, but I also knew he loved me in his way and wouldn’t hurt me intentionally. It was good and bad. I was glad I hadn’t missed out on great sex, but I still owed Marco a debt. My inner voice held an ice pack on her head as Jake and I jetted off into the darkness.

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  Jake left me in the blue room, and Marco came in a few minutes later. He stood at the door, staring at me.

  “Um, I’m sorry about last night,” I finally mumbled.

  He grinned. “It’s not every day I get to kiss an amazing girl.”

  “You think I’m amazing?”

  “Anyone who can projectile vomit across an entire lane of traffic is pretty amazing.”

  “I did that?”

  “Yes, you ran to the window, climbed out on the fire escape—which I thank you for—and heaved over the railing.”

  “I don’t remember doing that.”

  “When I got you back inside, you started to cry because you’d thrown up on the Dallas Cowboys, and you were afraid Jerry Jones would be upset. And then you took off your sweats and passed out.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That is it.” Marco sat down, and I noticed he had dark circles under his eyes too.

  “You didn’t get much sleep.”

  “No, but it’s all good. I think you needed to let off some steam. I was happy to help out.”

  Jake returned with his laptop and some files. The three of us waited in the blue room for Ace and Brodie. The magic pastry fairy had left buttery croissants and a full pot of hot coffee. My stomach churned a little at the pastry, so I opted for the coffee.

  “I still don’t understand why they want to meet at my cousin’s wedding in Mount Vernon,” I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

  “I’m not sure,” Jake said. He was leafing through a stack of papers when Brodie and Ace walked in. Brodie stood scarfing down a croissant, and Ace made a beeline for the coffee. He poured a steaming cup and added a dash of Coffee-Mate, then made himself comfortable in the seat across the table from me. He took a sip of the coffee and sighed.

  “Rough night?” I asked.

  “The roughest. I was in Las Vegas for a sneaky peek at Steve Wynn’s new nightclub Intrigue. He’s ’aving the grand opening next week and wanted a few close friends to do a test run.” Ace cut his eyes at me. “Of course, I had to stop right in the middle to escort Agent McCoy, but all is well. I returned and partied my ass off until I had to leave and come do my civic duties.”

  Jake stopped what he was doing and gawked at Ace. “You stayed out all night before a mission?”

  “It’ll be all right, mate,” Ace said, taking another sip of coffee. “A little java juice, and I’m good to go.”

  Jake just stared like a mother at her wit’s end with uncooperative children. He shuffled his papers, ignoring Ace, and focused on the task at hand. “The happy couple is getting married at the cowboy church.”

  My head snapped up. “The cowboy church?”

  “Yes, why?” Jake looked at me, alarmed.

  “The cowboy church is an all-horseback venue. The entire bridal party will be on horseback. The bride, the groom, everyone.”

  “What about the guests?” Brodie asked, grabbing one of the armless chairs that normally stood against the wall, flipping it around backward, and straddling the seat.

  “There are bales of hay for the guests to sit on,” I said, recalling the only other time I had attended a wedding at a cowboy church.

  “Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” Jake asked me. “Didn’t you read the invitation?”

  “I was included on my parents’ invitation. I communicated with Melissa Jo about adding the extra guests through Facebook.”

  “The meeting is to take place during the wedding reception. When the choir from the Holy Tabernacle of the Nuwaubian Nation sings—”

  “What?” I interrupted. “That can’t be right. That’s an African American church in downtown Dallas.”

  Jake glared at me. “Jen, do you know the groom?”

  “Well, no. I haven’t spoken to Melissa Jo in years. She is a few years older than me and moved to California to go to Berkeley.”

  “Let me introduce you to the groom.” Jake stifled a grin as he slid a photo from his file across the table to me. “Your cousin Melissa Jo is to marry Kanye Washington, a.k.a. Emperor KW Smooth Dog.”

 
I picked up the photo of Melissa Jo with her arms wrapped around a dark-skinned man. The photo showed the smiling couple standing in front of a club. Gold chains and medallions hung around Smooth Dog’s neck and rested on his belly, which I could see protruding through the thin black shirt.

  “I know this guy,” Ace said. “He’s a gangsta-rap artist.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Marco chimed in. “What was that song he released recently?”

  “‘Pimpin’ Is Hard Work,’” Ace said.

  I was holding my head in my hands—not only because of the hangover but also because this was going to be a disaster.

  “What’s wrong, love?” Ace asked. “Do you ’ave a headache?”

  “Yes, I mean, no, y’all don’t understand. This wedding is the first time my redneck relatives have had the pleasure of an outsider joining the family.”

  “Whaddaya mean outsider?” Brodie asked, a look of confusion clouding his face. “Your family is going to be upset because your cousin is marrying a black man?”

  “No,” I said, sighing. “It will be the first man ever marrying into the family who doesn’t worship country music. My entire family knows every word to ‘I Was Country When Country Wasn’t Cool.’” I stood and began to pace. “When I travel to Mount Vernon, I change my radio station from top forty to country classics miles from arriving. The only crossover music they have ever allowed was Elvis, and that practically took an act of Congress, because my dad was such a fan. I don’t know what my cousin is thinking, marrying a rapper. My family is going to be at DEFCON three, and the Mafusos are demanding a meeting?”

  “Did you get the invites?” Jake asked.

  “Yes, I added Marco as my date, and Gertie added Brodie.” She was thrilled Brodie was going. “I assumed Mahlia is going as Eli’s plus-one.” Then I unloaded the bullet. “And…um…since you were already invited to the wedding, I added Ace as yours.”

  Brodie let out a bark of laughter and slapped the back of his chair.