3 Ways to Wear Red

by Janet Leigh

  The parish house was a small ranch-style house with a long front porch. Rocking chairs provided seating for family members waiting for the bride. It was set up like a duplex, with the right side converted for the bride and the left side a private residence for the preacher. We knocked, and Gertie answered the door. She was dressed in a purple floral sundress and boots. Her red hair was done up in a French braid, and tiny flowers dotted her braid.

  “Hi, y’all,” she said, moving aside so we could enter.

  “You look pretty,” I said, and Jake bent down and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “Thanks—always the bridesmaid…” She didn’t finish her sentence. “Wait until you see Melissa Jo.” Gertie beamed.

  We turned into a large room with a sofa and several overstuffed chairs. Two additional bridesmaids were seated, drinking champagne. Melissa Jo was standing in front of a three-way mirror, and her mother was fussing with her hair.

  “Jen!” Melissa Jo’s eyes lit up as I entered the room. She swatted away the hand placing small flowers in her hair. “I’m so glad you made it.”

  “You look fabulous,” I said, giving her a hug. Her plump figure was molded into a lacy V-neck wedding dress that not only slimmed her wide hips but accentuated her full bust. Melissa Jo introduced her bridesmaids. One, the sister of the groom, was a short, thin girl with a giant Afro. It dominated her small, attractive frame and reminded me of Beyoncé’s hairstyle in that Austin Powers movie. The other girl was Melissa Jo’s sister, Amy. She marched over and reeled Jake in for a full kiss on the mouth and then reprimanded him for not friending her on Facebook. Jake appeared slightly embarrassed by the dramatic display of affection but told Amy he was sorry he hadn’t responded and would do so immediately.

  I exchanged hugs with Amy and her mom. I introduced Jake to the groom’s sister, and Melissa Jo’s mom asked when Jake and I were getting married. Jake raised his eyebrow, and I explained our relationship was long in the past, and now Marco was my boyfriend, which sounded weird coming from my mouth.

  Amy told us about her recent divorce as she drowned her sorrow in a flute of champagne and began making eyes at Jake.

  Melissa Jo plopped her bottom down in a chair so her mom could finish her work of art. Melissa Jo’s mom owned the beauty salon in town. Her father, who was known to hold court at the local bar, was currently unable to attend the wedding due to a conflict of interest with the county sheriff.

  “Mama is making me look to die for,” Melissa Jo said while her mom attached her veil.

  I hoped Melissa Jo’s statement didn’t turn out to be true. There was no telling what the Mafusos had planned. Jake had assured me they should abide by all the rules set forth in the present-day contract. They were on our turf, so to speak. Jake scouted the room as the bridesmaids drooled and flirted with him. I made conversation with Melissa Jo and her mother, catching up on the local gossip. Everything seemed in order. No sign of the bitch from hell or any brigand activity in this room.

  “Is that present for me and Kanye?” Melissa Jo asked, pointing to the gift Jake had under his arm.

  “Yes,” Jake stumbled on the word.

  “I can give it to the wedding coordinator to take to the reception,” Melissa Jo’s mom said.

  Jake hugged the package tight. “I would like to take it myself. It’s very delicate.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to see what it is.” Melissa Jo clapped her hands excitedly, and Jake cut his eyes toward the door.

  After the final can of Aqua Net was empty, Jake and I wished her luck and left.

  We peeked in the window of the preacher’s side of the duplex as we passed. This side was bigger and divided into a bedroom, den, and kitchen. No brigands.

  “Can I help y’all with anything in there?” a gravelly voice asked from over my right shoulder, and both Jake and I jumped. A man in white robes, jeans, and cowboy boots had snuck up behind us. Mamma Bea had told us the cowboy church had a new preacher, and this must be him.

  “No, my friend and I were thinking of moving to the country and liked the look of your place.”

  He placed his hand over the Bible he was carrying as if he felt the urgent need to pray. Instead, he motioned toward the church. “The wedding will begin soon. You may want to get a good seat.”

  We nodded and made our way back to the church, but as we walked past a small barn adjacent to the arena, we heard a commotion.

  “I done told you I was not gettin’ on that damn horse.” A short, round woman in a purple dress and heels stood her ground firmly against a man with skin the color of an eight ball.

  His tuxedo was purple suede, and he was sweating bullets even in the cool April air. He wiped his brow with a white handkerchief. The gold chains around his neck had me guessing this was the groom. “Mama, you got to get up on this horse. It’s for Melissa.”

  We stood watching the two go at it, and the preacher came up behind us.

  “I don’t think she’s going to get on the horse,” Jake said.

  “God always provides an answer.” He patted his Bible and began walking toward the couple.

  Jake and I got out of the way of God’s solution and found seats on one of the hay bales behind my parents. Jake placed the large package on the ground next to his feet. Marco sat down next to me and shook his head at Jake’s speculative gaze. Ace and the rest of our little party of pillagers and thieves were running late. I hoped Eli was OK.

  A few more guests made their way to the hay bales, but there was no sign of Mahlia or Eli. The whole hostage situation had my stomach in knots. All this was my fault. Maybe working for the WTF was too dangerous, and I didn’t have what it took to be a good agent. I mean, here I was sitting at a wedding with most of my family, and the brigands would be a gunshot away. My key might provide some protection for me, but what about my parents or Gertie or Mamma Bea? I was in the middle of rethinking my life’s game plan when my mom’s head spun around with superhero intuition.

  “Finally, your brother is here,” she said and hopped up to greet Eli. I hurried after her. Marco followed me, and Jake stayed behind, one hand on the gun hidden in his shoulder holster and the other resting on the package at his feet.

  Eli and Mahlia were standing at the entrance to the churchyard. Eli was wearing his favorite black suit, and Mahlia was in six-inch Stuart Weitzman stilettos. I hoped she would get stuck in the soft ground and fall flat on her face. The picture flashed in my mind, and a small smile threatened the corners of my mouth.

  “Only good thoughts, Dorothy,” Marco teased as he walked with me.

  “Yeah, if only the great and powerful Oz were here to lend a helping hand.”

  My mom hustled over to Eli and threw her arms around him as if she hadn’t seen him in years. I stood back and eyed Mahlia, who was greeting my mom with a polite shyness. I frowned at her. The bitch. She had complemented her shoes with a black Italian MILLY slit dress.

  While my mom was occupied with Mahlia, I tried to speak to Eli. He looked shell-shocked but not injured in any way.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  He almost growled the response. “Fine.”

  “Let’s find a seat, lover.” Mahlia and Eli interlocked hands, and they went ahead to be seated.

  My mom stood openmouthed as she watched Mahlia and Eli greet a few relatives. She twisted her lips and frowned at me. “There’s something about her I don’t like.” She squeezed my arm as she passed to return to her seat.

  Even though Mahlia was a fellow New Yorker, I think my mom’s gut was telling her Mahlia was no good. I smiled as I watched her walk back to her seat. Eli caught my eye and frowned at me.

  “I think Eli’s mad at me,” I said with an air of confusion.

  “I’m sure he’s in shock from the experience of traveling in a vessel. Mahlia’s making no attempt to hide the vessel or your secret from him.” Marco put a hand on my shoulder.

  “I don’t know. He had the same look his sophomore year when I washed his white footba
ll jersey with my red hoodie. His teammates nicknamed him Pinky.”

  Eli and Mahlia sat with my parents, and they both greeted Jake with smiles, but I caught Mahlia taking a long glimpse at the package Jake had stowed at his feet.

  I was dumbfounded. Mahlia mingled with everyone as if we were casual friends. There wasn’t a gun pointed at Eli’s ribcage, and I didn’t see brigands holding sniper rifles in the trees. The only thing keeping Eli in line was a skinny, tanned, French-manicured hand gently placed in the crook of his elbow.

  “Where is Ace?” growled Jake. “I need him here as backup when we make the exchange.”

  I surveyed the crowd of people who had now gathered for the wedding. Mahlia was the only brigand here. The others were probably setting booby traps at Elma’s house. Ace ran in at the last minute, his face flushed from rushing, but his Givenchy studded western shirt, rawhide jacket, and matching boots made a statement. My family was buzzing with gossip as he took a seat next to Jake, giving him a big hug, apologizing for being late, and calling him pookie. My dad looked over his shoulder at us and raised a dark eyebrow at Jake.

  Jake dropped his head and murmured, “Your dad is never going to look at me the same way again.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, patting his hand. “My dad is very open-minded.”

  Music began to play over the PA system. Ronnie McDowell’s song “Older Women” began as an usher drove a horse-drawn gig cart down the aisle. The woman we had seen arguing earlier was perched up on the seat in her purple, beaded dress and sparkly shoes. She looked pleased with her method of transportation and was assisted out and plopped down on a front-row hay bale. After I had found out about Melissa Jo’s fiancé, I had done a Google search. My research on Kanye had revealed he’d been raised by a strong single mom. His father had skipped out early in Kanye’s life, but Kanye had had two hit songs and was deemed the next P. Diddy.

  A tall brown mare sauntered down the aisle, carrying Melissa Jo’s mom. The ushers helped her off the horse. She took her seat on the hay bales as they escorted the horse away.

  The music changed, and the preacher rode around from behind the church and positioned his horse front and center. The bridal party followed on their horses with the ring bearer and flower girl riding Shetland ponies. The whole thing was über cute, and Marco elbowed me.

  “You’re getting that starry-eyed look in your eyes like you are mentally creating a wedding board on Pinterest.”

  “I like weddings. They’re…normally a happy event.”

  “They make me nervous,” Marco said.

  “Why?”

  “It might be the whole ‘until death do you part’ thing. How do you know when you’ve found the right person?” Marco put a hand on my knee. Fire shot through my thigh and caused things to stir, and I removed his hand. I wasn’t the expert on relationships. My inner voice was drawing hearts around Marco’s name, but I couldn’t picture myself walking down the aisle with anyone.

  “I would like to think there’s a moment when that person does something incredible, and you just know.”

  “That’s beautiful. Do you need a tissue?” Jake asked from the other side.

  “Shut up,” I said, giving Jake a friendly swat on the arm. I caught an evil look from my mom, who had a finger to her lips.

  We watched as the two groomsmen took their places, followed by the groom. Kanye was the epitome of romance sitting astride a tall, white stallion. He seemed stiff in the saddle, as though maybe he wasn’t all that familiar with horseback riding. His horse trotted down the with Kanye bouncing up and down in the saddle. When his horse sidestepped and snorted a few times, his eyes widened in fear.

  One of the ushers calmed the horse, and the bridesmaids rode in. Kanye’s sister, Gertie, and Amy took their horses to the front. The music changed again, and an acoustic version of the wedding march began. We stood as Melissa Jo’s horse ambled down the aisle.

  She was beautiful. I scanned the crowd. So far only Mahlia was here. I didn’t see any sign of Caiyan. Jake had been wrong: Caiyan wasn’t the least bit concerned about Eli’s hostage situation or Marco.

  I turned to look behind me. I recognized almost everyone on the bride’s side, mostly family members and close friends. I looked over my right shoulder and scanned the groom’s side. A few people had flown in from California and looked overdressed and bored. The guys from Kanye’s band sat in the third row behind Kanye’s family members, who were seated in the first two rows of hay bales. In the last row was a handlebar-mustached man in a tall cowboy hat. He looked out of place among the rappers and the sparkly dresses. I nudged Jake, and he took a look at the guy.

  “I don’t recognize him,” Jake said and asked Ace to keep an eye on the man at the reception.

  We watched as the happy couple exchanged their vows. The horses were considerate; there was no pooping during the ceremony. The groomsmen looked very nervous, as this was possibly the first time they had ever mounted anything other than California beach babes.

  The couple kissed and began to ride down the aisle. Kanye was grinning ear to ear when they passed the handlebar-mustached man, but Kanye’s horse spooked, reared, and took off at full speed with Kanye screaming like a frightened schoolgirl.

  Melissa Jo shrieked for help as everyone stood in awe as the groom went bouncing away. Gertie pulled up on her reins and gave a little nudge to her horse’s ribs. “I’ll git ’im!” she hollered as she rode off after the runaway groom.

  “Save my baby!” Kanye’s mom yelled after her.

  We watched Gertie ride away, and I noticed the mustached man was missing…and so was Jake’s package.

  “Jake, the package is gone, and the guy in the back row with the handlebar mustache is missing.” I pointed to the empty spot where the package had been.

  “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Jake hopped around as if he couldn’t believe it. We stood dumbfounded for a few minutes and then began scouting the area.

  A large black mare bolted from the barn with the mustache man on top. He flew by the crowd of people, the package tucked under his arm.

  “That man is stealin’ a wedding gift,” Cousin Hildy shouted.

  “That’s not the worst part,” the preacher said. “He’s riding Devil’s Tooth. Ain’t no one been able to break that horse. He’s got Satan’s spirit.”

  The families stood gaping as the horse stopped on a dime and began bucking and snorting. The handlebar-mustached man held on for dear life. The horse decided to try and throw its uninvited rider by racing along the fence line. A figure wearing black leaped from the tree line and knocked the mustached man off his horse.

  I recognized the well-built package of Caiyan as the other package dropped to the ground. We rushed over, and the two men had fists flying as my family gathered around. Jake secured the package under his arm.

  “This here town is full up of crazy people,” the mother of the groom shouted, fanning herself and looking for her son.

  “This is Texas, and we’re proud of our crazy people!” Mamma Bea stepped up to the woman, and I was afraid there might be a side brawl.

  “It’s Toches in disguise.” Ace bent over and picked up something from the ground, holding the handle-bar mustache at arm’s length for us to see.

  Ace was right. Toches’s ten-gallon hat and mustache were knocked off when Caiyan rocket launched him off the horse. The bastard was trying to steal the Thunder key out from under the Mafusos.

  Caiyan was giving Toches a good pounding with his fists. Toches was trying to fight back, but Caiyan outmuscled him.

  Mahlia stood on the outside of the group, rolling her eyes, and I noticed my brother stood next to her, arms crossed and a frown on his face. Mahlia didn’t have a secret gun pointed at Eli or even a hold on his arm. Why wasn’t Eli running to us for safety? Maybe the Mafusos also had someone in the shadows of the trees watching us.

  After a few minutes, Caiyan had Toches’s arm behind his back and pulled him to his feet.

  “
Who is that handsome man?” Cousin Hildy asked, pointing at Caiyan.

  “That is Jennifer’s boyfriend,” Eli answered.

  My mom’s head bobbed up. “I thought Marco was your boyfriend?” she asked.

  I caught Caiyan’s angry glare as I answered, “It’s complicated.”

  Chapter 13

  Gertie returned with the groom in tow, and his family surrounded him as he reassured them he was fine. He claimed he’d had control of the beast long before Gertie arrived.

  Gertie gave me a wink as she dismounted from her mare.

  Jake flashed his badge and informed everyone he was with the CIA, and Caiyan was assisting him in the capture of a fugitive.

  The crowd began to clap and shout affirmations. “Praise Jesus. Good job, city slicker!”

  Ace yelled, “Way to go, honey.”

  Jake turned beet red and apologized for the intrusion. He handcuffed and escorted Toches to his car.

  Elma’s house was a short distance from the cowboy church, and a hay wagon was available for those guests who wanted a full-on country adventure. The bride and groom sat front and center as the guests reluctantly climbed aboard. My family scurried off to the reception, giddy with the excitement of having new gossip to spread around town.

  “Is Johnny Cash coming to the reception?” Cousin Hildy asked, batting her false eyelashes at Caiyan.

  Caiyan stood next to me in a full-on black suit. He did remind me a little of Johnny Cash.

  “You showed up,” I said to Caiyan.

  “Aye, Toches is veery bad brigand.”

  “Oh, my sweet Jesus, he’s got an accent.” Hildy tugged on Caiyan’s elbow. “C’mon, sweetie. You can ride on over to the reception with Hildy.” Caiyan looked shell-shocked, and I shrugged. Once Hildy got her mind set, there was no stopping her.

  Jake nodded in my direction. We were to meet at Elma’s house, and Jake had no choice but to bring Toches. He had the Sleigh key secured around his neck, and he was the only one who could remove it. Now that the family thought Toches was a fugitive, Jake would have to keep him out of sight until the trade. When the Mafusos found out Toches was trying to double-cross them, there would be hell to pay, and I wanted to see it up close and personal.