by Gina LaManna
I glanced over at Vivian, who was flushing furiously.
“Oh,” I said. “All right then. Who took Kiki?”
“I thought you were supposed to solve that?” Vivian asked. “I’ll tell you what. It would be really convenient if you would just get us married. Then we’d all be able to go find Kiki.”
“But I thought she was on the plane with you guys,” I said. “Her name was on a ticket.”
“Well, then she was flying solo,” Vivian said. “Good job, detective.”
“Just let them get married, already,” I said to Anthony. “I’m tired, and we need to find the maid of honor.”
“Oh, speaking of,” Vivian said. “Lace, do you mind standing in for now? I like you most of the time. You can be my maid of honor.”
“Uh, maybe we shouldn’t have you guys get married now, on second thought,” I said. “We could find Kiki first.”
“Nope,” Anthony said. “We’ll just get it over with.”
Was there a twinkle in his eye? I couldn’t tell. If so, I wanted to punch him. I was in no mood to be a maid of honor.
“Great, Anthony, you look the sharpest. You’re my best man,” Joey said. “Can we take these cuffs off for the ceremony?”
“No,” said Anthony gruffly, probably as annoyed as I was at the sudden turn of events. Neither of us had expected to be promoted to wedding party.
“Except for one thing, Lacey. You can’t wear that,” Vivian said. “You need to change.”
“I don’t have a change of clothes,” I said.
“Good thing I do.” Meg winked. “I knew it would come in handy.”
** **
Five minutes later I was pinned, stapled and sewn into Meg’s sequined gold gown.
“I told you not to wear sparkles,” Vivian said furiously to Meg. “You shouldn’t have even brought that thing.”
I met Viv’s furious gaze. “Well, it’s this or sweatpants.”
“Fine. Sparkles,” Vivian snapped. “Leo, read from that damn book.”
“The Bible.” Leo cleared his throat once, twice, three times before he started the ceremony. Despite the fact that we were in Vegas, surrounded by chapels where Elvis presided and Darth Vader stood as best man, this had to be the strangest wedding of all.
Leo read from The Bible, his hands still cuffed behind his back, while Alfonso held the heavy book and turned the pages. Joey stood holding a bouquet of flowers to cover the cuffed hands in front of his body, while Vivian faced him in a web of fluffy white fabric.
I dazzled in my sparkly gown off to Vivian’s right, while Anthony stood to Joey’s left. Meg and Clay sat in the front row, tears streaming freely down the former’s cheeks.
When it came to the ring exchange, the bride and groom shifted slightly to accommodate the handcuffs. Kissing the bride was a tad more difficult (Joey tried to dip Vivian, but abandoned the idea quickly) and the smooch lasted a lot longer than usual.
“Enough,” I finally said, as Joey’s tongue seemed suctioned to Vivian’s mouth. “That’s gross.”
They smiled.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Leo said three minutes after the ceremony had started. “Ooops, I was supposed to say that earlier. Oh, shit.”
“Don’t swear during our freaking ceremony,” Vivian said. “Can’t you wait two minutes?”
“What the hell,” Leo said. “You’re married!”
Vivian threw her bouquet. I dodged it quickly. Meg dove and missed. It landed limply on the floor, all eyes surveying it testily.
“Well, somebody pick it up,” Vivian said.
Meg snatched it quick as lightning and gave blinky eyes at Clay, who turned away just as fast.
“All right. We good here?” I asked. “Time to find your maid of honor.”
“You’ve found her,” a voice said from the entryway of the chapel. In the midst of the bouquet tossing, none of us had noticed the door open and a figure appear.
“What?” I squeaked.
“Who is that?” Meg blurted.
“Shit. Donald?” Vivian asked. She turned to me and hissed. “The banker.”
“That’s Donald?” I asked. “You were going to marry him?”
“Shut up,” Donald said. “I’ve got a gun.”
Mr. Boring Banker suddenly became a lot less boring and a lot more terrifying as he pushed a second figure forward. Kiki stumbled into the light of the chapel, as Donald stepped from behind the plant that had partially shielded his face. He was as average as expected: average height, average beer belly, and had an average amount of hair loss for someone who looked to be in his early forties. The only thing completely shocking about him was the gun dangling from his fingers.
Kiki had fallen to her knees from the push, shaking and whimpering on the red rug beneath her.
“Help,” she pleaded. “Help me.”
“Why have you done this?” Vivian took a step forward, but Donald’s gun clicked in a menacing way.
I looked over to Anthony. It looked like he’d also made a move for his gun, but had paused when the click echoed throughout the chapel.
Donald trained his sights on Kiki and pressed the gun to her forehead. “You’re going to listen to me.”
We looked at him and nodded, one by one. Anthony gave a single nod, but I could tell his mind was working hundreds of miles an hour, similar to mine. I didn’t see a way out of this with Kiki escaping alive.
Clay nodded, but both he and Meg remained sitting perfectly still in the pew. I watched as he slipped his phone out of his pocket and started fiddling with some of the buttons.
I gave him a patronizing look. What was Clay playing at—was he trying to get Kiki killed? Even if he managed to get out a 911 call, it would be much too late by the time the cops arrived.
“What do you want from us?” I asked, raising my hands as the gun swiveled for a moment in my direction before returning to Kiki’s temple.
“This will be easy if you follow the steps I’m going to list out very clearly. In order—just like a boring banker likes. First of all, I’m going to search you. I’ll give you one chance to drop all your weapons and phones and crap like that. It’s going in a pile over here. Do that now. If I find anything on you as I search you, she’s dead.” He flicked the edge of the gun against Kiki’s skull and she let out a cry of fear.
“Just tell us why you’re doing this,” I said, slowly removing my phone from my handbag and tossing it to the floor. I sucked in my breath quickly with realization. “You brought Kiki on the plane—that’s why she had a ticket. Just… nobody thought to check for a ticket in your name.”
Donald smirked. “And? Do you have it figured out, you sparkly little thing?”
I paused. Even under intense duress, I was a teensy bit self-conscious about just how dazzling my dress was. Then again, maybe I was bright enough to show up on a satellite somewhere and someone would come and investigate the anomaly, accidentally saving us. In the meantime, I had to keep him talking.
“Well, when the TSA agents told us that Kiki didn’t show up with Joey, I didn’t know how or why she’d be getting on a plane to Vegas.” I glanced down at her tear-stricken face. “She’d been locked in her room last night, and disappeared by the morning. There was something odd about that, for sure, but I didn’t piece it together until now. She didn’t board the plane of her own free will, she boarded it because you forced her to. Except that we didn’t list you as a suspect, so TSA didn’t mention you. And you used an alias.”
Donald nodded. “You’re a little smarter than you look, I’ll give you that much. Next time, just tone down the glitter.”
I stuck out a finger. “And you’re the one who over-tipped that receptionist. He’d talked about some banker guy, but I thought you were printing out wedding stuff.”
“Nope,” Donald said. “Too easy to pin it on Joey, who was busy printing off some nudes, and then under tipped.”
“But the misspelling…” I said. “Dammit, that was your lis
t, not Joey’s. I expected Joey to misspell wedding, not you.”
“That was an unlucky catch,” he winced. “Of course a banker wouldn’t misspell a common English word like that. But this meat-head…”
The way he said English niggled something loose in my brain. It reminded me of Andrey, the man I’d thought was my target when I’d been after The Good Stuff. However, I’d been wrong and ended up going on a date with him, which is an entirely different story. Anyway, the main idea here was that Andrey had been Russian.
“Are you from the Russian Mafia?” I asked. “You are! I can hear it in your voice. Carlos was right the whole time.”
“The whole time?” Donald asked. “How did he know?”
“Faking Leo’s death…” I paused. “No, that makes no sense. Leo, why did you do that?”
The priest shrugged. “Money.”
“I paid him,” Joey said. “I was just trying to win my love back by postponing her wedding to this madman.”
Joey spat in the direction of Donald.
“Why did you want to marry her anyways?” Joey asked. “We’re soul mates.”
“That you are,” Donald said sardonically. “You’re made for each other. Have her. It would’ve been a convenient way to be a spy, though. Maybe pocket some cash. Except for Vivian is poor as hell. All she’s got is that stupid pink Jeep.”
“You told me you liked it,” Vivian said. “Ugh, I can’t believe you and your lies.”
“Oh, Vivian, you were blind,” Donald said. “You were using me to get back at this orange beach ball over here. Though, at this point, I’m afraid the only way you two will end up together is in a matching pair of coffins. If you’re lucky.”
“You had a small dick, anyways,” Vivian said. “I faked every orgasm.”
Donald looked at the ceiling. Then he licked his lips. “Since our relationship fortunately didn’t work out, I can’t go through with my original plan to infiltrate the Luzzi Family. So, I’m going to just collect some money for my time and effort and get out of here. In fact, the whole process is much less painful this way. It’s really thanks to you, Viv. You forced me to change tactics. On the bright side of things, that means I only have to be with you guys for… oh, twenty-four hours, tops. I’ll collect my ransom money, and then…”
He mimicked shooting a gun. Except the motion was quite terrifying since the gun in his hand was real.
“Now, let’s get the show on the road. Your dress is really hurting my eyes.” Donald looked somewhere over my shoulder, and I felt a bit like the sun, in the sense that nobody wanted to look directly at me. “Drop any weapons and phones here. If you hesitate, or I find something, or I think you might be hiding something, I’ll shoot this bi—”
“Hey, I have a better idea,” Clay interrupted.
I looked at Clay, sure my eyes were wide as two slices of pepperoni. Donald was cool and calm, a really scary dude with a gun. As he turned towards Clay, Donald didn’t flinch or look away, and I had no doubt that the banker would shoot with the smallest bit of provocation.
“Yes?” Donald asked, the corner of his mouth sliding upwards.
“Well, how would you ever know if we got rid of everything in our pockets? What if I have two guns on me?” Clay paused and raised his finger like a patient math teacher. “What if we just stripped down to our underwear and put our clothes in a pile so you don’t have to worry?”
Donald narrowed his eyes. “Is this some perverted trick?”
Clay removed a pocketknife from his pants and dropped it on the floor. “Never mind, forget it. It’s fine, man. I was just trying to make things easier for you. Now that I think about it, I don’t really want to get anywhere close to naked around you.”
I nodded. “Yeah, me too.”
I didn’t know what Clay intended, but if he had a plan with any probability of working, I’d go along with it.
“I’ll get naked,” Meg offered.
“No—” three or four people shouted at once.
“That’s all right,” I called out, glaring around. “Nobody’s getting naked here. This is a church.”
“Actually, yeah.” Donald nodded. “I think Clay’s onto something. Everyone down to your boxers. Now. Except you, Kiki. I know you’re clean. You made it on an airplane.” He waved the gun around. “Now!”
Internally swearing at Clay up and down the Mississippi, I slowly removed the light sweater from my shoulders and dropped it on the floor.
“Hurry up, Lacey,” Clay said.
“Why?” I hissed. “This is so weird. Why are you helping him?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Clay gave me a strained look.
I didn’t believe for a second that he was helping Donald, but I couldn’t think for the life of me what removing our clothes would help.
“You’d better take off those sparkles,” Clay said to me. “Throw them across the room so they don’t hurt his eyes anymore.”
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Donald said. He walked around touching the gun to each one of us in turn, skipping over Clay and Anthony. Probably because they were both bigger than him and could possibly take control of the gun.
“Let’s move it. Don’t think about it, buddy.” Donald fired a shot really close to my ear that whizzed behind me and lodged just below Jesus’ feet on the crucifix. “I saw that, big guy. Toss the gun across the room.”
I opened my eyes—at some point they’d squeezed shut at the gunfire, and watched as Anthony slowly slid his gun across the floor to the other side of the room, his mouth a thin line.
Bummer, I thought. As long as Anthony had a gun we had a chance, but now I didn’t know how we’d get away without any casualties. Even if Anthony managed to make it to Donald and take him down, which he most certainly could, Kiki or I would be dead first. Which I considered a fail.
“Sparkles, let’s go. Real slowly.” Donald nodded towards me.
Meg was already in her underwear. Her bra looked sturdy enough to hold two basketballs, and her thong disappeared halfway up her ass.
I very slowly shimmied out of my tight dress, thankful I had on a semi-sexy pair underwear and matching bra. I didn’t want Anthony to think I was a total dweeb, especially if this was my last hour on earth. I gave the stupid dress a little kick and it slid a few feet in front of me.
“Bad job, Lace,” said Clay. Ever so slowly he approached the dress, hands in the air, and gave it a huge wallop. The sequined concoction skidded across the floor. And then we were all in our underwear.
Clay, clad in a pair of Ho! Ho! Ho! Christmas boxers as red as an apple from the Garden of Eden, pulled a phone from a back pocket of his boxers.
“Since when do boxers come with pockets?” I asked.
Clay ignored me and handed the phone over to Donald.
Donald picked up the phone and glanced at it disinterestedly.
“All right, now—”
But Donald was interrupted as soon as he began.
“Sir,” Clay said quickly. “You probably want to shut my phone off. It has GPS tracking, so if the cops are looking for us, as they might be soon, you’ll want it turned off so they can’t find you.”
Donald looked down at the phone, then back at Clay, as if he were judging whether Clay was scheming against him or simply stupid.
Which was funny, since I was wondering exactly the same thing.
“Right,” Donald finally said. He pressed the top button of the phone and waited for a second as it powered off, not taking his eyes off Clay or the gun off Kiki.
Clay closed his eyes and flinched, but nothing happened.
Donald smiled. “Now, where was I?”
This time, he was interrupted for one, giant reason. A flash of light and what sounded like a huge thunderclap erupted behind him. We all flinched, but then the next phase of the explosion took off, and smoke burst from the pile of clothes on the floor and enveloped the room in a black fog.
The eruption behind Donald deafened me complete
ly. Strobe lights flashed incessantly, the light so bright, stars erupted behind my eyelids even as I fell to my knees. I couldn’t hear screaming, though Kiki’s mouth opened in terror and Meg thunked to the floor before me.
The chapel was a mess of running legs, screaming people, smoke and light and noise. By the time I’d collected myself enough to open my eyes and get a grip on my location, Anthony stood over Donald, who was now wearing a pair of handcuffs. Clay was holding the gun, while Meg worked at untying Joey, Alfonso, Leo and Kiki.
Vivian stood still, probably in shock, her mouth opening and closing. For once, she wasn’t snapping her gum, and it was rather a pleasant change even though my ears still rang from the explosion.
I shook my head as sound started filtering through my eardrums. I approached Clay slowly.
“What the hell was that?” I asked Clay.
He smiled like a proud new father.
“My baby worked,” he said. “I figured out how to detonate an explosion remotely using my phone. Just like I was practicing in the hotel the other day. The ‘off’ button is the trigger. Brilliant, or what?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But what was the bomb?”
Clay shifted a bit uncomfortably, and cast a shifty gaze at Anthony.
“What?” I looked back and forth between them.
Clay coughed. “Your dress.”
“My dress?” I said. “You made my dress into a bomb?”
“Well, it wasn’t really your dress,” Clay pointed out. “It was Meg’s, and she never planned to wear it since it’d offend Vivian. She just brought it along in case. So, I used it.”
“But what if you accidentally turned your phone off while I had the dress on?” I spluttered. “Or what if it lost power or the battery drained, or you dropped it?”
Clay looked thoughtful. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that part. Nice catch. I’ll have to work on that for the next phase. But I wanted to try it out on something mobile, a piece of clothing. It’s meant to be worn undercover. I was gonna try it on a scarecrow when we got back.”
I took a step forward right up to his face, but as I opened my mouth to say some not-very-nice things, Anthony’s hand rested on my wrist.