by Gina LaManna
“I think you owe Clay a thank you,” Anthony said. “He kept all of the right people safe, at least for today.”
I gritted my teeth, but I took a step back. Clay looked at Anthony as if he had just awarded him the Nobel Peace Prize.
“Thank you,” I said. “You’re very smart. Next time, just tell me when I have a bomb on my body.”
“All right.” Clay had the good grace to look sheepish.
Anthony put a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “But she’s right. If I ever hear you rigging a bomb in her dress again…”
He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Anthony gripped Clay’s shoulder until his message was received, and Clay’s face was white. “Yes…absolutely. I understand.”
I looked around at the chaos inside the chapel. The fake roses were singed black and a light dusting of a gray powder covered most of the pews. Jesus’ cross had a bullet hole through the bottom, and a small flame was burning where the remnants of the golden sequins lay in a heap, smoldering happily. The altar was littered with a golden dust that looked like a shooting star had crash landed and imploded.
To put it mildly, we hadn’t left this place in better shape than we’d found it.
“Now what?” I asked.
We all looked around, shrugging at one another.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t marry this guy,” Meg said, giving Donald a light kick to the kidney.
Donald keeled over and mumbled something, but the white neck strip from Leo’s priest outfit had been taped across his mouth and it came out too garbled to understand.
“Yeah, definitely,” Vivian said. “It’s a good thing, ‘cause I would’ve had to get a divorce since me and Joey are soul mates.”
Then she gave Joey a very slobbery kiss, very much of the French variety, and we all looked away.
“It’s our lucky day,” Clay said. “Shall we hit the tables?”
“I have a better idea,” I said. I found my phone on the floor and quickly called my friend, the Printer Nazi, at the Lutsen Resort from where we’d come.
He wasn’t exactly happy to hear from me, but we chatted for a moment and then he grabbed Nora and Carlos, with whom I exchanged a few words.
I turned back to the crew, all of whom had taken a seat in the front pew, except for Anthony, who stood watch over Donald with the gun.
“Here’s the plan,” I said. “We are going to find me some clothes, stat, and then we’re getting right back on a plane straight to Lutsen. Carlos is going to call his people at a private airport nearby, and we’ll touch down at the landing strip closest to the resort.”
I smiled at them. “And then we’re going to have a wild party and dance all night long and drink—a lot—in order to celebrate the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Joey Marcucci.”
A smattering of applause broke out.
“Oh,” I said. “And we’re bringing Donald with us. Carlos wants a word.”
A lot more babble erupted from Donald’s taped mouth, but we all ignored him, gathered our belongings and made the sign of the cross with the Holy Water from the canister at the door.
“Sorry, Jesus, about those bullet holes.” I whispered. “But thanks for your help, buddy.”
Chapter 13
A few hours later, Vivian was all dolled up, glowing, and looking like a very happy Barbie with a very tanned Ken, whirling around the dance floor. Donald was locked away with a few men upstairs, to be dealt with later. Today was a day of holy matrimony.
I stood next to Carlos as other couples joined Vivian and Joey after the first dance.
Carlos held out his hand. “Dance with me?”
I smiled. “Of course, boss.”
Carlos almost smiled, and then spun me expertly around the dance floor. For an old man, he still had style. Dressed in a sharp suit with dance moves so pristine I wondered if they’d been learned in an academy, he could have been royalty.
At first, I was stiff and nervous, hesitant to make a mistake in fear of a tongue lashing from my grandfather. However, as the song wound down, I found myself enjoying the dance and wishing we had a few seconds longer. It wasn’t every day Carlos showed any sign of humanity or kindness, and a dance was high praise, in my opinion.
The last notes of the song drifted into the abyss of sound, he kissed both of my cheeks and thanked me for the dance.
“Thank you, Carlos,” I said. “For everything.”
“You’ve done good work, tesora,” he said, a gruff edge to his voice.
Just as quickly as he arrived, he disappeared from my side. I smiled at his choice of words. Treasure, in Italian. Looking around, I caught a glimpse of him whisking Nora into his arms and whirling her around the floor, her smile brighter than a flashlight, her hair as red as a fire truck.
I felt a presence behind me, and hurriedly wiped a miniscule tear from my cheek.
“Dance?” Alfonso asked.
“Absolutely,” I said. He was up to my shoulder, so we had to adjust our typical dance positions for the occasion, but we made it work.
“Remember what I said?” I asked. “All that stuff about going to college and shit?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I told my mom I’m going to apply to some colleges when we get home.”
“Good for you,” I patted his head. “Don’t worry, there’ll always be a job in the Fam when you need one.”
Alfonso smiled. “If I need one. Not all of us are failures in the real world.”
I ruffled his hair and gave him a faux stern look.
“Can I cut in?” Anthony’s familiar voice caused a pleasant tingle in my stomach.
Like a star-struck fan, Alfonso nodded and backed away.
Anthony gathered me in his arms, and I felt wonderfully cozy and safe. Though I’d never admit it to him, I didn’t want the song to end. Ever.
“I love your shirt,” he said. “Where can I get one?”
I pinched him. The only clothes we’d found that fit me at the nearest gift shop was an incredibly tight, absolutely see through ‘WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS, STAYS IN VEGAS’ T-shirt, a teensy black skirt and knee high black stripper boots with studded gems down the side.
“Shut up,” I said. “It wouldn’t fit over your arms.”
“Speaking of, we need to get you back on a regular workout schedule once we’re back in the cities.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Way to ruin the party.”
“I told you, I’m open to alternative workout styles,” he said. Then Anthony leaned back and held me at an arm’s distance. “Just say the word.”
My eyes locked on his, and it was as if the rest of my loud, obnoxious, crazy family wasn’t bumping into us and swirling around our private little universe.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I was distracted by his chocolate brown eyes, as if they were part of a heavenly cookie fresh from the oven. He pulled me back to his chest and his arms slid around to my lower back, one of them dangerously low on my behind.
“You’d better watch out,” I said. “Carlos is probably watching.”
Anthony kissed me on the forehead, and we danced for a few moments in silence, though he didn’t move his hands from my backside. If anything, he pulled me closer and rested his cheek on my head.
“No,” he said.
I rested my head against his chest and let all thoughts disappear from my mind. “No, what?”
“You’d better watch out,” he said. “Because I’ve got Carlos’s permission.”
I gulped. And I didn’t ask ‘permission for what?’ Because I had an idea, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.
I sucked in a deep breath, and Anthony tilted my chin upwards. “But no pressure.”
And then he put both hands to the side of my face and pressed his lips hungrily against mine. He kissed me with such passion that it scared me a little bit. His tongue swirled in my mouth and he leaned himself against me with no regard for the people around us.
And he kissed me until I forgot them, too.
When he
finally broke the long embrace, his eyes twinkled with mischief, and I couldn’t hold back a shy smile.
He took me in his arms once more and we started to dance to the next song. His voice pleasantly whispered against my ear as we danced that way for many more songs, until finally the chicken dance came on.
Then, we gathered in a circle with the rest of the Family. We drank champagne and we boogied and we screamed at the top of our lungs. And we chicken danced as best as any family can chicken dance.
I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture as Carlos pinched his fingers together and Nora flapped her arms, and I took quite a few photos as Anthony shook his booty low to the floor.
Just in case, I thought. A little blackmail can never hurt when you’re part of a Family like mine.
** **
THE END.
Lacey Luzzi: Salted—out Spring 2015!
For a FREE Advanced Reading Copy of the third Lacey Luzzi book, SALTED,
please sign up for my newsletter at www.ginalamanna.com or send me a link ([email protected]) to your review of SPARKLED!
Table of Contents
www.ginalamanna.com