Authors: Cathy Yardley
But she hated swimming, and she really was feeling restless. “Well, how about gambling a little?”
“Well…”
She could
feel
his reluctance, and she felt petulant. “Okay,
I’ll
gamble, how about that? Then I’ll catch up with you later.” There was a crisp sassiness to her voice, she noticed, and grinned.
He frowned more deeply. “You don’t mean you’d be wandering around Las Vegas without me?”
“It’s no big deal,” she assured him, as they headed to the bank of elevators that led up to their floor. “I mean, I’ve wandered around worse parts of L.A. practically by myself.”
“And you’re lucky you didn’t get killed,” he chastised. “Why don’t we just hang out?”
Because that’s boring!
She clamped down on the attitude. She was just a little restless. Ordinarily, her prescription for that would have been a few hours at Oval or Pointless Party. Not that that had helped in the long run, she reminded herself.
Maybe what she needed was rest, she thought, as she saw the flashing lights of the slot machines disappear behind the closing doors of the elevator. She sighed. “So, when do you think you’ll quit?”
“Next Monday. That ought to give us enough time to get packed up. I figured we could live at your mother’s until I get a new job.”
She shot him a look of horror. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
He hugged her. “Of course I am! I mean, this is impetuous, but I’m hardly rushing into
everything.
” He kissed the top of her head, and she felt the anger recede. “You might want to watch that vocabulary, though. We’re not with those club freaks you called roommates.”
She didn’t like his tone. What had happened? Was she channeling Martika, here?
“Sorry. I’ve been really on edge here.”
“I understand,” he said. “It’s been tough on both of us. This will make all the difference, believe me. I didn’t realize how crazy my life had gotten until I moved to that hellhole. Now, I’m looking forward to having a normal life. A house, a couple of kids, going out to the movies every now and then, having a normal book of business…”
She listened to him describe his idyllic picture, and she felt a little prickle of apprehension. She wasn’t sure she was ready for kids anymore, actually. She wasn’t sure at all. She was twenty-five after all…she was in no hurry. But she was sure he meant the kids were an eventuality, not an immediate result, like he was going to slip the ring on her finger and then instantly assert his fertility or something.
“And we could go out every now and then,” she added, when he took a contemplative breath. “You know. Dinner, maybe some dancing.”
“Well, I’d go to watch you dance,” he said with a laugh. “You know I hate that sort of thing. And dinner—we’ll probably be doing plenty of that. You know how much I’m going to need to schmooze.”
She bit her lip. Oh, right. She remembered that. But it wasn’t quite the same when you had to choke down really good food as an old geezer stared at your tits and asked you what you did for a living—“besides being Benjamin’s better half! Ho ho!”
“You know, I think I’m going to break into the minibar,” she said, when Benjamin finally got the door open.
He frowned at her. “Those things cost an arm and a leg.”
She kept her smile on. “That’s okay. I’ll spring for this one.”
“W
here the hell
is
she?”
Martika led the charge with Taylor, his new boyfriend Arthur, and Kit in tow. Judith made a beeline for the front desk, while Martika yelled “Sarah! Sarah!”
Judith headed back to them. “Stop that. I know where they are. They’re in something called the Knight’s Grotto. Small private wedding. I don’t know where it is from here, but the lady at the front desk said that there’s a window overlooking it, and she gave me a map…”
The five of them huddled around the black and white photocopy that Judith held. Martika frowned. “Fuck. Which floor is it on, first or second?”
The copy was smudged. She glanced at the other faces. Judith frowned. “I’m betting first floor,” she said, “but it’s private. We’re going to have to figure out how to get in there.”
“I think it’s second,” Taylor protested. Arthur, his new boyfriend, nodded loyally.
“Fine,” Martika finally said, with a huff. She glanced at her watch. She was punchy, she’d been up too long, she was tired. She wanted a cigarette and/or a drink, and her nausea put a razor edge on her bitchiness. She wanted a bouncer to
try
stopping her in this present mood. “Judith and I will hit the first floor, you boys hit the second floor, and either way we try to
get in. Even if you can’t, try to figure out how to stall it. Got that? Break!”
She grabbed Judith by the arm, to the Asian woman’s surprise. The boys went off, Taylor and Arthur looking bewildered, Kit moving with lanky, languid purpose behind them. Stall them, she thought. Stop this wedding. What was the kid thinking?
Good thing she had Mama Martika looking out for her, she thought with a minuscule grin.
After about five minutes of dedicated searching, she and Judith finally found the chapel doors. She tugged at them. “They’re locked!”
She heard organ music starting—very electronic, very cheesy.
If nothing else, we’re going to have words about the tackiness of all this,
she thought desperately.
Judith started pounding at the door. “Open up!”
After a moment, a beefy looking security guard walked up to them. “Is there a problem, ladies?”
“Yes, there is,” Martika said. “My friend is in there, marrying a total asshole. I need to object. I have reason to put this marriage asunder. Or whatever that official sounding bullshit is. I want in there right now!”
“I’m sorry, but that’s a private wedding,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “We can’t just let anybody go in and disrupt the weddings we have here. We’ve got a reputation to uphold, after all.”
“Reputation?”
As if I were just anybody!
Martika was incensed by the very thought. “Listen, you jackass, either you let me in or I rip that fucking door off its hinges…”
“Excuse me.” Judith’s voice was like a knife that had been in the freezer, cold and sharp. “I’m Judith Anderson, and the bride is my client—rather, her family is my client. I have reason to believe the bride is underage, and want to consult with her and check any paperwork she may have provided. It is undoubtedly forged. Her family would not have given her permission to
go through with this. I believe your hotel would be participating in a fraud by allowing this wedding.”
This caused the man to stop, and his face was skeptical. “She did look sorta young.”
Judith nodded. “This is a travesty. This wedding needs to be stopped immediately.”
Martika stared at her. The woman never broke a sweat. She looked as if she were discussing a golf game.
Looks like I’m going to have to reevaluate this one,
Martika thought, with a grudging admiration. Especially if it got them in there.
The man looked nervous, and somewhat confused. “Do you have any papers or anything backing this up?”
Judith glared at him. “No,
you
would have any documentation. Perhaps you should get the person in charge of weddings.” She frowned. “And maybe your supervisor.”
“Let me see…” He walked off to one side. Martika made one more tug at the door. He spoke into his little walkie-talkie thing. “Hey, does anybody know where Michele is? The wedding chick. Dammit. There’s a problem here in the Knight’s Grotto. Something about…forgery or something. There’s a problem, I’m telling you!”
“Chuck, get in here,” a voice growled over his walkie-talkie thingy. “What the hell is going on?”
The security guard (“Chuck”) looked at them apologetically. “I’ll get somebody here in a minute. Don’t worry. Just stay right here.” With alarming speed for someone his size, he sped off down the corridor.
Martika studied the door. How the hell was she going to get in there?
“I think I bought us five, perhaps ten minutes,” Judith said critically, also studying the door. “How are we going to get in there?”
She glanced around. “Find a maintenance guy. We’ll bribe him. We probably should have bribed the security guy—but they make more money, anyway.”
Suddenly, there was a noise…something weird, that could be heard over the keening wail of the organ.
She glanced at Judith. “Do you hear that?”
Judith cocked her head. “What the hell?”
“We are gathered here today…”
Sarah felt her palms sweating as she clutched the bouquet of…she didn’t even know what the flowers were. Carnations, she recognized those. And roses. Lots of white. She was wearing a simple white dress, she had a ring of white flowers on her head.
It was rather like a funeral, actually.
Ooh, that probably wasn’t a good analogy.
Benjamin was wearing that awful cream-colored suit of his, the one she’d dubbed “Miami Vice.” He liked it, though, and he looked pretty good, with his white shirt and blue tie. He smiled at her. In fact he was staring at her. It was romantic, the flowers, candles. At least he wasn’t wearing the costume the hotel staff had volunteered to provide. If she saw him in a chain mail shirt, she didn’t think she could go through with it.
She realized she was hyperventilating a little, and forced herself to breathe a little more slowly. This would work out just fine, she told herself. She was finally doing what she was supposed to be doing. This was direction. This was purpose. This fear, this nervousness she felt was normal, and she felt sure it was going to pass.
Any minute now, in fact.
She frowned. The justice-of-the-peace-type-guy they’d hired was going on and on, speaking as if there were a group of onlookers.
Get on with it, get on with it…
It probably wasn’t taking that long. The guy looked at Benjamin. “Do you, Benjamin Slater, take this woman…”
She glanced into Benjamin’s eyes. He looked so sure. He looked…relieved. “I do,” he said, in a clear voice.
The official looked at her. “Do you, Sarah Walker, take this man Benjamin to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
He looked at her expectantly. They both did.
She opened her mouth.
“I…” She paused.
She apparently paused for a long time. The man looked gently expectant still, but Benjamin was beginning to look irritated.
She tried it again.
“I…”
Maybe she needed water. Why didn’t they have water in places like this? You always saw public speakers with a little table and a pitcher of water…
“Sarah?”
Benjamin’s voice was curt. More than curt. It was peremptory.
She took a deep breath, and looked into his eyes.
“No way in hell.”
She blinked.
Benjamin blinked back at her.
The justice-guy laughed, nervously. “Oh, you kids.”
Benjamin glared. “Sarah, this is serious.”
Sarah grimaced. This couldn’t be right. She’d been sure that this was what she needed, but it couldn’t be right. It was too…
Suddenly, she heard it…a loud pounding. She glanced around, not sure where it was coming from.
The pounding continued. “Now what?” the justice said, losing some of his calm composure. Benjamin looked more than irritated—he looked
pissed.
She glanced up, to the glass windows that let people on the second floor look down into the grotto…
Kit was there. He was banging on the window, his shirt half out of his pants.
“Elaine!” he yelled, the sound muffled.
“Elaine!”
She started laughing.
“Who the hell is Elaine?” Benjamin said, bewildered.
Sarah glanced at him. “Today, I guess I am.”
And with that, she walked down the aisle, stopping only to grab her purse and tear up the license they’d just purchased.
He grabbed her arm, painfully. “We’re getting married!” he growled.
She yanked her arm away, and stepped up to meet him. “Not this way. Jesus, Benjamin, can you honestly tell me that this is what you want? You don’t even know me anymore.”
His face was ugly, red with rage. “Now? You’re just telling me this now?” He shook his head, and tried to plaster his smiling salesman face over the anger. It didn’t work. “Come on, Sarah. You know we’re right for each other. Didn’t almost an entire year apart prove that to you?”
“No, it proved that I’m right for you…and it proved it to
you.
I’m just starting to figure out what I want. If you really love me, you’d wait…”
“Don’t give me these bullshit ultimatums!”
She shook her head. “But it doesn’t matter.
Because I don’t love you.
”
She took the wreath off her head, feeling lighter already. “Sorry, Benjamin. I think I know what I’m doing now.”
She walked out the door, right into Martika and Judith.
“I couldn’t go through with it,” she said, as Martika enveloped her in a hug. Judith was talking with a security guard, who shook his head and walked away with a supervisor-looking fellow. “I just couldn’t go through with it.”
“Honey, I’m sorry we argued, I’m pregnant and the mood swings have been killing me,” Martika said in a rush.
Before Sarah could process that, Judith walked up to her. To her surprise, she was wearing a broad grin. “And I should have listened,” Judith said, in her quietly calm voice, “but I was in the process of leaving my husband.”
“Jesus,” Sarah said. “I thought just getting married was a big deal.”
“Judith’s going to stay with us for as long as she likes,” Martika said, nodding. “Hell, maybe we should look for a bigger place. If you don’t mind sharing it with a tyke for a while. I think that means sleepless nights for all.”
Benjamin stalked out, his eyes burning. Martika glowered at him, almost pushing Sarah behind her. Sarah stepped forward.
“I really am sorry, Benjamin.”
“Stay with your loser friends,” he said, with a tone of finality. “I’m sick of the sight of you.”
Taylor, Arthur and Kit had run up to them at this point. Taylor and Arthur were a little out of breath. Kit’s eyes seemed a little more intense than usual, however.
“Don’t try to contact me again,” Benjamin said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You still want to fuck around with your slutty roommate and her band of freaks, who am I to stop…”
Because he was so intent on Sarah, he didn’t see Kit coming…or the punch, really. He went down like a shot rhino.
They stared at Kit for a moment. He was rubbing his hand, still not out of breath.
“Sarah, are you all right?”
She stared at him.
“Do you have anything up in the room that you absolutely can’t part with?”
She paused. “Nope. I’ve got my purse here.”
“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
To her surprise, he held out his hand. She grabbed it. And the whole lot of them ran out of the lobby, laughing like little kids, into the sweltering hot sunlight beyond.