Sinners Football 01- Goals for a Sinner (26 page)

“Maybe. What do you care about Joe and his women?”

“Stevie, honey, I’m a doctor. I work long hours. I get called out at night for emergencies. Rev has time on his hands during the off-season. Joe hangs around with him and Connor and often brings along multiple women even on fishing trips, I’m told. Now, I trust my husband-to-be, but let’s face it, sometimes men of the cloth do stray. Connor doesn’t even have religious convictions to protect him from Joe Dean’s doxies. We need to get that man married and settled.”

Beneath the facial mask, Stevie’s brow wrinkled.

Not Connor, he would never cheat on her when he went fishing. Even at the lowest ebb of their relationship, neither had taken other lovers. Still…

“How do you want to work it?’

“You keep an eye out for her at the wedding. She did RSVP as a single, so no problem there. Rev says Joe called her after the Super Bowl and she turned him down again. Perfect. You save a seat for her right up front at your table. Run her by that dawg like a pork chop tied to a string. He won’t be able to resist trying to catch the one who got away.”

“I can do that.” A timer went off. “Thank God,” Stevie murmured.

The room flooded with attendants who wiped down the women and helped them off their padded slabs. They shuffled off in their robes and paper slippers like inmates in an asylum ready to escape, change clothes and reapply makeup before the big feed with alcoholic beverages at Brennan’s restaurant.

****

Feeling a little bloated from the big lunch and mildly buzzed from all the liquor, Stevie held up the sleek, ice-blue evening gown she’d found on the sales rack at the very upscale store where the football wives had dragged her. “What do you think of this, Mintay?”

“For bridesmaids’ dresses? You’d have to find several to match in different sizes. And I hate to admit, it’s not my color. Now with those blue eyes and blonde hair and all that white skin, it suits you.”

“I meant for me. You, my sister and Jackie can wear whatever you want as far as I’m concerned.” For a moment, Stevie tried to envision stocky Jackie Haile in an evening gown. Nope, couldn’t do it.

Sharlette Dobbs perused the price tag. “A good deal even if you don’t wear it for your wedding. I’d buy it regardless, but try it on first. You never know

’til you get it on.”

Stevie took her find into a dressing room, saw herself in the mirror and fell in love with the gown.

Wearing low heels today and trying hard to fit in with the other wives, she raised the hem and strolled out to do a little model’s strut past her audience of critics.

“Look, no need for strange underwear either.”

“I hear you, baby,” Precious Armitage said. “If I could get a dress to skim my hips that way I’d buy a dozen of ’em. But you do know the bridal department is right over there. Connor would spring for whatever you want, but you cutting it mighty close by setting a date the first week in June. Mintay’s been working on her wedding since last summer.

“I love this dress. The rest of you can wear white. With higher heels, it doesn’t need any alterations. Frankly, I wish Connor and I could just run off and get married quietly, but my mother would fuss and Mrs. Riley might feel cheated out of seeing her boy marry. At least, we are going to keep the ceremony private. Margaret Stutes and the PR

department want a big blow-out reception. I told her to plan it.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t do that!” Mintay exclaimed.

“That woman will make the reception hall look like the Jungle Room at Graceland with all her animal prints and such.”

“No, I’ll tell her pale blue linens to match this dress and daisies, lots of daisies. That sounds safe and simple, right? Say, maybe we could get Joe Dean to marry Margaret and spare the poor Wish Lady.

She seems too nice to sacrifice on the Billodeaux altar. Margaret is obsessed with Joe, anyhow.

Connor says he swears she knows everything about him: his stats, his list ladies, even Joe’s license plate numbers and right down to the last penny he earned.”

Mintay shook her head. “Rev says Joe finds Margaret repellent.”

“Joe used a big word like repellent?”

“Well, he does hunt and fish and uses Deet. I think it says repellent on the can.” That set off the women. They doubled over laughing, crushing their shopping bags to their chests and wiping their eyes.

“That was mean of me. My sweet man would say Joe Dean is cagey and smart but doesn’t let people see that side of him. He swears the man has unplumbed depths.”

“Yeah, but his biggest brain is in his pants,” Sharlette Dobbs said.

“Joe Dean is about as deep as a kiddie pool,” Precious added.

Each wife came up with another line about Joe Dean starting with “Joe Dean is…” as they paid for their purchases and left the store.

“Joe Dean is so horny, the New Orleans Symphony asked him to be the entire brass section.”

“Joe Dean is such a lover he makes Casanova look like a librarian,” Stevie improvised as they sat down for dinner crepes at Galatoire’s in the French Quarter. The wives stared at her. “Too intellectual to be funny? See, Casanova
 
was
 
a librarian.”

“I think we done drained the well of Joe Dean jokes,” Precious said.

“But I believe we have made our point. Joe Dean Billodeaux needs a wife to rein him in,” Mintay asserted. She wore a short, cheap bridal veil the other women had forced on her which made her the center of attention wherever they went.

“These are good,” Stevie remarked digging into her food. “I think I need to tell Margaret I want crepes at the wedding. Where to next?”

“The House of Blues, baby.” Precious held up her arms and waggled her substantial breasts.

At the nightclub, they shoved Mintay forward to dance on the stage with Jim Belushi while somewhere in the Quarter, their men plied the Rev with strippers and lap dances trying to break down his strong will not to transgress. The ladies reached tipsy by the time they arrived at Harrah’s to drop some money at the tables and the slots. Okay, a few of them were really drunk. One of the bone-thin super model wives threw up in a waste can and had to be sent home in a taxi. Sharlette called her own cab and filled it with those who needed to leave.

Stevie, Mintay and Precious were still on their feet and in their right minds mostly when the patrons of the casino began pointing and whispering, “Sinners!” The Rev and Calvin Armitage filled most of an entryway. Behind them Connor’s blond head and Joe Dean’s black hair bobbed. All wore huge shit-eating grins. And why not? Half a dozen barely dressed and overly made up women clung to them like…like, well, like hookers on a John.

“Excuse me, ladies. I got to go kill the father of my children now.” Precious strode toward the group of football players and their escorts. She balled up a big fist.

“Precious, baby, they ain’t mine.” Curse ’Em and Crush ’Em Calvin Armitage tried to remove a redhead who stuck to him as if she had suction cups on her palms. “Don’t make me bleed in front of my friends, now, Precious. It’s bad for my rep and you know I won’t hit you back.”

“It’s not you I’m gonna hit, Calvin. Get your grip off my man, slut!” She raised a mighty arm above the woman who suddenly released Cal and attached herself to the Rev leaving the groom with two partners.

“That’s okay, Cal. You go on home with the little woman and leave the rest for us,” Joe Dean told him.

The Rev cordially kissed the hands of both his escorts. “It’s been a pleasure, my dears, but I see the woman I’m going home with tonight.” Showing no signs of drunkenness, he headed unerringly toward Mintay, bent her over the craps table for a kiss, and said, “Let’s get a room for the night, Doc.” Mintay tried for outrage but did not succeed.

“How many rooms you been in tonight, huggy bear?”

“None. Those be Joe Dean’s women, all of ’em.

They’re only arm candy to me. You the woman I love, baby. Let’s go across the street and check in so I can prove that to you. All they did was light the fire I keep only for my Mintay.”

“Sorry I’m wimping out on you, Stevie. I can’t resist this man. See you at the wedding. But you do understand what I mean.”

Mintay cocked her head to where Joe Dean and Connor stood with three women each. Two bottle blonde bombshells ran their acrylic nails through Connor’s hair. The redhead formed a link to Joe’s trio, a slim black woman with a ’fro and a curvaceous Latina with Joe in the middle.

“Come on, man. Three apiece. We can do it. Let’s get a suite,” Joe Dean urged, oblivious to Stevie’s presence.

“No, take your list ladies home, Joe. I see what I want standing right over there.”

“Oh shit, it’s Stevie Dowd. Pretend I’m not here.” Joe turned his entourage of women with the precision of a chorus line and retreated from the casino.

Connor crossed to his intended. “Nothing happened. Joe Dean summoned his next six list ladies and they just latched on to us.”

“I believe you, but Mintay is right. We have to get that man married.” ****

If sunny days meant happy brides, Dr. Arminta Green had hit the jackpot. The late March afternoon temperatures broiled the overflow guests standing outside the church listening to the service on loudspeakers. Still, Stevie was happy to leave her cramped seat inside, stretch and stand among those waiting for the exit of the bride and groom who had circled round after the recessional to have pictures taken in front of the altar. She searched for a glimpse of the Wish Lady. Ah, there she stood wearing a light green dress with one of those

raggedy hems. From the flush on her face, she’d been out in the heat the whole time.

A sack of rice came Stevie’s way and she grabbed a big handful before passing it on. The bridal party began to emerge. Stevie dumped half her rice on Mintay and the Rev. She festooned Connor’s long, blond hair as he escorted the matron of honor down the steps to the limo and saved some to shower on Joe Dean when he paused to speak to what’s her name—Nell. Might be superstitious, but you never knew what would work. Ducking the rice, Joe Dean moved along, but the Wish Lady had vanished like a small, twinkling star into the vast midnight of the Rev’s huge kin. Oh well, she’d catch up with her at the reception.

Upon arrival, Stevie found the reception hall jammed with guests who had more sense than to stand outdoors in eighty degree heat and had headed straight for the open bar. She made her way to the reserved tables set aside for close family and friends and put the camera bag she’d brought from the car onto one of the chairs. Now to scope out the Wish Lady. There she was hiding in one of the darker corners.

“Over here, Wish Lady! I have a seat for you.” Stevie waved her arm clad in the pearl gray silk outfit Mintay had helped her select. Shod with four inch silver heels, Stevie knew she could not be ignored by her quarry. The Wish Lady drifted her way. “Mintay asked me to save a place for you and be on the lookout.”

Now, all she had to do was engage the little lady in small talk until Joe Dean noticed the one who got away sat right here waiting for him to try again.

Stevie got the woman’s name straight, asked about her patients, showed her Connor’s Super Bowl ring which she wore on a chain around her neck—and then blew it.

“I thought you came to be with Joe Dean, not admire my ring. Oops. I can tell by your expression the bride neglected to mention how she thought a kiddie shrink would be perfect for Joe who is a tad immature. I was supposed to make sure the two of you connected. Sorry.”

“A tad—make that a ton. I have no intention of being his number seventy, thanks anyway.” Nell started to rise from her specially held seat.

“I believe the man is up to seventy-five now.

Really, Joe needs to grow up when it comes to women,” Stevie agreed.

Then, their gazes were drawn to where the quarterback stood being photographed with his bridesmaid. He sent a special smile their way and Nell Abbott simply glazed over. So, there was some attraction. Feeling better, Stevie suggested they join the food line. Toasts and dancing followed, but Joe Dean stayed away. The Wish Lady relaxed, plied by an ever full glass of champagne.

Suddenly, the quarterback made his move, swooping up behind Nell like an eagle about to hook a small, green fish. He covered her eyes with his hands and asked, “Guess who?” How lame was that? And yet, Stevie had to giggle as they bantered back and forth. She’d had quite a bit champagne herself. There, Joe led Nell to the dance floor. The Wish Lady tried to converse; Joe tried to snuggle her against his big chest. Stevie wished Connor would claim her that way. Joe went back to his groomsman duties and the reception continued on and on until Mintay and the Rev left for their “undisclosed honeymoon destination.” Joe materialized as Nell wobbled to her feet and offered her a place to stay for the night since Chapelle had no hotels—his mama’s house.

“Go ahead and stay at Joe’s place,” Stevie urged.

“His mama will protect you, guaranteed, as Joe would say.”

“Guar-an-teed,” Joe repeated with a sparkling grin promising just the opposite. “My Porsche is right out back. We can collect your car tomorrow.” Joe Dean and the Wish Lady left together.

Stevie congratulated herself. “And my work here is done.”