Weathering the Wedding

 

My brother is well and truly married, complete with kisses, blessings, and vows, including one about obeying which I’m certain Cleo will ignore at her first opportunity. Pictures taken, three of the four dinner courses down the hatch.  It's time for the toast.

I step up on the stage where the musicians are setting up for the dancing to come. A receiver is in my ear, ready for Juliette to transmit the words I intend to share with the bride and groom. The orchestra leader acknowledges me and steps aside to give me access to the microphone. I call for attention.

"As the best man, I am privileged to make a toast for my brother and his beautiful bride.  Cleo, Tony, all the very best as you continue to develop and maintain the loving relationship you've begun. A poet whose work I admire—his name is Jonny Ox—has some really good advice."

I scan the audience, lean in and give a conspiratorial wink. "My brother usually tunes me out when I start on the poetry, so somebody poke him and make sure his attention is directed this way, okay, because the advice is for him. Here goes:

 

Be A gentleman. Be romantic.

Bring her roses. Cook her meals.

Listen to her. Touch her. Hold her.

Hug her from behind. Dance with her.

Play with her hair. Kiss her neck.

Massage her heart. Be honest with her.

Tell her how much you love her.

And by all means, when the moment

calls for it, never hesitate

to throw her on the bed,

rip off her clothes,

and ravish her

like a wild

animal.

 

Guests whoop, catcall, whistle, and cheer.

"Clementine, you delightful madcap, when he messes up—as we all do from time to time—keep on loving him, cherish and nurture him, remind him every day that he is the king of your life."

This time there's a swell of "Awww" from the guests.

"My friends, please toast Mr. and Mrs. Antonio DePaul."

The newlyweds mouth their thanks. 

Through the applause, I search for the gray-green eyes I'm hungry for, and find them shining back at me, soft and approving. A few steps to the side, off the stage, and she’s in my arms. We're in the shadows, and the orchestra leader has announced the cake-cutting. I turn us so that my back shields Juliette, and kiss her deeply. 

Giggles and titters break into our private moment. At first, I worry that we're being observed. False alarm. The laughter is for the cake being wheeled out to the center of the room. It's a beautiful, tailored cake with cream-colored fondant smoothed over each tier and a glorious golden spun-sugar multi-loop bow on top. What causes the laughter are the very irreverent flowers trailing down the sides and base of the wedding cake. They look like overblown, ripe, red Betty Boop lips.

"Look at Tony," Juliette whispers. It’s a sight to behold. His jaw is granite, his eyes hard as golden brown river rock. When he turns those hot stones toward his wife, she laughs, jumps up to grab one of the blooms off the table, and to the painted tongue blossom already on his lapel, adds the flower affectionately known as 'hooker's lips'. My brother's eyes narrow, then he grabs his wayward spouse with one arm, drapes her back over it, and brutalizes her mouth so punishingly that she sags completely limp with the onslaught.

The crowd goes wild.

A slice of cake is cut to feed to each other for the photographer, then the rest is wheeled off the dance floor. While it's distributed to guests, the orchestra leader begins the music heralding the bride and groom dance. That's my cue to refocus on Juliette.

Her long metallic gold bandage gown has tantalized me all night. When she walked up the aisle toward the altar, her little bouquet of red and yellow flowers held low, my heart stilled, watching the undulation of her curves coming toward me. As she took her place for the bride's entrance, upswept hair revealed the deep, rounded cut of the back of the dress, silky skin on display. My fingers ached to slide down her spine, to rove over her hips, to draw her into my embrace.

Directing her attention back to me now, my lips travel over her cheek on a journey to her ear. "One dance with the bride, and I'm ready to go start our weekend."

She leans into my caress. "I can't leave until I make sure everything is good with Elizabeth. Besides, I'd like to share a dance with you, too. Okay? 

"How can I resist that smile? Go check on Elizabeth. I'll go cut in on the groom." We separate to attack our missions so we can get back to each other.

I watch Juliette disappear through the doors to the kitchen, then I turn to the bride and groom. Other couples have joined them on the dance floor, so tapping my brother on the shoulder is not unexpected. "All right, you can pester her some more later. It's my turn now." 

Tony grins at me. "Thanks for the toast, man. Now, let me share some advice with you." I wait with bated breath, pretty sure I know what's coming. "Remember that I'll be holding your girl while you're with my wife. So no shenanigans."

As if he'd try anything funny with Cleo nearby. Hmm. On the other hand, this could get ugly. I look down at Cleo, who's wearing a smile on her puss that makes me think she’s got something else planned. "Okay, madcap, here's your chance to get your clutches into me." I take her in my brotherly arms and swirl her away from her new husband.

She hugs me before assuming her position as dance partner. "I really liked your toast, Leo.” Tony's smiling at us, but looking for Juliette, who's just exiting the kitchens. I relax a bit when I see him scoop her up for a dance. She'll be safe in his hands.

"You are a beautiful bride, Cleo.” 

He smile ratchets up a notch. "Your brother nearly burst when he saw my dress."

I smirk into sparkling blue eyes. "Yes, well. He did warn you that he wanted you covered and not wearing red."

She pouts prettily. "I'm wearing a very beautiful confection in bridal white."

"Very tame color for you, I agree. But…"

She giggles. "You mean the lace bodice."

"Yes, I mean the barely-there lace bodice."

"The essentials are covered."

My eyebrow arches and I push us over the dance floor more assertively. "By a technicality. Somehow I don't think Tony's going to see that a bikini top—even in silk—over some see-through lacy stuff fits his expectations."

Her right hand digs into my shoulder for stability and stretches into a bigger smile. "He's already told me in no uncertain terms what I can expect for my defiance."

"I'm glad to hear that you're planning on starting this marriage the way you intend it to continue."

She twinkles up at me. "I did plan it, and I can't wait for him to take me in hand."

I kiss her cheek and slow us down in the dance. "Just be good to each other, that's all I ask. You’ve signed on for a marathon, not a sprint."

"Thanks, Leo. And you take care of my girl, will you? Still waters run deep with her."

I stare across the dance floor where Juliette is smiling at something Tony's saying to her.  Since the rose color is high on her cheeks and she flicks a glance my way, I imagine it's something to do with me. "That’s my intention, madcap."

"Be loyal to her. I think she has some trust issues."

Jack comes toward us. "Not a problem, Mrs. DePaul. Now, you think about loyalty when I pass you off to Jack."

He and I trade partners with a practiced flourish, Jillian fitting herself into my arms as Jack takes possession of Cleo. There’s a moment of wrangling with the wiry Texas wildcat, but I manage to retain control of the lead.

"Okay, big guy, focus on me, here. You can dance with Juliette later. Well, if the pilot doesn't take off with her, that is."

She's right. My brother Mick's taken her from Tony and is already working her with his flyboy charms. "Somebody needs to cool his jets," I mutter. "Can't you girls find him a wife?"

"He's on the list. But you're first." That snags my attention. "Don't think I missed your mauling that girl in the corner after the toast." She leans in a little closer. "It was hot. I had to drag Jack away for a few minutes of lip-locking myself."

I can't help laughing at her. She's disarming in a naughty-little-girl way. Jack's always been a silent one, usually showing even less emotion than Tony. But when Jillian's anywhere around, he smolders. I hope the house he's building for them isn't made out of wood; it would combust like dry tinder.

"Leo, are you as crazy about her as I think she is about you?"

So much interest in my love life. It must be the wedding influence. "What makes you think she is? Did you ply her with alcohol and winkle some secrets out of her?"

Turquoise eyes flare. "Humph! The other way around, more like! Your girl's a clam. Every time Cleo and I steer the conversation to the two of you, she finagles it around to something else. Slippery as a catfish, that one!"

I'm glad to hear it. It doesn't surprise me, though. If she hasn't even told Cleo about her first marriage, I doubt she'd be induced to pouring out her guts to a woman she barely knows. Right now I’m more concerned with Mick’s hands on her.

"So, are wedding bells in your future, counselor?"

That almost makes me stumble. "What?"

Jilly grins up at me. "Not that you'll actually take any advice, but I like her. You've played the field long enough—it's time for you to join the fold."

Matchmaking are you? "Oh, Jilly, you worked your family's ranch for too long."

Jillian gets serious. "I think she's one of the good ones, Leo."

I kiss the tip of her pert nose. "I think so, too, wildcat."

Her smile is triumphant. "That's all I wanted to hear," she says as Mick whisks her away.

Where’d he leave Juliette? I look around for her and am intercepted by my mother. "I sent your father to rescue Juliette from Mick. The look in your eye worried me."

Busted by my mom. "You look beautiful tonight, Mammina."

She pats my shoulder. "Thank you, so do you. A mother loves seeing her sons with a suitable mate, on the path to a fulfilling life. It means she'll soon have grandbabies to spoil."

A grandmother? There’s barely a line on her face, and she feels strong and supple in my arms. "Nest feeling a little empty?"

"Maybe a little. I'm in the mood to bake cookies, and your dad and I are watching our figures."

Uh-huh. My parents are still vibrant and as fit as any fifty-somethings I've ever seen, including those in Hollywood. "May your house be filled with the giggles of grandchildren.”

"It'll take more than Jack and Tony to fill up our house. Are you thinking about settling down?"

Kaboom. "You don't mess around, do you, old girl?"

"You'll pay for that 'old girl' remark.” Her bottle-green eyes rove my face affectionately.  "I only met her yesterday, but I see the way you respond to her. It's different from the other women I've seen you with."

"She is different, Mammina."

"She could be the one?"

I smile down at her. "You’re in a wedding mood, aren’t you?"

She nods and squeezes my upper arm. "You've always been the romantic one. My poet. Your beautiful toast was a nice example. Bring her to dinner next week so your father and I can get to know her a little better. Let me see if she is able to take care of my son's sensitive heart."

Oh, I love my mother. I think she understands me better than anyone else on Earth.  "Next week could be good. I think she's taking some downtime after this job. But don’t get ahead of yourself. Ten days—it’s early yet."

"At your age? Find out when works best for the both of you and let me know."

The song ends. Juliette and I have danced with every immediate family member, and now I just want to immerse myself in us. I turn to find her and meet her turning to find me. We walk across the room to each other and connect in each other's arms, close as two magnets, as the music begins again. It feels so good to hold her.

"Finally," I breathe. Juliette grips me tightly. "My family put you through your paces, Princess?"

"They’re beautiful, Leo." She rests her head on my shoulder and lets me sway us both to the lilting tune.

"They like you, too. Mother invited us to dinner next week. Whatever day works best for us."

"Next week's an easy one."

It confirms what I told Mom. "We can talk about it later. When you’re not so tired." 

She nods against my shoulder. "Call one of the limos for us. I'll run to the ladies' room and meet you out front."

I watch her go, a shimmering vision in that gown I want to strip off her. Then I take out my phone to make the quick call and stop at the coat check by the front door to wait, anticipating our upcoming hours together. It will be the first time we've had extended time for each other since the first night we met. Only nine or ten days ago. What will my feelings be after a month with Juliette? After our first holiday season together, living through her busy summer season together? My mind races. Looks like the wedding vibe is affecting me, too. Has it had any effect on Juliette?

My phone vibrates. “Dixon?”

“We followed Briggs here. He’s somewhere on the premises.”

Fuck. “Drew, Juliette just headed to the bathrooms. She’s alone. Call the police.”

“On my way.”

I move quickly out of the reception hall to the powder rooms, trying to create as little notice as possible.

 

*****

"Rosalyn."

The low voice chills my blood. I whirl to meet it, but am jerked into a dark alcove. "Daniel."

"That's right, baby."

He’s holding me close in the dark, and my pulse pounds. I remember his scent—cigarettes and clove. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

Leo! "How'd you find me?" How long before Leo comes looking for me?

"A man doesn’t lose track of his wife. You didn't think I would, did you? You know me better than that."

What I know, I don’t want any part of. "After all this time, what do you want?"

"You."

Calm down. Don’t vomit. Keep your wits about you. "That’s ridiculous."

“You shouldn’t have left. Nothing was the same after you left.”

Shudders rack me. Nothing’s changed. Boyish good looks still hide the sickness of his soul. “I couldn’t stay. Not anymore. Not after—“

He nuzzles my neck. "You look good, Rosalyn. You're doing well." 

My shoulder blocks his roaming lips, which gives me a moment to decipher his meaning. "Money? You want money?"

He runs his hands up my arms. Those hands. His touch. "Among other things. I want the whole package. The money, the lifestyle, you."

A scream builds in my throat. I wrap my arms around myself for support, rubbing away his touch where I can. "That's never going to happen. And when I tell the police that you've violated your restraining order, you'll be in jail."

"No, Rosalyn. You won’t do that, baby. I love you."

My stomach lurches again. “Your love is why I left.”

“Don’t say that. I need your love. We can make it good again.”

His whines are so familiar, even after all the years. “Daniel, it’s long past time to move on.”

“Not without you, Rosalyn.”

I wriggle, trying to break away from him. “Let me go. Someone will come looking for me soon, and they’ll call the police.”

His grip tightens. "You have too much to lose."

My heart’s pounding, but everything else comes to a complete standstill. "What do you mean by that?"

He tries to gather me closer. "Don’t push me away. You don't want to find out what will happen to you—or him—if you tell anyone that you've seen me."

Threats. I remember the threats. All of them. "Him?"

"The man spending too much time with my wife."

I twist out of his arms, but he holds me from escaping. "I'm not your wife, Daniel. Not for a long, long time."

"’Til death us do part, baby. That's what we said."

Leo. I try to back away. "The man I made that promise to ceased to exist soon after we married."

In the dim light from the hall, I can make out a twisting of his features. "I’m right here. I’ve never left you."

A thought strikes me. "Were you lurking outside my house last week?"

"Lurking? I prefer to think of it as keeping a protective eye on my wife. And I brought gifts. Did you appreciate my little gifts?"

What is he talking about? Gifts? Wait…”The crabs?”

“Yes. A warning. Bad things happen to little girls who commit adultery.”

God, no. "And…were you at the restaurant where I had dinner with friends last Friday night?"

"Where you were with that man? That man who wanted to touch you, do things to you that only your husband is allowed to do?"

"Oh, Daniel," I groan. "My shop? And the others?"

"You want confessions? All right, but don’t try to go to the police. I won’t let you. Besides, there’s no proof. So, yeah, you needed to be punished. A married woman isn't allowed to go out with other men. Spend time with other men. Let other men touch her. I punished him, too."

What? Realization dawns. "His tires."

"That's right. But that's just the beginning if he doesn't stay away from you."

Is he still taking drugs, or has he progressed to full-blown crazy? “What will it take to get you out of my life for good, Daniel?”

“Take me back. Give us another chance.”

I quiver with fear and revulsion. “No.”

“You know I can make you do whatever I want. Do you need me to refresh your memory?”

Here it is.

“Daniel, no!” My arms raise in protection, and I draw breath to yell, but he’s too fast. He slams his fist into my stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of me and make me nauseous. Awful memories slam into me along with his vicious fist. For twelve years, I’ve worked hard to forget the power in those fists.

“Breathe.” He forces my head down so I’m bent double at the waist. “Just breathe. Remember how it passes when you lean over like this. It’s okay, you’ll be okay. You shouldn’t have pushed me, Rosalyn. Now, go back and enjoy your nice party. I’ll see you again soon. And, honey, break up with that guy before I see you again. He’s dangerous to your health.”

As I struggle to drag air back into my lungs, he dissolves into the darkness that spawned him. The bastard. He was bad before; now he’s worse. And he’s here. Terrifying me every bit as much as he ever did before. Invading my new life with his special brand of poison.

How can I protect myself—all of us—from the violent crazy this man spews?

My body regains some equilibrium and I can stand without wracking pain in my gut. I know I need to get back to Leo before he gets suspicious.

And then I need to do the unthinkable. I need to break Leo’s heart.

 

*****

 

“Juliette? Juliette!”

Once I’m out of the reception hall, I break into a sprint and call for her. As I run, I conger up names of the best criminal attorneys in town, because if Briggs hurts Juliette, I’ll fucking murder him, and I won’t give it a second thought.

She stumbles out of the shadows toward me, and I scoop her into my arms. “Thank God! Briggs is here. Juliette?”

She clutches my arm. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Where is he?” My eyes search in every direction.

Her head shakes and falls against my chest.

“Juliette, have you seen him?”

She mutters, “Call the police. He was just here.”

I hold her in front of me and scan her up and down. “Did he hurt you?”

A hand drifts to her belly, even as the negative movement of her head denies it. “He wants to kill you, Leo. We need to leave.”

“Too late,” a voice says from the dark.

I shove Juliette behind me. “Briggs?”

“It’s time we met. You’ve been playing fast and loose with my wife. I don’t like that.”

“She’s not your wife, you fucking coward. Step into the light where I can see you.”

“Come and get me. If you dare,” Briggs counters tauntingly.

“Stay here, Juliette,” I murmur over my shoulder.

“Leo, no!” she yells as I lunge.

A flash of light and the echo of a small explosion register before an unknown, unseen force staggers me backward. Juliette screams this time, and tries to hold me.

I break free from her grasp and charge, connecting with flesh. My fist finds purchase with a satisfying thud in soft tissue. Adjusting to the dim light, my eyes take in the form of a man, about my size, crouched, ready to pounce. I kick at him, and the gun in his hand clatters. He lands a blow solidly on my jaw, but I’m able to get in two quick punches on the side, under his ribs. He wraps beefy arms around me in an attempt to stop my attack, but I slam him back against a door. It breaks his hold long enough for me to back up a step and get my bearings.

He’s fast, launching himself into me, taking me to the floor where he punches me in the face, glancing off my cheekbone. His arm’s back for a punishing blow, but a second flash and explosion freeze his motion, shock etched on his face.

“Rosalyn?” he whispers and collapses on top of me.

Someone flips a light switch, blinding me to everything except the vision of Juliette, clasping a gun with both hands, smoke curling from the barrel.

Dixon gently reaches out and plucks it from her as two policemen pull Briggs’ body off me.