“Just like most days, and very handsome you look, too.”
“Fifth, it’s work; and sixth, it’s the Bronx and I don’t speak the language.”
Rachel laughs out loud, then steps toward me to straighten my tie. It doesn’t need straightening but she does it anyway, and it takes the edge off my irritation.
Pissed off at the inevitable, I check my weapon in my holster, knowing that I won’t be able to take my jacket off all day. I hope the Grand Slam Banquet Hall has air conditioning.
I also see the look on Rachel’s face; she hates me being armed. I wonder if that’s part of the reason holding her back from agreeing to marry me. I hope that’s not it, because security is my job; carrying a concealed weapon is my job. There’s nothing else I’m good at.
I put that thought on hold for another day.
We’re just heading to the garage so I can bring the car around front when Ms. Alvarez comes racing down the stairs, definitely not dressed for her friend’s wedding and still wearing cut-off shorts and a tank-top, her phone and purse clutched in her hands.
Did zombies in suits invade Manhattan? Did the Yankees win against the Mets? Has she finally realized what a freaky fucker the boss is?
“Rachel! It’s a disaster! What am I going to do?”
She hurls herself at Rachel, almost knocking the breath out of her, and looks like she’s about to cry.
“Ms. Alvarez! Maria! What’s wrong?”
“My cousin Yolanda just called because Jacinta got sick from eating bad shrimp and she’s puking everywhere and now she says that Silvia asked Leticia but she’s six months pregnant so they’ve asked me, and I can’t say no but Devon is supposed to be coming with me to meet everyone and now it’s all a mess!”
I think my ears are bleeding but Rachel takes it in her stride and summarizes the almost incoherent rant.
“The bridesmaid got sick and can’t go to the wedding, so the bride wants you to go in her place? Is that right?”
“Yes! But how can I be bridesmaid when Devon is so … so…”
“When Devon is so what?”
He stalks down the stairs in a tux, adjusting his diamond cufflinks. Flashy bastard.
“When Devon is so what?” he repeats sharply.
Ms. Alvarez spins around and stares at him.
“You’re doing it now!”
“What am I doing?”
The boss looks genuinely confused as well as pissed.
“Being all boss-like and intimidating! These are my friends! My family! And there’s no time!”
Poor kid. She’s about to introduce the Prince of Darkness to her extended family and now she knows she’ll have to leave him to his own devices if she does bridesmaid duties. I don’t know what she’s afraid of? A hellmouth opening up under the banquet hall and disrupting the ‘Once upon a Fairytale’ themed wedding?
I can’t help thinking that would be a relief for everyone.
Rachel grabs Maria’s flailing hands and talks calmly.
“It’ll be fine. We’ll go to the hotel where the bride’s staying, you can change into the bridesmaid’s dress, and we’ll follow you to the wedding. Mr. Anderson will be fine with us. Justin will look after him.”
Ms. Alvarez looks relieved then confused.
“That sounds … wait, who’s Justin?”
Rachel raises her eyebrows and looks at me as Ms. Alvarez’s gaze flickers between us uncertainly.
“Your name is Justin? I didn’t know you had a first name, Trainer. I mean, obviously everyone has a first name, except maybe Eminem or Coolio, but I thought yours would be something like Vlad or Dolph or Kurt, so Justin just sounds really … really … I’m sorry I called you The Rock but you just…”
The boss steps in, stemming her flurry of words.
“We should leave now.”
“Oh God, yes! We should leave right now! I’m panicking, aren’t I?”
The boss gives the faintest smile and my teeth ache from the strain of seeing it.
“Yes, but it’s going to be fine.”
IT’S NOT FINE.
Ms. Alvarez’s bridesmaid’s dress makes her look like a giant cupcake. All she needs is a couple of cherries on top of the frosting of hairspray. Her false eyelashes look like two spiders stuck on her eyes, and the pound of makeup is a better disguise than a Freddy Krueger mask.
Rachel elbows me in the ribs when I whisper that. Even the boss looks like he’s concentrating on breathing instead of laughing. Ms. Alvarez looks flushed, her cheeks red with embarrassment and humiliation as she precedes the enormous ass of the bride down the aisle. It’s possible that the bride has a great ass—just not in that dress.
The groom is sweating bullets. Maybe he’s wondering about his wife-to-be’s ass, as well.
Rachel is sitting between me and the boss, while I’m on the end of a butt-breaking wooden pew toward the back of the church. At least from here I can keep an eye on who’s arriving and who’s packing heat, which is at least three guys among the guests. On the plus side, I’d say they have no idea who the boss is and I’d like to keep it that way. That’s one advantage of him not doing interviews or being pap-friendly, although he’s definitely better known since Aston Van Sant made headlines by getting killed in the boss’s lobby.
I did some recon at the church yesterday, so I know that there’s a fire exit behind where the priest puts his robes on, and another door that’s kept locked—I checked. There’s room for 226 people sitting, although intel states that there are 196 guests on the list.
My mind is on the job, but the boss has his eyes fixed on Ms. Alvarez. He looks like he’s deep in thought but whatever he’s thinking, doesn’t make him smile.
When the priest gets to the blessing, I’m half expecting lightning to strike the boss or the Holy water to boil, but nah, it’s just a set or words.
I don’t know why I’m disappointed.
At the end of the wedding Mass, we all shuffle outside into the scorching sun. Ms. Alvarez has wedding duties but finally, photographs and brides’ train arranged, she corrals three teenage boys with the help of an elderly man in a worn-looking suit, and drags them over to meet us.
“Devon, this my abuelo Javier Alvarez, and these are my brothers, Joachim, Francisco and Juan. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, and, um, friends from work, Rachel and Tr— Justin.”
The boss shakes the old man’s hand, his expression grave, then shakes hands silently with the boys.
They look wary, as if his silence among all the noise and laughter is abnormal. They wouldn’t be wrong.
Rachel saves the day by charming the old man and asking the boys questions about themselves.
I find out that the eldest, Joe, boxes, and I do the boss a solid when I tell the kid that Anderson boxes with Enrico Basqiat, former Light Heavyweight National Amateur Champion, and also from the Bronx.
From that moment on, the boss removes the silver-plated stick from his ass and manages to mimic a human being. Ms. Alvarez beams in relief.
Then in a chaotic display of color and noise, car horns blaring in the afternoon sunshine, we head in convoy to the Grand Slam Banquet Hall.
“Sir, if you could wait in the car with Ms. Smith while I check the place out.”
I phrase it as a suggestion because I’m as polite as shit, but it’s really an order.
Anderson leans back in the seat and nods.
When I walk inside, my jaw falls open and I have to close my mouth quickly with a loud click. The decoration is … something else. I can’t help thinking that Lilly would love the explosion of pink ribbon and glitter, but she’s eight. A Disney castle in cardboard stands at one end of the room with a pair of pink velvet and gold thrones in front of it.
My lips twitch when I think how much the boss is going to love this. Not.
But I’ve located the fire exit as well as a secondary exit through the kitchen. The threat level is minimal since the buffet looks more dangerous than any of the guests. It’s a heart atta
ck on pink linen: empanadas, taquitos, grilled marinated skirt steak, tamales, quesadillas, as well as ceviche, guacamole, taco salad, and the tres leches cake that I know from experience is so sweet, your teeth melt, along with cajeta Mexican caramel sauce. I can’t wait to get stuck in.
When I return to the Rover, the boss opens the door and slides out, then holds his hand to help Rachel. My blood boils at that simple gesture because it’s my fucking job!
Rachel rests her hand on my arm when she sees the look on my face, and Anderson raises an eyebrow.
“Trainer, for the purposes of this function, I think you should use my first name.”
When Hell freezes over, fucker!
“Yes, sir,” I snap back.
His eyes flash with annoyance, but he doesn’t challenge me and walks into the building ahead of us.
Rachel grabs my arm, holding me back.
“What was that all about?”
“Anderson putting his hands on you.”
“Justin, really!”
But I can see the quiet smile that she can’t quite hide.
We enter the room and I see the boss’s eyes widen at the blast of noise and color inside.
“Oh my!” Rachel says with her usual understatement.
“I thought we could have this for our wedding,” I say casually, handing her a glass of pink Prosecco.
She blinks rapidly, uncertain whether or not I’m joking.
I lead the boss to our table and wedge him in the corner to protect him from the avaricious eyes of the guests and other bridesmaids. A large-breasted woman in a shiny blue dress marches up to us, ignoring Rachel. Luckily, I don’t have to effect evasive manoeuvers because Ms. Alvarez spots her first.
“Yo, Rosita. That’s my boyfriend.” Then pointing at me and Rachel, “And that’s her boyfriend.”
“Chill, Maria! I was only gonna ask them to dance, not mess with yous.”
“Yeah, right. That’s what you said about my high school prom date and two weeks later you were shacked up with him.”
The woman leaves in a huff.
“Huh, she thinks who she is!”
Devon takes Ms. Alvarez’s hand and kisses it sweetly.
“It would be my honor to dance with you.”
He leads her to the dance floor, and Ms. Alvarez’s grandfather nods with approval.
Rachel smiles, then stands.
“Come on, handsome. Your turn to impress me.”
“I have to keep an eye on the boss.”
“Great! You’ll have the best view from the dance floor.”
I don’t think Rachel is taking my surveillance duties seriously, but I follow her all the same. I’ll always follow her.
Ms. Alvarez and the boss are lost in their little cocoon, occasionally interrupted by her friends, all curious as hell to meet her boyfriend. The boss is grave and formal with them all, intimidating the shit out of them, but I can see that they’re impressed, too.
Rachel tugs on my sleeve, drawing my attention back to her.
“Relax, Sarge. No insurgents here tonight.”
Her words have the opposite effect of the one she wanted, and I stiffen immediately. Fuck, the power of words to bring back bad memories.
“Oh, Justin, I’m so sorry! That was thoughtless of me!”
I force myself to relax and run a finger down her cheek.
“It’s fine, baby. So, I thought I’d book this place for our wedding. Whaddya say?”
She raises her eyebrows then smiles, her baby blues glinting with humor.
“Well, the setting certainly suits you.”
I nearly swallow my tongue but then checkmate her.
“If it’ll make you say yes, baby, you can have any wedding you want.”
Her eyes cloud over and she looks away.
“Can we discuss this another time, please, Justin?”
I’m disappointed, but I try to hide it.
“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”
I thought weddings made chicks want to get married. It seems to be having the opposite effect on Rachel. Maybe all the pink is making her nauseous.
When the song ends, we go back to sit at our assigned table and the old man joins us. It seems that interviewing the boss for the position of his precious granddaughter’s boyfriend is the first item on the agenda.
“So, Devon, Maria tells me that you’re a businessman.”
“Abuelo!” Maria hisses. “You promised you wouldn’t do this!”
The boss takes her hand.
“It’s fine, Maria. Of course your grandfather wants to know about me. Yes, I have my own businesses, DMA Solutions. We’re involved in several new technologies: solar energy, wind power, wave power, alternative power sources, and GM farming. I’m also investing in several traditional areas to diversify, including ship building, and I’ve invested in carbon neutral construction of homes and office buildings.”
I can see that Maria’s grandfather is taken aback, but trying to sound unimpressed.
“That’s good business sense. How many men do you have working for you?”
“Men and women,” Maria says quickly and with a hint of annoyance.
The old man waves his hand dismissively.
“Of course, nieta, let the man speak.”
“DMA Solutions has in the region of 30,000 employees.”
The old man was about to take a sip of the Prosecco but ends up choking on the bubbles, and Maria leaps to her feet, as if prepared to perform the Heimlich Manoeuver.
“I’m fine! I’m fine!” he coughs and wheezes.
The boss looks on with a concerned expression, although he seems more worried about Maria’s reaction than her grandfather choking in front of him.
Eventually, the old man wipes his eyes and glares at Maria.
“You did not tell me that Devon was such an important man!”
Maria rolls her eyes.
“Because I knew you’d overreact.” And then more quietly. “I’m not dating him for his money, Abuelo. Did you know that his mother, Gloria, is from the Bronx? Like me.”
The old man stares at her thoughtfully, then turns to me.
“And your role is?”
“Security advisor,” I say smoothly.
“Ah.”
There’s a short silence as he gazes at me with calculating eyes, then the boss speaks.
“I have been fortunate in my business dealings and have been able to develop my interest in green technologies, but I have learned that without someone to share my life with, I have been poor indeed. Your granddaughter is very important to me, Mr. Alvarez.”
Maria’s smile goes from tentative to beaming, and Rachel clutches my hand, tears glistening in her eyes.
Jeez, the flood of estrogen is almost more than male flesh and blood can stand.
The old man inclines his head in acknowledgement.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. She’s a good girl. Her family is very protective of her since her illness, as you can imagine.”
The blood trains from Maria’s face, leaving her a sickly yellow color.
“Abuelo! You promised!”
The old man looks guilty and then annoyed.
“Maria! You have not told this young man something so important. He should know!”
“Yes, but it wasn’t your job to tell him!”
She gets up from the table abruptly, shaking off the boss’s hand.
Rachel stands up quickly.
“I’ll go,” and she hurries after Maria.
There’s an uncomfortable pause as Anderson’s dark eyes fix on the old man as a dull flush rises in his wrinkled cheeks.
“I … I thought she would have told you.”
“It appears not,” says the boss icily.
At that moment Joachim wanders over.
“Are you talking about when Maria had leukemia?”
I see the boss grip the edge of the table.
“Leukemia?”
He gives the boss a penetrating loo
k, and for a moment I think he won’t continue, but then he does.
“Yeah, it was seven years ago, when she was a senior in High School. She was in the hospital on and off for over a year, but she’s okay now.” He gives a warm smile. “She says nothing is stopping her anymore—she wants to do everything. Did you see her at the comedy club yet? I’ve seen her practice her routine at home—she’s terrible!”
He gives a happy grin, obviously proud of his sister.
And it all clicks into place. When Maria had her first interview with Anderson, she said that she didn’t want to be scared anymore.
That’s why she does things that challenge her. That’s why the crazy kid wants to go skydiving. Although dating the Prince of Pain probably has the same risk to adrenaline ratio.
Twenty minutes later, Maria returns, her eyes a little puffy from crying, but she has a determined look on her face.
“I assume Abuelo has told you that I was sick?”
“Maria, it doesn’t matter…” the boss begins.
“Yes, it does matter. I’ll tell you everything. I was going to anyway … I just didn’t want it to change how you look at me.”
“It won’t.”
“It will, it always does. People get that pitying look on their faces. I just … I didn’t want to see that on yours.”
“Maria…”
“Let me finish. Seven years ago, I started feeling tired all the time. Mom took me to my doctor for a blood test, and they found that my white blood cells were … abnormal. I had Acute Myeloid Leukemia. I seemed to go into remission after the first induction, the first round of chemo, but then it came back and I had to go through it all again. It was … hard … on my whole family. And then my parents were killed by a drunk driver when they were walking home from church one night.” She wipes her eyes. “They’d been to pray that I wouldn’t get sick again. After … well, I had more chemo and I’ve been in remission for over three years now.”
And she turns to look at the boss, her eyes glistening with tears.
“But Dev, it means that in all likelihood, I’m infertile. The chances of me having a child are slim to non-existent and I know how important family is to you, I know that.”
Jane Harvey-Berrick Saving The Billionaire Page 8
