The Shoes Come First: A Jennifer Cloud Novel

by Janet Leigh

  ~

  I looked around the yard that I played in as a child. The tire swing was gone, and a new coat of white paint had been recently applied to the house. Several rosebushes were growing in the flower beds, and an artificial flowering garland had been woven around the banister on the front porch. Papier-mâché wedding bells hung above the door.

  As we entered, I swear the same old people from the family reunion were seated in exactly the same places. Aunt Mable clapped as we entered, and I dodged the hug. I definitely didn’t want to be in the middle of that again. For one, I was bigger, and two, so was she. The extra weight made her take twice as long to get out of the easy chair. Lucky for me, I had more time to get away.

  The wedding was to take place in the backyard. There were about fifty white folding chairs set up under the old oak tree. A long red carpet had been rolled out, dividing the chairs in half and forming an aisle for the bride to walk down. A white arch decorated with flowers was at the end of the carpet. The sun was setting in the sky, and two of the junior bridesmaids were lighting candles on either side of the arch. I was milling around listening to Eli talk to a group of girls. He was definitely flirting, which made me want to barf, so I went in search of my parents.

  I found them surrounded by relatives.

  Mamma Bea had named all her children after famous people. I had an uncle Buster Keaton and an aunt Loretta Lynn. Uncle Buster and Aunt Loretta’s husband, Wayne, were flanking my dad. He was telling them a story, and they were all laughing. My dad was a master storyteller, probably because most of his stories were true, thanks to his crazy family. Of course he never told a lie, just embellished a little.

  “What’s up, pretty lady?” I turned to find a boy a little taller than me with his hair slicked back like John Travolta in the movie Grease. He had a cherry Blow Pop in his hand that went in his mouth after he spoke to me.

  “Um…” was all I could say.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he said after popping the sucker out of his mouth. “I know, I have that effect on women. I’m Joey, Vinnie’s cousin.” He held out his nonlollipop hand for me to shake.

  Eeew. I grudgingly stuck my hand in his. “I’m Jennifer, second cousin of the bride.” He grabbed my hand and kissed it with his Blow Pop–red lips. I immediately snatched it back.

  “Nice to meecha.”

  “How many of Vinnie’s cousins are here? I have already met Anthony and Sid.”

  “Sid’s my brother. Anthony, he ain’t no cousin, but he’s part of the family, if ya get my drift?”

  I could tell Sid and Joey were brothers; they both had slicked-back hair and made my skin crawl.

  I felt a shadow fall over me. “This little weasel botherin’ you?” I looked up to see Billy Ray and Bobby Ray, Gertie’s half brothers. They couldn’t have been more than thirteen. What in the world are they feeding the kids down here? Both of them were at least six feet tall. They had matching Afros, and when they smiled, both of their front teeth were missing.

  “Where are your teeth?” was the first thing that popped out of my mouth.

  “We got them knocked out kickboxin’,” one of them responded, but I couldn’t tell who was whom.

  “Yo, buzz off, kids…Me and the lady are havin’ a chat,” slick Joey responded.

  “Bobby Ray and Billy Ray, this is Joey, Vinnie’s cousin,” I said, trying to subdue the fight that was building.

  “Yeah, we know him; he’s supposed to help us usher the guests in. Mamma Bea sent us over here to drag his skinny Yankee ass back to the usherin’.”

  “Well, let’s go,” I said, looping my arm through Joey’s so he could usher me up the aisle. Lord knows I didn’t want a brawl to start so early in the ceremony.

  Joey gave the twins a smirk, then popped the sucker back in his Yankee mouth and strutted me up the aisle to my seat.

  I was seated with my family. We were each given a fan on a stick. I flipped it over and laughed at the picture of Cousin Trish with her groom. She was all boobs and teeth, while the groom was dark in comparison to her light features and had a menacing look on his face. We all sat fanning ourselves, waiting for the magical moment when the bride would appear.

  Aint Elma’s siblings began to enter and take their places in the front two rows assigned to the immediate family of the wedding party—family and friends of the bride on the left side and the groom on the right side.

  Since Aint Mable was so large, they brought an extra-big chair out for her to sit in comfortably. It creaked under the strain as she sat down. Her husband, Uncle Earl, sat next to her in a white folding chair. They were truly the Jack Sprat nursery rhyme come to life. Uncle Earl tugged on his clerical collar, trying to let in some air. I had never seen him without the collar, although he had been retired for many years.

  Uncle Durr, Aint Elma’s baby brother, came strolling down the aisle unescorted in a big black cowboy hat and tails. He was dressed for the occasion by his own personal stylist, Willie Nelson. Last but not least, Mamma Bea, representing my grandfather, John Wolfe Cloud, took her seat in the front row next to the chair decorated for Aint Azona, mother of the bride.

  The music changed to a softer melody, and Aint Azona was escorted to her seat on the left in the front row. She was a short, sturdy woman with dyed-red hair that almost matched her beaded purple suit. Slick Joey escorted an elderly lady to her seat on the right in the front row. I assumed it was the groom’s mother. She was dressed in black, as were all the guests from New York. It must be a tradition in the Northeast to wear black to weddings. In the South we only wear black to funerals and bank robberies.

  That completed all the living children of Mahala, the Native American woman, and Jeremiah Cloud, the half-Cherokee cattle rancher. Missing were my grandfather, John Wolfe Cloud, who had passed away when my dad was young, Aint Elma, God rest her soul, and Uncle Ruppert, Aint Elma’s oldest brother, who died in prison. The family gossip was he accidentally (on purpose) killed his wife.

  A man in white robes, whom I recognized as the local Baptist preacher, took his place at the front, followed by two very large men dressed in black tuxedos. They were both red-faced and kept dabbing at the beads of sweat running down the sides of their faces with the backs of their suit sleeves. Mom leaned over and told me they were the brothers of the groom. I wondered if they were real brothers or just “in the family” like Anthony.

  Soon a shorter man in a tuxedo appeared. His hair was also slicked back. Jeez, what’s with all the grease? I recognized his face from the picture on the back of the fan. The groom. He looked sort of like Al Pacino and Sylvester Stallone rolled into one. His mouth was set in a firm line across his face, almost as if he were about to go to the dentist. The wedding march began to play.

  A young girl with long dark hair came down the aisle flinging rose petals all over the guests.

  Next up was Gertie. She looked nice in a dress, but pink was not her color. She was taller than I remembered but still a little plump. Her hair was darker but orange nonetheless. She caught me looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Pulling her bouquet up toward her face, she stuck her tongue out at me. A shiny metal stud glinted light off her tongue. My God, she had her tongue pierced. Ouch!

  I heard the groom clear his throat, and Gertie straightened up and took her place at the front. She was followed by Aint Loretta Lynn, the matron of honor. Everyone stood for the entrance of the bride. Cousin Trish sashayed down the red carpet. Since Aint Azona’s husband had long ago flown the coop and it was Trish’s fourth wedding, she decided to float down the aisle by herself.

  Trish wore a snow-white wedding dress. Seriously? The plunging neckline pushed her already huge boobs up for display. White lace followed her curves, belling out as it reached the ground, and a long, flirty train trailed behind her. The dress looked good on her. A bit over the top for my taste, but what I really wanted to see were the shoes. I heard Vinnie had commissioned Vera Wang to design her gown. Just as Trish passed me, she hooked her four-inch
stiletto on the red carpet and started to twirl. I got a great view of the strappy heel. Stuart Weitzman, no doubt. They were fabulous. There was a gasp from the crowd, then she steadied herself and proceeded on down the aisle.

  Vinnie stuck his arm out, and she stepped under the arch. Aint Loretta went around straightening Trish’s train; grabbing the ends, she popped it like a freshly laundered sheet, revealing that Cousin Trish had decided to go commando under her white wedding gown. The audience made another gasp. Vinnie turned around, eyeballing the crowd, and everyone hushed. The wedding proceeded without further ado.

  After the preacher announced the union of Mr. and Mrs. Vincent Gambino, everyone stood as the happy couple walked down the aisle. Aint Mable dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

  “I just loooove weddings, don’t you, Earl?” she asked her husband as she pushed past me to the buffet.

  “Eh, pearl? No, I think he gave her a diamond ring, not pearl,” he responded, tagging along behind her.