Wild Thing

by Robin Kaye

  The limo slowed and stopped at the curb. Hunter caught sight of the marquee: Toni and Hunter Forever. “Nice touch.”

  Fisher reached for the door. “It was part of the package. It’s deluxe.”

  As soon as the driver opened the door, a woman shoved her face in with a big microphone. “Joan Rivers here. Which one of you gorgeous men is the groom?”

  Hunter blinked at the flash of lights in his eyes. “Son of a bitch. Fisher, if I live through this wedding, you won’t.”

  Trapper turned to Fisher. “What the hell have you done?”

  “Relax. It’s the videographer. It’s part of the package.”

  “Does it include cement shoes?” Planting his feet on the red carpet, Hunter looked up at the marquee once more. Lasting Impressions. “I’m gonna kill him.” Hunter turned and picked Fisher up by the lapels. “How could you?”

  “What? Trapper gave me the number. He said he was a stand-up guy.”

  Hunter looked around for Trapper, only to find him further up the red carpet with one arm around a Cher impersonator having his picture taken.

  Ben stood beside Hunter, tossing his keys. “Just go with the flow. It’s Vegas, baby.”

  Hunter released Fisher and straightened his jacket.

  “Watch the threads, Bro.” Fisher smoothed his lapels.

  Hunter made a beeline for the door. He needed to check out the rest of this nightmare before Toni arrived. “Who’s in charge here?”

  Rodney Dangerfield stepped up to him. “That would be me.” He adjusted his tie and rolled his neck. “I don’t get no respect. What do I look like? A funeral director? No wait. That’s my other gig. Here’s my card. From the look of things, you might be needing it later.”

  Hunter turned to find Trapper extending his hand to old Rodney.

  “Larry, good to see you. This is my brother, Hunter—the groom.”

  “He doesn’t look too happy. I charge extra for shotgun weddings—bullets are complimentary.”

  Fisher walked up to them. “Did you get a load of Marilyn? All she’s missing is the grate. With any luck the wind will pick up.” Fisher spun around. “Hey, is that Chaka Khan?”

  Hunter couldn’t believe that this is where he was getting married. He just prayed Toni wouldn’t call the whole thing off and catch the first flight back to New York. He felt sick. What else could happen?

  A pink Cadillac convertible came to a screeching halt in front of the red carpet, and his heart sank as Elvis jumped out to get the passenger door. He watched as Gramps and Clarissa were accosted by Joan and Melissa Rivers.

  Teetering on her heels, Clarissa pointed to the marquee. “Look Joe, their names are in lights!”

  “This must be the right place then.” Grampa smiled at the Rivers impersonators and looked over at Fisher. “You set this up boy? On your own?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Good job. You make me proud.”

  Hunter wondered how many bourbons Gramps put away.

  Gramps took one look at Hunter and smiled. “I had nothing to do with it, but that don’t mean I won’t enjoy it. Nice touch with the Rat Pack.”

  Hunter looked behind him to find Frank, Dean, and Sammy, acting as ushers. Dean extended his arm to Clarissa, humming, “Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime.” Then he asked, “Bride or groom?”

  “I’m the mother of the bride,” Clarissa said with a hiccup.

  Hunter rubbed his forehead when he heard Dean crooning his way down the aisle.

  Ben slapped Hunter on the shoulder. “Let’s get you inside before your bride arrives.”

  Hunter groaned and wondered if his best man was going to survive to see the wedding.

  Fisher walked up to him and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Don’t worry. Trapper and I will wait out on the red carpet and smooth things over with the ladies.”

  Ben laughed. “Gina’s gonna love this.”

  Hunter handed Ben Mr. Dangerfield’s card. “Here. You can save this for wedding number three. I won’t be needing it again.”

  ***

  When Karma caught a glimpse of Joan Rivers, she started to laugh. “Mom, brace yourself.”

  Kate looked out the window. “Oh, my.”

  Trapper and Fisher stood on the red carpet looking very pleased with themselves. Karma opened the door, took in the scene, and zeroed in on her brothers. “You are in so much trouble. It’s a shame I didn’t have anything to do with it.” She tossed them a wicked smile and headed straight for George Clooney. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  Gina got out of the car. “Ay! Carmamba!” She turned to Kate. “I don’t think this is quite what you expected.”

  Kate shook her head. “Fisher Michael Kincaid, if I didn’t know you better, I’d swear Trapper wasn’t involved.”

  Trapper rocked back on his heels. “It’s all in who you know.” He turned to Fisher. “Step up, baby Brother. It’s your time to shine.”

  Gina interrupted. “Mom, you take it from here. I see Fabio.”

  Fisher shook his head. “I always wondered about that girl’s taste, marrying Ben and all. He’s gonna be pissed once he sees the film of his wife and that Fabio guy. Look, she’s running her hand down his chest.”

  Karma stood back with George, who was just too sweet for words, as Trapper escorted their mom to Frank Sinatra. “You take it from here.”

  Frank winked. “My pleasure.”

  As the door to the chapel opened, Karma could swear she heard “Danke Schöen.” She tried not to gag.

  She turned to Fisher. “You better get inside and calm Hunter down. I’ll stay out here and try to explain this to Toni. You owe me sooo big.”

  ***

  Toni sat in the back of the limo holding James’s hand. “Do you even know where this place is?”

  “No. Fisher made all the arrangements. He said he wanted to surprise you.”

  When the limo stopped she saw her name in lights. “He succeeded.”

  The car door was yanked open, and a microphone was shoved in her face. “You’ve gotta be the bride. Should you be wearing white?”

  Toni laughed at the Joan Rivers look-alike. “Probably not, but what the heck, you only get married once, right?”

  Joan Rivers laughed. “Toni, I like you all ready.”

  James handed Toni out of the limo as Melissa Rivers described Toni’s dress in detail for the camera. He walked her toward the chapel. “Toni, you’re the daughter I never had. Be happy.”

  “I am.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be. These shoes are killing me.”

  “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

  Karma waited at the door for them. “Toni, I had nothing to do with this. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? I think it’s great. Where is Hunter?”

  “He’s in the chapel praying you don’t change your mind. Can we wait out here for a few more minutes? It’s fun watching him squirm.”

  Toni chuckled. “You should have seen him when he proposed.”

  James cleared his throat. “Come on. Let’s put the poor guy out of his misery.”

  Karma snuck in through the doors and cued the music. Toni expected the wedding march. When the doors flew open she saw Diana Ross in a gold sequin gown.

  Soft music began to play, and Diana pointed at her and said, “I don’t know how much you know about Toni and Hunter, so I want to tell you a thing or two…” Then she belted out the first lines of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” Toni laughed the whole way down the aisle. There was never a more perfect song for them. The whole wedding was perfect.

  Hunter stepped forward, relief etched all over his face. He broke into that crooked grin she loved so much and shrugged.

 
She and James reached the altar, and James gave her a kiss on the cheek before he handed her to Hunter. She got caught in Hunter’s gaze again and saw so much love staring back at her. It was all she could do not to kiss him. She looked away from Hunter to the man who was going to marry them. Rodney Dangerfield stood in front of her and straightened his tie. “You sure you want to marry this guy? You’re lookin’ pretty good. I got a few laps left in me yet.”

  Hunter scowled and pulled her against him as Toni tried not to laugh. “Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

  Rodney smiled and pulled a book out of his suit pocket. “I don’t get no respect.”

  Fisher reached around Hunter and tapped her on the shoulder. “Psst… so what do you think?”

  “I love it! It’s perfect.”

  Trapper shook his head, took out his wallet, and handed Fisher a Benjamin.

  Hunter glared at his brothers.

  Fisher snapped the bill and held it up to the light before stuffing it in his pocket. “What? Just tying up loose ends.”

  Hunter shook his head. “Are you finished? I’d really like to get married now.” He took Toni’s hands in his, and when she looked up to him, he smiled. “Are you ready for another first?”

  “Yes. I think I like living on the wild side.”

  ***

  Toni danced with Fisher while she scanned the crowd for Bianca. Toni still needed to thank her for coming and for supplying the photographers.

  Clarissa was dancing with Grampa Joe, who had insisted he could handle Clarissa, even after she drank more champagne than any one-hundred-twenty-pound woman should consume.

  Hunter had taken Kate for a spin around the dance floor, as Ben and Gina snuggled together, barely moving.

  No matter where Hunter had been or who he’d been talking to, for the last couple hours, every time Toni looked for him, she’d found him watching her—just as she did now. She pointed to her wrist where her watch would be if she had one, and he nodded.

  Toni didn’t know about Hunter, but she wanted to take this party to a more private place—like the honeymoon suite. She’d already said most of her good-byes but didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to Bianca. The song ended, and Fisher returned Toni to Hunter.

  She slid into his arms. “Have you seen Bianca? I wanted to thank her for coming and providing the wedding photos.”

  “She was dancing with Trapper earlier. Maybe he knows.”

  “I can’t find him either.”

  Hunter shook his head and groaned. “Son of a bitch. I told him to be nice, but not too nice.”

  Toni patted his cheek. “Don’t worry. Trapper’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

  “Sure. Trapper can, but what about Bianca? Trapper’s the seventy-two-hour relationship king.”

  “Come on. This is Bianca we’re talking about.”

  “Hey, she’s got a tough shell, but take it from me, she has a marshmallow center.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I’m observant. That’s all, I swear. So, Mrs. Kincaid, are you ready to blow this pop stand?”

  “Definitely. My feet are killing me.”

  Hunter picked her up, and Toni let out a scream. Everyone turned and clapped as they headed to the elevators.

  Hunter kissed her as the doors closed and let her slide down his body.

  She’d left her makeup case in the other suite, which wouldn’t have been a big deal, but her case was where she kept her birth control. “Hunter, would you mind if we stopped back at the room I used before we go to our suite? I just want to pick up a few things I left there.”

  Hunter swung his arm around her. “No problem. Besides, it’s closer than the honeymoon suite.”

  By the time they reached their floor, Toni was breathless. She fumbled with the electronic key as Hunter tormented her, nipping her ear, and telling her in excruciatingly vivid detail exactly how he planned to make love to her. By the time he had the door to the suite open Hunter had the zipper of her dress halfway down and her temperature past the boiling point. They slammed into the room, and Hunter kicked the door closed, backing her against the wall as he pulled her dress down.

  Toni’s eyes went wide. She could swear she’d heard something. Her vision adjusted to the darkness, and it took her a moment to realize someone else was using her room. Well, not so much the room, just the bed. “Um… Hunter.” She tugged up her dress. “On second thought, let’s just go to our suite.”

  “Toni, we’re here now—”

  Yeah, he’d heard it.

  “Son of a bitch. Looks like Trapper and Bianca are going for a little walk on the wild side too.”

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  Writing is a solitary endeavor, but a writer’s life isn’t. I’m lucky to have the love and support of my incredible family. My husband, Stephen, who after twenty-one years of marriage, is still the man of my dreams. My children, Tony, Anna, and Isabelle, who in spite of being teenagers, are my favorite people to hang out with. They make me laugh, amaze me with their intelligence and generosity, and make me proud every day. My parents, Richard Williams and Ann Feiler, and my stepfather George Feiler, who always encouraged me and continue to do so.

  And of course, there are my wonderful critique partners Deborah Villegas, Laura Becraft, Grace Burrowes, Hope Ramsay, and April Line. They shortened my sentences, corrected my grammar, and put commas where they needed to be. They listened to me whine when my muse took a vacation, gave me great ideas when I was stuck, and answered that all-important question: Does this suck? They help me plot, love my characters almost as much as I do, and push-challenge me to be a better writer. They are wonderful friends, talented writers, and the sisters of my heart.

  I wrote most of this book in the Carlisle Crossing Starbucks, and I have to thank all my baristas for keeping me in laughter and coffee while my computer and I camped out in their store. They were always there for me when I was searching for the right word or falling asleep at my computer. I don’t think I could have written this book without them. I also need to thank a few of the customers who have become wonderful friends: Dana and Steven Gossert, and Alan Monahan for giving me an excuse not to write.

  As always, I have to thank my wonderful agent Kevan Lyon for all she does, and my team at Sourcebooks, my editor Deb Werksman, and my publicist Danielle Jackson.

  About the Author

  Robin Kaye was born in Brooklyn, New York, and grew up in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge next door to her Sicilian grandparents. Living with an extended family that’s a cross between Gilligan’s Island and The Sopranos, minus the desert isle and illegal activities, explains both her comedic timing and the cast of quirky characters in her books.

  She’s lived in half a dozen states, from Idaho to Florida, but the romance of Boise has never left her heart. She currently resides in Maryland with her husband, three children, two dogs, and a three-legged cat with attitude.

  Robin would love to hear from you. Visit her website at www.robinkayewrites.com. Or email her at robin@robinkayewrites.com.