His wardrobe set, he took a shower, scrubbing himself thoroughly. He clipped and buffed his fingernails, applied deodorant and trimmed his sideburns, making sure they would pass a senior officer’s inspection. By the time he clipped his nose hairs, he’d forgotten about Heather’s emotional outburst. His towel draped around his waist, he went into his bedroom. With no thought at all as to the things he and Heather had done to leave the sheets so tangled, he tossed his towel on the bed.
Chip combed his hair, dressed and gave himself a quick once-over in the full-length mirror attached to the back of his bedroom door. He grabbed his house keys from the glass dish on the TV tray that doubled as his dining table and desk and walked out of his front door. Two flights of stairs carried him to the main doors, and Chip muttered a friendly hello to the young couple moving into the garden-level terrace apartment. His 1972 Mustang convertible was parked in front. Chip climbed in behind the wheel and set his cap on the passenger seat. He started the engine and steered the car into traffic. Within twenty minutes he was walking into the Chouteau Mansion, which would house the wedding party until the ceremony at the Piper Palm House in nearby Tower Grove Park.
His cap tucked under his arm, Chip approached the woman manning the front desk. “Well, hello, soldier,” she said with a flip of her blonde hair. “You must be here for the Piasanti-White wedding.”
“Yes, I am,” Chip replied. “I’m the best man.”
The petite blonde ran the tip of her tongue over her upper teeth. “I’ll just bet you are,” she mumbled under her breath. “Mr. Piasanti is already in his suite.” She directed him to the room. “If you need anything else, please just call down and let me know. We aim to satisfy.”
“I’ll just bet you do,” Chip said with a wink.
“You look terribly familiar, Mr…?”
“Kish. Charles Avery Kish, but everybody calls me Chip.”
“Have we met before, Mr. Kish?”
He studied her for a moment. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pleasant smile. Her dull navy suit did little to hide her delectable figure. She looked familiar. All too familiar. “No, ma’am, I don’t think we have met. I don’t get into this part of the city often, so I don’t know too many people here in St. Louis.”
“Well, we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?” she suggested. She pressed a business card into his palm, her fingers lingering on his. “Don’t you think it would be fun to get to know each other better after the wedding?”
Chip forced himself to keep smiling even as his stomach turned. “Sure. That would be real nice.”
* * *
Something old…
Zae thought of Cinder’s dress, which they had found at ZaZu’s, a wonderfully eclectic vintage clothing store in the West End. Cinder had taken the dress to the owner of SoulHippi in the Loop for a much-needed redesign, but the ecru silk that complemented her dark complexion so well was from the 1940s, so it still satisfied the superstition.
Something new…
Cinder’s outlook on life, certainly. With her psychotic ex-husband dead and cremated, she had finally freed herself from the fear and uncertainty that had immobilized her for three years. But if that wasn’t enough, the simple diamond stud earrings her parents had given her for the wedding would do.
Something borrowed…
Zae closed her eyes, shutting out the grand high ceilings and majestic windows of the Piper Palm House along with the hundred or so guests who stood to watch Cinder’s entrance. Cinder hadn’t been able to decide on a song, so Zae had “loaned” her Ray Charles’s “Ain’t That Love,” the song that had played more than two decades ago, when Zae had been the nervous, radiant bride and Colin, her dear late Colin, had been the eager groom awaiting her.
With each note, Zae’s heart swelled. Musicians from Del Brown’s Jazz Cafe rendered the music so wonderfully, Zae wondered if the lively strains were reaching heaven. And if so, was Colin listening. Listening and remembering, as Zae was.
Something blue…
That would be me, the matron of honor, Zae thought wryly. Happiness for the bride, her dearest friend, mingled with the melancholy generated by memories of Colin.
I miss you, baby, she thought hard, tears welling. I wish you were here to see me and the girls and your son.
So many times she had wondered what purpose Colin’s death had served in God’s plan, why she and her children had been deprived of a husband and father. Standing at the side of a woman about to join her life to that of the man she loved, Zae allowed her most selfish thought: Why do I have to spend the rest of my life alone?
She opened her eyes, intending to look for her children. One peek at them was all it usually took to crash her self-pity party. But instead of glancing right, to the first row of chairs on the bride’s side of the room where Eve, Dawn and CJ sat in their wedding finery, Zae looked straight ahead, beyond Gian.
Her gaze caught Chip’s.
Gian stared, unblinking, down the petal-strewn aisle, surely gulping eyefuls of Cinder in her wedding gown as she made her approach.
Like Gian, Chip wore his dress blues. The two looked heroic, dashing and handsome. Neither possessed the meaty, neckless look of many servicemen. Their uniforms emphasized their broad shoulders and trim waists. Gian had gone for full military dress, cutting his hair in a near buzz.
Chip had trimmed the blond locks that typically ran as wild as jungle vines, but there were plenty of butter-gold curls left to tease someone’s fingers. The dark blue jacket complemented Chip’s deep blue eyes, intensifying the gaze he kept on Zae. He gave her a subtle wink that drove away her blues, and she answered with a merry smirk.
Chip made everything seem so easy, so simple. They tormented the hell out of each other when he instructed her at Sheng Li, Gian’s dojo, but outside karate class, they had become friends. Zae hadn’t seen much of him in the months following Gian’s recovery from the gunshot wounds inflicted by Cinder’s ex. Chip had stepped up and practically run Sheng Li on his own. Zae had looked forward to the wedding, not just because of her enthusiasm for Cinder and Gian’s marriage, but also because she knew she’d see Chip.
Prior to Gian’s shooting, Chip had been her near-constant companion. They saw each other at the dojo four nights a week, they spent time at Cinder and Gian’s. They’d even had a handful of lunch and dinner dates. Appointments, Zae hastily corrected. Not dates.
At thirty-five, Chip was too young for her to date, and that was only one of the major differences between them. Or so she kept reminding herself.
Why am I even thinking about this? she asked herself, still unable to swing her gaze from his.
He’s so beautiful, she sighed inwardly. His one flaw, if it could be called that, was the leg he had nearly lost on a special ops mission helmed by Gian, who’d saved his life. Thick blond curls, sinfully adorable dimples and the sparkle in his eyes gave him a youthful appearance that belied his true age. Ordinarily, he dressed like an Abercrombie & Fitch model, and he had the looks to match. Tall and athletic, Chip possessed the casual confidence of a man unaware of or unconcerned with the effect his looks had on women.
It was his most annoying quality.
Zae stood at an angle beside the dais where Gian awaited Cinder. She eyed the guests, recognizing the members of Gian’s family. His sister, Lucia, was the only woman in the place whose beauty rivaled the bride’s. She wore a pale rose sheath that beautifully complemented her olive skin and black hair. Zae had met Lucia only a few times over the decade she had known Gian, and she’d always been unusually withdrawn. Lucia had grown attached to Cinder in the past year, and perhaps it had been Cinder’s influence that had drawn Gian’s sister from her shell.
Beside Lucia, Gian’s mother saturated a lace-edged handkerchief with tears. Smiling through the waterworks, “Mama” Piasanti clutched her daughter’s hand and that of her oldest son, Pio, who quietly knuckled away a tear of his own.
Cinder’s parents held hands, smiling as they gazed upon their daughter
. Cinder’s mother, with her silver hair and deep brown complexion, looked every bit the physician she was. Cinder’s father, his balding dome catching the light from the chandeliers, hooked a finger in his collar and loosened his tie. A retired shop teacher, Cinder’s father was known for his hatred of dressing in anything fancier than jeans and flannel shirts. In spite of his discomfort in his snazzy suit, he looked pleased to see his daughter getting married, this time to a man who had already proved that he would love her and protect her with his very life.
Next to Cinder’s mother stood one of Cinder’s graphic design clients, the owner of a local spa. The woman was her own best advertising for the health and fitness benefits offered by her establishment. When Cinder took her place next to Gian, the woman narrowed her eyes, fixing her hungry feline gaze to Gian’s right.
She’s eyeballing Chip! An alarm sounded in Zae’s skull.
Zae watched the woman daintily pull at the lemon yellow skirt of her natty ensemble. One more hitch, honey, and we’ll know all your secrets, she thought scornfully.
She looked back at Chip. If he noticed the woman in yellow, he gave no indication of it, not with his gaze still aimed at Zae. A blush warmed Zae’s face, and she was so discomfited by it, Cinder had to nudge her twice to get her to take her bouquet.
“Beloved family and friends,” the officiant began, her strong, clear voice softly echoing in the quiet chamber, “we gather here today to celebrate and honor the love between Cinder White and Giancarlo Piasanti…”
The officiant’s voice became background noise to Zae. Without moving, she tried to peer around Cinder and Gian to see if Chip was returning any of the hot stares of the female guests. His gaze remained on Zae, his lovely mouth pulled into a tiny grin. Zae almost smiled in relief. Chip was too occupied trying to distract her to notice other women. Not that it mattered. Chip was a magnet for dumb, nubile blondes. Odds were he’d be going home with one of them before the night was out.
Zae was unsettled by that thought, and she wasn’t quite sure why. Chip was a grown man. He could do what he wanted. He could do who he wanted. Zae suddenly envied Chip and men in general. It was so easy for a man to hook up with a woman to satisfy his physical needs. If he hung around afterward, great. If he didn’t, well, what did anyone expect? He was only a man, and everyone knows that most men are dogs.
Must be nice, Zae grumbled to herself. Having people throw themselves at you and begging you to use them however you wished. Having wild, uninhibited sex whenever you wanted it.
She mentally shook herself. She was at her best friend’s wedding, standing with her as she pledged her heart, soul and body to the one man she promised to love for the rest of her life. And here I am, Zae thought, a horny old widow wishing I was a man so I could run around screwing everything that moves.
She forced her attention back to the ceremony. She listened to the officiant’s words of love and understanding, compromise and forgiveness, now and years from now. Like so many others, Zae dabbed tears from her cheeks. But Zae wept not for the beauty of the moment in which her friends became one, but for herself. She had made vows similar to Cinder’s and she had honored them. She honored them still, nearly nine years after her husband’s death. Zae wept because for the first time, the vows she had cherished for so long now seemed to be burying her alive.
Chapter Two
Beneath crystal chandeliers catching the light of the sunset, Zae watched Cinder and Gian dance their first dance as husband and wife to Yolanda Adams’s silken rendition of “Alwaysness.” The newlyweds seemed to exist in a world of their own as family and friends looked on, some shedding fresh tears of happiness for the couple who had endured so much in the past year.
Cinder’s gown, a strapless ivory silk sheath with a simple bow at the waist, was even prettier as she danced than it was standing still. To Zae, Cinder looked like she’d be more at home in a castle than the austere elegance of the Piper Palm House. And Gian…his movement gave no indication that six months earlier, he’d been lying in a hospital bed with two gunshot wounds. If love was the best medicine, Cinder had heaped massive doses on him, healing him in every way.
The DJ called for the mother of the groom and father of the bride. Clearly reluctant to do so, Cinder and Gian separated to take their new partners. Gian executed a neat bow to his mother—a squat vision in a sequined yellow cocktail dress that put Zae in the mind of a chubby canary—before spinning her into his arms. Cinder’s father, openly weeping, danced with her, giving her a hug that earned a round of subdued applause.
“Maid of honor Zae Richardson and best man Charles Avery Kish, Jr.!” the DJ called.
Zae stepped onto the dance floor. From the opposite side, Chip approached, his posture as upright as that of a king. He met Zae halfway, bowing to her as he offered his hand. Not to be outdone, Zae executed a graceful curtsy, then stepped into Chip’s arms.
“There’s about a dozen fellas out there who wish they were me right now,” Chip murmured through a smile. “Never thought I’d see my warrior woman turn into a queen.”
Zae hadn’t been fond of her gown, at first. The silhouette was similar to Cinder’s, only instead of a bow at the waist, the back of Zae’s dress featured a fantail pleat that flowed from hip to heels. The skirt of her gown moved prettily as Chip waltzed her over the gleaming marble floor. His grace surprised her, although it shouldn’t have, given his control and strength in the dojo.
Chip’s casual movements usually reminded her of those of a large friendly dog, a Labrador or a Golden Retriever. On the dance floor, he was smooth and strong, firm yet gentle. And he had rhythm.
“You cut quite a handsome figure yourself, soldier,” Zae remarked. “You should wear a uniform more often.”
“This ol’ thing?”
He smiled lazily, and Zae responded with one of her own. “I haven’t danced in so long. This is wonderful.”
“You’re awful good at it, professor.” He smiled.
“As are you.”
“Why so surprised? I’m a man of many talents.”
Zae happened to glance at the onlookers rimming the dance floor. A good number of women stared at Chip. “Is that so?”
He tucked her hand under his chin and closed the gap between them with gentle pressure at the small of her back. Zae settled more comfortably into the dance, gazing into his face. “If I’d known you were so light on your feet, I’d have dragged you to a club once in a while instead of MU guest lectures.”
“I like the lectures I go to with you. I learn lots of stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“The lecture on the birth of the Tudor dynasty was almost as good as watchin’ that program on Showtime.”
“I’m sure Professor Porterfield Whitney-Bloodworth, who—if you’ll remember—is a distinguished scholar at Oxford, would love to hear you compare his life’s work to a cable program.” Zae snickered.
“The five-dollar version of the story on cable helped me understand Prof. Bloodworth’s twenty-dollar version,” Chip explained. “How’s that?”
“Fair enough.” Zae laughed. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll make a fine schoolteacher someday. Teaching is an endangered profession.”
“I think it’s noble.”
“Is that what attracted you to it?”
“I want to do something useful.”
“You could become a doctor or a nurse.”
“I want to do something useful that doesn’t involve blood, needles or sick people,” he clarified. “I had enough lifesaving in the service.”
The DJ called for everyone to join the newlyweds in a dance, and the floor quickly filled. Zae maneuvered toward a less-crowded corner.
“Would you mind if I led for a time?” Chip asked. “I’m not used to being steered ‘round the dance hall.”
“Sorry.” Zae grinned. “Colin wasn’t much of a dancer. I’m used to leading.”
Chip bowed his head toward Zae’s, his chin brushing a soft swoop of her comp
lex updo. Tempted to rest her head on his shoulder, Zae closed her eyes and surrendered to the strains of the music. It was hard to speak of Colin with anyone else, but it came so naturally with Chip. Zae would have mused on that, reasoning out why, had a tap on her shoulder not stalled her train of thought.
“Excuse me,” started a chipper, feminine voice behind the tap. “May I cut in?”
Zae turned in Chip’s arms. The spa lady.
Mindful of Cinder’s working relationship with the woman, Zae smiled. “Absolutely not,” she said and settled back into Chip’s frame.
“There’s plenty of me to go around, professor,” Chip chuckled once Cinder’s client was out of earshot.
“She can have some of you later,” Zae said. “For right now, you’re all mine.”
With many more guests on the dance floor, the DJ sped up the music, playing “I’ve Got a Feeling” by the Black-Eyed Peas. Chip and Zae remained partners, separating only when Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” started. Gian, in a surprise dedication to his bride, led his brother Pio, his friend and former co-worker Karl Lange, Chip and Sheng Li instructors Sionne Falaniko and Cory Blair in the choreography from the video.
Chip and Gian, bookends in their uniforms, flanked the others in their tuxedos. At nearly seven feet tall and over 300 pounds with a mane to rival Troy Polamalu’s, Sionne was the biggest Single Lady Zae had ever seen, but he kept up with the fast footwork. Tall and slender Cory, a junior at Washington University, tipped the scales at one-fifty fully clothed. With his tidy afro and chocolate complexion, he resembled a young Michael Jackson shaking his hips and kicking to “Single Ladies.” Zae and Cinder fell into in each other’s arms laughing so hard, tears threatened to ruin their makeup.
Vintage Commodores followed the performance of “Single Ladies,” and the gang took partners. Gian swept Cinder onto the dance floor, Pio took his wife, Sionne invited Dawn, Cory paired with Eve, and Chip returned to Zae. The DJ spun tunes that encompassed four decades, and Chip kept up with each song. Like Ellen Degeneres, he seemed to possess an innate sense of dance, easily adopting the styles and moves of more accomplished dancers. When Chip joined Gian and Pio in a chest-bumping, high-jumping mosh pit tumble to Green Day, Zae accepted an invitation from one of Gian’s former platoon mates, a tall, handsome Marine who looked like he’d been carved from a solid block of bittersweet chocolate.
Everything in Between Page 3
