Big Guns Out of Uniform

by Nicole Camden

  “Then tell me,” he ordered, pinning my hands above my head, “or I’ll have to get the cuffs.”

  I wiggled my hips under him and smiled my lazy half-smile.

  “Promise?”

  THE NIGHT AT the fair had taken on a stunning unreality in my mind—almost as if it happened to somebody else (maybe that strange girl I see in the mirror every morning), but it was nothing compared to the dreamworld I was floating in now.

  “Are you sure I look okay?” I asked Sara, turning to face her.

  “You know you look beautiful, stop asking.”

  “But do I look like me? Like the Debbie you used to know?”

  “No, actually.”

  “No?” I said, turning back to the mirror.

  She hugged me from behind, careful not to wrinkle my gown. “You look like beauty itself.”

  “Oh,” I said, tearing up, “that’s sweet.”

  “That’s me, sweet as honey. Now let’s get your ass down that aisle so we can get on to the reception. I want first pick of the groomsmen.”

  I linked arms with her and headed slowly for the door and the long hallway where my sister and the rest of the bridesmaids were waiting for Sara to lead them down the aisle. My mother was there, too, undoubtedly wringing her hands and crying and smiling all at the same time.

  I stopped Sara in the doorway and smoothed her nametag. I’d had them printed up for everyone in the wedding and most of the guests. Tacky, but effective.

  “Just so you know,” I said casually, “all the names of the single cops are printed in blue foil, the married ones are in black. I’ll let you decide which ones you go after.”

  She smiled. “So I have my pick of them all, huh?”

  I nodded and started walking again, knowing that at any minute I would take the hand of my detective and promise to love, honor, and cherish.

  “Just don’t touch the one in the gold. He’s all mine.”