“Oh no. Look!”
“Oh Christ.” Pete started to chortle. Then he howled.
In front of us was a guy carrying a bottle of wine. He was dressed in black and wearing a white Zorro mask. Behind him was another guy wearing a similar white mask.
“I count three. No, four.”
“Five. Here comes Nico.”
Even with the mask, you couldn’t miss his bleached hair.
Nico grabbed me in a bear hug. “Gina, can you believe it? I’m a superstar! It’s the costume of the year! Of course, I had to wear it. Who knows when I’ll get the chance again? And look at all the others. I tell you, it’s brilliant. Such a commendation. I’m chuffed.”
My eyes could hardly focus. Every second man at the party was dressed up as the Lone Rearranger. Some were dark-haired and some were bald. There were thin ones and pot-bellied ones. There had to be at least ten. No, make that twelve. Thirteen. There was even a reverse Lone Rearranger. He was all in white with a black mask.
“Is that—oh my god, it’s Stoner and Toke. Hi, Stoner! Isn’t that cute!” Nico pointed.
The black standard poodle was wearing a white mask.
One especially tall guy was wearing a white mask and a black cape.
“Oh god, I need that cape. Why didn’t I think of a cape? I wonder if he’ll sell it.” Nico took off in the direction of the cape man. I didn’t hold out much hope for the poor guy’s chances.
Pete was bent over, wheezing.
“You have to stop laughing like that. You’ll hurt yourself on your sword.” I fussed about him.
“It’s your family,” he said, straightening. Tears were running down his face. “They slay me.”
“They better not!” I said firmly.
The band was whipping up to a crescendo. Lainy’s voice was coming through loud, clear and gorgeous.
“You done me wrong, so I done you in
The cops are comin’ to take me in
Two pumps in the chest—yeah, I know
it’s a sin
But you done me wrong, an’ I’d do it ag’in
Oh yeah, babe
Bye-bye, babe.”
Pete put an arm around my shoulders. “Catchy lyrics,” he said.
“Kind of a family motto,” I replied.
He pulled me closer. “Another one?”
I cocked my head sideways. “Aunt Miriam always says, Divorce, never. Murder, maybe.”
Pete smirked. “Fine by me. I play for keeps.”
The music stopped. Then the cheers and whistles started up.
Lainy left the stage and headed our way. As always, every male eye in the place was glued to her brown suede skirt as she sashayed over. Not to mention the big red hair and the checkered cowgirl shirt that was straining at the buttons. Good thing she was so darn nice or it would be hard not to be jealous.
“Hey, girlfriend! It’s so damned good to see ya.” She gave me a big happy hug. Then she eyed the big guy beside me and whispered, “I’ll get to know your sugar later. But first…”
She turned to the cousins.
“So…which one of these hombres is your cousin Carmine, Gina?”
I pointed.
Lainy went up to Carmine, who was bug-eyed with hero worship. She grabbed his bolo tie with her right hand and yanked it, pulling him over until they were nose to nose. Or rather, more like nose to boob. Lainy is over six feet tall in her boots and built like Dolly Parton, so she kind of towered over Carmine.
“Now listen to me, cowboy. You mess with my gal pal again, and I got a six-shooter with your name on it. You get me?”
Carmine nodded vigorously. I think he was having trouble breathing.
Lainy let go of the bolo and pushed him back. “Just so we understand each other. I’m a no-nonsense kind of girl, if you get my drift. But just to prove I can be friendly, like, what’s your favorite song that I do?”
Carmine was still wide-eyed and gasping. He didn’t seem to be able to talk.
“He likes ‘You’re Roadkill on My Highway of Life,’” said Joey.
“It’s up next,” Lainy said. She winked at me and turned to go back to the band.
“Wow.” Bertoni was drooling. “Is she ever hot.”
“Oh, look,” Pete said wickedly. “Here comes Aunt Miriam.”
They vanished.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to my first readers, Cathy Astolfo and Cheryl Freedman, who laugh easily and generously show me when I hit a funny bone.
Thanks also to my Italian relatives still living (you know who you are), a lively and fun-loving bunch. Thanks as well to some of those now dead (and note that I waited to publish this until now).
Finally, I am particularly grateful to the superb team at Orca Books, including my editor, Bob Tyrrell, along with Dayle Sutherland, Leslie Bootle and the rest of the marketing department. They make every step in the publishing process a pleasure.
Although MELODIE CAMPBELL got her start writing comedy, her work has appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Canadian Living, The Toronto Star, The Globe and Mail and many other publications. The Goddaughter’s Revenge is Melodie’s fifth published novel and second in the Rapid Reads series (The Goddaughter, Orca/Raven Books, 2012). She lives in Oakville, Ontario, and can be found at www.melodiecampbell.com.
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