Alien in the Family (3)

by Gini Koch

  “Feel like? No. Know we are? Yes.”

  I stopped walking. “Excuse me? You know we’re being followed and you haven’t mentioned it? Is it more A-C spies? And why doesn’t Chuckie know?” I wasn’t at the dog-only register yet, but it was only going to be a matter of a few seconds.

  “Slow down, calm down, deep breaths. We’re not being followed by A-C spies, at least not that I’m aware of. What we are being followed by are paparazzi.”

  “I thought you told the designers we might have paparazzi as a clever ruse to get free dresses.”

  “I did. The dresses arriving, however, ensured paparazzi. Sort of like a symbiotic relationship.”

  “Why can’t I spot who they are?” I asked while looking around wildly.

  Another sigh, this one heaved. “Girlfriend, the really good ones don’t stand outside and scream at you to get a shot. The really good ones ensure you have no idea they’re there.”

  “I know they’re there. I just don’t know where. And why doesn’t this bother you?”

  “Lived through it, it’s better if you just ignore that they’re there. Trust me.”

  “Mister Joel Oliver’s found us every time. Is he watching us again?”

  Reader grinned. “He’s handled.”

  “Chuckie tell you about Security taking him away?”

  “Yes. And we have an effective plan in place to circumvent his interference. That I’m not going to tell you about at this time.”

  “What about the other paparazzi?”

  “The plan will circumvent them, when we need it to.”

  I figured we could stand outside the Four Seasons and argue about this some more, and thereby give the Invisible Spy Paparazzi more time to really get the lighting right for their shots, or I could do what the former top international male model said. I chose to go for the smarter option. “Fine. I’ll pretend I don’t feel eyes on me.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  We went in, and Reader checked me into the spa but had me stay in the waiting room. Two burly men came in with a couple, both dressed in business suits, the man in brown, the woman in red. Clearly, they were humans. They gave Reader wide smiles.

  The burly men were carrying large cases wrapped in velvet. The couple gave Reader air kisses. I tried not to gag. The burlies opened the cases up—and I was treated to an amazing array of men’s wedding rings.

  “James? I have no idea of Jeff’s ring size.” Wow, I sucked as a fiancée, big time.

  He sighed. “I know. I, however, do. All the rings here are sized for Jeff. Pick one.”

  “Mademoiselle is assured of quality,” the man said, in a fake French accent, oozing attempted charm.

  “These have diamonds in them,” the woman said, pointing to the rings that obviously had diamonds in them. “Perhaps mademoiselle would like to consider some of these for her lucky husband-to-be?”

  “Mademoiselle has an uncle who’s a jeweler. Please stop with the unctuous charm. I don’t need a sales pitch, I need help.”

  “I did warn you,” Reader said.

  “Fine, you never know who’s listening,” the man said, sounding a lot more like he was from the Bronx than from France. “Look, honey, it’s a symbol. Sure, he’ll wear it every day for the rest of his life, or until you get divorced, but they’re all good.”

  “His family mates for life.”

  The woman snorted. “Yeah, heard that before.”

  “James? Who are these people?”

  “Among the best jewelers in Vegas.”

  “And his cousins,” the woman said. “He visits when his friends are doing it up right, but during other times? Not so much.”

  I looked at Reader. He shrugged. “Family. You know.”

  “Yeah.” ’Nuff said, really.

  I started looking in earnest for the right ring. This was, of course, easier said than done. There were at least two hundred to choose from. My eyes started to cross. “Um . . .”

  Reader sighed. “Cut down to the twenty I selected.” I opened my mouth; he gave me the hairy eyeball. “The ones closest to her wedding set.” I closed my mouth.

  “I’d still like a look,” the man said. I put my hand out before Reader could glare at me, and he slid the ring off and examined it. He whistled. “Know where he bought this. You’re marrying well. Finest quality diamond. Small though.”

  “She has small hands,” the woman said. “Looks better on her.” I decided she might have taste.

  “Yeah! It’s like almost no one gets that.”

  She grinned. “If you weren’t with family? I’d be discussing how we needed to trade you up, pronto, to a diamond of decent size. Since you are with family, I agree that anything too large on a smaller woman looks fake. Stick to your guns.”

  They both examined my engagement ring, then produced Reader’s much smaller selection.

  Now that I finally had time to examine it, my ring had an unusual and intricate design, and I realized it looked a very little bit like the design of the Unity Necklace. All I wanted to do was find Martini, cuddle up in his lap, and tell him how he was the most romantic man in the galaxy, and I knew I was the luckiest girl in the universe.

  Not an option, so I looked carefully for a ring that might somehow manage to say the same thing to him every day. I was able to discard some right away because the designs were Celtic and while beautiful and intricate, they were too human.

  I was down to ten and had to decide if I wanted a diamond or not. What word had Chuckie used . . . unostentatious. “James, are diamonds in a man’s ring ostentatious?”

  “Depends on the ring. If you’re asking me if I think Jeff will like a diamond in his ring, yes, if you give it to him, because it’s you giving it to him, but if he had a choice, no.” He checked his cell phone, sighed, and pointed to two rings. “This one or that one. Take your pick; they’re both ‘him.’ ”

  “I had two hundred and you just cut me down to two? Am I off the schedule?”

  “Yes, by a lot. Girlfriend, this is why you two couldn’t settle on anything.”

  “Jeff’s picky, too.”

  “Yes. The prosecution rests.”

  I examined the two rings. They were both very unusual in their design. One was thicker than the other, which allowed for more design and also made it sturdier. I stared at them. The thicker one seemed more manly. “Which do you like best?”

  Both jewelers pointed to the thicker ring.

  “James?”

  He sighed. “Two things. Yes, the thicker one. And . . . it’s the one I would have told you to go with in the first place.”

  “We’ll take it. Excuse me while I strangle your cousin.”

  “It’s a common desire in the family,” the woman said, while the man cleaned the ring to perfection and put it into a nice ring box. “It’s worse because he’s always right.”

  “Yeah, good point.”

  The man held the box out. Reader took it and put it in his pocket. Money changed hands. He ensured I didn’t see how much.

  Shook paws, the burlies loaded up the merchandise, and Reader’s cousins left. “You never introduced me.”

  “Nothing gets past you.” His phone rang. “Hey, Christopher. Oh, good. Yeah, you’re a little late, but, shocker alert, no problem because things on this side took a while.” He laughed. “Of course, what else did you expect? The rest of the guys are waiting in my room. Right. Tell him she’s fine.” He snorted. “Well, yeah, but as fine as she’s going to be. Tell him that it’s tomorrow, no matter how much he whines. Humans have rituals. Yeah, more than A-Cs. Yeah. Great, see you in a few minutes.” He hung up.

  “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  “Yep. Jeff’s out of isolation, feeling fine. Christopher’s riding herd on him.”

  “You know, I could pass on the spa thing and feed Jeff. He’s always hungry when he gets out of isolation.”

  “No.” Reader bent and kissed my cheek, then sat in the chair next to me and put his arm aro
und me. “I know you’re scared,” he said softly. “He’s scared, too. You two have been trying to make everything so perfect that nothing was happening. That’s why I’m in charge of Operation About Time.”

  I started to laugh. “Yes, you totally are.”

  He smiled. “I’ve known Jeff for several years—he’s always wanted to find the right girl and give her the wedding of her dreams. Only, his right girl didn’t spend her time daydreaming about weddings and gowns—she spent it reading Ms. and the Feminist Manifesto and doing her best to not be shallow. None of her close girlfriends are girly-girls. One of her best friends is a guy, and not just any guy, but a brilliant nerd.”

  “And her other best friend is a gorgeous gay guy. Yeah, okay, sensing the trend.”

  “Now, for a little bit of a lecture.”

  “Oh, goody.”

  “All the ritual stuff? It’s not for you and Jeff, so much. It’s for everybody else. The actual ceremony? That’s for your parents and grandparents. The reception, that’s the wrap party. The honeymoon? Now that’s only for you. But all the things leading up to it? Most of those are for your families and friends. For them to get this time with you before your life changes in a huge way. Now you’re going to go into the spa and have a massage with Lorraine and Claudia, so they know they’re still the more special of your friends.”

  “Okay.” That sounded nice, actually.

  “You’re going to relax in the whirlpool with Felicia, Jareen, and Wahoa, who didn’t want to try to explain to the masseuse why they look like humans but feel funny.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Then you’re going to have a facial with your mother, to have that private Mommy and Me time.”

  “What if it makes me break out?”

  “Using stuff that won’t—it’s the freaking Four Seasons, babe. Next, you’re going to have a manicure and pedicure with Lucinda, to have that bonding over the salon experience with your not-so-future mother-in-law.”

  Looked down at my fingernails. Fighting Moira and Bitch Leader hadn’t done them any favors. “Okay, good plan.”

  “And, finally, you’re going to join your grandmothers, Renata, and Serene in between each of these and have tea sandwiches and other girly things with them. Your grandmothers only wanted hand and foot rubs, and then they wanted to see everyone as they came through to tell them about their fun spa experiences. Renata’s religion kind of forbids this sort of massive indulgence. But she enjoys your grandmothers very much, and she also took the hand and foot rub option.”

  “Why is Serene relegated to grandmother duty?”

  He laughed. “It’s not relegation, it’s her choice. Serene is so happy to feel included that we can barely pry her away from them. She was up first of all of us and checking on your grandparents to see if they needed anything. When I was describing the spa plan, she begged, and I do mean begged, to stay with your grandmothers. So she gets the hand and foot option, too, and gets to feel like a part of a family.”

  “Works for me. What will you be doing while I’m spending the next hundred hours here?”

  “It’ll be the next, oh, five hours, give or take. And, what I’ll be doing is riding herd on the male half of this extravaganza. We have tuxedo fittings that you’ve made me late for but it’s okay because Jeff came out of isolation a little late.”

  “Is he—”

  “He’s fine. If he weren’t fine, then, yes, we’d both be there, not here. But he’s fine. Complaining that he knows you’re stressed and need him.”

  “I am stressed, and I do need him.”

  “Right. The two of you are going to have to deal with the fact that for one more day, you aren’t going to be making with the sexual Olympics. Think how much better it’ll make the wedding night. Anticipation and all that.”

  “You’re kidding me. Where am I sleeping tonight?”

  “In the suite. With all the girls.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. Jeff’ll be with Christopher. Who’s the best at keeping him under a semblance of control.”

  No sex with Martini until we were married? What was this, 1950? “When is my bachelorette party?”

  “Around seven or eight, depending on when you’re all done here. Guys will crash it a couple hours in. You can have some make-out time then. I’ll be shutting the party down around midnight and riding herd on the ladies, particularly you.”

  “Jeff won’t like me being on the same floor as Chuckie, you know.”

  “Nice try. See, the thing is, Renata is going to be with you. And Queen of the Amazons is clear on the ‘no nookie with any man, even husband-to-be’ rule for you tonight through wedding hour.”

  I gave up. “Okay. Are you getting us or is Chuckie?”

  “Probably both of us. So there’re two of us watching you.”

  “You make me sound like a criminal attempting to escape prison.”

  Reader kissed my cheek again. “I promise you, marriage isn’t a prison. Just relax and enjoy the process.” He stood up, helped me up, and ushered me into the main spa area, patted my bottom, then disappeared, off to do his Super Savior thing with the guys.

  I considered my options. Decided that he and Chuckie had spent so much time and gone to so much trouble and expense, I should at least try to enjoy it.

  Turns out, I did.

  CHAPTER 63

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, READER COLLECTED US around seven in the evening. None of us were overly hungry because we’d been grazing on all the girly food for hours. It was yummy girly food—the Four Seasons really did that up right—and I didn’t have anyone stealing it off my plate, so I actually got enough to eat.

  Chuckie was there, too, looking very amused. “Martini spent most of the time whining. You two are a fun couple when you’re apart.”

  “We like being together, so sue us.”

  “No problem,” he said as he took my arm. “I actually had a great time. Nothing like knowing something he doesn’t to drive him insane.”

  “So he knows you helped choose my dress?”

  “Knows, hates it, has to deal with the fact that he’s going to be happy I helped.” Chuckie sounded pretty happy about this. I tried not to worry about Martini’s reactions to this, everything else Reader had going, and my dress. What if he didn’t actually like it?

  I was still relaxed enough from the spa experience that I only fretted about this a little bit. Besides, had a different fret to think about. “James says we have paparazzi. Other than Mister Joel Oliver, I mean.”

  “Yes, so he told me.” He didn’t seem fazed.

  “This doesn’t worry you?”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He shrugged. “One of Australia’s most eligible bachelors, remember? Just ignore them and they’ll go away.”

  “How are you doing . . . the job you do with paparazzi following you?”

  “It’s part of my cover.” He sighed. “Your mother thinks it’s great.”

  “I’ll bet she does. Why are we worried about poor old Mister Joel Oliver, then?”

  Chuckie gave me a long look. “Because he’s actually right.”

  I considered this. “But no one believes him.”

  “Right.” Chuckie’s expression told me exactly what he was thinking.

  “You kind of like him, don’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not ready to go bowling with him, but I do understand what it’s like to be in the position he’s in.”

  “What’s going to happen to him? James insinuated we didn’t have to worry about MJO for a while.”

  “It’s need to know, Kitty, and you don’t.”

  I decided to give this up. Clearly only I was worried about strange people with stealth cameras following us around, and also clearly Chuckie wasn’t going to tell me what was up with Oliver, either. I prayed it wasn’t going to be something horrible like Oliver had been sent to Guantanamo, but I decided there was nothing I could do about it at thi
s particular time. Besides, supposedly there was a party with my name on it in my near future. “So, where are we going?”

  “Well, while Mix has a great view, I’m not sure it’s your style. It’s sort of hip, cool, and trendy.”

  “I think I should be insulted you know me this well.”

  “Right, so, we’re going to House of Blues.”

  “Cool! Great food.”

  “Live band.”

  “House band?”

  “Not exactly.” He looked as though he was trying not to laugh.

  “Who is it?”

  “Well, we considered booking Aerosmith, but then we realized that would mean you would spend the evening offering yourself to Tyler and Perry, and that didn’t seem like something Martini would appreciate in the short or long run.”

  Dang. They knew me far too well. “So you guys booked this band specially? How in the world could you have done that on this kind of short notice?”

  Chuckie shrugged. “As you said and Cyndi Lauper sang so well, money changes everything.”

  “Elton John?”

  “Bank of Chuckie is not able to make that kind of loan.”

  “I thought you were rich.”

  “I still need to eat next week.”

  “Fine. Girl act or boy act?”

  “Boy, because we also didn’t think it was fair to you to put someone like Gwen Stefani up there so the guys both crashed the party early and spent the time offering themselves up to Gwen. We’re going for ‘fun party’ here, not ‘ending the relationship the night before the wedding.’ I’d like to mention that this is a sacrifice on my part.”

  “You’re both so thoughtful, and you’re a prince. So, do I need to go through my entire iPod or are you going to tell me?”

  “I’m going to make you wait until we’re there.”

  “Humph.”

  Of course, it didn’t take us long to get there. The “closed for private party” signs were kind of cool, since I was part of the private party. Got inside and wondered who all these people were. The place was packed. Realized it was packed with every female relative of mine, a great number of my female friends, every female relative of Martini’s, and a lot of females who were also, technically, relatives of Martini’s. The Dazzler quotient was as high as at the Science Center.