"A little too ballsy for ya, huh cousin?"
"Interesting phraseology, Wilson." Norman tugged at his collar and laughed, wondering what his macho, good ol' boy cousin would do if he ever came to the realization that Norman was gay. "Actually, she's not quite ballsy enough for me." Shrugging, he laughed again. "But, let's get back to the subject at hand--you and Maisy."
Maisy shot Norman a laser-sharp look, intense enough to bisect a slab of granite in two seconds flat. "Norman, you son-of-a-bitch--"
Puckering his lips, Big Willy jut his chin out to Maisy, who was still scrambling to get away from his hold on her. "How's about planting your betrothed with a little kiss right here," he tapped his lips, "to seal the deal, honey." He made a series of annoying smooching sounds.
Maisy would have clobbered him upside the head if her hands were free. Seething, she looked up at her captor and said, "Wilson Jasper, not only would I not go to Saudi Arabia with you, I wouldn't even let you walk me across the street. And as far as getting hitched . . . hah! I wouldn't marry you if you were the last--"
Slamming his hand against his desktop with a resounding wallop, causing Maisy and Big Willy to whisk their heads in his direction, Norman jumped up from his chair and said, "What Maisy's trying to say, Wilson, is that she'd love to go with you more than anything, but she can't."
"Can't? Why not?" Furrowing his brows, Big Willy looked from Norman to Maisy and back to Norman.
"Because . . . because it's our busy season," Maisy blurted.
"Heck, is that all?" Big Willy laughed. "Cousin Norman, if you're worried about missin' out on some revenue 'cause of losin' Maisy, you just tell me how much you want, and I'll scrawl you out a check for whatever you need to cover what you think she'd be bringin' in for the next five years. Now, we got a deal?"
"Five year's worth, huh?" Norman said, rubbing his chin in contemplation.
"Norman!" Maisy bellowed as Big Willy squeezed her close.
"Gee, Wilson," Norman said, "as tempting and generous as your offer is, and as much as I'd love to accept it . . ." He slanted Maisy a questioning look and she shot back a narrow-eyed glare. Heaving a great sigh, Norman continued. "I'm afraid it's just not possible for Maisy to go."
"Because?" Big Willy asked, looking mighty perturbed.
"Because eh . . ." Norman licked his lips nervously. "Because she's pregnant."
"Pregnant!" Maisy and Big Willy shrieked in unison as the tall Texan shot up from his chair, dumping Maisy on the floor in the process.
"Ow." Maisy rubbed her butt as Norman and Big Willy helped her to her feet.
"But, she ain't even married."
"Well, yes, she is actually," Norman said.
"I am?" Maisy said, angling Norman a puzzled expression. Prompted by his coaxing look, Maisy said, "I mean, I am." She smiled up at Big Willy.
Folding his arms across his chest, Big Willy slanted Norman and Maisy a dubious look. "Since when?"
"June," Norman said, just as Maisy said, "Last month."
"Well, which is it? Knitting his eyebrows together, Big Willy continued to look skeptical.
"Well, they were secretly married in June and they just made it public a month ago." Norman wiped his sleeve across his forehead. "Isn't that right, Maisy?"
"Right . . . we had to keep it a secret because of, uh . . ." Maisy threw a desperate glance at Norman.
"Because her husband was an illegal immigrant at the time," Norman said quickly.
"Huh?" Big Willy removed his Stetson and scratched his head as Maisy shot Norman an incredulous look.
"It's a long story." Norman waved his hand and shook his head. "Very dull. Believe me, you wouldn't be interested."
"Oh yeah? Says who?" Big Willy said, straightening to his full height and throwing his shoulders back as he cocked his head in a menacing fashion. "Just who is this guy . . . what's his name?"
"Rudy. Rudy, uh, Schwarzenegger," Norman said, offering an apologetic shrug to Maisy. Rolling her eyes, Maisy groaned and slapped her hand to her head.
"Schwarzenegger? You mean like the big-time movie actor?"
"Yes, exactly," Norman answered Big Willy through nervous bursts of laughter." He fished out his wallet, flipping to a photograph that he removed. "Maisy and Rudy had to keep their marriage a secret until Rudy became a citizen so it wouldn't reflect poorly on his cousin, Arnold." Norman reveled in a manic, staccato laugh as he handed the photo to Big Willy. "You know how the media loves to get its hands on a juicy story like that."
Peeking over Big Willy's arm, Maisy eyed a photograph of Rudy, co-owner of the German restaurant in Naperville where she and Norman ate lunch and drank all that beer. As Big Willy turned the photo over, Maisy saw the inscription and cringed.
"To Norman--with love and affection--Rudy," Big Willy read aloud. With a distinct look of distaste, he looked up at Norman. "Love and affection?"
Norman winced. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that."
"European men are more inclined to express emotion than American men, Big Willy." Maisy picked up the ball and ran with it. "Rudy loves Norman like a brother because Norman's the one who introduced us and helped Rudy become an American citizen."
"Yeah, that's it," Norman said, nodding enthusiastically. "Like a brother."
Big Willy's broad shoulders slumped. "Well, shoot. I'm downright broken hearted." He looked to Maisy who offered a gleeful shrug. Heaving a sigh of resignation, Big Willy was silent for a moment before clapping his hands and breaking into a broad grin. "Well, I'd say this is cause for a celebration. If you got any plans for tonight, cancel 'em, cause Big Willy's taking y'all out to dinner. I want to meet the lucky son-of-a-gun who snatched away my Maisy and shake his hand."
"No!" Maisy and Norman shouted as their faces quickly drained of all color.
"Rudy's sick," Norman offered at the same time Maisy said, "Rudy's working late." Exchanging horrified expressions, both Norman and Maisy expelled pained groans.
Scowling, Big Willy crossed his arms over his chest as his gaze flew back and forth between Maisy and his cousin. "There's somethin' cockeyed goin' on here and I don't mind tellin' you that I'm startin' to get mighty ticked off. Now I don't know if this is supposed to be some kind of Yankee humor you two are pullin', but Big Willy ain't laughin'."
After a moment of utter stillness, Norman's telltale laughter broke the silence. "You're right, Wilson, Maisy and I were just joshing. Guess some jokes just get lost in the translation from North to South, huh?" Cringing against the ferocity of his cousin's scowl, Norman swallowed hard and laughed again. Approaching Big Willy, Norman gave him a hearty slap on the back and said, "Of course we'll all have dinner with you tonight, cousin."
Her face contorted in alarm, Maisy screeched, "Norman!" Norman responded by offering a confident wink and nod, and Maisy spewed a pent-up stream of air from her lungs.
"Good," Big Willy said, giving Norman a solid crack on the back that all but brought Norman to his knees. "That's more like it. Now, all I got to figure out is, with my darlin' little Maisy here married and about to become a mama," he looked at Maisy who beamed a smile and nodded as she patted her tummy, "what am I gonna do for fun out there in Saudi Arabia all by my lonesome?"
"I'm mighty glad you asked that question, Wilson," Norman said, giving his cousin a sturdy whack on the back that didn't even cause Big Willy to budge.
"Why's that?"
"Because, cousin o' mine," Norman said, waving his stinging hand through the air, "I happen to know of a hot little, flame-haired filly who'd make your spurs spin and your Stetson steam, that's why."
Maisy's ears perked.
Big Willy rubbed his hands together and flashed a smile as he took a seat again. "Always did have a thing for red-heads. I'm all ears, cousin."
Planting her hands on her hips, Maisy smiled down at Big Willy. "Well, I'm awfully glad to see you were able to get over your broken heart so fast."
"Aw, honey," Big Willy said, patting his chest with one hand and Maisy's butt
with the other, "you know you'll always be number one with me." He tossed a charming wink before turning back to Norman. "Now let's hear all about this little red-headed filly of yours, cousin."
* * *
Chapter Eleven
"We're dead meat, Norman," Maisy said shaking her head solemnly. "It's too preposterous. It'll never work. We'll get caught--and I'll die a thousand deaths--and I'll make damned sure you do too." Squatting to play with Maisy's dog, Hershey, Norman said, "Don't be such a pessimist. It's a foolproof plan, Maisy. What could possibly go wrong? Isn't that right little fella?" Scooping Hershey into his arms, Norman nuzzled him as the friendly little mutt wiped his muzzle against Norman's cattle-brand print tie--his latest gift from Big Willy.
"What could go wrong? Norman will you listen to yourself?" Maisy said, slapping her palm against her head. "How about Keller and Sharon catching us red-handed for one thing?"
Norman flicked his wrist. "It'll never happen. Trust me."
"Trust you?" Maisy huffed a laugh. "Oh great. That makes me feel a whole lot better. Now I know I'm dead meat." Shifting her weight to one side, she folded her arms across her chest. "And, just what makes you think that Sharon and Big Willy are going to fall madly in love with each other, huh?" Maisy flailed her arms out to the sides as she spoke. "And that he's going to whisk her away to Saudi Arabia, huh? Huh? Tell me."
"Uh-uh," a tsking Norman said, cocking his head and raising his forefinger, "somebody wasn't listening, because falling madly in love was never mentioned." He placed Hershey on the floor and took a seat at one of the birch stools at the kitchen counter. "What I said was, I know my horny Texas kin's eyeballs will pop out when he meets our favorite little red-haired slut--and--as soon as her radar zeroes in on the smell of all those millions, she'll follow him anywhere." Norman brushed his open palms against each other and beamed. "See? Simple."
The doorbell rang and Hershey raced to the door barking. "That's my good little guard dog," Maisy said, laughing as she reached down to pet Hershey who gratefully lapped up the attention. She opened the door to find a tall, muscular, handsome towhead flashing a gleaming white-toothed smile down at her. "Hi, Rudy, nice to see you again. Come on in."
"Good evening, Maisy," Rudy said in his thick, bold German accent as he nodded a polite half-bow. "Do I look all right?" Holding his arms out to the sides, Rudy turned left and right.
Taking in the handsome German's smart, charcoal-gray suit, crisp, French-cuffed white shirt, and conservative tie, Maisy beamed a smile and nodded. "Oh yeah. You look just fine, Rudy." He was just the type of he-man Maisy would have liked to use in her glorious revenge scheme to get back at John if the bastard hadn't died. Maisy smiled up at Rudy and heaved a sigh.
"Good. My sister Marta picked out this suit. She said it made me look like an American husband." He smiled proudly.
"Hershey, stop that," Maisy said when she noticed that her curious little dog spent more time sniffing this stranger than most. "Shame on you. That's not very polite."
Rudy laughed as he splayed his huge hands, turning them to and fro. "Ah, must be the sauerbraten I was preparing this afternoon. The smell stays on the skin for a long time." Contentedly planting himself next to Rudy's leg, Hershey cocked his head and looked up adoringly as he licked his chops.
"Rudy, are you sure you don't mind going along with this whole ridiculous charade tonight?" Maisy asked sheepishly.
"Mind?" Norman said. "Of course he doesn't mind. Do you, Rudy?" Norman gave him a friendly whack on the back.
Returning the whack, which sent the much smaller Norman sailing, Rudy smiled broadly. "Not at all. It sounds like fun. I've never met a real Texan before."
"This is getting ridiculous." Norman said, wincing as he tried to flex his muscles. "I've got to get back to that gym and build myself up."
"You look just fine to me, little buddy," Rudy said, yanking Norman into a buddy-squeeze.
"I'm really sorry, Rudy," Maisy said, "but Big Willy, absolutely insisted that I bring my, ahem, husband," using her fingers, she dressed the word with invisible quotation marks as she rolled her eyes, "along to dinner this evening." Alerted by Hershey's imploring signal at the patio door, Maisy let the little dog out to do his thing one last time before she went out for the evening. "Big Willy's sending his limo for us about seven o'clock. Norman filled you in on everything, right, Rudy?"
"Uh-huh. I am your loving husband who just became an American citizen, and we are going to have a little baby. Oh, and I am supposed to be Arnold Schwarzenegger's cousin." Rudy furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin. "But, that's where there might be a problem."
"What do you mean?" Maisy asked.
"Well, Schwarzenegger is Austrian and I'm German," he said proudly, puffing out his chest."
"Yeah, and?" Norman said.
"That could be a dead give away. I'm not sure I can be a very convincing Austrian. The accent and the mannerisms are completely different."
"They are? No kidding?" Exchanging winks with Maisy, Norman shrugged and laughed. "Well, believe me, you don't have to worry about convincing my cousin. Anything that's not a Texas accent sounds foreign to Big Willy."
"I always hear stories about Texan's--how they are larger than life. Is that how Big Willy is?"
"Yeah, Norman," Maisy said, tongue in cheek. "Why don't you describe Big Willy for Rudy?" She broke into a grin.
Scratching his head, Norman laughed and shrugged. "Well, let's see . . . Wilson's a real good ol' boy, all right, but . . . well . . . I'm afraid he's also a racist and a bigot--"
"And a sexist," Maisy chimed in as she let Hershey back into the townhouse.
"Absolutely." Norman nodded. "So, you see, Rudy, there's nothing for you to worry about as far as my cousin figuring out that you're not really from Austria. As far as Big Willy's concerned, you're just another kraut-head." Norman smiled broadly while Rudy scratched his head and shrugged.
"But I thought you told me your cousin was half German on his mother's side--so, if I'm a kraut-head, that makes him half a kraut-head, ya?" Rudy broadcast a wide smile.
Norman laughed and shook his head. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Rudy. You have to understand that Big Willy thinks of himself as one hundred percent pure Texan--period. That means, one," Norman began counting off on his fingers, "anybody from the other side of the Texas border is a foreigner. Two, anybody from across the ocean is the enemy, and, three, anybody who's a homosexual is from another planet--and should be sent back as soon as possible--preferably, in tiny pieces." Norman made a motion as if he were breaking matchsticks.
A mask of seriousness across his face, Rudy harrumphed and nodded. "I understand."
"So, for God's sake, Rudy, whatever you do," Norman steepled his fingers and looked skyward, "don't say or do anything that might lead my cousin to believe that I'm anything less than a shining icon of macho virility and heterosexual manhood." Norman rolled his eyes.
"Don't worry, my friend," Rudy said earnestly in his thick, melodic accent, as he pulled Norman into a buddy-squeeze. "Big Wilson will never guess that you are from another planet. You can count on me to protect your proud, macho image."
"Great," Norman said, trying to hoist some semblance of a smile.
Scooping Hershey into her arms, Maisy scooted into the other room to cover her laughter.
***
"Give me the biggest, best doggone steak ya got, son, with all the fixin's," Big Willy addressed the young, male server at Jazzbo's Steakhouse in downtown Chicago. "And tell the cook I want it well-done." "I'll advise the chef of your request, sir," the server said.
"Now, when I say well-done," Big Willy raised his finger for emphasis, "I mean I wanna see that sucker blacker than a spear-chucker's heinie, ya got that?"
A collective groan could be heard around the table.
Lifting an eyebrow, the nice-looking--almost pretty--young man, crisply attired in the establishment's required white shirt and black tie, sniffed as he looked down his nose at Big
Willy. "Most definitely," he said with a slight huff.
"And keep those drinks comin', too, all around the table. Big Willy doesn't want to see any empty glasses in front of his dinner guests, ya hear?"
"I'll alert your cocktail server to your wishes. Will there be anything else . . . sir?" The word clearly stuck in the effeminate young man's throat.
"Nope, that'll do it--but keep in mind, boy, that I'm very generous when I get good service--and I ain't a happy cowpoke when I don't."
Shifting his jaw from side to side, the server closed his eyes in a long blink. "I assure you, I'll do my best . . . sir." With that, he left the table.
"Kind of a pretty boy . . . if you know what I mean," Big Willy said, snickering as he elbowed Norman. Neither Maisy, Norman, nor Rudy dared move a muscle. Big Willy swatted the table with an open palm. "So yer the foreign fella that stole my sweet little Maisy away from me, huh?" He eyed Rudy up and down. "Tell me about yourself, boy." He swigged down half a glass of bourbon, sat back against the cushy, oversized, black-leather booth, and folded his arms across his chest.
"Yes, Big Wilson--"
"Big Willy."
"Oh, yes, sorry--Big Willy." Clearing his throat, Rudy sat up straight and placed his arm stiffly around Maisy's shoulder. "My name is Rudolph Schwarzenegger," he announced in his heavy German accent. "I am from . . ." he cleared his throat again and swallowed hard, ". . . Austria." When he didn't detect any signs of disbelief from Big Willy, he continued. "I am Maisy's passionate and loving husband and the father of the little baby in her stomach." He mechanically kissed Maisy on the cheek as she bit the inside of it to keep from laughing. "I recently became an American citizen," Rudy placed his other arm around Norman's shoulder and squeezed, "thanks to my strong, macho friend, Norman." Clearly proud of his stilted performance, Rudy flashed a bright smile while Maisy and Norman visibly sank down in their seats.
"Uh-huh," Big Willy said, nodding with a curious expression. After a contemplative moment, he shrugged and turned to Norman. "So when do I get to meet this little filly you want to set me up with, cousin?" Draining his glass of bourbon, he gave it a solid whack against the table, held his empty glass up in the air and, nodding towards a passing cocktail server, snapped his fingers while he gave a sharp whistle.
Shipping Sharon Page 15
