Wing Girl

by Nic Tatano

  ***

  The fireworks exploded high in the air but all I could do was stare at the huge ring on my left hand. Vincent had one arm tightly wrapped around me as the sound of the Sousa marches washed across the water with the gentle waves.

  The facets of the ring caught the light of the fireworks, acting as a prism and creating an intoxicating dancing rainbow of light within the diamond.

  I looked up at his face, into his eyes, and saw the same thing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  I heard the key in the lock, put down my cup of hot chocolate and headed for the door. It opened before I got there, revealing Vincent carrying a huge rectangular box.

  “Ariel asked me to pick up your wedding dress. And no, I didn’t look at it.”

  “Just drop it on the kitchen table, cause there’s no other place to put it,” I said.

  He set it down. “Damn, that thing weighs a ton.”

  “Better start working out, Harvard. You’re gonna have to carry me and it across the threshold.”

  He leaned down, wrapped one arm around my waist, lifted me up and gave me a quick kiss. “Oh well, no more trips to Nick’s for you.” He put me down, looked around the apartment and saw the mountain of other boxes. “Wow, you really cleaned up at the shower. Or was it a bachelorette party?”

  “One followed the other,” I said.

  “Which was more fun?”

  “Bachelorette party. Four male strippers.”

  He folded his arms and gave me a stern look. “I see.”

  “Yes, they all wanted to have sex with me, but I told them I have my own Chippendale at my beck and call.”

  “Very good, Cupcake. So, did you get a lot of nice stuff?”

  “Most of it is really for you.”

  He furrowed his brow. Excuse me?”

  “Bridal showers are really for the men. You don’t expect me to wear thongs and dominatrix boots around the house because they’re comfortable.”

  “Point taken, but I will say your friends are very thoughtful.”

  “Hey, there’s lots of cake left on the kitchen counter. Chocolate, from Nicks.”

  “Sounds good.” He took off his leather jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, then headed for the kitchen and grabbed a plate out of the cupboard. He picked up a knife to cut the cake and stopped. “What the heck does so long, Wing Girl mean?”

  I realized the half of the cake with the inscription hadn’t been cut. “Well, cut a slice, get a glass of milk and I’ll explain it to you.”

  I headed to the couch. He followed me after getting a piece of cake and glass of milk. He sat next to me, put the milk on the coffee table and took a bite of the cake. “Wow, this is rich.”

  “Yeah, you can get a sugar high off that stuff.”

  “So what’s the deal with the writing on the cake?”

  “Vincent, there’s something I need to tell you about myself.”

  He put the fork back on the plate and grew a worried look. “What, you were married before?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Used to be a nun?”

  “Seriously? You’re actually considering the possibility that I was Sister Belinda in a previous life?”

  “Well, you’re such a hellcat in bed. I mean, could be all that pent-up sexual energy from the convent.” He flashed a wicked grin. “And you seem to be comfortable on your knees.”

  I playfully slapped his arm. “God will punish you for that one. No, Wing Girl is my nickname.”

  “What, you like chicken wings? I’ve never seen you eat those.”

  “No, it has nothing to do with food. You know what a wing man is, right?”

  “You mean the guy who helps his friend pick up women? Sure, every man knows that.”

  “Well, I’m the female version.”

  “So … let me get this straight. You’re called Wing Girl because you went out with your friends and chatted up ugly guys?”

  “No, the scenario is different for women. Basically I was the lure for my friends. Men came up to me because I’m on television and have a degree of fame. But, as you noticed the first time we met, I had the propensity to turn men off. Roxanne, Serena and Ariel would then swoop in and grab them. So, in a roundabout kind of way, I was taking one for the team, and they named me Wing Girl.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep, that’s it.”

  He picked up his cake and started eating again. “Oh. I like Brass Cupcake a lot better.”

  “Yeah, me too. And, according to the cake, Wing Girl is soon to be permanently retired.” The story made me think back to the first night we met. “Vincent, there’s something I need to know about you. Actually a few things.”

  He took a sip of milk, leaving him with a white moustache. “Despite your suspicions, I was never in a seminary.”

  “Cute. That night we first met in the bar. Before I became … you know … ”

  “Smoking hot?”

  I couldn’t help but blush. “Before charm school. Before my makeover. Is there any way you would have asked me out for a date?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You’re saying that to be polite.”

  “No, I’m being honest.”

  “But I was rude and awkward. And you said I had bad clothes.”

  “Well, you were snotty and dressed like a longshoreman, but then I took off your glasses. Oh my God, those eyes. I’d never seen green eyes like that. And they had such fire.”

  “That’s because I was pissed off.”

  He shook his head. “No, no, you’re missing the point. A lot of girls do their eyes with a lot of makeup, and they look like models, but they still have dead eyes. Not much life. Yours were off the charts. I could tell you had great depth of feeling, that you were passionate about everything, and I wanted to know you from that moment.”

  “Just from my eyes?”

  He reached behind my head and started playing with my hair. “Well, you also had the red hair and those cute freckles. If it’s one thing Italian men can’t resist, it’s redheads with freckles.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, no matter how old you get, those freckles will always make you look like a little girl. Like they do right now.”

  I blushed again. “Thank you. I also need to know about those coincidental run-ins we kept having.”

  Now he started to blush. “Oh. That.”

  “Aha!”

  “Now before you go all aha! with me, it was just a couple of times. When I picked you up in the cab was one.”

  “What, were you waiting outside my station all day?”

  “No, Rox told me what time you usually got off from work, and if I had the cab I would cruise by there at that time of day. And finally the stars aligned.”

  “How did you even recognize me? You hadn’t seen me since the bar.”

  He pointed at the large flat-screen TV in the living room. “Well, duh … ”

  “Oh, right. So after that … the time with the groceries?”

  “Pure chance. As it was when you sprained your ankle. And the sci-fi convention. I really do go every year. The only other set-up was when I adopted Gypsy. I had mentioned to Roxanne I was going to get another cat, and she told me you worked at the shelter on Sunday mornings.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “Well, Roxanne put us together for charades on the Fourth of July, but I didn’t know she was going to do that. And I wished she hadn’t after my mother embarrassed the hell out of me earlier.”

  “You avoided me all day after that. It was pretty funny.”

  “Yeah, for you. You really had the upper hand after that one.”

  “You got it back from my photographer at the convention.”

  Big smile. “True. Now that made my day. Kicked your ass in trivia and found out you liked me. Talk about a daily double.”

  “So, after the meeting in the bar, the cab ride, running into me with groceries, you still wanted to go out with a total bitch?”


  He finished the cake, put the plate on the table and leaned back with his glass of milk. “I never saw you that way. Look, I’d been watching your station for a few years and I knew you were this take-no-prisoners chick. And I love girls with a lot of spunk who can take care of themselves, even though I like putting them up on a pedestal. This might sound strange, but the more snarky you got with me, the more I wanted you. I really fell in love with you when you had the flu. You were sick as a dog and cracking me up every day.”

  “Funny, that’s when I realized I liked you. What really amazed me is how kind you were even though I was dating someone else.”

  “Well, Roxanne had told me that guy would be out of the picture eventually.”

  “Really? We were getting pretty serious at that point.”

  “Hey, all I know is that Rox is never wrong about relationships. And even if she turned out to be wrong, I wanted you as a friend.”

  “Really? Wow.”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Speaking of Roxanne, what’s this garbage about you once saying I was out of your league?”

  “Hey, I knew you could have any man you wanted.”

  I took the glass from him, put it on the coffee table, and climbed onto his lap. “Well, if that statement is true, Mr Ivy League deductive reasoning, what do my actions and the ring on my finger tell you?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  In the week before my wedding day, I had been told, “don’t be nervous” about a dozen times by various people.

  As I stood in the doorway of the massive old stone church, I was amazed that I was not.

  That fear I’ve had about possibly hurting Vincent? Almost gone. (I know, at this point you’re saying it should be outta here, but I am a world-class worrier, which you should know by now.)

  The girls gathered around for one last hug with Wing Girl before she took the big leap and her nickname was retired into the singles bar Hall of Fame.

  “You look amazing,” said Serena.

  “Thank you. I feel amazing.”

  Ariel took my hands and looked into my soul. “I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. You really deserve this.”

  “Couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you for turning me into a better person.”

  Roxanne was next. By the way, she was my Maid of Honor, even though Ariel was my best friend. Ariel did an incredibly classy thing and stepped aside, saying this whole relationship would not have happened without Rox. Roxanne was thrilled like you wouldn’t believe, as if she’d been chosen for prom queen. She looked at me and for once in her life was at a loss for words.

  “Rox, I can’t thank you enough.”

  Her eyes got misty as she hugged me, as neither of us had to say anything else.

  We heard the organ crank up and knew the ceremony was about to begin. Oh, I asked Harry to walk me down the aisle because he’d been my father figure since my dad passed away. Despite grumbling about having to wear a “damn monkey suit” I think he was genuinely touched when I asked him. And he actually looked very distinguished in a curmudgeonly sort of way.

  “Time to go, girls,” said Mrs. Baymont, who thankfully has been the wedding planner, turning herself into Martha Stewart on speed. The church, which is more than one hundred years old, was turned into something out of a fairy tale. Candles everywhere, huge white bows on the end of each pew, enough flowers to stock a florist for a month. The church was the perfect setting, with a three-story ceiling and a beautiful white marble altar. Ariel’s mom even figured out the perfect time that the sunlight would be filtering through the massive stained-glass window behind the crucifix, which was blending the sun’s rays and candlelight into something ethereal. The photographer for her magazine was doubling as the wedding photographer, so we’d get free wedding photos since they’d end up in print anyway. The bridesmaids, who were actually wearing dresses they could wear again on days other than Halloween, began the procession as the organ music picked up and filled the air.

  Harry extended his elbow and I took it. We both stared straight ahead at the bridesmaids as they headed down the aisle. “By the way,” he said out of the side of his mouth, not looking at me, “I hope you’re not keeping your maiden name.”

  I responded in the same way. “I’m not, but why do you ask?”

  “You’re scary enough to politicians and adding a Sicilian last name takes the fear level up a notch.”

  “You’re funny, Harry. But yes, you can tell the art department to make some new billboards with Belinda Martino. And none of that hyphenated bullshit either.”

  “Watch it, you’re in church.”

  “Like you’re an altar boy.”

  It was almost time to start walking. He took one look at me, smiled and shook his head.

  “What?” I asked. “Is there a price tag hanging off me?”

  “Cupcake, you’re just so damn beautiful. Who knew?”

  My eyes grew misty. “Thank you, Harry.”

  Roxanne took her place in front of me and started walking. The organ segued from the procession music to the beginning notes of Here Comes the Bride. We hit the top of the aisle and naturally everyone was looking at me.

  I flashed what must have been the biggest smile in my life at our guests. Then I looked past them to the altar, right at Vincent, and everything else went out of focus as if I had tunnel vision. Vincent smiled softly as he locked eyes with me. And all the worry, all the indecision, all the apprehension disappeared in a flash as if I were touched by a higher power. Pure joy rushed through my veins for the first time in my life.

  And right then and there, I knew I would never hurt him.

  I finally realized there are no gray areas when it comes to true love.

  ***

  The reception was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Half Italians, half news people, all loud and very well lubricated by the time Vincent and I arrived after taking pictures. I actually got the photographer to take a shot of the parking lot, since it was half filled with taxicabs and the other half with news cars and satellite trucks. (I’m sure if the Inhuman Resources troll had been invited, she would have cited everyone who had used a station vehicle for personal use and charged them fifty cents a mile.)

  Mrs. Baymont had supervised the decorations here as well, turning what was previously an old stone armory into a castle out of a fairytale. It was amazing what the woman accomplished by simply draping colorful fabric along the walls and turning the tables into something special, as each one had a different floral centerpiece. A huge fountain sat on one side of the long, rectangular head table while a slowly dripping ice sculpture of a swan was on the other.

  The ceremony had been perfect, and I couldn’t wait to see the video shot by Frank. (That was his wedding gift to me.) Harry had started things off with a chuckle when the old Priest asked “Who giveth this woman?” Harry responded, “The staff and management of Channel Six.” But after that it was all serious and traditional and sentimental and joyful.

  The wedding cake was certainly original, from Nick’s pastry shop, of course. And while it was traditional all the way up, it was topped by a cupcake.

  By the way, I made a pre-emptive strike against the paparazzi and struck a deal with The Post: I’d give them one exclusive wedding picture in return for them not crashing the ceremony or reception. I’d kept one wary eye out all day and they’d kept their word.

  We reached the point of the toast and though Roxanne was the Maid of Honor, she insisted that Ariel give it. As Roxanne put it, “She’s the writer, and if I had to do it you’d have a toast with a bunch of fuhgeddaboudits and friggin’ this and that and stunads, so let her do the damn thing.”

  Ariel stood up, and finally all the eyes that had been on me gave me a break and turned to her.

  “Belinda has been my best friend since we met in college a little more than ten years ago. First, I must say I’m thrilled she’s marrying an Italian who can cook, because the girl can burn a salad.” The crowd l
aughed. “Long story, but unfortunately true. If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she must have taken a detour to snag a guy like Vincent. If any of you should suddenly see him losing weight, we know the reason why.

  “But what she lacks in kitchen skills she makes up for in her ability to love, to share, to give of herself. If you don’t know her, she will become a loyal friend and the spunky sister you never had, as she has been for me. If you already know her, you appreciate the persona known as the Brass Cupcake, and know she’s someone who will always have your back.

  “She can be funny, incredibly stubborn, passionate, sarcastic as hell and giving. But regardless of her mood, she has the strongest life force of anyone I know.

  “So please raise your glasses and toast my best friend, Belinda, and her new husband. Vincent, there’s a new sheriff in town, and she’s got red hair.”

  ***

  Vincent’s cousin Stephanie, my partner in dish-washing, was also a bridesmaid. She handed me an ivory-colored silk bag the size of a large purse as we got ready for the receiving line before we wrapped up the reception and left for the hotel.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “It’s your boost bag,” she said.

  “A what?”

  “Oh, I guess nobody told you about the old traditions of Italian weddings. We don’t give gifts, we give money. It gives you a boost when you’re starting out … hence the term ‘boost bag’. Couples use it for a down payment on a house, a car, whatever they need. Anyway, the bride gets a special bag, and you put the envelopes in there.”

  “It’s a pretty big bag.”

  “It’s a pretty big crowd.”

  I looked at the receiving line, looped around the reception hall, and everyone had an envelope in one hand and a drink in the other. “All these people are giving me cash?”

  “You got it. Beats the hell out of candlesticks and crock pots, if you ask me.”

  Stephanie waved the first couple in line to come forward. The couple handed me an envelope, then I got a hug and a kiss.

  This happened a few hundred times, and I started to laugh as a silly thought popped into my head. I was thinking how glad I was that Scott was in prison as I held all this loot.