“We got old.” Sal grunted. “Nothing’s the same.”
“There’s more to it than that.” A wistful look passed over Gordy as he spoke. “I’m truly not that same man anymore.”
“Ah.” Laz nodded. “I think I get your point. Life has settled down?”
“I have settled down. Met the Lord face-to-face about ten years ago in the federal penitentiary and never looked back. The old Gordy is dead and gone. The new one is a resurrected man.”
“Well, hallelujah!” Laz practically hollered. “I had an encounter with the Lord myself.” His eyes lit up as he went on to tell Gordy about his conversion experience. “Happened in Jersey back in the seventies. I was walking home from my favorite bar, drunk as a skunk, when suddenly I saw what looked like a flash of light from heaven in the road ahead of me.”
“Really?” Gordy leaned in, obviously caught up in the story.
“Yep.” Laz’s voice grew more animated. “Then I heard a sound. Can’t really do it justice, but it seemed to rise up from the bowels of hell. The most intense thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No way.” Gordy’s eyes grew wider by the moment. “Then what happened?”
“Well, next thing you know, I’m belly-up on the road, my leg and shoulder aching something fierce. Turns out that flash of light was really a pair of headlights from a city bus. The screeching sound was the squealing of the tires as the driver tried to dodge me. In my drunken state, I’d apparently stumbled out into the middle of the street.”
“Oh my.” Gordy paled.
“He almost missed,” Laz continued with a knowing look in his eye. “Clipped me and knocked me to the ground. I was unconscious for a few minutes. Next thing I remember was being in an ambulance. They took me to the Sisters of Mercy Hospital, where the nuns patched my wounds and led me to the Lord.”
I remembered this story well. Laz always called it his Damascus Road experience. From everything I’d been told, he was never the same after that night.
“The Lord met me on that road … just like Saul of Tarsus in the book of Acts,” Laz said, his voice growing more intense. “The old Lazarro Rossi died that night, and the new one was born. I’ve never been the same. The nuns called it a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting.”
Sal grunted. “Never did buy into all that Jesus stuff. Makes for a great story, though. Very dramatic.”
I couldn’t help but sigh at Sal’s words. I knew my uncle had been working for months to figure out a way to reach out to Sal with the gospel message. He’d worked double time, teaching Guido memory verses and the lyrics to “Amazing Grace,” on the off chance that Sal’s parrot might play an evangelistic role. So far, the bird’s song choices had served only to irritate Sal.
Gordy turned to Sal, his face softening. “Well, until you’ve experienced it for yourself, Sallie, there’s no way to do the conversion story justice.” Gordy slapped him on the back. “But if you’re ever interested in hearing my sordid tale, I’ll tell it.” He flashed a smile my way. “Just not today. Today we have a wedding to talk about. You want to take us inside and show us around, Bella?”
“Of course!”
By now, the other members of the band had gathered around us in a tight circle. A few of them held instruments. I saw a couple of trombones and a few clarinets. What really got my attention, however, were the fellows with the tubas and the French horns. Their lips were already perched and ready on the instruments, and their fingers were moving in anticipation even before we got in the building.
Alrighty then. These folks love what they do!
I led everyone inside, giving them a few notes about the upcoming wedding and sharing Rosa and Laz’s vision for the perfect reception as we walked. When we got inside the reception hall, I finished my spiel. Only then did I realize there was a woman in the group. The silver-haired beauty came my way, tucked her clarinet under her left arm, and extended her right hand for a shake.
“I’m Lilly,” she said with a smile. Her soft blue-gray eyes sparkled in anticipation, and a whiff of tea rose rushed over me.
“Lilly, good to meet you.” I shook her hand. “Bella Rossi. I’m the manager of Club Wed.”
“Love your place. Great name too. Club Wed. Love that.” As she smiled, the crinkles around her eyes grew more pronounced. What a beautiful woman!
“Well, thanks. We like it too.” I didn’t tell her the name had been my idea, or that my parents had originally named the place “Bella’s Wedding Facility,” after me. No, those days were long gone. So were the never-ending traditional ceremonies. These days we focused on theme weddings, and man, we’d had a few doozies!
She clutched my hand, her tender grip exuding love. “We’re so happy to be here. I hope once you hear us play, you’ll invite us back.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will.” I stared at the silver-haired darling, captivated by her winning smile. “This is a first for us,” I explained. “We used a smaller group of musicians at a recent Renaissance-themed wedding, but never anything this size before.” I gestured to the crowd of band members. “There are a lot of you. Good thing we have a big stage area.”
“Well, we’re growing every day,” she said. “We started out with three clarinets, and now we have six. Started with one trombone, now we have three. God is really blessing us, I guess you’d say. Our horns runneth over.”
I giggled and said, “He’s blessing us too,” as a ditto. As I glanced around, my curiosity set in. “Are you the only female in the group?”
“Yes.” She grinned. “I weaseled my way in about four months ago. Several of the fellas still aren’t keen on it, but I’d do just about anything to …” Her words drifted away, and she gazed at Gordy with love pouring from her eyes.
“Ah. Say no more. I get it.”
She snapped to attention. “Anyway, let’s just say I’m happy to be in the band. And I sing for them as well. Just wait till you hear our rendition of ‘Eight to the Bar.’ Gordy and I sing in perfect harmony. Every note in tune.” Her cheeks blazoned red at that revelation.
“Well, maybe that’s a sign.” I winked and then went back to talking about the facility, not wanting to get in over my head. I had a feeling Lilly and I would have plenty of conversations in the future. I also couldn’t help but think she and Rosa would hit it off.
“Gordy, what do you think about this space?” Laz gestured to the large ballroom where the reception would be held.
“It’s a great setup,” Gordy said with a nod. “I can’t believe this facility is so big. Looks smaller from the outside.”
“Yeah, these old Victorians can be deceptive,” I said. “But Pop did a lot of renovations before we opened up. Took down a few walls to make more room for the banquet hall and the little chapel. And you should see the backyard. We’ve got the prettiest gazebo in town. Great for outdoor ceremonies, though not at this time of year. We don’t get any requests for Christmas weddings in the gazebo.”
“So, the wedding will take place in the chapel?” Gordy asked.
“No, in here.” I pointed to the reception hall. “The chapel won’t accommodate the number of people we’re expecting.” “That’s right,” Laz said. “The ceremony and reception are going to be in the same room. We’re expecting a lot of guests and want them to be comfortable.”
“Besides, Rosa wants the band to have an active role in the actual ceremony,” I added.
“I think it would be a good idea to go ahead and play a couple of tunes while we’re here today,” Gordy said. “We need to get an idea of the acoustics, and that’s really only possible if we actually play.” He looked around, the worry lines between his brows now deepening. “Though, things will sound a little different when this place is full of people. It’s a shame we can’t test it with a crowd.”
“Maybe you can.” I gave a nod, convinced I could help.
“Oh?” He didn’t look as sure.
If only the fellow knew we had a crowd just next door. Then he would relax.
I smiled
and said, “Hold that thought,” then grabbed my cell phone and called Mama. When she answered, I could hear the sound of half a dozen voices behind her.
“Bella? Everything okay?”
“Yes, but I have a favor to ask. Can you bring everyone next door to the reception hall?”
“Right now?” She didn’t sound thrilled with the idea. “Why?”
“I’ll explain when you get here. Just trust me. This won’t take long, but we need everyone. And tell them to bring their dancing shoes and lots of smiles.”
“O-okay.”
As we ended the call, I turned to Gordy and grinned. “At Club Wed, you get what you ask for. You’re about to get a crowd.”
“Primo.” He gathered his troops, and they began to set up the stage. By the time Mama and the others arrived, the band members were warming up their instruments.
“What’s going on, Bella?” my mother asked, drawing near.
“It’s the band. They want an audience.”
“Ah, I see. Well, that we’ve got!”
A few seconds later, the room was filled with all of the relatives, and Gordy led the band in their first number, something totally upbeat and very swinglike, though I couldn’t place the melody.
“Oh, this is wonderful!” Aunts Bertina and Bianca spoke in unison. “Our very own private performance!” They stood with Deanna, clapping their hands to the beat as the swing band took to flight.
A couple dozen measures into the song, Uncle Emilio took Francesca in his arms and began to move her around the dance floor, though his movements were awkward at best. Looked like swing wasn’t exactly his thing. Still, he gave it the old college try. Watching them, I lost track of the difference in their ages. He seemed to come alive again. Like a kid in a candy store. Strange that music would have such an effect.
“Wow,” Mama said after listening for a while. “This band is amazing. One of the best I’ve heard. Where did you find them?”
“Laz found them on the Internet.” I raised my voice to be heard above the horns. “Can you believe it?”
“I guess that just goes to show you, you can find anything— or anyone—on the World Wide Web. Welcome to the twenty-first century!”
I had to laugh at that one, and all the more as she lifted the hem of her jeans and showed off the cowgirl boots she was wearing. I’d accidentally purchased enough boots to outfit a contention of rodeo cowboys a few months ago while planning my first Boot-Scootin’ wedding, and everyone in the family now had at least one pair to remind me of the fact. You really could find just about anything on the World Wide Web, even the things you weren’t looking for. I’d purchased the boots on eBay.
The first song ended a few seconds later. Emilio and Francesca finally gave up on their dance and retreated to the opposite side of the dance floor, where they stood arm in arm.
“What do you think of those two?” I leaned in to whisper. Mama’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it’s different. Sometimes …” She shrugged.
“What?”
“Emilio is your father’s brother, and look at how young and pretty his wife is. I just … I don’t know. I feel really old when she’s around.”
“Mama!” I’d never seen my mother as anything less than confident, particularly when it came to her appearance. She was the queen of makeup, after all, and had maintained a youthful figure. So this really threw me.
She shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s true. And did you see her in that negligee?”
“Who didn’t?” I tried to bury the sigh that rose up but found myself unable to.
Mama’s gaze shifted down. “I just wonder sometimes if your pop is sorry that he doesn’t have a pretty, young wife like that. Someone to show off to his friends.”
“I heard that, Imelda.” My father’s voice rang out from behind us. “And in case you’re really wondering, I have the prettiest wife on Galveston Island. I wouldn’t give anyone else a second glance.” He swept her into his arms and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Besides, you look as young as you did the day I married you.”
“It’s the hemorrhoid cream,” she said without missing a beat. “Ever since I started using it, I’ve lost most of the wrinkles around my eyes.”
“Strange,” Sal said, drawing near. “Been using it for years, and it hasn’t done a thing for my wrinkles.”
Mama and I erupted in laughter. Should we explain that she applied it directly to the wrinkles? Nah. Sal would never hear about her tricks of the trade, no matter how effective. Pop snorted too, and that got us all tickled. Before long, the band took to playing again, and we all hit the floor. I had the feeling this was just the first of many dances left to come.
7 Eight to the Bar
Life is filled with what I like to call “bada-bing, bada-boom” moments. These unexpected surprises always thrill and delight, because they are so, well, unexpected. We experienced a bada-bing, bada-boom moment as Gordy led the band in a jazzed-up version of “I Got Rhythm.” No sooner had his bandmates bellowed out the first few notes on their horns than D.J. and his mother, Earline, arrived at the wedding facility, along with three of my favorite women in the world—Sister Twila, Sister Jolene, and Sister Bonnie Sue. All three “sisters” attended D.J.’s home church in Splendora, and all three had become semi-permanent fixtures in the Rossi home over the past few months.
Now, these three bodacious beauties weren’t really sisters, and they definitely weren’t nuns. But in their neck of the woods—the piney woods of Splendora, Texas—every believer went by brother or sister. I’d learned to love both the terms of endearment and the people themselves. In fact, these women not only epitomized the love of the Lord, they kept me on my toes with their humorous antics. They’d even gone so far as to bail me out of jail during my last wedding fiasco—a total misunderstanding, mind you—so I owed them. And then some.
As soon as Earline and the three sisters entered the reception hall, Mama, Rosa, and I went crazy greeting them.
“What a wonderful surprise!” I gave the women warm hugs.
The ladies responded in kind and then turned to face Gordy and the other musicians. I could see the excitement on the faces of the ladies as they took in the swing band. These three were genuine music lovers. So was Earline, who would serve as pianist for the upcoming wedding. I had a feeling that’s why they’d come—to practice for the big day. Rosa and Laz must’ve set this up.
We managed to talk above the band, though they increased their volume as they went along. Gordy signaled for us to keep talking, probably trying to get a feel for what it would be like on the night of the wedding when the whole room was filled with talkative guests.
Sister Twila, often the ringleader of the trio, turned to Rosa with a smile and hollered out, “We’re so excited about the wedding! Thank you so much for asking us to sing, hon!”
“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have,” Rosa shouted in response. “You ladies are the best.”
She wasn’t kidding. They’d been quite a hit at the medieval wedding I’d coordinated a couple of months back, drawing rave reviews from both the crowd and a newspaper reporter who happened to be in attendance. In fact, they’d garnered such support that they had been asked to sing at Galveston’s famed “Dickens on the Strand,” a local Christmas event that drew tourists from all over the state. I’d seen a blip in the Galveston Daily about their rousing performance just this morning.
Thankfully, Gordy halted the band, and all of the men turned to look at our new guests, some with intrigue on their faces. Who could blame them? The trio of sisters always drew a crowd, especially a male crowd. I couldn’t figure out why none of the sixtysomethings had ever married. Sure, they were all plus-sized—and then some—but I’d never seen such pretty faces or better personalities. And talk about wardrobe! These women added a whole new dimension to the word sparkle. Rhinestones and glitter abounded, as did a frequent display of sequins when the situation called for it. Today, however, they were all dressed in slacks and T-shirts th
at read, Where’s the Beef? I’d have to remember to ask them about the shirts later.
“We’re here to run through our tunes with Earline,” Bonnie Sue said, looking around. “But I see that the band’s here, so maybe they could accompany us.” She looked at the sea of men, and her cheeks flushed pink. Turning back to the other ladies, she whispered, “Will you look at that! I’ve died and gone to swing-band heaven.” She began to fuss with her bouffant hairdo and pulled out a compact to touch up her already-too-pink lipstick. After a moment, she glanced down at her T-shirt and then at Twila with a horrified look on her face. She pointed down at the black-on-white tee and whispered, “I can’t believe you made me wear this! Of all the times to show up underdressed!”
“It’s for a good cause,” Twila said with a nod. She looked at me and explained, “We’re testing out these shirts for the barbecue cook-off in February.” She turned around, and I read the back: Shade Tree Cookers: Splendiferous Barbecue from Splendora, Texas!
It all made sense to me now. They were promoting Bubba’s upcoming barbecue competition. Cute.
“What do you think, Bella?” Twila asked, turning back to face me. “Make you hungry?”
I wasn’t sure I could answer that without laughing, so I just nodded. I did happen to notice, however, that a couple of the older guys in the band looked hungry as they gazed at our three new guests. Only, I had a feeling they weren’t hankerin’ for any barbecue. No, I saw a definite look of interest in the saxophone player’s eyes as he gazed at Jolene. She smiled at him and her face turned red.
Turning back to me, she whispered, “Someone hand me an umbrella! It really is raining men, just like the song says.” Reaching inside her purse, she came out with breath spray, which she used at once.
“I daresay, there are more handsome fellas in this room than we saw on our last cruise, ladies,” Twila said, her eyes bright with excitement. “I like that tall one right there.” She pointed to the saxophone player who’d eyed Jolene.
“I saw him first,” Jolene responded with a pout. “Hands off, Twila. Besides, you’ve already got a boyfriend.”
It Had To Be You Page 6
