The Chapel Wars

by Lindsey Leavitt

  “I just wish you had more time for a social life. You’re young.”

  “A social life. Yeah. About that.” Time to spill my recreational activities with Dax, except maybe not the other day when we snuck into the Twilight Wedding Chapel and made out for an hour, because I was still a little creeped out about that myself.

  What I could tell her was that even though we’d only known each other a few months, it felt like Dax knew me better than anyone, that he helped me know myself, that he wasn’t like his grandpa, that he wasn’t like anyone. That I had this constant knot in my stomach because I was worried I was in love with Dax, and I worried that I was programmed wrong, worrying about something I should be happy about.

  But then the groom’s mom came over asking for more feathers for the bride’s hair and the moment was over, just like all the other moments and opportunities I had to tell my parents the truth. Saving the chapel was the biggest deal right now, and revelations concerning my love life could wait until we weren’t in the middle of a ceremony.

  Although it seemed like we were always in the middle of a ceremony.

  I sat with James in the back row of chairs. We couldn’t have timed it more perfectly with the sunset and mild weather. James didn’t look up once, just played a video game the whole time.

  They skipped the bridal march and played a Jay-Z song instead. The bride’s dress was the fabric equivalent of a belt, and the groom wore a green camouflage suit. He fist pumped when she walked down the aisle. Thirty-eight percent success rate, if they were lucky. I’d rather marry a hairbrush than that groom.

  Or forget the hairbrush. Dax.

  “Blah-blah-blah,” James muttered under his breath. “How do you sit through so many of these?”

  “They’re not all like this,” I said. The bride and groom were slapping each other’s mouths with their tongues. Or maybe they thought that was a kiss.

  “Are you going to marry Dax?” James opened a whole pack of Smarties and shoved them in his mouth.

  “What? No. I don’t know. I’m not even thinking about that yet.” Or I’m thinking about that two minutes ago.

  “Fine. If you want to stay with Dax, you should have Minister Dan marry you. Then you can both die and our families will see that their fighting was wrong and come together and cry. Your only love from your only hate.”

  “You just summarized Romeo and Juliet.”

  He rolled his candy wrapper into a ball and flicked it onto the ground. “I know. It’s a movie. Claire Danes? She used to be kind of hot.”

  The groom tore off his camo suit jacket and tossed it into the crowd. They’d gone so far off script, Minister Dan just rushed a “husband and wife” and pointed them to the aisle. Instead, they decided to start making out again.

  “Is this about you wanting me to tell Mom and Dad about Dax?”

  “I just don’t know why it’s so hard for everyone in our family to be honest.”

  “Then tell them about your job at Angel Gardens. Or the ice blocking. Or any of the other fifty thousand stupid things you get away with.”

  “Are you serious? I don’t get away with anything. Mom and Dad don’t care about me, only my prison record. I’m their annoyance.”

  “A prison record? You’re being dramatic.”

  James dug at a small hole in his dark dress pants. “Therapist Whitney said it’s better to be a punk on the outside than to keep it all in. Mom and Dad know how I feel about things because I show them. You … everyone thinks you’re fine, but you’ve got this hidden boy and all the crap with the chapel and … I don’t know. Tell them or show them how you feel, or one day you’re just going to implode.”

  “I’m not a bomb.”

  “Tick-tick-tick!” James popped open his hands. “Boom! And there goes Holly.”

  “Fine. I will.” I wanted to go boom in James’s face. “After the ceremony.”

  The ceremony was pretty much over. The wedding guests were throwing feathers at one another, and Mom had to run in because they were essentially littering in a national park.

  “Everybody! Get in the party bus! I just got freaking married!” the bride hollered.

  Finally we were able to pack everything up and send the wedding party away. And just in time. The bride’s father and the groom’s mom were already making eyes at each other.

  “You didn’t tell them,” James said as he and I walked out to Mom’s car.

  “Shut up, I know. I’m going to.”

  “They’re going to find out sometime. I mean, Lenore knows, I’m surprised it’s not on a billboard.” James picked his nose. “And I still have that picture of you sucking face, by the way.”

  “So now you’re threatening me.”

  “Motivating you. Don’t be perfect for once.”

  I stared at my brother. The sun was down, the weather chilled. There was the faintest suggestion of a mustache on his Pony Boy face. “Just … get in the car. And don’t try to drive.”

  I stomped across the sagebrush and rocks. Why should I tell my parents anything when they told me nothing? They were on the other side of the hill, folding the fabric aisle. Their voices carried up, echoing against the canyon wall. The sound clanged, metallic and sharp. My parents were … fighting?

  “These destination weddings are ridiculous,” Dad said. “I can’t believe you said yes to this.”

  “Your daughter did it. Which is more than I can say for you. What have you done to save the place?”

  Dad dropped his side of the aisle. Dirt puffed into his face. “What have I done? Who’s taking the pictures?”

  “That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it? I can’t be home for dinner. Pictures. I can’t pay alimony. Pictures. I’m never going to make anything of myself because pictures.”

  “Oh, right. That’s our problem. I have an actual job and pay your child support—”

  “I wouldn’t call what you pay us supportive.” Mom yanked the aisle away and started to fold it herself. Her hair wisped limply out of her ponytail. “It’s a joke.”

  “This! This is why I hate destination weddings. I can’t stand being out here with you when you’re like this.” Dad smeared his hands against his dark jeans. “I hope this place does go under because I can’t stand seeing you every day.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t stand seeing you any day!” Mom screamed.

  The word “day” bounced across the mountain. Mom didn’t scream. That wasn’t my mom. These weren’t my parents.

  “You’re making a scene,” Dad said.

  “You started the scene. And we’re in the middle of the desert.”

  “That’s because you wanted to do a destination wedding!” Dad hollered, bringing the conversation full circle.

  “Um. Guys?” I called down. Mom and Dad froze midfold. Dad kind of shook out his shoulders before smiling up at me. I realized how rehearsed that smile was now. There wasn’t laughter behind his smiles anymore, at least not with us. “How long have you been standing around?”

  “Just got here,” I lied. “James and I were in the car.”

  Mom retied her ponytail. The dust swirled around them, clinging to their clothes, testifying that they were there, that the fight had happened. “Great! Your dad and I were just talking about getting ice cream together.”

  “Uh … I’m good.” They were crazy. Why were they acting like this? For my benefit? Pretending to be happy for that long when you aren’t was enough to make anyone explode. James would tell them that. He would tell them it was okay to say and do whatever they needed to be at peace.

  I didn’t say anything. I never did.

  “No ice cream. I’ve got a lot to do,” I said, like the old lady that I was. “I’ll be in the car.”

  “Great! Be there in a bit!” Dad called.

  I left them to fold the chairs. I left them to pick up the discarded feathers.

  I left them.

  I trudged back over the hill and slammed my door shut behind me.

  “So?
Did they get pissed?” James asked

  I flipped down the visor and checked my eyes in the mirror. My reflection blinked back. My eyes worked. What I’d just witnessed … that happened. “No … they were … fighting … when I got there.”

  “With each other?” James perked up.

  “Like … screaming.”

  “Why?”

  Why. How many times had I stared at those two and asked why? Maybe this was our answer. Maybe my parents had this whole other dynamic between them that we never saw. Maybe they didn’t like each other. Maybe all the small talk and civility was for show. Maybe … maybe they were trying to behave like adults.

  “I think … because they’re divorced?” I searched James’s face. “Or because … people fight?”

  “And you didn’t tell them about Dax first? Say something to start it?”

  “No. They were already going at it when I got there.” I pushed back my bangs. “They were fighting about nothing. Just fighting to fight.”

  James leaned back in his seat, a small smile on his face. “So they do fight, huh?”

  “It was horrible.”

  “That’s great,” he said.

  Was it great? I flipped the visor back up as my parents cleared the crest of the hill. There was distance between them, but no more than there ever was. There wasn’t any visible sign that they’d just lost it. I’d been looking for signs for so long, and I realized they were just experts at disguise.

  I twisted back in my seat and smiled sadly at my little brother. “Maybe our family is more normal than we thought.”

  Chapter 17

  February 13 was our Third Annual (and likely final once my friends went off to school) Valentine’s Bomb, in which we convinced Vegas lovers old and young that they are ready for the commitment of marriage, and that they would like to make that commitment at our chapel. As was customary, I paid the boys and Camille each twenty bucks to pass out a box full of flyers on the Strip. But this year, I also asked everyone to dress up in the costume of their choice.

  I preferred to have my face covered during such shameful promotion, so I got Dax and me Hello Kitty costumes on clearance. We waited for my friends at Ceasar’s valet. Within five minutes, Dax already had two toddlers hug his leg. One even screamed and begged for a picture.

  “Are you sure you didn’t get me this costume because you’re embarrassed of me?”

  I patted his paw. “No. That’s totally why I got you the costume. Plus, what if my parents stopped by—”

  “I know.” Dax did an exaggerated head shake. “You are going to tell them though, right? This is getting old, Holly. You can come to my house now, I want to go to yours. I want to be normal with you.”

  “We are normal.”

  “Really?” Dax motioned to his costume. “Even for Vegas, this isn’t normal.”

  It would take a lot of time before I was ready to show Dax The Space. My friends didn’t hang out there; I hardly did. And after watching my parents fight, I wasn’t sure I trusted them with Dax. They might say they liked him, but they were obviously good liars. “I promise, next week. We just need to get past Valentine’s Day.”

  “I don’t get why Valentine’s Day is so big to you. I know it’s a moneymaker, but is one day life or death?”

  “Absolutely.” A group of preteen boys catcalled. I gave them a submissive wave. “My grandpa had a lot of debt. We’re trying to renew our loan, and we need to show a drastic improvement in revenue before we meet with the bank next month. Valentine’s Day will put us over the edge.”

  “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

  “Yeah. Well.” I shrugged. “It’s over now. That’s why I’ve been doing all this aggressive marketing.”

  “And here I thought you had a costume fetish.” Dax tugged off his head. His frown was even more startling because three seconds ago he’d been sporting an innocent feline face. “There’s something I want to tell you. No, I don’t want to tell you, but I need to. I was going to wait for later, but it’s really on my mind.”

  “Okay?”

  “My grandpa and I had a big blowup today. I don’t even know if I’m going to work tomorrow.”

  “Why? Because of us?”

  “I just want you to know that tonight I’m here to help with your chapel.”

  “But why did you get in a fight?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s just making some stupid business decisions.”

  “Like with Angel Gardens?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know if he’s serious.”

  “What is he going to do?”

  Dax paused. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll tell you more when there are definites. I’m just sorry if I seem off tonight.”

  “We can go. We don’t have to do this.” I’d had two awful meetings with Victor; I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Dax. “Was it bad?”

  “You know how my grandpa can be.”

  “That I do.”

  “Anyway.” Dax shook his shoulders, his hands, like he was shaking the entire idea out of his body. “I just want you to know … you’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve done all this.”

  “Why are we talking about me again?”

  “Because you’re my favorite topic to discuss.” He grinned. “You’re up there with moths.”

  I rubbed my kitty head against his arm like a cat. “Even luna moths?”

  “You win.” He rubbed at my shoulder. Why hadn’t I dressed us like barbarians or something, Dax all shirtless and in a loincloth? “You beat anything.”

  “Thanks. I think you’re better than a luna moth too.” Good thing we were getting this goof talk over before my friends showed up. If Dax started talking like this once they got here, who knew what they would think. They being everyone but Sam. Sam would happily break into a country duet with Dax.

  I licked at Dax’s paw. “You’re sure it’s not just the kitty costume?”

  “Definitely not.” He laughed. “Actually, you should probably know, I love you.” And with that, he stuck his head back on.

  I went so stiff I swear my tail lifted in the air. Did he just say that? Did he mean to say that or did it just slip out? We were in fake fur tombs, and you don’t profess love next to the valet parking. Was I supposed to fill that hollow air between us with the same phrase?

  I mean, I might love him. I likely did. But I wasn’t a parrot. I wanted to say that when I was ready to say that, and that was such a big thing to say, especially after talking about his grandpa fifteen seconds beforehand.

  It helped that we had our heads on because I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me with expectation. The pause grew staler than the air inside our costumes. I waited … waited until something happened so I didn’t have to do anything myself.

  Something finally did. Sam, Camille, Porter, and Grant rolled in to the valet. A bachelor party behind us applauded when Porter and Grant stepped out as showgirls. I don’t know where they found costumes that somewhat fit, or how much it cost to rent the headdresses, but knowing them they’d spent the entire day preparing. Grant actually looked passable, with his long hair teased into a bouffant. Their leg hair poked out through the fishnets and the feathers didn’t do much to cover up their goods.

  If there was ever a time my grandpa was rolling around in his grave, this was it.

  “Your friends are representing tonight,” Dax said.

  “Yeah.” There were four valets. There were ten cars waiting to be helped. Eight luxury cars were displayed along the winding curb of the hotel check-in. One boyfriend professing his love next to me. “Thanks for doing this.”

  I could go back and ask more about the fight with his grandpa, but he’d leaped so far away from that topic with the L-word drop. Hearing something like that from someone who I could possibly feel the same way about … this must be how that three-year-old girl felt when she saw two Hello Kitties standing in front of the valet. Joy and a little bit of terror.

  “Do you have an
y lipstick, Camille?” Porter squished his lips together. “I feel like I need more lipstick.”

  “My cosmetics are way too high end for you.”

  Grant opened a tube of cheap bright pink. “Here you go, dude.”

  “I don’t remember dressing in drag being a part of our business marketing plan.” Sam readjusted himself in his Elvis suit.

  I slipped my paw into Dax’s. He loved me.

  “Are people looking at us?” Camille asked. “When Sam and I were here for New Year’s, everyone was looking at us. It was soooo embarrassing.”

  Porter stuck out his leg and did a lunge. “Oh yeah, they’re looking. And they’re liking.”

  “Where’s Mike?” Grant asked.

  I tried to glance at my watch but the only thing visible on my wrist was fur. “He said he’s coming.”

  “Can we go get some hot chocolate or something before we start this?” Camille asked. “This cape isn’t warm enough.”

  The doors whooshed open behind us and Mike jumped out, dressed in black and waving plastic samurai swords. We just kind of looked at him and then went back to our conversation.

  “Fine. Hot chocolate. Follow me.”

  We walked over to the pink-striped canopies at Serendipity 3, an extension of the Serendipity in New York. A lot of Vegas restaurants were New York or LA re-creations. I tried not to eat at these too often, knowing it was just another replica of a much better original. I liked my restaurants one of a kind.

  The waitress looked pained once she saw us circled around the table. Porter pulled out a small notebook from the confines of his fake bosom. He drew out a rough map of the Strip and started jotting numbers. “Okay, I think last year, going inside to the high enders was a wash.”

  “High enders?” Dax asked.

  “Bellagio, the Wynn, anything at City Center,” I said. “Rich people.”

  “They wouldn’t even touch our cheap-looking brochures,” Porter said.