by Angela Hayes
“You’ve mentioned that best man a couple of dozen times this evening.” Hope pointed out as she stirred the straw through her milkshake. Her dual colored eyes, a mirror reversal of my mismatched eyes, locked with mine from across the table.
“Have not.” I denied, pushing my now empty plate away. I’d forgotten that Hope could be just as astute as our older sister and was twice as snobby about it.
“Have too.” Faith counted efficiently blocking me in.
“Well, uh, okay. Maybe I’ve mentioned him a few times.” I back tracked, relenting under the power of my sister’s evil eyed glare. “I certainly wouldn’t say it was a dozen.” I grumbled.
“So, what’s he like?” Hope asked, leaning as close as she could get despite the table separating us. The glimmer of a twinkle in her eyes made her look more like her old self and I was happy for it. She could certainly use more magic in her wounded heart.
One of our previous lives hadn’t been good to her and it had left its scarring mark. Instead of forgetting it, leaving the past in the past, and starting over like I had, or even acknowledging it and moving on like Faith, Hope embraced her pain in an odd way. Her excuse was that it helped her to better connect with the clients that had yet to find the love of their life and were desperate to. In my opinion, which I’ve voiced more than once, melancholy never looks good on anyone. Period.
Shrugging I gave into the urge to gush. “He’s tall, over six feet. Dark hair, eyes so
black you could get lost in them. He reminded me of a caged tiger, wild and restless. Roooarrr!” I laughed, curling my fingers into claws to better make my point. “Broad shoulders. None to happy go lucky at the moment. Italiano!” I added in a whisper, hoping that Hope wouldn’t hear. She had kind of spaced out, her attention snagged halfway through my description by something at the bar behind where I was sitting. My guess, she had spotted a couple that needed matching. “You know, the usual.” I finished.
“Wait, what?” Hope shook her head as if she hadn’t heard me clearly. “Italian?!.” She groaned, focusing on the one word out the dozen I’d used. “Great, time repeats itself.” She exclaimed flinging her hands into the air. “I suppose he’s an artist.”
Drama queen much. “I don’t think so. I got more of a white collar impression.” I answered truthfully, my laughter at Hope’s horrified expression barely hidden.
“Good. That’s good. Acceptable.” Hope blushed, remembering the last time our paths had crossed with a man of Italian blood.
Twirling my straw in the last half of my milkshake I couldn’t stop myself from nettling her. “Why Hope? Feeling like a walk down memory lane, a little déjà vu?”
Faith snickered as Hope’s mouth dropped open. I grinned. I wouldn’t mind experiencing a little déjà vu with the best man, under much different circumstances of course.
“Certainly not.” Came Hope’s too fast reply.
“Too bad.” I said honestly. “You know you had fun. Faith and I did.” I crowed.
“I did.” Faith agreed, a big smile on her face.
I allowed myself a moment to gush before turning somber, trying to understand Hope’s aversion. “What’s there to be upset about? Five hundred years later, no one knows it was us. You’re such a tightwad.”
“Tightwad!” Hope exclaimed. “I know was us. Besides, what happened to the ‘No one will see it Hope. The war is coming Hope. They’ll burn it, and if it survives it’ll be too revolutionary and they’ll burn it anyway,’” Hope mimicked with accuracy. “The damn thing is hanging in France!”
I shook my head at Hope’s vehement dial. She was and would always be lost to the confines of modesty. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from trying to help her see reason. “We’re talking about fine art here Hope. You’ve been captured in oil and canvas for all the world to see time and again. You’re immortal!”
“I’m already semi-immortal.” Hope tossed back smartly.
But I could see her resolve beginning to falter as she looked away from me toward the bar again. “Your soul may be immortal. But not your body.” I corrected, allowing hurt to come into my voice. “Raphael did a great job. You were beautiful.”
Hopes eyes met mine, the last of her reticence falling away. In the short time we had known him we had all become truly fond of Raphael. “Beautiful my ass.” She answered, finally laughing. A throaty sound that was a close to real as I was going to get.
“No, my ass.” Faith corrected joining in.
“Here, here.” I grinned, raising my milkshake glass. “To Raphael who portrayed Hope in her modest glory. Who gave the world an awesome view of Faith’s backside, and gave me my first full frontal.”
“May it be the last.” Hope prayed, clinking her glass to mine.
“You know I kind of miss the red hair.” Faith said solemnly, touching her glass to ours. “To the Three Graces and to Raphael, may he rest in peace.”
“To the Three Graces.” Hope and I agreed in unison.
Fragments from the past given their due, Hope drained her glass, motioning for me to continue. “Tall, dark, handsome. Yadda, yadda, yadda. What else?”
“What do you mean what else? I was in a hurry remember, I didn’t get much more than that. Ask Faith, she saw him.”
“Please.” Faith snorted in her cup. “Two seconds does not qualify.”
When I found myself pinned once again by the all knowing stare all sisters seem to possess, it was my turn to throw my hands up. “Really! I never got a good look at him. More of a distant overall impression. One of pent up fury combined with an extra dose of sexy and a healthy helping of testosterone thrown in for good measure.” There was no need to mention the way my heart felt as he watched me from across the crowded church or what I had seen the second I‘d laid eyes on him. Thanks to the waitress bringing the check I didn’t have to.
“I got it.” Snagging the ticket, I dug through my purse for my wallet, missing Hope’s signal to Faith, drawing her attention to the bar. Neither did I see the answering smile that broke across Faith’s face or the wiggling of her eyebrows.
“Tall, dark, and handsome, huh!” Hope summarized for a second time. “Would you recognize him again if you saw him?”
Smoothing the wrinkled bills on the table suddenly took a lot more of my concentration than it required. “Sure,” I shrugged, trying to seem casual. His image would be imprinted on my mind for the rest of time. “You know how I feel about those Italians.” I teased.
“Oh boy do we.” Faith joked.
“What about that guy at the bar?”
“Where?” I demanded, turning my whole body to look over the back of the booth in the direction Hope had indicated.
Chapter 6
Knowledge Is Power
Danton
It had been one hell of a night and day.
The wedding that wasn’t had been over for nearly twenty-four hours. After spending the afternoon dealing with the necessary trappings of family loyalty, and playing errand boy as I helped to return a truck load of wedding gifts, I was sorely in need of guy time. Loosening the tie I wore I sat down on the bar stool to wait for my beer with my friends.
“Way to go DeAngelo. Heard you wormed your way out of that penguin suit!” Jon Quinn congratulated, clapping me on the back.
“You better take notes Jon, you might actually learn something.” I bantered back with an easy laugh. Jon and I had known each other since prep school, he’d never change.
“I did take notes, the most important one I’ll ever need. Never take the plunge.”
“Here, here. You said it man.” I agreed whole heartedly, clinking my beer top to his.
“Marriage isn’t that bad.” Our third pal, the newly married Rich Harrington put in with a frown.
“That’s not very convincing Rich.” Jon pointed out.
“It’s not like dating at all. It’s a whole other mine field. Not for the weak at heart, it is a journey full of hidden traps just waiting to take you out. Take it from me, o
nly the tough survive.”
Rich’s face was a study in abject misery as he reflected on what he’d gotten himself into. He looked like he was on the verge of pouring his heart out, but after the night I had I wasn’t so sure I wanted to hear it. Melanie had cried enough tears on my shoulder to flood a small city.
Jerking, I felt a shiver run down my back. An eerie feeling creeping over me. It felt as if someone was watching me.
Setting my beer on the bar I perused the crowd, letting my eyes travel casually over the people eating, drinking, and being merry. Catching the sound of female laughter I glimpsed a flash of blonde over my shoulder, a blonde that had my sense coming to life, my brain kicking into high gear. I had to see if it was her; the one who had crashed my cousin’s wedding turning her life upside down. Swallowing down the last of my beer I got to my feet. I needed some answers.
Chapter 7
Bob And Weave
Love
“Oh my gosh that’s him!” I yelped, fumbling to pull a menu from behind the salt and pepper shakers in an attempt to hide my face.
“Wowzer, he’s a looker.” Faith grinned, getting an eye full as the stalking tiger approached us.
“Oh be quiet.” I snapped, “You’ve already got a man.”
“Got him, but not holding him.” She refuted, “Still, I can look and appreciate the good works of our Heavenly Master.”
“Um, I hate to break up the lovely conversation you seem to be having, but…he’s coming this way.” Hope pointed out in her sensible fashion.
“Make him go away!” I hissed. This turn of events wasn’t her fault, but it should be. I wasn’t ready to face him. I needed more time to prepare. A century or two ought to do it.
“Why?” Hope asked in voice so sweet my distrust was immediate.
“He’ll kill me.” I insisted, hoping the gore of my demise would prod her into doing my bidding.
“No he won’t. He looks harmless enough.”
I did a quick double take. “What? Are you crazy? You need your eyes checked. That man definitely isn’t what I’d consider harmless.”
The tiger was gone and in its place something infinitely more frightening. The man was a shark, one who had scented helpless prey in the water and was moving in for the kill.
“Relax honey, it’ll give you wrinkle.” Hope encouraged, “Now smile. Here he comes.”
Thousands of thoughts coursed through my head, none of them in the best interest of Hope’s continuing health. Teeth clenched together I closed the menu, returning it to its place, and clutching the purse sitting in my lap in a death grip, I smiled.
Chapter 8
Enie, Menie, Miney…
Danton
Once I got a clear view of my destination I thought my eyes must be playing tricks on me. Either that or I had gotten drunk a lot quicker than I thought I had; too much left over alcohol in my system from the night before. Instead of just one, there were three blondes and they all looked alike.
In an attempt to clear my vision I ran my hands over my face, eyes closed. When I opened them I was still seeing in triplicate. Cautiously I took a few steps forward, realizing I was no where as inebriated as I had first assumed. Reassured I continued on.
A few quick determined strides had me standing over the table of blondes at a loss for what to say. Now that I was close enough to really see in the dimly lit restaurant I couldn’t help thinking that I’d made a huge mistake. Seeing the three of them together, I couldn’t be sure who had put a halt to the infamous wedding that was probably now being discusses at the tables around us.
They looked to be the same person. All three had the same sun-kissed skin, the same all American honey colored hair, pert noses, and rounded chins. Combined with their unusual eyes it made for a trio of interesting faces. Faces that caught a man’s attention and eyes that held, I thought for a second time.
I’d never seen eyes like theirs before, except for yesterday. They were amazing. Zeroing in on the two sitting together on my left I searched their features trying to determine their differences.
It was as if a battle of gems was taking place. Looking at the one closest to me, I noticed her right eye was a bright sapphire blue, the left a unique shade of purple. Looking past her face my brain processed the fact that her hair was long, really long. Banded back with a colorful scarf the curls laying against her back brushed the seat top of the plastic booth she sat in.
Next I observed her companion. Like the one before her they shared the same right eye, only instead of the left one being a matching purple it was a clear peridot green. Her hair had been pulled back from her face with colorful clips, hanging to her shoulder in choppy waves.
Looking away from her I took in the third blonde sitting alone on my right. Like the previous blonde, her eyes were also blue and green, only they were a mirror reversal. And her hair was much shorter, cut and curled like a young Elizabeth Taylor, leaving her pale neck exposed, highlighting her slashing cheekbones.
All three looked at me with the same expectant expression. It was mind blowing, identical triplets, and all of them were wearing shirts that kept their backs covered. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t tell which one she was.
“Oh, um, excuse me. I thought I saw someone I recognized.”
“That’s okay. We get that all the time. I‘m Hope,” The one on my right said. “My sisters, Faith and Love.”
Throwing up hands as they introduced themselves, I was left with no other choice but to introduce myself as well. “Danton DeAngelo.”
“Well Danton DeAngelo it’s nice to meet you, but we really should be going. It’s getting pretty crowded and I’m sure someone could use the booth.” The one named Hope smiled as she rose from her seat to stand in front of me.
“Oh, right. Sorry to interrupt. Nice to meet you.”
“No problem. Next time you’ll have to join us.”
“Okay.” I stammered, standing to the side so they could leave. Triplets, I couldn’t believe it.
Shaking my head I went back to my friends at the bar. She was one of them, I knew it. The eyes would be the key. I just wasn’t sure which color she was.
“Hey man, nice ladies.” Jon said with an interesting smile.
“Triplets, would you believe it?”
“No way.” Jon’s admiration was evident.
“Identical, except for the eyes.”
“And their hair.” Rich grumbled.
“Huh?” Jon grunted, sounding as dumbfounded as I felt.
Sensing the makings of an audience in need of some higher educating Rich perked up. Taking another sip of his beer he continued to impart a lesson he himself had learned the hard way.
“A woman’s hair can be changed as often as their g-strings. It can become a very critical point in a marriage, as I have learned. One that can make or break late night events, if you know what I mean.
“My wife has changed her hair ten times in the first year alone. They dye it, streak it, curl it, cut it, extend it. Don’t even get me started on highlight and lowlights. There is no end to the viscous cycle of what I’ve come to call Beauty Parlor Pandemonium. I even keep a book detailing the old lady’s appointments and pay her hairdresser and extra twenty to call and give me a heads up on any changes just to keep me out of the dog house.”
“And off the couch.” Jon laughed.
“That too.”
“Doesn’t look like it helped this time.”
“Nah, this is something different.” Rich disagreed, refusing to elaborate on the stresses of his marital life.
I was intrigued. This could be the way to determine who the wedding crasher was.
“Tell me what your well trained eye saw Rich.” I encouraged.
“Three beautiful blondes scattered across the board. Waist length, old fashioned and not seen as much except for celebrities and those who can afford extensions.”
“That would be Faith.”
“The charming pixie cut mixed with curls, sh
owing off facial features to their best, time consuming unless it’s permed or natural- high maintenance. I‘d go with natural since the one before her had curls also.”
“Hope.”
“Then you have the classic layers, an easy was to look elegant and carefree at the same time. A look that can be worn in a variety of way.”
“Love.” I ended, much the wiser.
By the time Rich was through with his description of the female hair, Jon was hooting with laughter.
“Keep laughing Buddy, just you wait until it’s your turn. You’ll come back to ol’ Rich for advice it the war they call marriage.” Rich predicted, downing the last of his beer. “Why are you so interested?” He asked me.
“One of them crashed Melanie’s wedding.”
Chapter 9
…Moe
Love
“That was close.” I breathed when we were outside, an entire building between myself and the best man.
“It’s about to get even closer.” Faith smiled, making me instantly wary. I knew what was coming. She’d seen it. They both had
“What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb.
“Look at him again and you tell us.” Hope challenged.
Dutifully I opened the door. Keeping to the shadows I stepped inside, just enough to get another look at Danton DeAngelo. There he was laughing with his friends, what a beautiful sight. Male perfection bathed in the same powder blue light that all souls gave off when they were destined to be together. Blowing out a breath I closed the door and faced my sisters. “He’s blue.”
“He’s not the only one honey.” Hope smiled, holding out a compact mirror she had pulled from her purse.
Snatching it from her I peered into the reflecting glass. There was my image, the one I’d spent twenty-five years looking at, the one I saw mirrored in the face of my sisters. Except, unlike yesterday, I could now see a tell tale blue glow around my face. Faint at first but growing stronger with every second. Closing the compact I could see the glow encompassing my hands. I looked down and around. Like a bad rash, it was all over me.
