by Lynn Shurr
Joe Dean called out to Jackie, “Hey, Lesbo, don’t I look exactly like James Bond? I bet you can’t keep your hands off me.”
“You look like a waiter, Jerk,” Jackie replied.
“But yeah, I can’t keep my hands off of you.” She bopped him hard, but not in his throwing arm. Joe punched her back, but in a friendly sort of way.
The Rev held up his hands. “Peace! I feel like a waiter in this getup and you don’t hear me complaining.”
Standing nearby, Kevin Riley wore children’s dirty handprints and baby drool on his white coat.
Dexter Sykes, who had offered to take the wedding pictures as a truce offering, photographed Kev in all his grungy glory. Now that portrait would be one of her favorite momentos, Stevie was certain. Another image that pleased her in a different way—Kristen Riley, dressed in a white silk suit with a daisy in the buttonhole, her blonde hair in a tasteful chignon, holding her husband’s hand and weeping her tears of joy. Knowing Dex all too well, Stevie insisted on a contract where she got to select the photos that would undoubtedly be sold to every sort of celebrity magazine. Connor and Stevie knew they were destined to be on the cover of People again, but Dex did pledge to give the couple a free wedding album.
A reception for four hundred guests awaited the wedding party at the grand old Fairmont Hotel.
Amber and Marcello, who had not been invited to the ceremony, told Stevie they would spend their time at the reception profitably by handing out business cards to athletes they thought had modeling and advertising potential. Most likely they would also bore everyone by displaying baby pictures of their newborn, Gabriella Stefania.
Not caring much about the arrangements for the big bash, Stevie left most of the details to Margaret and the very competent staff of the hotel. She and Connor were married with happiness and laughter in the sight of beloved friends and family—all that really mattered.
****
The reception was another matter altogether.
The bride and groom stepped from the white stretch limo into a media event insisted upon by Margaret Stutes and the Sinners’ PR department. Camera flashes blinded the couple as they raced to the ballroom. Security guards wearing sunglasses to hide their shifting eyes verified each and every guest. The music inside the room ceased and was soon replaced by a drum roll.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce the bride and groom, Stevie and Connor Riley.” Good, the wedding singer recommended by Precious Armitage had remembered to call her Stevie, not Stephanie, and not Mrs. Connor Riley, as she and her new husband had agreed. He reeled off the names of the rest of the wedding party. Jackie’s outfit drew laughter, and the sweet children all dressed in white earned their share of ah’s even if they had gotten a little smudged during the marriage process.
Now past noon, Stevie figured they should start the buffet line. Personally, she was starving even if their guests had filled up on hors d’oeuvres and free drinks. She forked up a chilled lobster tail and selected one of the accompanying sauces, ran the gauntlet of tempting side dishes until she reached the rare roast beef being carved at the other end and found she had no room on her plate for the crepes being made to order with a selection of savory fillings or fresh fruit and assorted toppings.
Connor, managing to juggle two plates in his big hands, held out an empty for a crepe stuffed with blueberries and topped by a large dollop of whipped cream. “This is giving me ideas for the wedding night.” He kissed her cheek, and Dex set off his flash right in their faces.
“Great shot, Stevie. You are one of the beautiful people now.”
She did not feel like one or particularly want to be considered part of that crowd. Too much attention and too little privacy, as far as she was concerned.
They dined with four hundred people, few of whom she knew, watching their every bite which made her stomach jitter.
The band cranked up again and immediately, the lead man made a sad error. “The bride will now dance with her father.”
What father? She had forgotten to mention Dad was deceased. No one had given her away. They simply stood in front of the Reverend Bullock and got hitched. At the table directly in front of them, her mother dabbed at her eyes and frowned. The crowd parted. Coach Marty Buck, dressed in a tuxedo, claimed her with applause from the audience. Even her mother smiled—and gladly took her place with the coach after Connor cut in taking Stevie in his arms. Kristen and Keith Riley, two people still in love after all these years, joined the dance. Kevin led Merrilee to the floor. The Rev claimed Mintay. Stevie’s sister danced with her husband, and Joe Dean—that joker—took Jackie Haile out for a spin. They battled for the lead, dipped each other and brought the house down with their act.
Joe topped that with his James Bond impression performed to draw giggles from three busty blondes who immediately encircled him after his dance.
Stevie had no idea who they were or where they came from. Were they some of his list ladies he’d smuggled into the party? Oh, he was going ruin another chance with the Wish Lady if he kept this up. Unfortunately, Nell had not gone along with the first attempt to pair them and denied Joe after the Rev’s wedding. He’d run off to the islands with six of his list ladies to sulk, but she and Mintay agreed to give this match another try. The man was a menace to happily married men.
Stevie scanned the crowd. Where was Nellwyn Abbott? She’d invited that lady at the Rev’s wedding and followed up with the engraved invitation. Come on, who could resist an invite to a party like this?
Ah, there she was boxed in by the linemen. Her small form stood out in its floaty white dress with its blue floral print. Most of the female guests had elected to wear sophisticated black—mourning the end of Connor’s freedom perhaps. Good, Calvin Armitage had seated their special guest at a table with Precious and Sharlette right out front for Joe to see. Damn, Dex motioned them toward the four-tiered wedding cake. He enjoyed pushing the bride and groom around entirely too much. The pastry chef had done a magnificent job molding pale blue icing with white Swiss dots over the layers and ringing each tier with fresh daisies including the topper. The man hadn’t been at all put out by a request for Sinners’ red velvet cake on the inside. A groom’s cake of dark chocolate formed in the exact shape and size of Connor’s jersey with a big, red number eighty in the middle sat to one side. They made the first cut. They nibbled from each other’s fingertips, keeping a pact not to do any cake smashing. They toasted with champagne in three different positions and crossed their hands to show off their rings, his a plain broad gold band, hers slim and channeled with diamonds.
Stevie began to relax. Joe Dean had definitely spotted the Wish Lady. Like a shark scenting chum in the water, he neared her table. Seizing a tray of champagne flutes from a passing waiter, he went into action. Pretending to be a server, he played some kind of game with the drinks. Nell did not appear to be playing along.
The band struck up the schmaltzy When I Fall in Love. Perfect. Joe lost no time whisking the Wish Lady from her seat and out onto the dance floor. Nell tried to keep up a conversation; Joe kept trying to pull her closer, a repeat performance from the previous wedding. By the end of the song, he managed to tuck Nell Abbott under his chin and tight against his chest. And then, he escorted her back to her seat and left her entirely alone. Double damn.
“Stefania, at last I get you alone. You make the lovely bride. See my fotografia of your namesake, my beautiful daughter Gabriella Stefania.” Marcello waved a baby picture—actually more than one—at her. The infant already had a modeling portfolio, had posed for several ads, and her face appeared on a baby food jar, the Italian bragged.
“Yes, she is adorable. Where is Amber?”
“Amber, she floats around seeing if any big football player will sign with us for advertising. Me, I am soliciting the ladies. Too bad you are so old now, but good you get married to a rich man.”
“I think you should change that expression to
‘inviting the ladies to model’ b
efore you get arrested, Marcello.”
“Ah, yes. I misuse an American idiom. It is part of my charm, no?”
Much as Stevie wanted to say no, she agreed with him simply to escape. Where had Joe Dean gone? Kevin had Nell in his clutches on the dance floor. Had their quarterback sneaked out to have an orgy with the three blondes? She would not put it beyond him. Huge Calvin Armitage seized her for a dance and all her attention went toward keeping him off her feet. It wouldn’t do to have a limping bride when they made their escape from this chaos.
Only one more hour to go.
Finally, time to throw the garter and get rid of the bouquet. Connor drew the pale blue garter, which held up nothing at all, down her long, naked leg. Stevie Dowd hated pantyhose with a passion and what the guys saw drew appreciative hoots from the team. The groom wound up for the throw, and then Joe Dean, obviously roaring drunk, appeared from out of nowhere. How had he gotten so stewed since the last time she saw him? Nell Abbott would not be impressed. The quarterback snagged the lacy elastic band in mid-air and shoved it on his sleeve.
He pointed and said, “No way I’m gonna be the next to marry. Not ’til I hit forty and retire.” Joe reeled back into the crush leaving ’em laughing as usual.
The women lined up for the bouquet toss. Nell did not participate even though Sharlette and Precious urged her on. Instead, the clutch of daisies sailed into the hands of Margaret Stutes who had put on some weight in recent months. She wore a loose, animal print shift that only made her look dumpy, unfortunately. But, she did use her new bulk to shove her competition out of the way with the strength of a linebacker. Triumphant, she held the flowers aloft.
“Joe, Joe Dean Billodeaux, where did you go?” The cry drew cruel laughter. Stevie felt almost sorry for the woman with her pathetic crush on the quarterback. Nothing she could do about it. Her own ordeal was nearly at an end. She congratulated Margaret on her catch and thanked her profusely for all her efforts to make the reception perfect. She announced that the bride and groom wanted to leave and Margaret made it so.
Guests reached for the heaps of poppers shaped like little champagne bottles and the tiny bags of confetti in blue satin sacks embossed with the bride and groom’s intertwined initials. They pocketed the silver boxes holding the special chocolates bearing the Sinners’ red devil mascot and searched for handbags beneath the pale blue linens draping the tables. Some snatched up the daisy centerpieces as if they were prizes on the midway and stripped the daisy garlands off the pillars and the head table.
Definitely too many daisies in this room. What was left of the flowers were to go to patients in nursing homes; the remaining food to a homeless shelter. The down and out would eat like the rich and famous tonight thanks to Connor Riley.
Stevie and Connor sprinted through the rain of confetti and streamers released by the poppers.
Snapping pictures, Dex tailed them to the limo for one last shot.
“Good luck with this one, Stevie. I gotta go.
Heard a rumor Joe Dean is reeling drunk and picked up a teenager to take back to his place.” Steve paused as she bent to get into the vehicle.
“Joe wouldn’t do that. He’d never date anyone that young. It’s against what principles he has.”
“See the proof in next week’s tabloids. Bon voyage, baby.”
Dex took off running to his next opportunity.
Stevie settled in beside Connor and rested her head on his broad shoulder.
“Joe wouldn’t, would he?” she asked her new husband.
“I don’t think so. He’s still trying to get over that nightmare evening with Margaret Stutes after the Super Bowl. I didn’t think he’d ever get that drunk again.”
“Oh, I get it. Joe finally hooked up with the Wish Lady. She does look kind of young. What a relief.”
Connor told the driver to get going. They headed for the airport with a string of paparazzi in pursuit.
Having alerted the security people in advance, the celebrities raced through the metal detectors and claimed their small carry-ons with a minimum of delay. They split from each other at the restrooms and reappeared dressed like normal people, Stevie in jeans, T-shirt and ball cap, Connor wearing all black and his Sinners’ jacket. They made a U-turn and slipped back into the main body of the airport. Their limo still waited at the curb to take them back to the house on the lakeside. ****
Connor waited for his bride in the hot tub. Rose petals from the wedding ceremony still floated on the surface of the water. They’d made love once in the comfort of their own bed, but now the sun had gone down. The air and water matched temperatures. The stars shone overhead, winking in the humid night. Wrapped in only a white towel, Stevie came to him moving across the darkened deck. She flung the towel away, no sagging swimsuits or trunks between them now.
She settled her back on top of his broad chest and bent her head to nestle under his chin. He kissed the top of her hair and reached around to stroke her breasts with both hands. His erection popped up between her legs. She laughed and reached to touch him. No need to rush, no urgency now. “I’m glad we decided to come back here where it all started. The islands can wait another day.” She looked up at the stars and enjoyed the touch of his strong fingers.
“Me, too. It would be a shame to leave behind that big bowl of chocolate mousse Miss Essie put in the refrigerator. We can use it up later tonight. But our love did not start here.”
“Well, I doubt if they would let us in the Super Dome so we could do it on the sidelines this time of night.”
“Farther back, the day I sacked you into that pile of leaves at my parents’ house.”
“Not for me. I took a little longer. Thanks for waiting. I wonder if Joe Dean will ever know how to love like this. I tried my best to fix him up with the Wish Lady today, but he probably threw away that chance again by getting drunk.”
“You know what? Joe Dean Billodeaux is the last person I want to think about on my wedding night. He’s on his own right now.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Stevie stopped teasing him and turned over. She took in his fullness and moved slowly up and down.
Connor closed his eyes and enjoyed. But before he lost himself in her completely, he wanted to tell his bride one more thing.
“Stevie, you know what we got—it is a joy forever.”
Epilogue
Connor Riley played football for the New Orleans Sinners three more years. During that time, the Sinners took two Super Bowls. A severe knee injury in his last year of play told Riley the time to quit had come. He went on to football commentating during the season but became better known as a motivational speaker. He delivered the message of how to overcome fear with the help of friends and loved ones.
Retirement blessed the Riley’s with other rewards. Nine months after his last game, Stevie gave birth to their first child. Keeping her promise to Jackie, she christened him Jack Haile Riley.
Eighteen months later, a second child was born to the Riley’s. Joe Dean Billodeaux demanded to be named godfather to this one. He claimed as he held tiny Josee Deana Riley near the baptismal font, she had batted her long lashes over her big, blue eyes and given him a very sexy, toothless smile.
At the age of forty, Stevie mistook a third pregnancy for early menopause. She could no longer avoid naming a child after Rev Bullock who reminded the Riley’s often that his twins, Connor and Riley, and his youngest boy, Little Joe, were already in grade school. Still, he did not have his own namesake. Unable to foist the name Revelation Jeremiah on any helpless child, Stevie created one of her own, Arjay Bullock Riley. The Rev approved.
Retiring the season after Connor, he gave as his reasons a desire to serve the Lord and to spend more time with his family. Now, he had plenty of years to shape little Arjay into the football player he would become.
Merrilee, not to be outdone, gave birth to two more children, each born three months after Stevie’s babies. She named them Kelly and Keegan. Her last child arrive
d the year she turned forty-one, nine months after discovering Kevin kept a mistress in the French Quarter. The boy bore the name Quade Michael, but the family called him Quits. She continued to claim she was the better mother because Stevie had elected not to nurse. Because of Merrilee’s religious convictions, Kevin never, ever got a divorce.
Jackie Haile, who became known fondly to the Riley children as Uncle Jackie, gave the toddling Jack his first set of plastic golf clubs. Immediately upon finishing college with the business degree insisted upon by his parents, he joined the pro golf circuit where he succeeded brilliantly managed by his Uncle Jackie. The media dubbed him the White Tiger Woods. Within a year, he became known as simply the White Tiger for his blond good looks. Golf being so much safer than football, his career decision made his mother joyous.
At the age of sixteen Josee Riley, who had inherited a golden beauty and even longer legs than Stevie, was offered a modeling contract by the Amberello Agency. Stevie absolutely forbid this.
Sometimes, having Joe Dean as a parrain, a French godfather, paid off. He told her to ask her mother about the photos she had posed for wearing only sand, and he knew where her dad kept the posters, too. This made up for all the years of being dragged to sporting events and enduring the chronic joke about everyone standing up for her at a game and asking, “Josee, can you see?” As a small child, she had actually believed this.
At the age of twenty-one, Josee Riley posed for a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Photographed by, according to her, a gross, balding old lech named Dexter Sykes who claimed to have known her mother rather well, Josee gave up modeling for more serious pursuits.
As for Joe Dean Billodeaux, he quarterbacked until the age of forty, just as he said he would, and retired with five Super Bowl rings. Afterward, the Amberello Agency arranged several lucrative advertising and minor acting stints for him based mainly on his handsome, craggy face, but he preferred being at home on his ranch in Chapelle, Louisiana. Believe it or not, Joe Dean eventually did learn there was more to life than sex and football.
