by Gina LaManna
I glanced down at my own, much smaller versions, and wondered if that was the reason no banker had proposed to me yet. I shrugged. Better off not to think about that now.
I focused on ignoring everything happening around me. Why couldn’t I have been born a boy? I’d be off in an obscure hotel room, locked away with Carlos and the other men playing poker, smoking cigars with beefy, scary guards watching the door. But no. Instead, I was trapped between a weepy set of bridesmaids fighting over an average husband and a sexy man I couldn’t have—and who wouldn’t help me out with the whole sobbing mess that had started off as Table 1.
Two seconds later, the two women were cat-fighting—kind of slapping each other, but too afraid to actually hit each other hard. That totally ruined my concentration on ignoring everything, and I made a small move towards the two ladies. However, they weren’t really in danger, as neither wanted to break a nail or have a visible bruise for the photos tomorrow, so I didn’t feel all that inclined to do much helping. I did more watching, feeling impressed at how aware even their drunken subconscious minds were about their physical appearance and ability to punch each other in places that wouldn’t leave marks. Or visible ones, at least.
Anthony, however, rushed over and in three seconds flat he had the women separated, their heels splayed at awkward angles against the ground. Anthony turned his head away from a nearly naked Kiki, her shirt still discarded at the dinner table and her skirt hiked up past the appropriate level, making it more of a halter top without a halter. I got the better end of the deal, pulling my cousin away. Luckily, Vivian sat down abruptly and slumped into unconsciousness.
Anthony looked at me over the two women. “Don’t you dare move a muscle. I’m going to deposit...this,” he nudged Kiki. “I will come back in two seconds. I expect you both to be here when I get back. Alive.”
“I’m good. I got a weapon.” I picked up a fork left over from dinner.
Anthony rolled his eyes and left the room with Kiki hung over his shoulder like a log.
I leaned over Vivian and lightly tapped her cheeks. “Vivian, honey, you’re getting married tomorrow. Wake up!”
“Joeyyy,” she mumbled. “JOE.”
“No, wrong man. You’re getting married to...” I stopped. I didn’t actually know his name. “A wonderful banker. Where is he tonight, by the way? People were asking.”
“He’s not feeling well.” She blew out a long breath. “All because of Leo. If Leo hadn’t fucking died...”
I perked right up, setting my fork down on the ground next to her. “Leo—what about Leo dying? Who did it?”
“Jealous, wanted job...Mafia...” Her breathing patterns were shoddy and her breath smelled like a dive bar.
“Was it Alfonso?” I asked. “Alfonso wanted a job in the Mafia, that’s why he killed him?”
“Mmmm,” Vivian said.
I slapped her cheeks again, just a teensy bit harder. “Vivian. Help me out.”
Her eyes focused for a brief second, and a flood of hope washed through me. “Leo. He died...before the wedding. All his fault.”
“What is all his fault?” I asked. “Why does it matter that he died before the wedding?”
“Who died?” Anthony strode into his room as Vivian lay back on the floor, eyes shut firmly. I had a feeling she had to do some snoozing before we’d get any more answers out of her.
Anthony swung her over his shoulder and I debriefed him on Vivian’s nonsensical mumblings.
“Hmm,” he said.
“Do you think it means anything?” I asked.
“I think we should ask her more about it tomorrow. Right now, there’s nothing that she’s gonna tell us for a few hours at least. You need some sleep, too.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I kicked the floor. “Not sure if I’ll be able to sleep after the events of today.”
“Be careful what you’re asking,” Anthony said, turning around.
I clasped a hand over my mouth. “I didn’t mean that. It wasn’t an invitation.”
“All right, then.” Anthony swung back around, Vivian in his arms.
We rode the elevator in silence this time, the smell of booze overpowering any romantic vibes from either of us. We tucked her safely into her room, where she’d stay with her parents, and then Anthony walked me to my door.
“Well, thanks for your help.” I looked up through my eyelashes, feeling a little bit shy for the first time all day. “I bet you’re ready to toss those two into Lake Michigan with a new pair of shoes, huh?”
“Who’s to say I won’t tonight?”
I opened my mouth to retort, but a low groan emerged from Anthony’s throat, and my voice vanished. He swooped a hand around my back and placed the other against the doorframe, resting both of our weights against the wall. He dragged my pelvis towards his and in a flurry of heat, I melted against his figure.
His lips were firm and soft, skilled at their task. His tongue slipped into my mouth and roved, taking it, marking it as his. My breath was lost somewhere in my throat, and the world was black except for his wonderfully luxurious kiss.
My arms crept up to the back of his head, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, my moan melding with his animalistic growl. The passion was palpable; our nerves and energy pent up from a stressful day coming out in one amazing kiss.
His hand slipped to the waist of my dress, tugging up the long material until my butt was exposed to the wall. I didn’t notice until he began playing with my panties, and I nearly collapsed when he snapped the edge of my underwear to my skin.
We parted on impact of the sharp pop of elastic against skin, both of us breathing deeply, a bit in shock. Both of us wanted more, I was sure of it. I was just as sure that neither of us was ready to go there. Or, at least I wasn’t. I did still need to shave.
“Good night,” I said. I turned and let myself into my room. I closed the door slowly, Anthony’s shadow unmoving until the deadbolt slid into place.
Chapter 8
The lights were off when I entered the room and the place was completely dark—almost creepily so, knowing that Joey was my only roommate. The last thing on earth I wanted was to slip into my bed and find him lying there, having accidentally passed out on the wrong mattress.
THOUGH MAYBE HE SLEPT naked, I thought, and in that case the lights off would be a good thing...
I stubbed my toe on the bathroom door and stumbled inside. I flicked the switch on and shut the door, but something caught in its path. I opened the door again slowly, just enough to dislodge whatever was blocking the hinge.
Some of the light from the bathroom spilled out into the room, and I shut the door as much as possible while maneuvering a discarded bath robe out of the door’s way. It was white and cotton; I must’ve dropped mine further from my bed than I’d thought. Either that or Joey had kicked it over here.
I went back into the bathroom, washed up and took care of business, still thinking about Anthony. I was partially annoyed at the mixed signals he was sending, and partially thrilled that he found me even the slightest bit attractive. Still distracted, I slipped into the bathrobe I’d rescued from the floor, realizing too late that it wasn’t mine.
“Ugh, gross.” There was an orange tint from his muscle grease decorating a section of the robe. What had Joey done to this thing? The string that cinched the middle together was also missing, and a long thread dangled from one of the pockets. I ripped it from my body as quickly as I could, thinking I’d have to shower all over again, just in case any of his gunky grease had gotten on my skin.
Nah, I decided. Much too late for that. Plus, I’d shower first thing in the morning before the wedding, and I had only touched the robe for about 1.4 seconds, max. I stepped into an oversized sweatshirt and soccer shorts instead, which I’d packed for two purposes: comfort was the first, and reaching the minimum level of attractiveness possible while staying with Joey, the second.
I slid under the covers of my bed, a welcome relief that it was clea
n and empty, and basked in the crispness of freshly changed sheets for a few moments. Sleep soon overtook me, and the sandman plunked some heavy bags of the good stuff onto my eyelids. I was snoring in minutes, dreaming of pleasant nothingness.
THE MORNING DAWNED brightly and in my face, the sun pelting me with harsh rays. I was sure they’d be pleasant after a cup of coffee and a bagel, but, pre-caffeine, they were like knives jabbing at my eye sockets. I curled farther under the blanket until someone pounded on the door.
I slouched deeper still.
They pounded again.
“Go away!” I yelled.
The pounding became incessant, like a hammer taken to my skull with a vicious passion. Not a relaxed knocking, but a tormenting, repetitive banging.
“Fine. You win. I give up.” I stretched as I simultaneously swung my legs around and peeled open my eyelids one by one, immediately shielding them from the second brightest thing in the room: Joey’s back. It glowed only a few shades darker than the sun, the rays bouncing off his skin equally unwelcome.
I peeked through a peephole and saw a mess of blonde hair and streaked mascara. Vivian. I steeled myself, whipped up an overly enthusiastic smile and a bubbly voice, and pulled the door open.
“Gooooooooood morning, Bride!” I smiled, proud my voice had only cracked once. Normally my speaking voice first thing in the morning sounded like a hoarse toad, except far less musical. My fake smile dissipated quickly at her tear-stained face, mascara running in thick black waterfalls down her cheeks. Her hair looked like it’d been pinned into an updo at some point, but had long since gotten depressed and tumbled down in a sideways rat’s nest.
“Honey, why are you crying? You’ve ruined your makeup.” I held out my sleeve, hoping she wouldn’t accept the offer.
She did. She wiped her cheeks with my favorite yellow sweatshirt, newly replaced after my car exploded in my first assignment, and I bit my tongue to hold back a groan of dismay. I went through yellow sweatshirts like people went through cups of coffee. And we’re talking disposable cups.
“It’s Kiki,” she said.
“Oh, Vivian. Ignore her. She didn’t mean what she said last night.” I pulled Vivian in for a gigantic bear hug, and she accepted it gratefully. I patted her back, firmly. “She’s an annoying B-word, anyway.”
Vivian looked revolted as she took a step back. “What? How could you say such a thing?”
I opened my mouth, and then shut it. Had Vivian been so wasted that she’d forgotten all of the horrible things that Kiki had said? That was a possibility.
“What about Kiki?” I asked, hoping for an innocent face.
With a bit of a defensive edge to her voice, Vivian leaned back. “I’m not sure I should tell you, if you think she’s a B-word.”
I sighed. “She’s not a B-word. I was trying to stick up for you.”
“She’s a bitch,” Joey said, appearing behind me in nothing but his workout Speedo.
I put a hand to the side of my face to shield the X-rated view.
“Shut up, Joey!” Vivian reached into her hair, withdrew a bobby pin, and pelted it at Joey, who cringed excessively for such a tiny object. Vivian sank to the floor in sobs, her voice hysterical. “She’s been kidnapped!”
“What? Are you sure?” I sank to the floor next to her, lightly patting her back as Vivian hiccupped.
“P-p-positive,” she said. “I’ve looked everywhere for her. Nobody’s seen her since last night.”
“It’s okay, we’ll get her back. She probably went for a walk this morning to clear the hangover. Or maybe she met someone and stayed in his room,” I said, already dismissing the idea. I knew Anthony had locked her in place. Plus, Kiki had been in no shape to score a man last night.
Anthony suddenly appeared in the hallway, bursting out of the stairwell. He wasn’t even a stitch out of breath, and I was a teensy bit jealous even though it was a highly inappropriate time to be analyzing such physical feats. Though it was hard not to watch him approach, remembering the sweet, passionate kiss we’d shared against this doorframe just a few hours before.
“Have you heard the news?” Joey laughed caustically.
Anthony gave a quick shake of his head. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, it’s really quite a shame.” Joey shook his head irreverently. “Vivian here thinks Kiki’s been kidnapped.”
I turned for a long second, giving Joey a death stare.
Then, with a foreboding ball of dread in my stomach, I grabbed Anthony’s hand and walked a few paces away. “You didn’t.” I poked his chest. He was again wearing a beautiful black suit, a red tie and sharply fitted pants, bulging in all the right places.
“Didn’t what?”
“You didn’t kidnap Kiki and fit her with those cement shoes we talked about, did you?” I prayed against all the odds he hadn’t.
“Of course not.”
“Good,” I said.
“Though I thought about it.”
“Not a funny time to think that.” I took a step closer.
He gave a little smile. “She’s not one of the Family, is she?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Some flaky friend. I’ve never even met her before. Vivian’s girlfriend du jour. She goes through them like I go through sweatshirts.” I sadly held up my blackened sleeve.
Anthony’s face had turned serious again. “Do you think this could be related to the other events?”
I shrugged. “Any word on the kid?”
His expression turned downright grim. “Nothing. It’s as if he’s a ghost.”
I gave a sharp nod. “I just hope the note didn’t signify Kiki’s end. I mean, she’s annoying as heck, but I’ll take her alive over dead any day.”
“Less paperwork.” Anthony nodded, and I wasn’t exactly sure if he was making a joke. I decided not to press.
“I’ll go console Vivian,” I said. “I hope this won’t push the wedding back.”
“Push the wedding back?” Anthony looked horror-stricken. “No.”
“But she was the maid of honor.”
“Disposable.” Anthony stood stock straight. Then he coughed. “In terms of the wedding, that is.”
I sighed again. “I’ll talk to Vivian. Maybe we can convince her to shape up and see the light. I think they’ve got honeymoon tickets booked already.”
“Where?”
“Vegas. Where else?”
Anthony blinked. “I’ll wait here while you talk to Vivian and get your things ready for the wedding. You’re not leaving my sight.”
He added the latter as I opened my mouth to retort that it wasn’t necessary.
“Go,” he said. “The wedding will wait for no one.”
“Anxious to get off this love boat?” I winked as I headed back down the hall.
Anthony took a long time to respond. I could tell he was struggling to come up with a politically correct answer in front of Vivian. “We already have the security detail planned out. It’d be a shame to waste all these resources rescheduling the damn thing.”
“Flexibility,” I called over my shoulder. “Ever heard of it?”
I didn’t wait for a response as I rejoined Vivian in the room. But even as I snuck a glance at the formidable figure in the corner of the hallway, I felt an odd mixture of emotions playing tug of war in my mind.
I knew for a fact that Anthony had brought Kiki upstairs and locked her in her room. But a niggling feeling in my stomach made me slightly uncomfortable. Hadn’t he been the last person to see her alive? Plus, he would’ve had access to her room, since he’d used her card key to bring her upstairs and place her in bed. I couldn’t believe it, not really, but still. Would he really have disposed of a woman—a human being—for being an annoying twat of a bridesmaid?
“Didn’t lover boy over there bring her up to bed last night?” Joey asked.
“What about it?” I said.
“What if he was the last person to see her alive?” He stepped closer to us, leaning his mus
cled body against the wall.
Vivian let out a fresh wave of sobs at the word alive.
“Who said anything about her being dead?” I said furiously.
To his credit, he reddened slightly. “I’m just saying, she’s gone, disappeared.”
“Go away,” I said to him. “This is none of your business. You shouldn’t even be here.”
I patted Vivian’s arm as she heaved another giant hiccup. “How do you know she’s gone for sure? Tell me everything.”
Vivian wiped her nose with my sleeve once more, my arm a helplessly limp noodle in her grasp. She sniffed. “Well, this morning I woke up and my headache was murdering me. And then I had a sudden memory of Kiki screaming at me and hitting me last night. I think maybe she took off her shirt. I walked right on over to her room—” Vivian paused and walked two of her fingers over the carpeted floor to illustrate her point.
“Got it,” I said seriously. “Great demonstration.”
“Yeah, and so I walked right on over to yell at her and demand an apology. After all, I’m the bride here.” She stuck her thumb in her direction.
“Right you are.”
“But she had a room with one of the other bridesmaids. The quiet one who went to bed early since she’s pregnant.” Vivian paused to demonstrate where the bump would go on a pregnant woman’s stomach. “So I asked her about it, and she said that man over there—” Here, she pointed to Anthony. “He came in last night and dumped her in the bed, then said Shut up and stomped out. He shut the door behind him, and when Debbie woke up in the morning, this note was where Kiki’s head should have been.”
Vivian bent in half and cried for a moment.
“What note was there?” I asked.
Vivian reached inside her blouse and dug around in her bra for a moment. The movement pushed her plastic D’s easily into the double D category.
“Nice,” Joey commented from behind me.
