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“None taken,” Chuckie said amiably. “I appreciate the staff taking care of me and my friends and associates. It’s why we’re at this complex.” I managed to keep my mouth shut, though it took an effort.
Sure enough, there was a hidden camera on Oliver. The security guard called in a couple of his associates to help escort Oliver for a more detailed and personal search. Chuckie gave each security guard a tip, for which they all thanked him as if he were the most important man in the world.
“How’d you know?” I asked quietly, as the guards hustled Oliver off.
He shrugged. “Some things are a given. A so-called photojournalist like Mister Joel Oliver always has more than one trick. Besides, I saw the flash when we were walking by.”
“How did you make out a camera flash from all the other flashing going on?”
He gri
“Will you ever teach those to me?”
“Sure. Your mother taught me most of them.” Always the way. Mom trained everyone but me, it sometimes seemed. Chuckie laughed at my expression. “But after your honeymoon.”
We left the Sports Book and went to THEhotel and up to the top floor. Chuckie headed us toward his side of the floor. “Um, I’m in the other gigantic room.”
“Yes, but Reader and your bridesmaids are not. So if you want to go cheat on Martini with me, your room is the right spot. If you want to hook up with the others and get the dresses straightened out, you have to go to my room. I’m sure you know my vote.”
“Oh, fine. Your room.”
“Step one of my master plan is achieved. She foolishly believed me.” He opened the door and I saw—what looked like an entire wedding boutique.
“Um, Chuckie?”
He led me inside. “Have I mentioned that I’m really rich, the Martini family is really rich, and you’re all still, technically, C.I.A. operatives? I mean, the aliens are still here, and until they safely leave or sign the ‘we love the Earth’ oath, you all, by Martini’s agreement and the original ‘we A-Cs love the Earth’ agreement, still work for me.”
I looked up at him. He was gri
“Yeah. That and three bucks will get me a small latte I get to drink alone.” He kissed my forehead. “I console myself with the fact that I get to watch the modeling session, seeing as I am representing the groom’s interests and allowed final say.”
“Wow. Money really does change everything.”
CHAPTER 60
“KITTY!” MY NAME WAS SHRIEKED by seven women in unison. This unison thing was getting out of hand.
Maybe it was wedding related.
I looked around. They were all giggling and laughing. Each one of them was in a different formal dress, and they seemed to be having a great time. “You guys aren’t drinking, are you?”
“Well, duh,” Lorraine said. “Serene, Claudia, and I can’t.”
Queen Renata smiled. “The rest of us decided to err on the side of safety. But Charles ordered delicious sparkling apple cider.”
“Oh, good.”
“Cheapest party I’ve ever thrown,” Chuckie said with a grin, as he filled up everyone’s glasses and gave me one. Crystal champagne glasses. I felt like a real grown up teenybopper.
Reader came out from the bedroom. “Okay, the gals are in a variety of bridesmaid dresses. You can’t really choose theirs until we have yours.”
“Hi, James, good to see you.”
“Yeah, on a schedule here. Chop-chop.” He grabbed me and pulled me into the bedroom. I expected some questions about Chuckie. I saw a long, mobile clothing rack with a lot of white dresses hanging on it. “I have an assortment here. I want to see you in all of them, even if you fall in love with one immediately. Got it?”
“Um . . .”
“Don’t worry about shoes or lingerie. Just go commando while trying them on; we’ll get appropriate lingerie once we’ve picked the dress and, of course, same with shoes. No worries about fitting, your breasts are perky enough that you can get away with no bra in at least half of these dresses, and you’ll be good enough to test in the rest.”
“Um . . .”
“Oh, same with veil. I’m not sure I want you in one in the first place, but it’ll depend on the dress.”
“Um . . .”
He took my glass out of my hand. “Right. This is a no-no around these dresses. You can have some in between changes.”
“Um . . .”
“Call me if you need to be zipped up. The girls are a little giddy, and I don’t want any rips or tears. The rejects have to go back.”
“Um . . .”
“What?”
“Where did these come from?”
He gri
“We’re having paparazzi?” I wasn’t putting anything past Reader or Chuckie right now. And Mister Joel Oliver certainly seemed capable of getting out of the clutches of the law with ease.
I got the cover-boy grin. “You do understand the definition of ‘might,’ don’t you? Now get out of that great outfit I picked for you and into the designer dresses I ordered for you.”
He zipped out of the room, taking my cider, and shut the door behind him. I stared at the dresses. I stared some more. I contemplated where to start. Had no idea.
Heard some more squealing and shouting. They were all having a lot more fun than I was. I was, I realized, intimidated by the array of designer beauty in front of me.
There was a soft knock, and the door opened. “Ah, what a surprise.” My mother came in and closed the door. “Charles called to let us know you were finally here.”
“Who?”
“Me, your grandmothers, and Lucinda. I told the other girls they’d have to wait for later.”
“Wait for what for later?”
“Your bachelorette party.” She said it like it was obvious. Then she sighed. “Kitten, just one question.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you love Jeff enough to live with him the rest of your life, deal with problems, worry about him, have his child or children, go through good times and bad, sickness and health, prosperity and poverty, times when you’ll hate each other, be bored with each other, wonder if you should have married one of those other options, and yet still stay with him, happily, both over time and in the end?”
I thought about it, about everything I’d been through with him since I’d met him a year ago. The great sex. All the times I’d harpooned him or he’d caught me. The fights. The making up from the fights. What I’d learned from him, and about him, and about myself because of him. The great sex. The way he never treated me as less than his equal. How he could protect me without making me feel helpless. How I couldn’t have any real secrets from him. How, when I got right down to it, I didn’t want secrets, in fact, loved that he not only could but would adapt to make me happy, help me feel secure, calm my fears. And, of course, the great sex. It was great because he was a god in bed, but he was a god in bed because he loved me and went out of his way to make sure it was great, every time.
“Yes.”
“Good. Then stop standing there panicking, get out of that Super Slut outfit all the men love, and start trying on dresses.” She took my purse and put it on the bed along with hers. “James wants us to start with the cocktail length ones. I think because he has his favorites already picked out but doesn’t want you guessing and being contrary.”
“That’s it? No hug? No atta girl? No other marriage talk?”
She gri