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Chuckie raised his hand. “Look. This was being discussed before I had to assume control of Centaurion. Make a scene, start shouting up the cha
Martini shook his head. “We don’t trust you.”
“Jeff, has he lied to you about anything yet? Not trusting the C.I.A. I can agree with. Not trusting Chuckie seems more like kicking the one guy who hasn’t done you wrong just because you can. Of course, if he’s really that evil and my mother and I’ve just missed it for fifteen years, we could just not go on a honeymoon, and you could fight the C.I.A. about this.”
Martini gave a martyred sigh. “I do have a job to do.”
“Yeah, Jeff, you do. And, right now, your job is to marry Kitty and go on your honeymoon. My job is to cover your job when you’re on vacation or out of commission, remember?” Christopher sounded somewhat a
“Oh, fine,” Martini grumbled. “You could have shared this sometime other than right now.”
“It was relevant right now,” Christopher snapped. He looked at me. “So don’t worry—the friends and family members who need to have a different memory will all have the same one, congratulations, you’re marrying into the Martini and Rossi fortune. The others will have a suggestion implanted that makes them loath to talk about Jeff’s side of the family except in nice, vague, very human terms.”
“Hope it works. Claudia and Lorraine told my sorority sisters I was marrying royalty.”
Christopher shrugged. “If they buy it and they’re happy with that story, Naomi and Abigail will know. If not, Martini and Rossi.”
“I hate being royalty,” Martini grumbled.
“It’s a better cover than being a space alien,” Chuckie said. “Politically and just from a common sense standpoint.”
Martini glared at him. I heaved my own sigh. “Chuckie’s right. Jeff, you done sulking and stomping and attempting to wreck my cool coed bachelorette party?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
Christopher shook his head. “You get to go have a slumber party. I have to spend the night with him.”
“I’ll trade.”
Christopher snorted. “As if James will allow that.” He looked around. “Where is the drill sergeant, anyway?”
“Managing the photographer.” Chuckie sounded like he was trying not to laugh.
“What photographer?” I hadn’t seen any flashes.
“The one you were too into the concert and far too into making out with each other to notice,” Chuckie said, now openly laughing. “Ah, to be a rock star of any age. Walk on stage with a guitar, watch the women swoon.”
“Did the photographer take pictures of us making out?”
“Yeah,” Christopher said with a grin. “Glad Jeff’s been carrying you the whole time. You’re showing a lot of leg.”
“A lot of everything,” Chuckie added with an exaggerated leer.
Martini shrugged. “My arm’s covering anything you’re not allowed to see.”
“I hope.”
“Truth’ll come out in the darkroom.” Chuckie winked. “I paid for the photographer.”
“Oh, great.” I looked hard at Chuckie’s expression. He was definitely laughing at his own private joke. “Oh. No way. Is the photographer who I think it is?”
He gri
“Are you and James both high?”
Chuckie laughed. “No. We gave the World Weekly News the exclusive on the party. White’s team will alter anything necessary photographically, the rest of the paparazzi are shut out because the WWN people are keeping them out, and nothing’s happening here that would give anyone a reason to believe the A-Cs are anything other than what we’re saying they are.”
“While I can appreciate the brilliance in having one set of paparazzi in place to keep all the others out, Mister Joel Oliver is supposedly a photojournalist. How are we going to ensure the journalistic portion doesn’t get out of control?”
Christopher shrugged. “No one believes him, Kitty. And, frankly, it’s safer to keep him close so we can monitor what he’s photographing and who he’s talking to.” He grimaced. “I’ll take the risk Reynolds and James took with the photographer over the risk our parents took with telling everyone at this wedding who and what we really are.”
“I’m with White. Oliver’s thrilled to be getting the exclusive,” Chuckie added. “Believe me, he has a team of C.I.A. operatives and two A-C field teams assigned to guard him. Every person assisting him is either from my team, your mother’s team, or an A-C. His footage is being altered immediately, and the only conversations he’s catching have more to do with your clothing, or lack thereof, than anything else.” He flashed the exaggerated leer again. “From what Oliver’s already told me, he’s gotten some excellent shots.”
“Let me know if there’s anything really good,” Christopher said. “I’ll probably place a big order. Most of the guys want a shot of Kitty in her lingerie.”
“It’s an outfit. For clubbing. Like this is a club and I’m wearing it here, at a club. At a party at a club. Chuckie made me wear a jacket and everything.”
“Right. So, Reynolds, remember, pull out the good ones, and don’t let Kitty or Jeff see them. I figure we can charge, easy, ten to fifteen dollars a pop.”
“Oh, the shots of her butt? Those’re worth at least twenty-five per eight by ten.” Chuckie and Christopher were really cracking each other up. Of course, I knew my skirt was tucked between my bottom and Martini’s arm, and I hadn’t seen Oliver or a camera flash once this entire time, so I wasn’t overly concerned. If I’d really been showing that much, one of my relatives would have mentioned it.
Aunt Carla showed up, effectively breaking up our meeting. “So, Katherine, nice party. And, young man, you’re fine with her displaying everything she owns all over?”
Then again, maybe they were all just waiting for Aunt Carla to mention it.
Martini gri
“Have I mentioned I love you?”
“More than the guys in Tears for Fears?”
“Yeah.”
“More than the guys in Aerosmith?”
I had to ponder. “Yeah. Even more than Steven Tyler and Joe Perry. Put together.”
“Wow. Guess I’d better marry you, then.”
“Well, only if you want to.”
Martini spent the next hour or so showing me that he really wanted to. It was a great party.
CHAPTER 66
OF COURSE, READER WAS TRUE to his word and dragged the wedding party off at midnight. I made some Cinderella jokes he didn’t laugh at. I was allowed to stay with Martini all the way through the casino and up the elevator. Martini carried me through the casino—some I figured because he enjoyed it, some because I’d whined that we’d been here ages and I hadn’t gotten to gamble once, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
For once I didn’t feel like I was being watched. Apparently the plan Chuckie and Reader had in place was working. Let the one paparazzo in, and the others were miraculously kept out. Worked for me.
Reader actually let us take our own elevator but left Christopher and Chuckie stationed at the top floor and himself at the lobby level.
“James, you’re taking this whole Wedding Pla
“Uh-huh. The elevators send off major alarms if you stop them on the way up or down. I’ll be paying attention, but if you try getting off on another floor and hyperspeeding somewhere, we’ll know.”