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It was just before noon now, and we were headed to the girl’s luncheon. I had no idea how Reader could be berating himself for forgetting flowers when he’d managed to plan everything else down to the smallest detail in a matter of hours.
This time I knew we had paparazzi because they were all over the place. The fine dining area wasn’t inside the casino, in that sense, and there were cameras and men shoving themselves at us. It was weird and not at all pleasant. The only one missing was Mister Joel Oliver.
My mother seemed unperturbed. “Why are you so okay with all this?” I hissed to her as we walked quickly past a clutch of them.
“It’s amazing. You work for Centaurion Division and have no idea of how this will play out?”
I thought about it. “Oh. Just like last night—Imageering will handle it?”
“And the reports will show that there was a huge wedding with a lot of money spread around. We call it a ‘cover story’ where I come from.”
“You want them here, don’t you?”
“I understand how to use and influence the weapons at my disposal, yes.” She heaved a sigh. “Somehow they made you a Commander and yet barely tolerate Charles. I wonder about Centaurion Division’s judgment sometimes, I really do.”
“I’m wondering about your judgment, so that’s fair. You really think it’s okay that they’re getting pics of you and Chuckie, too?”
She sighed. “An international playboy-millionaire being in attendance enhances the cover story. I’m your mother, where else should I be when my daughter’s getting married?”
“Chuckie honestly has a playboy rep?” He’d told me so, but I was still having trouble seeing it in my mind. I loved him, but I didn’t see Chuckie as Batman. Then again, maybe Iron Man—Tony Stark was brilliant, after all. I didn’t figure Mom would appreciate discussing which comics character Chuckie would most align with, so I kept these thoughts to myself.
“In the circles we need him to, yes, particularly internationally. It covers why he travels so much, has a home in D.C. as well as Sydney, and so forth. Why is this even remotely surprising to you?”
It was surprising mostly because I still wasn’t sold on the paparazzi being useful to covert ops in any way, but I decided not to argue this any longer. “I’m distracted.”
“Good line. Stick with it. Doesn’t work on me, but maybe someone else will fall for it.” My mother—the love was overwhelming.
We shoved through the men with cameras, and Reader deposited us at Shanghai Lily, then left to meet up with the other men, who were having their lunch across the way at Lupo. Strict instructions were left that I wasn’t to go to the bathroom alone, since I might manage to meet up with Martini and have sex in the middle of the casino or something.
Casino Security showed up and moved the paparazzi away just as our food arrived. I was impressed and was finally able to relax. I didn’t know how the celebs handled it on a regular basis, but I was fine with never seeing another camera again.
All the female guests were here with us, though my wedding party, complete with mothers and grandmothers, was in its own section. I tried not to think about the costs of this. I knew there was no way Chuckie or the C.I.A. was footing these bills, and, during the second course, I started to really wonder if Martini had any idea of how much money we were spending like it was water.
My phone rang. “How’s Lupo?”
“Food’s great. Is your theme for today ultra worrying?”
“Jeff, it’s just . . .” I didn’t want to say what it was in front of everyone, his mother in particular. My mother in the other particular.
He sighed. “James explained a little of why you might be worried. In our culture, the groom’s side pays for everything.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not. If you can’t afford to pay for everything, then you can’t afford to marry the girl. It’s an A-C thing. Ask Victoria, for God’s sake. Alexander just confirmed it’s still the same on the home world.”
“Okay, but still.”
“But still nothing. Baby, this is how we do things. I realize we added in some human customs, but marriages are a huge deal for us. Mate for life, remember? We do them big, we do them expansively, and we do them with gusto. Huh?” I heard him talking to someone else in the background. Martini started to laugh. “To reassure you and your father, no, this wedding is not going to cause me or my family to go bankrupt. Is that what you’re worried about?”
“A little.” A lot.
“Been saving for it for years. Now, stop worrying, and enjoy yourself. Because if you don’t, then that’s a waste of the money.”
He was good, and he was right. We hung up, and I decided to be a good girl and enjoy the heck out of this. Wasn’t too hard, I liked food, and this was good food. The luncheon lasted around three hours, which was nice because it was three hours I didn’t have to run to do something else. But, finally, it was time to head back and start getting ready for the actual wedding itself.
It was a blur of activity. Had to get the dresses and everything else. People had to run back for all the things forgotten the first time. And the second time. The paparazzi had to be removed again. And again.
The Mandalay Bay had a nice set up, and we were all installed into the various locations within it—women’s dressing room, men’s dressing room, and foyer for those involved but not intimately. The majority of our guests were being routed to the actual room where we were getting married. I caught a glimpse of Martini, but Serene dragged me around a corner so no unauthorized sightings were committed.
The A-C side of my wedding party had spent most of lunch explaining the ceremony to me. I’d already researched it and gone over issues with Richard, but we hadn’t had time to rehearse what, in fact, I was supposed to do once things started.
By A-C custom, if both parents were living, both parents gave you to your intended. I thought this was a nice custom. I wasn’t clear on the giving, but Mom assured me that Lucinda had given her the ski
Denise Lewis ran in. “We have a ring-bearer emergency.”
“What happened?” twelve women asked in unison. Yes, the unison thing was definitely wedding-related.
“Jeff’s nephew, George, has come down with some typical childhood ailment. None of the other Martini boys are old enough or young enough, at least according to James.”
Much consternation ensued. By A-C tradition, the ring bearer kept the rings secure and hidden until they were requested, usually in a suit pocket somewhere, so no pillow or ring basket or whatever was required, making it a fairly simple job. As far as the A-Cs were concerned, anyone could bear the rings and anyone could toss the flower petals, with no age restrictions.
Of course, Reader was representing the human view that said ring bearers and flower girls needed to be adorable moppets. I was fine with this, but whatever George had, I didn’t want, nor did I want him sharing the contents of his stomach with us, right moppet age or not.
“Could Kimmie carry the rings, too?” This was met with dead silence. “Or another girl?” More dead silence. “Okeydokey. That’s a big no.” I looked back to Denise. “You have two, right?”
“One boy, one girl.”
“Is your son the right age?”
“Well, yes, but, we’re not family.”
Lucinda and Mom both snorted. “Yes, you are.” The unison thing again. It never stopped being creepy.
“I think he’s elected. Stress James out, get him into a tux.”
“Raymond should fit into George’s. Do you want me to send him in so you can recognize him?”
My turn to snort. “He’ll be the incredibly gorgeous kid with perfect teeth and bags of charisma, right?”
Denise smiled. “Just like his father.”
“And mother. So, yeah, I think I’ll be able to spot him, even with all the A-C gorgeous around. So, let him stay with the men and be all manly like. Besides, Kevin’s a groomsman, so it’s all good.”