Chapter 3
Mario
The driver didn’t appreciate the knife I’d stolen from Ringo. Holding it at his throat probably didn’t help. To appease him, I offered him a hundred dollars to cancel the prior ride and take me to the airport.
My mistake.
Instead of driving south, he drove north.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to go to the programmed destination.”
“No, you don’t. You canceled it.”
“Please, mister? Don’t kill me.” His hands were shaking.
Logistically, Ringo would expect me to divert the car to the airport. “Fine.” I’d find another ride from wherever this car landed. I’d have to plan how to avoid him when I got to the private flight hangar. I had a knife. Would I need more than that? Naw. I’d disarmed Ringo without even thinking.
“Thank you so much, I mean, for not robbing me or killing me, or—”
“Shut up and I’ll give you an extra fifty. Not one word, got it?”
He nodded quickly and zipped down the side streets to avoid the traffic on the strip. There was still a bottleneck by the convention center, and another delay as we passed the Stratosphere. I squinted at the road ahead. The only things up here were strip clubs and… wedding chapels.
Right. Her sister was getting married.
I felt awful now.
Well, more awful. Ringo nicked me good. I’d soaked through my shirt, and the expensive Italian wool suit jacket I wore was working overtime to absorb the blood. At this rate, I’d bleed out before I left Las Vegas.
The driver pulled into one of the larger wedding chapel complexes. The billboard overhead advertised complete wedding packages, including on-site tuxedo rentals and costumes for themed events. I handed off the fifty and got out.
Out of habit, I scanned the area for resources.
Across the street was a tattoo parlor. They would have antiseptic and gauze. I looked both ways and crossed.
The artist on duty took my cash, handed over what I asked for without questions, and let me use their restroom.
After wrapping the wound, I could maneuver much better.
Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I’d survive.
I just needed clean clothes. Preferably something without branding on it that would make me stick out in the exclusive airport lounge.
And I knew just the place. I prepared to cross the street again.
Right as I did, two things happened. First, a dog walker lost their grip on their diminutive Yorkie who got spooked by a motorcycle and sprinted ahead of me, and second, a gray sedan arrived at the chapel. Ringo stepped out of it.
The stupid dog ran straight at my nemesis.
But the traffic on the strip was faster than its little legs could move.
It froze right in the middle of a lane of oncoming traffic.
The owner screamed for help. I ran into the road, scooped up the dog, and sprinted the last bit of distance giving me the momentum to dive into the parking lot, cradling the bundle of fluff as I hit the pavement where I rolled to a stop at Ringo’s feet.
“Here.” I jumped up, handed him the dog, and slipped inside the wedding complex. That should keep his hands busy for a few moments.
Just before the glass doors behind me slid shut, the dog’s owner offered Ringo money for his heroic rescue.
He’d have to decline, then they’d argue over it, buying me two minutes while I found a place to hide. Excellent. Another plan sorted and executed without a hitch.
The garden chapel was too exposed. The main chapel, not much better.
It was all decked out like a gaudy renaissance castle complete with fog machine and guards flanking the fake royal officiant.
I wound deeper into the complex and checked doors.
The second door I tried was a large storage room or grandiose closet filled with costumes of every shape, size, and color.
Score. I wouldn’t even have to talk to anyone.
I searched through the racks. Tuxedos, suits, costumes…
I had my pick of the lot. I chose black in case the bandage I’d put on leaked.
Rolling across asphalt hadn’t helped any.
I tightened the bandages and slipped on a fresh pair of pants and shirt.
There was a matching cape with red lining on the hanger.
With it, hung a cheesy, white half-mask.
I wouldn’t need that, but took it anyway so I could slip through the hallways undetected.
The door opened, and I slid behind the racks, hiding from the trio of actors who’d just wrapped up the royal wedding.
“That’s almost the last show of the night.” One of the royal guards said.
“Thank goodness. My feet are killing me,” said a woman who slipped out of a maiden’s costume and immediately into a white gown with elaborate flowers sewn across the bodice and skirt. The officiate rummaged through the racks.
The second guard popped his head in the room. “Hey, has anyone seen the next bride? We’ve got the groom waiting, and the feed goes live in ten minutes.”
The officiate answered him. “She texted that she’s running late. Ride share issues.”
Whoops. That was on me.
He searched the rack I was hiding behind. I stayed excruciatingly still so he wouldn’t see me.
“Has anyone seen my phantom costume?”
I glanced at the white mask peeking out from under the heavy cape in my hand.
“There’s one over here.”
“I could have sworn I hung mine by the door. Oh, well. If the bride doesn’t show, I won’t need it. Can you help me with my wig?”
Two of the actors moved to the makeup area and the smell of solvent permeated the air. The door opened again. “The bride’s here. She’s meeting with the event organizer. It might not happen, folks.”
“Oh, thank the Gods. Valentine’s Day and the night before it are the fucking worst.” Guard one dropped his outfit on a stool, abandoning his costume change.
“It pays the bills,” the woman commented as she pulled the wig off the king’s head and rubbed at a stray patch of glue.
“Fuck staying. Tomorrow is going to be a killer. It will be fifteen hours of wedding insanity. I’m out.”
“Me too. Good luck with the Bridezilla.”
The two guards who’d spoken changed into street clothes. The woman and the officiate stayed behind, still working on the glue residue left behind by his elaborate wig.
I took a chance and slipped out of the area before someone else trapped me here.
Outside the room, I donned the opera mask and cape, pulling the stiff collar up to conceal the unmasked side of my face.
“Jerry! Room three. I need you.”
A woman stood in the hallway, holding the door open and frantically motioning inside. Reluctantly, I followed directions and went inside.
“Thanks! I’ll be right back; I’ve got to go collect the groom. She wants a refund. See if you can fix this, okay?” The door shut behind me before I could protest.
I turned around to see who “Jerry” was supposed to talk to. It was her. The twin to the bride, and the ride share requestor I’d almost flattened before I stole her ride.
“You.”
Her voice dripped acid.
“I’m… sorry?”
“Oh, you’re not sorry yet.” She stood up, her hands fisted.
“I can explain.”
“Can it. I just want my money back.”
My mouth opened and shut. “For the ride?” I could afford thirty dollars easily.
She waved that off. “No, they refunded it. For the wedding.”
I squinted at her outfit. She clutched a folder close rather than setting it down. “Where’s the bride?”
“Hopefully back at the hotel, packing. Thank goodness she’s showing some initiative. I swear this whole trip was cursed.”
Awkward silence followed her outburst. “I can’t help you with a refund.” I needed to leave.
“Oh, I know that. You’re just some rando, who… Why are you dressed like that?”
Uh… because I was bleeding? “I…work here?”
“Nice try. Tell it to someone who isn’t allergic to BS.”
The door opened at my back and I stifled the urge to stab the newcomer.
The woman who’d ushered me into the room shoved a young man in a tuxedo over the threshold, then ordered everyone to, and I quote, “Work this shit out. I’ve got a Clark County Marriage License Bureau Justice outside insisting on watching this one personally. We can’t cancel!”
The door slammed behind her.
“Ellie—” the newcomer started to say.
“Allie!” she corrected.
“Oh shit, my bad. Where’s Ellie?”
“I’m not telling you because you’re not marrying my sister.”
“But Allie, she has to. You heard the wedding planner, a fucking judge is out there.” He took a threatening step forward, crowding Allie.
I jumped into the breach, placing a hand on his chest to push him away. “Mind yourself.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
Given my costume, it was amusing to say, “Your worst nightmare.”
Unfortunately, it didn’t have the same effect on this peon as it did on people who knew who I was.
“Whoop-dee-do. This is between me and Ellie.”
“Allie.” She didn’t yell this time, but the warning bite in her tone was clear.
“Whatever. I’m getting married to one of you women tonight whether you like it or not.”
“Excuse me?” I said, inserting myself between them further.
At the same time, Allie said, “Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged.” Idiot boy tried to shove me aside to get at the woman.
I stopped his progress by twisting his arm behind his back. He fought it, of course. Meanwhile, I asked Allie, “How dead do you want him?”
She stared at me as if weighing my question seriously. “Dead enough to not get up for at least two to maybe five hours, but not dead-dead. I don’t want to be arrested in this dress.”
“Done.” I hit the boy on the back of the skull with the butt of Ringo’s knife. It was hard enough to drop him. Hopefully, it wasn’t hard enough to cause brain damage, but he’d definitely wake up with a concussion.
“Wow. You were serious.”
“I’m always serious.” To a fault, according to Ringo.
Speaking of the devil, I heard his voice outside charming the wedding planner. Another voice joined theirs, older and deeper.
I straightened my mask and quickly turned so my profile was hidden by the costume. I chanced a look in the room’s large standing mirror and caught sight of Ringo before the door closed, placing me, the older man and the wedding planner inside with Allie.
“What happened to the groom?!” The planner pointed at the unconscious imbecile.
“I clobbered him when he threatened me.” Allie jumped to my defense quickly. That would not do. I opened my mouth to correct her, but the wedding planner jumped all over me.
“And you just let her? Damn it, Jerry.”
I took off my mask. “I’m not Jerry.”
Her jaw dropped.
Allie’s notably, didn’t.
The older man slapped his hands together. “Oh, you must be the Eye-talian our little Ellie is marrying.”
Allie opened her mouth to say “Allie,” but I sent her a warning glance over the man’s shoulder.
“You have me at a loss, sir.” I held out a friendly hand to distract him from the barely breathing body in the corner.
“Oh, shoot, I’m Judge Stone, Oliver Stone, like that movie guy, you know the one.
I’m the Justice of the Peace around here.
And I owe little Ellie’s late grandfather a favor so I thought to oversee this one personally.
Did you know he signed off for the funds on the Sunrise Hospital himself?
” Oliver pumped my arm like the seasoned politician he was.
I smiled convincingly and kept an eye on Allie who was gearing up to say something that would straighten the whole situation out.
“Charmed.”
Allie sent me the stink-eye.
“But who’s this? I thought he was the groom.” The wedding planner pointed at the man-baby sleeping in the corner.
Allie answered, “That’s Johnny. Ellie’s ex-boyfriend…for a good reason.”
The wedding planner turned red. “Oh. I’m so sorry, he shouldn’t be in here. Maybe I should find a doctor or something?”
“You do that, little lady. I’m going to make sure the papers are all buttoned up here.”
The Justice stayed behind as the wedding planner dragged Johnny out the door.
Ringo stood with his back against the wall. This time, he caught sight of my face before I could hide. He smirked and lifted a finger by his waist. The gun he’d formed with his hand clicked once, and he winked at me. Then the door shut him out.
“Is there a back way out of here?” I asked.
“Please?” Allie added to my question.
“Oh, in a hurry? You two crazy kids. You’ll get the full treatment with the ceremony.
That includes a limo ride straight to the airport or the hotel of your choice.
You can skedaddle right out of the chapel through my entrance by the pulpit.
It’s all in your contract. Prepaid, no refunds.
” He skewered Allie with a raised eyebrow.
Allie blinked. “Who is going to officiate?” She glanced at me in Jerry’s costume.
“I am. I can’t have ol’ Alfred Pulaski’s granddaughter being hitched by some actor now, can I?”
Alfred…Pulaski? Son of a bitch.
Certain names are whispered in the circles I flirted with. Other names become legend. Allie’s grandfather fit into the latter category. “How do we get this limo?”
“Sign right here. Print your full name under it.” I did.
“And Ellie—”
“Allie.”
The Justice paused for a second, “Right, Allie. I must have heard wrong. Please sign here. Print there. Good. All done. Meet me outside in five minutes. Go through that door and don’t be late.” He pointed at a back door I hadn’t noticed.
“Oh, and Ellie, sorry, Allie, you might wanna put on your other wedding dress. That one’s got a stain on it. Your parents are already logged into the live feed, just like you requested.”
He chuckled as he snatched up the carbon copies of the paperwork we’d signed.
Allie groaned. “Shit. My parents were going to watch the show. I forgot about that.”