Chapter 3
SERANA GONZALES
“When Zoey said that they were kicking off the wedding festivities last night, she wasn’t joking,” I said as I pulled on my gloves.
“Starla came by for coffee this morning and said they partied until the wee hours this morning, and when she left her apartment, there were still people sleeping on the lawn.”
“I remember parties like that.” Moe chuckled before she added, “Okay, that’s stretching the truth. I remember parts of those parties.”
“I guess they’ll have a little hair of the dog for this shindig.” Fiona laughed as she looked at the glass vases lined up on the counter before she said, “It’s so funny to me that Zoey’s in charge of hosting a tea party.”
“Zoey, the woman who is always covered in dirt, sweating her ass off because she can’t stay still, and probably doesn’t even own a dress, is hosting a tea party,” Moe cackled.
“I was at her house when she and the other girls were making the hats, and I will volunteer if they don’t already have a photographer scheduled to document this hilarity,” I told them.
“I’m surprised Zoey’s ears didn’t burn off with all the things Janis was saying about her yesterday.
She made macarons, mini scones, petit fours, and three kinds of tartlets for today’s event, and she cussed the entire time. ”
“Is there ever a time when Janis doesn’t cuss?” Fiona asked.
“No, and that’s why we love her,” Moe said cheerfully as she added water to each of the vases.
I followed behind Moe, dropping colorful marbles into each vase to help weigh it down, and then Fiona came along and tied bows with the ribbons that Zoey had provided for the task.
“I feel like this is a test,” Fiona said as she tied the last bow.
“Every day is a test,” Moe said grumpily. “A test of my patience when I have to talk to people, a test of my sobriety, also when I have to talk to people, and a test of my fortitude to stick to the decision that I’m never going back to prison.”
“Also caused by talking to people,” I chimed in.
Moe flipped me off as she grumbled, “Stupid should hurt.”
I ignored her and told Fiona, “Zoey isn’t testing us for anything, Fee. If she wants something, she tells us outright and then gives us the freedom to do what we were asked without micromanaging every little thing.”
“Whose bright idea was this shit?” Dixie Dean, a close friend of Janis’ who ran the catering company associated with her mom’s restaurant, Grazie’s, asked as she walked into the workroom pulling a wagon full of boxes.
Two young men who I knew were related to her somehow and also her part-time weekend employees followed behind her, carrying stacks of boxes.
“It’s too fucking early, I’m too fucking tired, and I don’t even like Bella Conner. ”
“Oh, shut up, hag,” Zoey called out as she walked into the workroom. “When we were dragging your ass away from the party last night, you were blubbering about how much you missed Bella and you couldn’t believe she’d abandoned us for a mobster.”
“That was the tequila talking,” Dixie grumbled. “In the light of day, I have come back to my senses.”
“That makes sense,” Zoey agreed. She smiled at us before she asked, “And how are my delicate flowers this morning?”
“We’re doing better than Dixie,” Fiona assured her. “We’ve gotten a lot accomplished already.”
“The rental company has already come and gone,” Moe explained to get Zoey up to speed. “They set up the chairs and tables and even put the tablecloths on for us,” Moe explained.
“I figured we’d lay down the runners when we put out the flower arrangements. That way, they won’t fly away if we get a breeze,” I announced.
“The gourds and mini pumpkins have been harvested, washed, and dried and are ready to be used as decor,” Fiona chimed in.
“Janis should be here any minute with the things she made,” Zoey said with a frown. “That should be fun to watch.”
“From a distance,” Dixie said with a laugh. “You should have heard her bitching about all the pastries she had to make yesterday and the day before.”
I giggled and said, “If I didn’t value my life, I would have recorded some of it.”
“How do I look?”
“You look great,” I assured her, a little confused since Zoey was wearing almost the exact same thing she wore every day.
“Only great? Give me something here, ladies! I dressed up for this.”
Moe tilted her head as she looked Zoey up and down and then finally said, “You’re right! You do look different!”
“For such a hardened criminal, you’re a shit liar,” Dixie grumbled.
“I do look different!” Zoey argued. She tugged at the collar of her shirt before she explained, “This is a new shirt, and these are my good jeans. I even did my nails.”
“Clear coat doesn’t count,” Dixie argued.
“It sure as hell does,” Zoey vehemently disagreed. She held her hand out and studied her fingernails before she said, “It took me forever to get the dirt out of my cuticles.”
“There are these places all over town where professionals will actually do that for you,” I explained sarcastically. I looked over at Fiona and asked, “What are those called again?”
“Hmm,” Fiona hummed, pretending to be confused as she thought about it. She finally said, “Oh, I know . . . nail salons!”
Joining in on the teasing, Moe added, “And they’ve got hundreds of different polish colors to choose from.”
“Clear is a color!” Zoey exclaimed. When we burst out laughing, she sighed and said, “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
Dixie was laughing so hard that it was difficult to understand her as she sputtered out, “Holy shit! That sounded like something Nix would say.”
“I’m becoming more and more of a Forrester every day,” Zoey said with a forlorn look. “I blame Garvey.”
“She’s a . . . Oh, God! I’m dying,” Dixie said through her laughter. She wiped the tears off her face before she yelled, “She’s a Forrester by injection!”
Zoey put her hands over her face as all of us laughed uproariously, and when she removed them, I realized she was laughing just as hard before she choked out, “I guess so, but at least I’ve joined the ranks of some really great women. Don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely,” Dixie said through her laughter as she pulled our friend in for a hug. “And I’m happy that you finally did.”
◆◆◆
CONSTANCE ROMANO
“Did someone torture you for information, or did you do this to yourself?” The only parts of Matteo, Luca, or Zach Campana that moved were their eyes.
The men who usually greeted me like a long-lost friend hadn’t done a thing when I walked in.
They reminded me of overcooked noodles - limp, lifeless and pale.
All three men were slumped over and looked half-dead.
“One of the creepiest episodes of CSI had a scene just like this. You’re freaking me out right now. ”
“When Mom gets here tomorrow, tell her I loved her and was a fighter to the end.”
Amalia, Rin’s cousin who had become a good friend of mine, laughed before she said, “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t think you could fight your way out of a wet paper sack.”
Rin’s sister Tana laughed even harder before she suggested, “We should call some of the Forrester kids over here and start a fight club. My money’s on . . . well, I’d put my money on any of them, including the toddlers, right about now.”
“Ruf’s little girl, Star, turns one next month, and I think she could take on all of them.”
“No, children are loud,” Luca moaned. He turned to Tana and Amalia with a look of anguish before he said, “So are the two of you.”
“What did they do to you?” I asked the men, none of whom had moved a muscle yet.
Luca groaned, and Matteo swallowed hard as if he were about to be ill. Zach just closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose and then slowly blew it out through his mouth. His next breath was a soft snore, and I realized he’d just fallen asleep or passed out. I wasn’t sure which.
“Have you already been drinking? It’s not even noon yet.”
“There was a party last night. I watched the progression on IG. If I had to guess, I’d say that they’re still half-drunk but already fighting the inevitable hangover,” Tana explained.
“So, these are the big scary mobsters, huh?” Amalia asked.
I laughed before I explained, “These are brothers from two of the four families. This is Matteo and Luca Russo and Zach Campana.”
“Color me unimpressed,” Amalia mumbled.
Tana giggled before she said, “They look like this, and it’s only the second day? They’re gonna need medical intervention by the day of the wedding.”
“Where’s Bella? Is she in this condition too?” I asked.
“No! She walked out of here like it was any other day. I was just shocked she could stand up,” Matteo muttered.
“Brett and Tabby looked fine, too, and they were walking!” Luca announced. “How did they do that?”
“Did anyone come by this morning?” Tana asked as she looked around. The house had a beautiful open concept that I instantly loved. I watched as Tana walked into the kitchen and stepped on the pedal to open the trash can before she laughed. “They already got medical intervention.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Did Bella have a friend come over this morning?” Tana simplified.
“Yeah. A woman named True came over and hung out with them while they were getting ready.”
“Who is that?” I asked as Tana and Amalia laughed at his answer.
“That’s a friend of ours who is a nurse. I’m guessing she gave them an IV to help them replenish and rehydrate their systems,” Tana explained.
“That’s cheating,” Luca growled.
“I’ve been calling to see if there was any way to get them seen by a doctor, but no one around here makes house calls,” Jersey, Zach’s guard, said as he walked toward us down a dimly lit hallway.
“I knew we should have brought the doc with us, but I thought we’d be fine since Frankie and Paula will be here tomorrow. ”
Paulie walked in behind him and frowned before he said, “I’m beginning to think they’ve been poisoned.”
“What were you drinking last night?” Amalia asked.