Chapter 8
FLYNN CONNER
“Are we doing this in shifts or what?”
I looked at my cousin Duke and said, “No. We’re all going to go in there, do our thing, and be done with it.”
“But none of the other men are here,” Duke argued. “They’ll have to come in and get measured and all that shit too.”
Dylan laughed as he pulled the door open for us. “The groomsmen are all the type of men who own custom formalwear they could pull out to wear on a random Tuesday. People like us come to places like this because we’ll only have to wear a tuxedo once or twice in our lives.”
“I’m in the wedding party, and I don’t have a tuxedo,” the older man who was standing next to my future brother-in-law conceded.
He looked like a typical biker with heavy boots, faded jeans, and a T-shirt that was probably as old as I was and advertised a Harley dealership somewhere in Alabama.
“I’m just as thrilled about wearing one as you guys seem to be. ”
“Conners,” Matteo addressed us en masse. “This is my father, Valentine Russo, but everyone calls him Stamp. Dad, these are some of Bella’s relatives. You’ve met Dylan and her brother Flynn, and these are a few of her cousins - Duke, Jaxon, and Deacon.”
We each shook his hand and then Dylan asked, “Who is up first?”
“I’ll do it. I’m on call in my truck,” Duke told us as he walked toward a man with a measuring tape hung around his neck and patiently waiting off to the side as we talked. “If you hear me screaming, come bail me out.”
“They’re not going to hurt you, pussy,” Jaxon teased.
“Listen, wearing anything but jeans is against my religion, so it’s probably gonna burn my skin when the material touches me,” Duke said as he stood before the tailor with a tortured sigh. “Do what you will, sir. If I start to smolder, just smother me with a blanket or something.”
“Won’t work. I tried to smother him with a pillow when we were kids, but he just kept kicking and fighting until our parents made me stop,” Jaxon announced.
“I’m surprised Aunt Reba stepped in,” Dylan said with a frown. He looked at Stamp and Matteo and explained, “She was usually the fuck around and find out kind of mom.”
“We were on a plane, and she was pissed that people were staring,” Jaxon added.
“The fact that he was sitting behind me when this happened caused some people to get a little testy,” Duke said over his shoulder before he followed the tailor into a fitting room.
“Mom and Dad were afraid they’d kick us off, and we’d miss our connection, but we did anyway when Vada had a meltdown in the terminal after she found out Cyrus had posted a picture of her asleep and drooling on the last flight.”
“I remember that. We used that picture to make memes forever,” Deacon chimed in.
“Fun times,” I said with a laugh. “We should find that and make some more. She’d love it.”
“Instigator,” Dylan said as he shook his head. “You’ll find that some of my family are a little more sane than others.”
“When you figure out which are which, tell us so we know who to fuck with,” Jaxon suggested.
“There are at least a million kids in their family, so the city let them build a compound to keep them contained for the sake of the town’s safety.
I had to request a day pass just to get them here,” Matteo said with a straight face.
“I must love Bella a lot because the paperwork was a real pain in my ass.”
Deacon ignored him and asked, “Why are we getting all dressed up anyway? What exactly are we supposed to do during this shindig?”
Matteo chuckled before he said, “Shindig? That’s a new one.”
“Your New York is showing, Matteo. You should probably tuck that in before an angry mob starts to gather,” Stamp suggested.
“We’re ushers, dumbass,” Jaxon answered.
“What exactly are we going to be ushering?”
I glared at him before I said, “A new era where blue collar Texas meets bougie New York.”
“I’m not bougie,” Matteo said as he furrowed his brow.
“Let’s circle back to the part where I explained that you and your New York people .
. .” I looked at Stamp and told him, “You’ve been here long enough to be lumped in with the Texans.
” When Stamp shrugged and nodded in agreement, I turned my attention back to Matteo and said, “You don’t need to stop in at the one boutique in our small town to get fitted for a rental tux because you already own one. ”
“More than one, actually.”
“Why?” Deacon asked.
“Why do I own more than one tuxedo?” Matteo asked.
“Try to keep up, buddy. Yes, that was the question. Why would you need more than one?”
“There are different kinds.”
“Of tuxedos?” Deacon asked.
“Now who’s not keeping up?” Matteo snarled.
“I’ll take the bait. As far as I know, a tuxedo is a tuxedo. You wear one at prom if you have a girlfriend who feels like she has to go, and then you wear one on your wedding day if you’re marrying the princess-type who wants to be fancy.”
Dylan snickered before he said, “I’m telling Bella you called her a princess.”
Matteo grinned before he said, “She’s gonna love that.”
Stamp was watching them with his head going back and forth as if it were a tennis match.
He laughed before he said, “Matteo, I was wondering how you’d fit in with Bella’s family since you’re obviously from different worlds, but I feel like everything’s going to be just fine as long as you never let them corner you somewhere. ”
“What are they gonna do to me?” Matteo asked with a smirk.
“Everyone in our family knows how to use power tools and operate large machinery, including cement trucks. I can’t imagine it would be hard to figure something out,” Dylan drawled.
Stamp cackled, but Matteo just frowned at the implied threat. “You know I could have you killed by dinner tonight, right?”
Dylan raised his eyebrows before he snapped back, “Bella gets irritated if anyone other than her looks at me sideways, so you go right ahead and do that, mafia man. See what happens.”
“This is fantastic,” Stamp sputtered through his laughter. “Son, I think you’ve met your match, and even if that’s not the case, they’re gonna keep you humble.”
I shook my head before I tacked on, “Or hostage.”
“When you dickwads are done, will you explain why I have to wear a tuxedo? And while you’re at it, tell me what I did to Bella to make her torture me this way,” Jaxon interrupted.
“We’ll be walking people to their seats. You know . . . ushering,” I said sarcastically.
“As if people want someone to tell them where to sit,” Deacon scoffed.
“Would all of you just shut the fuck up?” Duke snapped as he walked out wearing a tuxedo jacket with his work shirt underneath and trousers that were too long with his white socks peeking out below the hem.
“You’re just playing into the stereotype that people from Texas are all backwoods rednecks who pick their teeth at the dinner table and pee in the rosebushes. ”
“That’s a little harsh considering he was just asking about the necessity of having an adult tell another adult where to sit,” Jaxon said, defending our cousin.
A different tailor walked out of the backroom and smiled before he asked, “Who’d like to be next?”
Deacon sighed before he said, “I’ll go.”
“It’s like they’re marching off to stand in front of a firing squad,” Matteo noted.
“If you think this is bad, then you should have heard our dad and Uncle Angus when Mom broke the news that they’ve gotta wear ties,” Duke chuckled. “That was fun.”
I laughed before I said, “I bet it was.”
“Mom and Aunt Violet had to threaten them to get them to shut up about it.”
“What did they threaten them with?” Stamp asked.
Duke shuddered before he muttered, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
I laughed at his look of disgust and asked, “Did Aunt Reba threaten to cut him off?”
“I said I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“That’s a yes,” Dylan said cheerfully. “What exactly did she say, Duke?”
When Duke just scowled, I laughed right along with my brother and then asked, “Did she mention that you should take the dogs outside and find some way to entertain yourself for a while?”
“Fuck y’all,” Duke muttered.
“I’ll explain the context, but help me out with the details because I’m still a little cloudy on who belongs to whom.”
“See, that’s the difference between New York and Texas. He said ‘whom.’ Who says shit like that?” Dylan asked.
“Listen, barbecue boy, I’m sick and . . .”
“Barbecue boy? Seriously?” Dylan asked as he walked toward Matteo.
“Now, children!” I yelled as I hurried to get in front of my brother. “I thought we were past this!”
“Just because I didn’t go to some elitist college . . .”
“I didn’t say anything about college, asshole. When you walk into the room, it smells like smoked meat!”
I could tell by Dylan’s expression that he wasn’t really worked up, just itching for a fight about anything so he could blow off some steam, so I turned to face Matteo and said, “Tell Stamp whatever it was you were saying before this . . . whatever this was.”
“Such a mediator,” Jaxon teased.
“I’ve saved your ass a few times,” I reminded him.
Jaxon decided it was not the time for more sarcasm and explained, “Years ago, our grandparents built a house on a large piece of land behind the office of the construction company they founded with our grandfather’s brothers.
When our parents got older, they were allowed to choose a house design, and everyone helped build it on that same land.
We all grew up on the same street in a neighborhood made up of our family. ”
Stamp laughed before he said, “My old lady loves documentaries and true crime shows. I think I’ve seen something about some shit like that.”
Jaxon grinned. “We’re not that kind of family, but we did live within yelling distance of each other. As we got older and went to college or found our path some other way, we were given a plot of land and got to help build our own houses.”
“So, now your parents have one street, and you and your cousins have another?”