Chapter 34
CILLA
“Jet, this shop looks nicer than the last one don’t you think?”
Jet has become my faithful companion since being given the job of my protection.
He is far more than a bodyguard; he is like a younger brother who has a tendency to open his mouth and anything he’s thinking at the time spills out.
He doesn’t seem to have a filter, but I’ve been working on it, although I find his honesty hilarious at times.
“The outside looks well kept, it’s not shabby at all. But we’ll see if we have bitches inside the same as the other place. I’m not putting up with that shit in here, Cilla,” Jet has the look on his face that tells me he is ready to brew up a storm if necessary.
Patting his arm as he holds open the door, I give him a small smile. “Now, now, let’s be nice,” I murmur.
“Only until I don’t have to be…” Jet snarls quietly.
“What’s that, Jet?”
“Nothing, Cilla.”
Walking inside, I have to admit the shop has a welcoming feel. There are a lot of wedding dresses hanging on rails. If they are for sale, I don’t know, but I’m not looking for a normal wedding dress. I want to wear something easy, and that I might wear again.
“Hello, my name is Paris. Can I help you at all?” A young woman walks towards us with a beautiful smile on her face. She is stunning, with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and an aura that radiates warmth.
“Hello, Paris. My name is Cilla, and this is Jet. I’m here to find something to wear for my wedding, which is approaching faster than I thought it would.”
A sweet laugh flows over me, and again the beautiful aura flows from Paris. I’ve not met anyone with her aura for a long time, and it’s refreshing. I hope life doesn’t give her too many knocks to dim her glow.
“We have wedding dresses like these,” Paris points to a rack of ball gown-type dresses. “Or these, and these,” again pointing to different racks in the shop. “But if you are looking for something less flowing and would rather have a suit or a simpler dress, we can accommodate that too.”
“I’d like something smart, with a touch of class, but not frilly, or looking like the mother of the bride,” which I say, I admit, with a touch of amusement.
Paris gives me a huge smile while responding, “Oh, I understand, truly I do. Follow me.”
Near the back area of the shop, there is a section where dress suits and pant suits, long, mid-length, and short dresses are displayed. I walk along the display, and one catches my eye, but it’s in an insipid green. No way do I want that one, but the style of it is perfect for me.
“This one is ideal, I love it, but the color for me is ghastly. I don’t want to get married in green,” I turn to look at Paris, but notice Jet is grinning and something is about to come out of his mouth that I’m sure I don’t want to hear.
I point at him and shake my head, no, to which he shrugs and looks back at me with an innocent look. Yeah, as if I’m fooled!
“I wouldn’t want to get married in green either. I have it in cream if that is suitable? What size are we needing?” Paris asks and doesn’t make it sound like she would embarrass you for whatever size you happen to be.
I give her my size, and while she dashes away to check if they have my size, I look around the shop. Jet follows a step behind, and I look at him when he chuckles.
“What?” I stupidly ask.
“Look at this, Cilla. You’d look like a huge fucking marshmallow in that,” Jet replies as he gives the garment an offended look.
I roll my eyes, but underneath that I have to say I have to agree. It’s not something I would even consider wearing, but everyone has their own taste, and in this case, they are welcome to it.
“Oh, look, Cilla.” Jet is pointing at another dress and stepping closer. I don’t even try to stop the cringe that crosses my face.
“No, why would anyone want that?” I ask.
It is skin-tight, has a train that flows behind and a huge chunk of dress missing in the middle so you can see the person's navel, oh, and more than half of her breasts. Looking around the back…well, it doesn’t have one.
It is held together with a piece of ribbon.
“Holy moly, you could lose the dress walking down the aisle.”
“Can you imagine, Cilla? Walking down, calm and dignified, when whoops the ribbon came undone, and you don’t just have a nip slip, you have a tit slip, a full-on tit slip.
” Jet obviously finds this hilarious as he has his hands on his knees, guffawing.
If only he knew Bono and Tank were standing next to him in the same position, right before both of them wiped their eyes free of tears of laughter.
Pyro, however, is standing calmly, but when he looks at me, rolls his eyes, and I don’t miss the small uptick on the corner of his mouth.
“We have it if you would like to try it on, Cilla?” Paris quickly appears, and when she sees where we are looking, she grins.
“Oh, you found the dress.” Lowering her voice, she continues, “That dress slipped off the bride while they were in the middle of saying their vows. She gave the entire congregation a view of her entire back and ass. I only know because she tried to sue the shop.”
“Sue for what?” I ask, but before Paris can respond, Jet jumps into the conversation.
“Probably she had pimples on her ass, and she didn’t want her guests to see, or she wasn’t wearing any panties, probably a skank.
I mean a decent woman wouldn’t wear that dress in the first place,” Jet states all that with such a serious look on his face that I blink, look at Paris who is standing with her mouth gaping.
I lean over and push her mouth closed with one finger, which has the magical effect of her snapping her mouth shut right before a tinkling laugh burst out of her.
“Okay, Jet, be quiet now. I need to get this done because we have to get to the house ready for Miranda coming with all the details I have to agree to,” I say this quickly because I don’t want Jet playing to the audience, and I reckon Paris could easily become fascinated with Jet from the look she keeps giving him.
Two hours later; my kitchen table has sheets of paper, photographs, and a laptop open showing images I need to either agree to or find alternatives for.
Miranda takes a sip of her glass of soda while I look over the photographs of flower arrangements. “I like this one, Miranda. The lilac color is pastel, but not insipid. I agree to the flower options you have for me.”
“That’s good. I’ll make sure the florist is booked and everything is delivered early on the morning of the wedding.
I will be there early so I can make sure everything is as it should be,” Miranda points to the photographs from other couple’s weddings.
“This is a sample of the photographs you can expect. Click, oh sorry, that is Mary-Lee’s nickname.
You know the clicking of the camera. She has had that nickname since college.
Anyway, Click is professional and you’ll not get better quality shots than she’ll get for you. ”
“I like the way she takes relaxed shots, the ones that are not set up, like a model on a runway. Chilling out, smiling, hugging, all the ones that normally a photographer would ignore. I’d be thrilled if she could take the photographs for us.
” I give Miranda a bright smile because honestly, she is doing a great job as my planner.
“The caterer I suggest we use is Food for Thought. I have known Carol for years. She started her company after she divorced her husband and her daughter went to college. She is the most organized and particular about details person I know. She doesn’t miss a single detail.
Carol will not let you down, no matter what you ask of her,” Miranda I feel is doing her best to convince me to use Carol, and if she is convinced this woman can deliver, then I am happy to run with it.
“Okay, we’ll use her. Like I said, things the men can pick up and eat, or slap onto a plate, like thick steaks with side dishes they can choose from. I honestly am going to leave that with you, and Jet,” I say his name, and Jet appears from where he’d been loitering.
“I can do that, Cilla.”
“I know you can, Jet. I’m putting you in charge of the food and drinks.
I’ll tell Mason to give you full control of all of it, and that he has to keep his nose out of it.
” I smile when Miranda laughs and Jet puffs his chest out, looking like he’s going to conquer the world.
Pyro is shaking his head in amusement, but what worries me is the fact that he is still playing with balls of fire!
“Did you get your dress?” Miranda asks, taking me by surprise with the change of subject.
“Yes, I did. Paris was a great help. I was able to get a cream suit, and it is perfect for what I wanted.”
“She is lovely and I’m sure she would have done her best to find what you needed if it wasn’t immediately available.”
I giggle a little, then lower my voice as though I’m sharing something nobody should hear. “Did you hear the story about the dress?”
Miranda frowns, “The dress?”
“Yes, the dress with no back apart from a ribbon. A large gap between the boobs, and a nice round hole so the navel is on display, but had a longish train to it.”
Miranda cracks up laughing, “Oh no, she didn’t share that story?
Oh my, that was a sight to behold. The silly woman was wearing no underwear, so when the dress fell, she was basically standing in her birthday suit.
Her mother's eyes nearly fell out of her head, her father covered his eyes, and the guests whipped out their phones and were taking either pictures or a video of the whole thing.”
“You were there?” Jet asks.
“Yes. I was the wedding planner, and I told her at least four times that the dress wasn’t in theme with the rest of the wedding, but she would hear no objections to it at all.
It was one of four made, and so far no others have sold, but I think that could be because Paris tells everyone the story of the dress.
” Laughing again, Miranda wipes her eyes before taking a tissue out of her purse and dabbing them dry.
Later that evening, I told Mason all that was arranged, and about the dress, which he thought was hilarious and said he would have loved to see it. I’m not even going to mention that videos were taken, or he’d have Keys looking for them.
We sat at the kitchen table while making plans for the house we’d like to be built.
Mason had a far more elaborate idea than I had, but he convinced me that a vast kitchen, mud room, utility room, formal dining room, living room, and a basement were all very much basic requirements.
I wasn’t convinced that is true, but when he started on five bedrooms, six bathrooms, and other rooms upstairs I threw in the towel and told him to design it and I’d live in it.
Barefoot and pregnant I have to tell you crossed my mind.
“Are you listening, Cilla?” Mason asks with a frown.
Quickly thinking how I’ll get out of not listening, I hum. “Hmm, actually I stopped listening when you mentioned bedrooms and kids. You know we are already pregnant and you are adding more kids to the mix. But hey, we’ve not done that much practicing yet.”
“Not much practicing? Well, fuck we can remedy that right now.”
Mason whirls around, picks me up and runs up the stairs while carrying me. Yeah, you heard me, he runs up the stairs. “Um, don’t use all your energy, Mason, you’ll need some soon.”
“Don’t worry about my energy, Cilla. I’ll show you how much energy I’ve got.”
You know what? He shows me for hours and hours how much energy he has, and I have to tell you he has more than I have.