Suddenly, marrying this woman doesn’t seem so terrible. My workaholic heart even points out that I can cancel all those dates and spend my free time doing billable work.
“I won’t even charge you the rush booking fee,” Jonny says, probably worried that we’re taking too long to decide.
“Rush fee, my ass. You wouldn’t have any work without us,” I say. “So shouldn’t you give us a discount?”
“My man.” He wags a finger with a big grin, flashing yellowed teeth. “You think you’re pretty smart, eh?”
“I know I am.” Harvard undergrad. Harvard Law. Huxley & Webber. Countless high-profile clients and cases won and settled. And I play a mean hand of poker against my brothers.
“He really is clever,” Lareina adds, her words slightly muffled against my chest.
“Fine, fine. Hey, I can be nice about it, right? Tell you what: ten bucks off, but not a penny more or I’m gonna lose my shirt. Come on.” He starts to reach for Lareina, then glances at my face, changes his mind and gestures for us to accompany him. “This way.” He points to a squat white building in front of us.
How could we have missed it? A garish neon sign bleeds blinding red and purple against the black sky. Strangers in the Night Chapel. Their specialty seems obvious.
We walk through a faux-medieval wooden door that has a black iron support beam across it, held by big black rivets. Thereis lots of red and white velvet. Fake blue flowers sit in a few white vases decorated with golden ribbons. The ceiling is arched with panes of…vinyl covers of Frank Sinatra records?
Jonny thrusts his palm out. “Payment’s upfront. Five hundred bucks.”
“Seems high for the venue.” I’m certain there won’t be any food or drinks. At least nothing decent enough for me to touch.
“Got your wedding bands? I didn’t think so. We provide them, included in the cost.”
“Gold?” Lareina asks.
He sniffs. “Of course. Together with certificates of authenticity. Now, cross my palm. Cash or major credit card. No financing, though.”
I’m skeptical about the pricing and the bands, but hand over the cash. You can’t have a wedding without rings. Even Huxley, who was forced into an arranged marriage, had rings. Of course, he had his custom-made at Sebastian Jewelry. I’ll upgrade our hardware as soon as we’re back in L.A.
Directly behind the altar is a stage, and on it is a Frank Sinatra impersonator, complete with a white fedora, shiny black leather shoes, and a pinstriped pale-beige suit that’s just a tad too large. At the sight of us, the band starts up, and he belts out “Love Is Here to Stay,” his raspy voice booming from the surround-sound system.
Horror slaps me hard. I glance at Lareina to make sure her ears aren’t bleeding, then touch my own. No blood.A miracle!
“Go on,” Jonny says, elbowing me. “March on up to the altar.”
“What happened to ‘Here Comes the Bride’?” I ask, still shell-shocked.
“It’s more unique this way, don’t you think? I promised you a ceremony you’ll never forget.”
Well, that’s true. The volume of the faux Sinatra’s singing is inversely correlated to his ability. He’s not only off-key, but the melody is unrecognizable. His range is unbelievably limited—he can handle maybe four notes at best—so when he can’t hit a high or low note, he substitutes one he can manage, then compensates by singing louder. Where he ought to croon tenderly, he bellows like a shipwreck victim who’s just spotted the coast guard.
Lareina is staring with a mixture of horror and incredulity. “I feel like they should pay us,” she yells over the singing.
“It’s just one song.” At least, Ihopehe doesn’t try for another. It’d be against every international convention on human rights. Hell, forget international—it’s against the Eighth Amendment. I can sue his ass for violating my constitutional rights!
“Could’ve been lovely. I like the lyrics.”
She looks down at her hands, her eyes wistful, and I want to punch the Sinatra impersonator for ruining the song.
“Maybe we should go somewhere with better music?” Her eyes dart back and forth between the exit and the altar. Jonny subtly shifts his weight and puts himself between us and the door, then mouths,No refund.
I narrow my eyes. Nobody stands between me and what I want. Should I push this asshole out of the way? It wouldn’t be hard. Bryce, Josh and I grew up wrestling and busting each other’s chops, and my brothers are bigger and stronger than Jonny.
But Lareina’s greedy aunt and step-cousin could be loitering outside. What are the odds I could take her step-cousin and the “guards” her aunt brought with her? I’m good, but against three guys, two of whom are pro?
Now I wish I’d taken up the offer to go to Thailand for a year to train with a kickboxing master, rather than heading straight to Harvard undergraduate to please my grandmother.Constitutional law is my superpower in court, but it doesn’t do much outside of it.
And if I fail, what happens to Lareina? Abused even worse by her relatives for money, undoubtedly. I look at her pretty face again, the wide, innocent eyes and sweet curve of her lips. I’m not sure how much she’s worth, but I’ve seen people give up their dignity and humanity over a few thousand dollars. Once her relatives bleed her dry, she’ll be nothing more than an inconvenience to them.
