My turn now. I suppress a grin as I answer, “I do.” Keeping it simple, as I just want to get on with the celebrations.
Smooth puffs out his chest. “These poor misguided couples have said their vows, as witnessed by all who are gathered here today.” He sighs heavily, waits a beat, then starts, “By the power invested in me by the state of New Mexico?—”
“What the fuck?” Saint roars. “Have we gone through this charade just to find out you can’t even legally marry us?”
Short takes a step forward and it’s only my hand holding him back. “Are you fuckin’ with us?”
I, too, am anxious for the answer. I don’t want to go through this charade again.
“Calm your tits, just forgot where I am for a moment. I am a professional, non-denominational wedding officiant, able to perform ceremonies across all states.” He breaks off and looks at the audience. He steps forward, leaving me, Short, Pippa, and Saint in his wake. “I know we’ve got chapters here from all over, so if you’re looking for an officiant who will make your wedding personal, heartfelt, and unforgettable, whatever celebration, big or small, you’re planning…” He spreads his arms out wide and offers a cheesy grin. “I, Smooth, your friendly, reliable, and after today, experienced officiant, am at your service for a ridiculously exorbitant amount.”
“Bigfoot!” Short yells.
“Think we’ll pass,” an anonymous voice rings out.
“Oh, I don’t know. Might be worth it for the entertainment.”
“We’re not paying you shit,” Saint remarks, grabbing hold of his collar and manhandling him back into place. “You’re doing this from the goodness of your obvious black heart. And this isn’t the place to advertise your services.”
The audience, once again, cracks up.
Placing his hand over his chest, Smooth blinks fast as though keeping tears out of his eyes. “You wound me.” Then, after a beat for that to sink in, he’s all smiles again. “By the power vested in me by the state of Arizona, I now pronounce Saint and Pippa, Short and Bronwyn, husbands and wives. Will you all stand for Mr. and Mrs. Henley, and Mr. and Mrs.BeauregardRanger.” He waits for the clattering of boots and chairs to die down, then continues, “And thank fuck that’s over. Let’s get on with the celebrations. I need a fuckin’ drink, even if nobody else does.”
It's been the craziest wedding ceremony I can ever recall, but I know it will stick with me, putting a smile on my face everytime I remember. Even when we’re in our dotage, I’m sure it will make us both laugh.
Arm in arm with my husband, following Saint and Pippa, we make our way down the aisle as birdseed is thrown over us from all directions, making me glad the service is being conducted outside. Trip, I notice, is particularly enthusiastic, throwing handfuls at a time. Ace, standing beside him, is giving encouragement.
Knowing my son is safe with his friend, as myhusband– hell, even now I still have difficulty believing it – and I wander around, I lose count of the number of congratulations and best wishes we’re offered. Short gets his back slapped so many times, I resolve to find a salve for him later. Then we proceed to the reception itself, where, under Pippa’s guidance, the club girls have excelled themselves.
Grills groan under the amount of meat piled on them, and brothers take turns manning the hot coals. Heaps of hot dogs, burgers, steaks, and chicken start to pile up on plates, which are then delivered to tables already sagging under the weight of the pre-prepared sides. Buckets containing beer are scattered around. Pippa and I had decided to refrain from serving champagne, as it would be wasted on most of their palettes. I do have to step in fast, replacing the bottle of beer Trip’s taken with a can of lemonade.
Bullseye stands and whistles to get everyone’s attention, but I can’t remember a word of what he says. Short’s distracting me with murmurings in my ear about all the things he’s going to do to his wife tonight. His words make my core ache, and I just wish we were at home so he could demonstrate. I’m just happy Trip will be accompanying Ace to his grandmother’s tonight to have a sleepover.
While I suspect we’d both prefer to be somewhere private, we do the rounds, talking to brothers from the chapters that havetaken their time to help us celebrate. Finally, we get to the couple I’ve been waiting to meet.
“Short.”
“Tall.” Short has to almost bend in half to take the dwarf’s hand.
“Seems like you owe me money for helping you get your road name, else you might have been stuck withBeauregard.”
“Not you too,” Short groans. Ignoring him, he turns to Tall’s wife, who’s only a little shorter than me. “How you doing, Vella?”
“Good,” she answers, then adds with a grin, “Glad we came. That service was, um, interesting.”
“I’m trying to forget it,” Short replies, with a snort and a shake of his head. “But in the end, it was worth it. I’ve now got my beautiful wife.”
“Thought it was touch and go for a moment,” Tall butts in. “Wondered if the girls were going to take that officiant up on his offer.”
It’s so unlikely, a very unladylike laugh splutters out of my mouth. Then we’re all chuckling.
“Hey, Trip.” Short gets our son’s attention, and beckons him over. “Meet some old friends of mine.”
It seems Trip’s memory isn’t faulty, but then, Short’s often told him the story. He takes one look at the dwarf, grins, then says just two words, “You’re … Tall.”
“And that’s how it started.” Tall barks a laugh, reaching out to shake Trip’s hand.
It seems like it’s hours before Short and I have some time alone, but when we’re finally chauffeured back to our house, where we’ve planned to spend our wedding night, I, at last, have him all to myself. But I still have to delay what I planned to say to him, as when he immediately leads me up to our bedroom, it’s to find a bottle of champagne chilling, and strawberries and achocolate dip on the side. The bed itself is covered in rose petals, letting me know my husband is a real romantic at heart.
