An Important Notice to Readers...
Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience. Please be advised.
Thank You,
The Author
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| Cassie comes to town on Ted and Maureen's rainy wedding day |
The rain had turned to a light drizzle by the time she pulled into the Park West Hotel. The lot was crowded, a fact she was grateful for, leaving her the covert opportunity to park in a corner furthest from the entrance. Here, nestled amongst the multitude of cars, the dark blue Lexus would just be one of many non-descript vehicles. She congratulated herself for thinking ahead, and swapping the Florida plates for another set, these from Alabama, at a rest stop on the way up. If Beckett had somehow managed to deduce her car theft, he would at least be looking for a different set of numbers, even if he'd discovered the make and model of the stolen automobile.
Before heading to the hotel, Cassie Donaghue had driven past Holy Family, not slowing down enough to draw attention, but allowing enough time to verify that the bridal party was still busy inside the church. A group of guests had gathered outside under the shield of several umbrellas, apparently waiting to shower the newlyweds with rice, or birdseed, or whatever the hell was being used these days. Amongst the friends and family, she could make out a handful of sizable men, strategically set around the church perimeter. Although they were clad like everyone else, they had the rapt attention and guarded posture of someone on the job, not to mention a slight bulge under their jackets that screamed "I'm hiding something bad".
She smirked at the bastard's less than slick attempt at security. If he thought a couple of boulder shouldered goons were going to deter her plans, then he wasn't quite as brilliant as she had once thought. She'd faced professionals before. Hell...she had outwitted a crime lord for nearly three years. His sophomoric ideas of ensuring safety were downright laughable. Besides, the fates were, without a doubt, on her side. The horrible weather, and road delay, had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. For all intensive purposes, Plan B was the sounder of the two, and once again, she patted herself on the back for having the foresight to set up alternatives to the C4 idea.
Explosives were the fastest and easiest solution, and her father had always praised their big job mentality. But the use of something as volatile as C4 required both careful set up, and general privacy, both of which were at a premium in the current situation. In addition, a blast like that usually came with extensive casualties, and in this case, her desired victims were part of a short list. She didn't really need to take out half the town with them, although she wouldn't have minded seeing that self-righteous prick of a priest blown to a million pieces. She had never liked the man, beginning with their first meeting last summer. He had always seemed to be looking down his nose at her, judging her as if he had any right at all. When she thought about it, this whole mess was entirely his fault. It was that damn, interfering Fr. O'Kenney who had pushed his skanky sister at Teddy, offering her up like she was some cheap raffle prize at Sunday Bingo.
Yes, Plan B was definitely the way to go, despite its distasteful side effect. And it wasn't as if she hadn't pimped herself out before. It was simply a means to an end, a path she had willingly taken on more occasions then she could count. When she set a goal, it needed to be reached... no matter what the cost or complication. And who knew? Maybe the catering manager would turn out not to be nearly as gross as he had looked and sounded, when she sought him out in that kink chat room earlier last week.
Decision made, Cas grabbed the large handbag next to her, and began sorting out what she would need. Doing this in the cramped front seat of the car was not optimum, but driving around looking for a deserted restroom would take far too much time. She needed to be well situated inside the hotel, before the bride and groom made their way there. Checking in all directions, she verified that she was alone before beginning the process. Using a heavy band, Cassie bundled her dark hair in a smooth pony, then slipped the tight wig cap over it, tucking any stray ends under the edges. Satisfied her own hair was contained, she pulled on the short, silver gray wig, its ends cut in an angled bob just below chin level. Using the vanity mirror on the visor, she tugged and shifted until the hair piece stayed tightly in place.
Next came the contact lenses, changing her blue eyes to a muddy brown, which would eventually be topped by a pair of over sized, non-prescription glasses with tortoise frames. From an open make-up case on her lap, she quickly thickened her brows, added a heavy dark slash of liner, and shadowed the lids. She considered using dental cotton to pad out her upper lip, but decided against it, not quite sure what the online man might have in mind. It wouldn't do to have a wad of saliva soaked mess fall out of her mouth at some inopportune time.
Finished with her face, she pulled out the white chef's coat from a shopping bag on the back seat. Stopping in Connecticut for the item had cost her precious time, but it was the piece de' resistance of the disguise, and doubled to cover her tiny frame, giving her an all over, boxy appearance that was much bulkier than she actually was. She threw the lanyard with the Park West ID over her head, and giving a final once over look in the mirror, she headed for the employee entrance.
As expected, she was stopped by a thug with an over sized neck, who was busy checking a list of names attached to his clipboard.
"'Excuse me, ma'am. I'll need to see some identification."
Cassie held up the employee ID for him to see.
"Thank you, ma'am. I'll also need to see your driver's license, please."
"My license? Whatever for?"
"Special security policy, ma'am. I'd appreciate your compliance."
With a loud tisk, Cas dug through her bag, producing the fake driver's license she had created before leaving Florida the day before. "This is really a damn pain in the ass, you know. Standing here in the rain, dealing with this bullshit. I've worked here for six frickn' years!"
Taking the offered card, he checked her appearance against the photo on the license. For a second, she worried that she might not look exactly the same. When she had taken the photo at home on her computer, there had been a great deal more time to fuss with her make-up. But the thug didn't seem to notice, and with a grunt, attempted to match the name on the license, with the list on his clipboard. When he couldn't find it, he handed her back the card, and with an insincere apology, added, "Sorry, ma'am. Your name's not on this list. I'm gonna have to refuse you admittance.
"What do you mean you're refusing my admittance? I told you...I work here! I have an ID, for Christ sake! This is ridiculous."
"Look, lady. If your name is not on the list, you're not getting in until Monday. End of discussion."
"That's complete nonsense. This is a freakn' hotel. People are coming and going all the time. That's the damn purpose of the place. Guests come here to stay."
"Not this week end, it 'ain't. The hotel has been completely booked out for the next 32 hours. For a private affair. So if your name isn't here...", the man tapped a pencil at the clipboard, "you shouldn't come back until Monday morning."
None of this was a surprise to her. Today, everything was digitized, so she was privy to all this information long before she had reached this point. But for her plan to work, she needed to convince the dick in front of her that she was just a disgruntled, shrieking employee. "Listen, pal. I don't know anything about any list. Saturday's my usual day off, but this morning I got a call from Jeff to come in special. Seems there's some la de da party today, and he's short a sous chef. So I drag my sorry ass out of bed to come work, and now you're giving me shit about some damn list! Can you at least check with my boss? Jeff Porter. He's the catering manager here at the Park West. He can vouch for me."
"Sorry, ma'am. Orders are orders."
A tiny seed of worry began to wiggle around in her head. What if she couldn't get this guy to at least call over Porter? This whole operation centered on her getting access to the hotel's kitchen, but to do that she had to first get through the damned front door. With past problems of this sort, she had used seduction to work around them. But dressed like this, that was not an option. She was pretty sure he wasn't going to drop his post...or his drawers...for what he had already decided was a middle aged, frumpy cook. She'd need to try a different approach.
Cassie leaned against the wall, and rubbed her eyes, scratching the inner lid as she did so. The poke made them tear, and she whimpered in her best distressed damsel voice. "This just figures. Everything in my life is shit." The tears turned to actual weeping, and the man looked uncomfortable. Encouraged by his attention, she laid it on thick. "I'm sorry...but things have been so awful. My husband walked out on us...me and our son...a month ago. My Davey...he's sick. Has... cerebral palsy, and he needs so much care. I'm at my wit's end. I really need the overtime, and now, I can't even get to my job because I'm not on some stupid list." Her sobs turned to wails, and the goon, not wanting to deal with her on his own, signaled to a another team member 50 feet away.
Walking over to the entrance, the second thug made a face at the situation. "What's the problem? Our orders were clear enough."
Mr. Goon, shrugged, and looked sheepish. "Her ID and license check out, but she's not on the list. Says she was called in last minute."
"You know the drill. Only the people on the list gain admittance."
"Yeah, I understand that. But she says the catering manager can vouch for her. Can we maybe do a visual?" He lowered his voice, and added, "I hate to be a prick with this woman. She says she's got a sick kid. Husband dumped her, and she needs the cash. Besides, she doesn't look anything like the target. Not even remotely. And like I said, her IDs all check out."
"You know how the Colonel is about orders. He'll have our balls if we screw up."
"Yeah, but on the other hand, you know how he hates when we mess with civilians. Plus, if she's supposed to cook for this wedding, I sure as hell don't want to tell him it's our fault that his wedding dinner was all fucked up." When Thug #2 hesitated, Mr. Goon added, "It's no big deal. Keep an eye on her while I go find the catering manager. If he can give us a visual confirmation that she's who she says she is, than the problem is solved. Everybody stays happy...and we don't have to bother the Colonel, or crazy Nolan, at all."
Thug #2 thought a moment, and then nodded his agreement. "Go then. But hurry the hell up. I need to get back to the other post ASAP."
Cassie dried her eyes, careful not to smear the heavy make-up, and watched Mr. Goon enter the building in search of Porter.
Stupid asshole. Teddy should really have taken better care in picking his security detail. She straightened up, and spoke to Thug #2. "I really appreciate this. It's just so...complicated."
The man made a face, and folded his arms across his chest, but didn't comment further. They stood in the drizzle for several minutes, before Mr. Goon returned with the catering manager in tow. Cassie's stomach dropped. Porter was a whole lot worse than his limited appearance on their Skype chat. Grossly overweight, he was one of those men who insisted on wearing his pants below his hanging belly. Seeing him in person, the thought crossed her mind that maybe she had underestimated the dose of Ketamine, but there was little she could do about it now. She smiled at him, and tried to ignore the greasy slicked back hair, or the oozing, rubbed raw acne along his jaw line.
Porter leered back at her, and she worked at tamping down the rising bile, while Mr. Goon questioned them both in the presence of the other security guy. "So Mr. Porter, can you verify that this woman is Susan Santine? And that you added her to the kitchen staff just this morning?"
"Why...yes. Of course, this is our Susan." Like the dumb ass he was, Cassie watched him wink at her, and worried that the two men would think it odd. "I called her in...at the last minute. We're short a pastry chef."
Thug #2 was instantly on his stumble. "Pastry chef? I thought she was a sous chef?"
Realizing his mistake, Porter turned red, and stammered over his answer, Next to him, Cassie's anxiety level rose, sure that this idiot was going to blow the whole operation. "Did I say pastry? I meant sous chef. Sue's the best the Park West has on staff. I'm sorry, guys. This morning's been a cluster fuck. I got dinner for 400 people to worry about, and a pastry chef who thinks he God's gift to the banquet world. I just had a major blow out with the guy, and he's still on my mind. I apologize for my error. But let me assure you, this is definitely Susan Santine, she's a long time employee of the Park West, and I most assuredly called her in at the last minute because I ended up short handed."
Thug #2 was still not satisfied. "You are aware, Mr. Porter, that security is tight at this event, and that you were supposed to clear any changes ahead of time."
Porter ran a hand through his greasy mop, then wiped his palm in his pant leg. "Yeah, I am sorry about the mix-up guys. Sheriff Beckett was pretty clear on that, but like I said, the morning's been a disaster, and this monsoon weather hasn't helped. I meant to call that Mr. Nolan this morning, but honestly, among all the other shit happening, it totally skipped my mind. And I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't mention this fuck-up to the General Manager. The guy's a total jerk. He'd have my ass for it for sure."
The security guys looked at each other, and then Thug #2 gave a nod. "Okay, she can go in. But if anything else comes up, you need to notify us immediately. Are we clear?"
"Absolutely, gentlemen. I'll come see you personally." He grabbed Cassie's wrist. "Let's get going...Susan. We have lots to do...and so little time." Pulling her through the employee entrance, Cassie could only wave her thanks to the security detail, while the voice inside her head screamed,
Are you crazy, girl? This guy is a genuine creep. Porter tugged at her to hurry, not stopping anywhere, but proceeding directly to his tiny office, and then locking the door behind him.
Before she could take the lead, the disgusting tub of lard pushed her up against the wall, and began groping her boobs through the chef's jacket. "Hey, baby. That costume is pretty damn good. I almost didn't recognize ya out there. Good thing you you sent me that 'selfie' before that asshole came and found me. Otherwise, I mighta taken one look, and tossed ya a Milk Bone." He laughed at his own joke, and she tried not to gag on the putrid smell of coffee, tobacco and something rotting, wafting from his mouth. When she didn't respond to his attempt at humor, he gave her boob an extra sharp twist. "I hope you brought everything you promised."
"I said I would, and I did. But when we're done, I get full access to the hotel kitchen. That was the deal."
"Sure, baby. No problem. Just gotta promise me you ain't plannin' anything illegal." He pushed against her, grinding the lower half of his body into hers, and the nausea gurgled in the back of throat.
"No, 'Master'. Nothing illegal. Just some payback for a two-timing shit head ex-boyfriend."
At the use of the term "Master", Porter leered, then leaned over and licked her face. "Let me see the cuffs. They better be the real McCoy. Not those cheap ass novelty ones from China."
Cassie dug into her bag, and pulled out a shiny set of regulation handcuffs. "See. They're right here."
These used to belong to Teddy. It seems like irony that I'm using them today. Definitely Karma.
The man reached for the restraints, but Cassie jerked them back, and tossed them in her bag. "Not so fast...Sir." Choking on the words, she drew in a breath, and mustered up every once of her acting ability. "You didn't plan on us staying here, did you? Right here in your office?" It was imperative that she get him somewhere else in the hotel. In a room where he wouldn't be found for at least three or four hours, giving her enough time to take care of business, and quickly disappear before anyone was the wiser.
Porter pulled back, and growled at her. "You're not trying to Top from the Bottom, are you, bitch? 'Cause if that's what your into, the deal's off. I get enough of that shit from my Old Lady"
With a sweet smile on her face, Cas ran a hand over his pitted skin. "Course not, Sir. It's just...I like to play... a long time." She gave him time to let the implications sink in, and then continued. "Someone is sure to come looking for you here. We'd never have enough alone time in your office to...properly enjoy ourselves. Besides, I'm kind of a screamer. It wouldn't do to have someone hear us, would it?" Seeing that her words were having an impact, she went in for the kill. "This is a hotel, after all. I'm thinkn' Daddy can find us a room somewhere real private."
He approved of the idea. This was apparent in the sweat beading on his upper lip, and the increased grinding going on below. "Maybe you got a good idea, baby." Porter ran his tongue over the other of her face, and straightened up. "You wait here like a good girl. I'll go see what I can dig up for us." With a final pinch to her ass, he was out the door, leaving Cassie struggling to keep from throwing up.
When she was sure he wasn't coming back for awhile, she dug around in her bag for a bottle of hand sanitizer, and scrubbed the saliva off her face. She'd have to fix her make-up before heading to the kitchen, but the thought of his spit on her face made her shudder. Washed of his body fluids, she felt calmer, and prepared the rest of her materials. She removed the full syringe of Ketamine, tapping it to remove the air bubbles, and then checking that the little plastic tip covering the needle was firmly in place. Opening the chef's jacket, she stuck the syringe inside her padded bra, tucking it near the band so it wouldn't be obvious if things got far enough for her to be in her underwear. Once they were in the room, she'd find a way to stick the disgusting sonofabitch. ASAP. The Ketamine worked quickly, and he'd be out like a light for at least six hours. With Porter taken care of, she could could comfortably proceed to the hotel kitchen for phase two.
__________________________________
The rain had turned to a light drizzle by the time the photographer was finishing the last of the portraits at church. Fr. Kevin watched as the man fanned out his sister's dress for the third time, going back and forth to check its appearance in the camera's lens. The guy was a fanatic about the details, and the photos had taken way longer than anyone had anticipated. The guests outside in the rain were getting antsy as well as soaked, and it was a miracle that the groom was not fussing about the constant posing, as Beckett was rarely patient about anything.
Whatever had gone on between the bride and the groom earlier in the day, was now obviously forgotten. The newlyweds were the picture of wedded bliss, almost to the point of being over the top ridiculous. Neither of them could keep their hands off the other, and the photographer was more than annoyed at having to wait to take his shot while the two of them carried on with the "kissy-face" and fondling. Beckett was constantly moving his hands away from where they had been placed by the camera man, with them always ending up on the bride's derriere. Seeing the poor man's exasperation, Kevin spoke up, chiding his brother-in-law to remove his hands from his wife's ass, so that they could be done with the photos, and head to the reception.
Beckett's response was to remove his hands from her rear, and place them instead on her boobs, remarking with a grin, "You're right, Kev. This is much better." This caused the bride to giggle and half-heartedly attempt to swat him away, as her husband put his head back and laughed. The photographer, in frustration, threw up his hands, and declared the shoot over, warning that he'd need better cooperation at the reception if they intended to have any kind of decent record of their wedding day.
Fr. O'Kenney was sure that the man expected he, as a clergyman, to concur, and to aid in the scolding of the couple for their inappropriate behavior. But in his role as brother of the bride, he couldn't bring himself to rain on their happy parade. In truth, it had been a very long time since he had seen his Mo this happy and exuberant. Their mother's declining health, and that heart breaking situation in Boston, had sucked the very joy from her soul, and watching now, the way her eyes lit up and misted every time she looked at her new husband, made his heart swell. If she wanted to act silly and romantic on her wedding day, damned if he was going to be the one to tell her not to.
Maureen's behavior was a delight to watch, but it was Beckett's manner that surprised him the most. The entire time Kevin had known him, Ted had always held himself in check, never fully allowing anyone to read his feelings. It was almost as if he presented to the world only what he wanted to reveal in that moment, and nothing more. This morning had been no different. The man showed up calm and confident as usual, his face a mask that defied expression. Even during the awkward moments of the delayed bride, he had shown almost no reaction. But with Maureen's appearance at the back of the church, something changed. It was apparent first in his relaxed body language, and later in his jovial banter. A type of giddiness that was hard to explain, and fascinating to watch. He prayed this was a sign that Beckett's feelings for his baby sister were solid and honest, because up until that point, he couldn't have sworn they were.
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| Wedding photos at church...The bride and groom with Maeve, the flower girl (Brendan O'Kenney's youngest daughter) |
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| Maureen and her niece, Mary Margaret (Jamie O'Kenney's youngest child) |
Giving up any hope of support, the photographer began packing up his equipment, while the bride and groom made their way outside. He could hear Maureen fussing about puddles, and fretting over wet feet and a muddy hemline, to which her husband responded by lifting her up, and carrying her to the limo, much to the excitement of the crowd, who pelted the couple with a barrage of birdseed, while the bride shrieked and laughed.
Kevin followed behind them, locking up the church, and digging the keys of his rental car out of his pocket. He was interrupted by his brother, Jamie, who looked as if he had something pressing on his mind.
"You done, here Kev?"
"Yeah. The photographer had enough. The happy couple were doing their best to drive the man crazy."
"Imagine that. Red the Wrecker not following directions. Who knew?" They both chuckled, and
then Jamie got serious. "You got a minute? I have to run something by you."
"Sure. What's up?" The two men moved under the church's front awning, and out of the rain. "Were you aware that Patrick brought a date?"
"What do you mean 'a date'? Like a woman date?"
"Ummm...yeah. That's usually the way it goes. He's telling everyone that you introduced them."
"I introduced them? That's bullsh..." Remembering where he was, he corrected his verbiage. "Honestly, Jamie...I don't what you're talking about. I haven't seen Pat since April. Who is this woman?"
"He introduced her as Caroline Ryan. Ring any bells?"
Kevin stood there confused, trying to recall when he had ever introduced his oldest brother to any woman under the age of 65. And then, the light dawned. "Is she a tall, willowy brunette? With dimples?"
"Sounds like her. A real looker. So, I guess you did hook them up.
Indignant at being unfairly accused, Fr. Kevin blustered. "I did no such thing. That woman was the private nurse Ted Beckett hired for Pat's care after the heart attack. I met her the same time Pat did, and I barely said twenty words to the woman. She seemed completely professional anytime I was around. Although, I have to say, I was surprised at what a model patient our brother was when she was present. So not his usual style."
"Well, the fact is, Kevin, Eileen came to this wedding by herself, and even though they've been living apart, she's mortified that Patrick has moved on to the "seeing other people" stage, especially so publicly at a family wedding. Now, I'm getting all kinds of hell from my Katie who's insisting she's not sitting at the same table with 'that no good bastard' brother of mine, or the 'floozy' he brought with him. You see the spot I'm in? And you better believe if Katie is crabbing, the others will join right in. That's the way it always is. They stick together."
"I'm not sure what it is you want me to do, Jamie."
"Can't you just talk to Pat, or something? Explain how this is really awkward for the rest of the family? You're a priest, Kev. Shouldn't you be able to make people fell guilty about being bad? I'm sure they taught you that stuff in seminary school."
Kevin ran a hand over his face in frustration.
It was always this way. His brothers making him feel somehow weird and different. As if he weren't just a normal person with a different path. That's what made him like his new brother-in-law so much. Beckett treated him the same way he treated any other guy, and didn't make him feel out of place. "Pat's not going to listen to anything I say. He never has. Besides, it's not like he can ask the woman to leave after he invited her That would be crazy rude, and Maureen would have a fit."
"Geez, there's gotta be something you can do. We've been looking forward to this wedding for weeks. It's not everyday our baby sister gets married. Plus, it's a treat havin' someone else pick up the tab for a weekend at a swanky hotel. A group of us kinda arranged for all the kids to share a coupe of rooms, with the older ones in charge. Gives us married coupes a little privacy, and some vacation time alone, if ya know what I mean. But that sure as hell ain't gonna happen if our wives aren't speaking to us over this 'other woman' thing. Come 'on, Kevin. Help us out here."
As things had always been, Kevin found himself relenting, handling the dirty work no one else wanted to take on. "I suppose I could try and see if we could move Patrick and his date to the bridal table. At least then the wives wouldn't have to sit with her. But I have to say, it seems extremely childish and petty of them to act that way toward Ms. Ryan. They don't even know the woman."
Jamie slapped him on the back. "I get what your saying, Kev. But you don't understand women, like us married guys do. They get something in their head, there's no shaking it. You either deal with it, or you stay single. I know this chick stuff is all foreign to you, but it's like this big cycle of life. If the little lady ain't happy, then nobody's gonna be happy. Understand what I'm sayn'?"
Tired of the whole conversation, Fr. Kevin just nodded.
Thank you, Jamie, for making me feel more like an outsider in my own family than I already do. Appreciate it, Bro. "I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do."
"Knew we could count on you, Fr. Kevin. Thanks, buddy. Do you need a ride over to the reception?'
"No. I'm gong to take the car I rented. I'm not staying at the hotel for the night. I have Sunday morning Masses, so I'm going back to the rectory this evening."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. What time is the latest Mass?"
"10:30. Why?"
Jamie scrunched up his face, and then sheepishly admitted, "That's kinda early after a big night, Father. Any chance you could say Mass just for the family later in the day?"
"I suppose I could. I'd guess a lot of people might take advantage of that."
His older brother gave his back another slap. "Thanks, Kevin. You're the best. Nothing like having your own private priest in the family. Almost as good as having a plumber and an electrician."
With a laugh, Jamie turned and headed out the door, leaving Fr. O'Kenney standing alone in the front of his church, pondering what other drama "phase two" of this wedding day could possibly bring.
____________________________________
The rain had turned to a light drizzle by the the time Roxanne Spinelli figured out she was totally lost. Brendan O'Kenney's directions from the church to the Park West, scribbled on the back of an old
gasoline receipt, were less than accurate, and she found herself driving in circles for nearly 30 minutes. In his defense, he had suggested that she wait and follow his car to the reception, but doing so meant risking the possibility that she might come face to face with his brother Kevin, and the plan was to avoid that at all costs.
She was sure that he had seen her when she first walked into the church. Had even made eye contact for several seconds, with she being the first to look away. Then, both of them had gone to extremes to avoid having it happen again. It was weird enough watching him say Mass, but even stranger to see him try and do it without ever glancing toward the section she was sitting. She was probably going straight to hell for thinking this, but she wondered what he would do if she suddenly showed up in front of him in line for Communion, face to face. Now that would be a hoot. Of course, she'd never actually do it. But it sure as hell would be fun to try.
It wasn't only seeing her childhood crush looking all priest like behind the altar that was odd. The whole freaking wedding was straight out of some TV sitcom. Nobody seemed to know why the bride was so late in coming down aisle, and the groom just stood there, not doing a single thing to find out where the hell she was. Then there was the crazy way Patrick O'Kenney had his arm wrapped like a vise around poor Maureen's, practically dragging her up to the front of the church. But the real corker came when the ceremony began. Kevin had asked the bride and groom to join hands, and out of the clear blue, with no warning, Maureen went into a major crying jag. Not just a few sniffles, or some tears escaping the corners. That stuff might be expected given the emotion of the day. Nope. This was a full blown melt down, a weeping and wailing, sobs from the soul type episode. Crazy stuff, for sure.
She looked at the time through the cracked glass of the clock on the dash board. This was getting ridiculous. If she didn't find this damn hotel soon, she'd be late for sure. Then she'd have to walk through the reception after everyone was already seated. People staring. And whispering. Just like the awful nightmare she had a few nights back.
In the dream, she couldn't seem to get through the doors of the banquet room, no matter how hard she tried. When they finally opened, she walked through, and suddenly the room turned silent. Then, Maureen's new husband, who she never even met, stood on the same table with the wedding cake, pointing at her and shouting,
Hey, isn't that Ravishing Roxie, the stripper chick from Ruby's? No one said a word, just stared at her like she had three heads, until
a man wearing a chicken suit came out of nowhere yelling,
Take off your clothes, girlie. Then we'll know for sure. In the dream, she ended up standing there stark naked, while every clapped. Then Kevin ran into the room, seven feet tall, his hair in a long red pony tail, and dressed in his basketball uniform from high school. He was waving a giant gold cross at her, yelling
Get out, naked sinner. Be gone from here. That's when she woke up, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding.
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| A scene from Roxie's crazy nightmare...Beckett on the table with the wedding cake |
Even thinking about it now made her queasy, and it crossed her mind to turn the car around and head back to Boston. Forget about the damn reception, and any of the pain in the ass O'Kenneys. There were sure to be hundreds of people at that celebration. It wasn't as if anyone would notice whether she were there or not. Decision made, she pulled up to the next light, with the thought of making a "U-ie" back towards the expressway. As she waited for the red to change, a silver Toyota pulled up next to her, the driver staring straight at her. The man in the car was void of any long pony tail. Just normal guy hair, the color of a shiny new penny. Very nice hair, as a matter of fact. And he was wearing an ordinary dark suit, like any other. Completely normal, except, maybe, for the band of white at his throat.
In the car next to her, Kevin O'Kenney rolled down the window, and shouted, "Are you on your way to the reception?"
Not wanting to admit she was planning on ditching, she yelled back, "Yes. But I seem to be lost. I've gone by here a dozen times, but I don't see the hotel."
He smiled, and it hit her like a blow to the stomach. "Yeah, it's kinda tricky. You have to veer to the right at the next turn, then follow the road up to the hotel entrance. The building is set back from the street. Why don't you just follow me?"
"Ummmm...well, okay. I guess I can do that. Uh...thanks."
Smooth, Roxie. Real smooth. You sound like an idiot.
Fr. Kevin gave her another grin, and a thumbs up signal, then rolled up the window. The light changed to green, and she let him pull in front of her. Then, against every once of better judgement, Roxie slipped in behind Toyota, moving toward phase two of a certifiably weird ass day.
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| Maureen and Ted arrive at their wedding reception |
Copyright 2013 Victoria T. Rocus
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