“Shove your lecture, Bri,” he said. “I’ve been in this business just as long as you have. I know what I’m doing.”
“Don’t get cocky, Fish,” Brian snapped. They were walking the path along the canal when he stopped and grabbed Fisher’s arm. “Remember Mulrooney.”
Fisher shrugged Brian’s hand off of his arm. Mulrooney. Good guy, but ultimately a schmuck. He’d gotten involved with a mobster’s girlfriend and the next thing they knew they were fishing him out of this very canal...headless.
“Is that we’re meeting here? So, you can remind me what happens to guys who cross the line?”
“I figured you could use the reminder,” his partner confessed.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I have no intention of ending up decapitated in a canal.”
“Good.” Brian breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t think you’d be half as good looking without your head.”
“You’re a pal, Bri. A real pal.”
Annie stepped into the eight layer, purple taffeta dress feeling like a cupcake topper for a Disney princess birthday party. Glancing at the other bridesmaids, she was relieved to see that she wasn’t the only one who looked like one of Cinderella’s ugly stepsisters. Of course, she was the only one with fire-red hair, but that couldn’t be helped.
Eve had them looking like seven Cupie dolls. They all wore the same dress, shoes, hairdo, jewelry, even makeup. Annie felt as if she were going to a costume party. No such luck, at least then she’d get to wear a mask.
As for Eve, she looked beautiful. Despite the frequent tears, cold hands and secret vaping – a habit she’d given up years ago – she was still a radiant bride.
“Eve, it’s time for you to get dressed.” Eve’s mother strode into the room, looking the epitome of the Scottsdale lady. As usual, she had not a hair out of place and her dress was suitably chic for a wedding of which she didn’t approve.
“All right.” Eve took one last drag off her vape pen before rising.
“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, dear,” her mother said.
“I love him, Mother,” Eve said. “I’m going to marry him.”
“Fine.” Eve’s mother let loose a long-suffering sigh.
“Eve,” Annie interrupted, holding back the urge to kick Eve’s mother. “Let me help you into your gown.”
“Thanks, Annie.” Eve smiled, her eyes moist. “You understand, don’t you?”
“That you love him?” Annie asked as she helped Eve step into her voluminous gown. “That he’s made you happier than I’ve ever seen you? Yes, I understand that.”
“Love?” Eve’s mother rolled her eyes in disapproval. “You could have married Geoffrey from Grosse Point. But no. Who did you choose? An olive oil salesman from New Jersey. I just don’t understand it.”
“He imports olive oil, Mother,” Eve said. “And he makes a fortune at it.”
“But he’s so...so...Italian,” her mother wailed.
“Yes, he’s Italian, Mother, and I’m going to marry him. Do you want to know why?” Eve straightened her spine while Annie fastened the hundreds of buttons that led up the back of her gown.
“Why?” her mother asked.
“Because on our very first date, he looked at me and said, ‘Eve doll, you know what you are? You’re the salt in my stew.’ He’s the first man who has ever loved me for me and not my pedigree. And I have fallen more in love with him every day ever since. I’m marrying Tony Iannocci. Get over it!”
“Good girl,” Annie whispered in her friend’s ear.
“Humph,” Eve’s mother sniffed in Annie’s direction and strode out of the room.
The next two hours passed in a haze of photographs,mimosas, and a cramped limo ride to the church. The wedding was to start at five o’clock and the eager bride arrived at the stroke of five. In a parade of people, the bridesmaids led the way into Trinity Cathedral. Eve’s father stood waiting for them at the front door and they all filed into an antechamber while they waited for their cue to begin the march down the aisle.
Clutching her bouquet of white peonies, Eve stood beside her father, looking pale and shaken. Annie tried to cheer her up with small talk, but Eve just gazed through her. She was the ninth bride Annie had watched get green around the gills before the ceremony. She was beginning to think that bouquets should come with emergency barf bags built into them.
A knock at the antechamber door sounded and they all hushed. Taking their positions, they waited for the signal to start walking. But instead of the wedding hostess, it was Fisher who appeared.