Page 13 of Conveniently Theirs

Sitting in the reasonably comfortable arm chairwith my feet propped on the bed, I secure tickets to a variety of shows and events. Keni had expressed a desire to see the stars, so that’s my next search. I discover what might be the perfect place then close the tablet. After refilling my glass, this time to the top, I whisper, “Fuck it,” and grab the tv remote. Even lulled by the alcohol, I doubt I’ll sleep much alone in the king bed. Hopefully there will be some sappy movie to fit my mood.

Perfect. I turn the volume up and toss the remote aside. A classic movie channel is running 1940’s musicals all night. Give me some Gene Kelly anytime. The man could dance and, wow, his ass and thighs were drool worthy. Grinning at my reaction, I sip my vodka. Josh introduced me to musical theatre in college.

My grin fades and I down the rest of the vodka.

This is gonna be a long night.

eight

Kendall

While we waited for the officiant to finish with the couple who arrived only moments before us, Josh and I were treated to more champagne. I should have declined the first glass since we finished off a bottle of excellent, really expensive wine at the restaurant. Now on our second full flutes, we sit together on a white wicker loveseat. I’m a few sips away from being drunk and false courage compels me to make a confession.

But before I’m able to hold Josh’s attention long enough to tell him I’m in love with him, we’re whisked away into the ‘chapel’. At least the music flowing softly from the speakers is appropriate,some classical piece you hear all the time at weddings.

In two minutes, we’re done. We’ve placed the rings on each other’s fingers, said ‘I do’, and been declared married. I’m not sure what I expected, but the time and effort spent on the actual wedding seems abrupt and robotic. Maybe it’s because this isn’t a real wedding, although Devin and Josh would have compensated the man far beyond what those two minutes should have earned.

Once the officiant and witnesses—the woman at the desk and a young man who worked the lights and music—sign our license we’re done. Anxious and feeling strangely off-kilter, I try to hurry Josh toward the door. But before we’ve even crossed the waiting area, the officiant moves in front of us.

“You’ve both been drinking heavily,” he says.

Josh straightens his shoulders. “Not that much. Just in celebration of our big day.”

“Uh huh.” The man motions to the receptionist then holds out his palm to Josh. “Keys. I never allow my couples to drive away drunk. Your keys please. We’ll call a ride share for you.”

The receptionist moves to his side and hands him a business card that he holds up. Josh sways slightly and reaches for it.

“Keys first, young man.”

I tug on Josh’s sleeve. “It’s a good idea. We have had too much to be safe drivers. Please, Josh. Give him the keys.”

When he blows out a long breath, Josh’s shoulders slump. “You’re right, darlin’. Here.” He drops the keychain onto the man’s palm.

“Here’s the information you’ll need once you’ve, ahem, regained your equilibrium, in order to retrieve your vehicle. It’ll be safe here. And, your driver has arrived.”

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Castillo. Have a happy life.” The receptionist hands me the envelope with our license as we’re practically shoved through the door. It makes me wonder what else the officiant might have going on in his establishment. Or maybe it’s because we’re doing something that’s probably illegal. There’s got to be tons of people who get the paperwork but never actually get married. We’re basically doing the same thing. Only with signatures.

Once we’re seated in the back of a late model sedan, the driver half turns to grin at us. “Congratulations on your marriage. Looks like I’m your ride to your honeymoon. Where are you staying?”

“Aria,” Josh says then leans over to fasten my seatbelt. “Safety first.”

The driver nods his head. “That’s right. Okay folks, let’s get you back to your hotel.”

Josh rubs his stomach. “Wish we had some cake. Who gets married without a cake?”

Chuckling, the driver rubs his hand over his short gray hair. “Sorry I can’t help you there. Might be something suitable from your room service, though.”

“No,” I say as an idea bursts into my brain. “What we need right now are donuts.” I lean forward as much as possible with the restraint in place and tap the driver’s shoulder. “Is there anywhere we can get donuts this time of night?”

“Best donuts in town. Open twenty-four seven. My grandkids love ‘em.”

“Excellent. Take us there please,” Josh says.

The driver switches his turn signal from one direction to the other and crosses an official turn lane to drive in the opposite direction. I’m impressed with his skill and daring. “How many grandkids do you have, Mr….” I ask, truly interested.

“Name’s Wes Georgeston. Call me Wes. We’ve been blessed with seven so far,” he says with a broadgrin that fades quickly. “Three of them are staying with us until our son gets his life together. Being a single parent is rough, so my wife and I are helping however we can. Years ago I drove a taxi and now I’m picking up a few hours a week driving folks around Vegas. Gives us a little extra for the kids. But, you don’t need to hear my sob story. Life is what it is and we do the best we can.”

I don’t know what to say. Josh squeezes my hand and remains silent too. Even so, the atmosphere in the car isn’t strained or somber.

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