Lori had always been so infatuated with the idea of having all her loved ones alive, in the same place, and not screaming at each other, that she hadn’t spent much time thinking about her Prince Charming.
This wasn’t a real marriage, she told herself. She couldn’t deny, however, that the notion of making lifelong promises with no intention of keeping them seemed creepy.
She couldn’t let sappy, emotional thoughts stop her. She needed to think like a man about this. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “What we’re about to do is business. I understand-”
Tim lifted a hand as he held the phone against his ear. “I can get you an Elvis wedding in thirty minutes. Will that work?”
Chapter Sixteen
“Your honeymoon night should always be a once-in-a-lifetime experience… no matter how many times you get married.”
– SUNNY COLLINS
Elvis was just over five feet tall and appeared to be approximately three hundred years old. Lori hoped he’d make it through the ceremony. He wore a jet black toupee and a white suit that hung on his skinny body as he warbled “Love Me Tender.” Lori quickly walked down the aisle, carrying a bouquet of artificial white roses. Based on Jackson ’s grim expression and her own sense of facing the gallows, Lori thought “Jailhouse Rock” would be more fitting, but she hadn’t been given a choice. Apparently this Elvis had a very limited repertoire. The hired witnesses, an older woman and young man, sat on the front row of the chapel. The young man was texting on his cell phone.
Clutching the white rose bouquet in her hands, she tapped her foot as she waited for Elvis to finish the song. Jackson moved closer and put his arm at her back, startling her. He lowered his head. “You’re tapping again.”
She tried to stop. She really did. But tapping was better than wrapping her hands around the skinny throat of Elvis and asking him to get on with it.
Elvis finally finished. Adjusting his thick eyeglasses, he looked at Lori and stretched his mouth in a denture-filled smile. “You’re a beautiful bride,” he said, then turned to Jackson. “Isn’t she a beautiful bride?”
Jackson met Lori’s gaze, and she felt an odd dipping sensation. “Yes, she’s beautiful.”
“Every bride needs to hear that she’s beautiful,” Elvis said, pretty much negating the compliment. “We’re gathered here to unite this couple in joyous matrimony. If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
“The credit card went through just fine,” the older woman said.
Elvis nodded and pulled two sheets of paper from his inside breast pocket. He paused a moment as he appeared to study the paper. “ Jackson,” he said. “Is that right?”
Jackson nodded.
“ Jackson, do you take…”
After that, everything was a blur. In a detached way, as if she were watching herself from the back of the room, Lori heard Elvis officiate and she responded appropriately, but the scene became more surreal than real. Was she really pledging her troth to Jackson? And what exactly was a troth? Some corner of her mind took in the slight snore of the older woman sitting on the front row and the nonstop pecking of the young man texting. Looking into Jackson ’s eyes, she wondered what he was really thinking. She wondered if he secretly wanted to run screaming from this place. Of all her fears, that one was the biggest. Lori wanted to get the wedding done before he reconsidered and backed out.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Elvis said, the words snapping Lori out of her fog. “You may kiss the bride.”
She and Jackson stared at each other for a frozen moment of incredulity. Omigod, they’d done it.
“Go ahead,” Elvis urged. “I have one more song for you.”
Slowly and deliberately, Jackson slid his hand behind her back and pulled her toward him. He lowered his head, and she lifted her mouth. To the sound of Elvis butchering “Can’t Help Falling in Love with You,” they sealed the deal.
Twenty minutes later, she’d returned the faux bouquet and the faux rings they’d borrowed for the ceremony, and she and Jackson climbed into the limo that was part of the ceremony package.
Jackson exhaled and rubbed his face. “That’s over,” he said, then sat up and glanced at the bar. “There’s a bottle of cheap champagne. Do you want any? I think I want a scotch.”
“If it didn’t taste so bad, I’d want some scotch, too,” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder at her and chuckled. “Then what will it be, my beautiful bride?”
“Cheap champagne,” she said, her stomach knotting at the word bride. “This is going to sound horrible, but it felt like a funeral.”
Jackson poured a glass of scotch and tossed back a gulp. “There were a few times I was worried Elvis might not survive the ceremony.”
She watched him open the champagne and pour the bubbly liquid into a flute. “It’s hard to believe that people deliberately choose that kind of ceremony.”
“I think we got the second string.”
“Or third,” she said, accepting the glass as he handed it to her.
“Or fourth,” he said and laughed again as he clinked his glass with hers. “It’s done now, Lori. You can spend money.”
She nodded, fighting a sudden hollow feeling. Glancing outside the window as she took a sip of champagne, she stared at the lights. “I’ve never been to Vegas without my father,” she said.
“You’re kidding,” Jackson said.
“No.” She glanced back at him. “He always thought this was the perfect place for me to get in trouble. And of course, he always saw it as his job to keep me out of trouble.”
He nodded, silent for a moment as he took another drink from his glass. “What kind of trouble did you want to get into?”
Her stomach dipped again at the expression on his face. “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “The usual stuff, I guess. Shoot some craps, visit some clubs.” She laughed. “Dance on a tabletop.”
Pausing, he tilted his head to one side. “We might be able to cover some of that tonight.”
“Tonight?” she echoed, surprised. She’d anticipated going back to separate rooms and separate beds and pretending nothing was different between them. With the exception of the legality, she supposed it wasn’t.
“We’re here. We may as well. Within reason, you can shoot craps while I play blackjack. The only problem is you’ll finish a lot faster than I will.”
“I could do the slots,” she said, warming to the idea. “Or watch you play. Are you any good?”
“I do okay,” he said in a humble voice.
“You must be very good,” she said.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he returned.
“If it’s the truth, why not?”
“When you’re in Vegas, if you don’t want to lose big, never brag about how good you are,” he said. “Or how much money you have.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s always somebody ready to show you how to lose, and there’s always somebody ready to relieve you of your money.”
“Okay,” she said, unable to keep a smile from her face. “I’m going to do Vegas.”
Jackson kept an eye on Lori while he raked in the chips at the blackjack table he’d chosen after careful scrutiny. It was a hot table with a fun crowd and a flirtatious dealer intent on making sure everyone had a good time.
He’d watched Lori win, lose, and win again at craps. He was impressed when she’d walked away after winning. Now she was feeding the slots while she sipped her second margarita.