Chapter 87: Drummer Boys Get Hitched

Bodie on his Wedding Day

I'm in one of the guest suites of the Paramour Estate—a 1920's Hollywood mansion where our wedding, reception and wedding night are happening.

This place is Louis Fourteenth meets Andy Warhol. French furniture, psychedelic color.

Marley loves the rich glamour. Her choosing this place for our wedding lets me finally understand her taste, and tells me...an old school Hollywood mansion decorated to period is probably in our future.

That's fine by me. Legacy has made us so much bank, my "money worries" during incarceration have faded. I'll wait til the right place comes on the market in Matt and Leed's neighborhood.

It probably seems weird that I am thinking about real estate just half an hour from my vows, but I'm trying anything and everything to stop my hands from shaking.

It's so bad that Mac has pushed them away from my pitiful effort to button my tux shirt.

"I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me," I mutter to the top of her head. "I'm all in. What the fuck is this?" I show her my vibrating hands.

Mac the Maneater is nowhere to be seen as she tucks back a thoughtful smile. "It's not so strange. Getting everything you ever wanted is scary as fuck when you think you don't deserve it."

She moves to the bowtie dangling around my neck. "You deserve it, Bodie. Nothing bad is going to take this love from you. Trust me."

She steps back, her tie task complete. We both stare in the mirror. She takes one of my shaking hands in both of hers and kisses it.

The girl has grown, and she's doing a very decent substitute for the actual Doc, who of course can't counsel me through my freak-out, because she's gotta meet me at the alter in half an hour.

But for all her comfort, Mac doesn't really get it. I'm not so worried about me fucking up, like maybe she was back at the beginning with Adam. I've learned the hard way, even if you have your shit together, life can spiral and you can't always control it.

God, I need Marley so bad right now. Need to touch her, breathe her in. Need to trust in us. I couldn't sleep last night, without her in my bed. We haven't spent this many hours apart since I got out of jail. Right here, on the edge of pledging myself to her forever, I'm afraid something else is going to happen to fuck it up, to deny us our happy ever after.

Leed comes from behind, draping himself over both of us, looking at us both in the mirror. He grins. "You gotta relax, man. Listen, let me give you some advice, because I've got this marriage thing all figured out."

"Do you now? After only five months?" Adam grins as he walks up with Marley's wedding band on the second knuckle of his pinky. He shows it to me for reassurance, but he's gotta tie it on the ringbearer's pillow, so he doesn't give it to me. He crosses his arms and looks at his brother-in-law. "Okay, Leed, tell us the secret of your marital success."

"It's the hair!" Trace yells from across the room where he is tying his Italian shoes.

Leed rakes his hair and puts his hands out, leaning forward conspiratorialy. "The hair helps, but it's not that. The secret to happy ever after is beginning like you mean to go on. It's all about the first married kiss. You get that right, karmically, you can't lose."

Adam sniggers. Mac laughs so hard, she ends up punching Leed as she waves her other hand before her watering eyes. "See what you did? Shut-up before I ruin all my makeup."

Leed snags a piece of tissue from a dresser and begins to carefully pat, catching tears and preserving artificial beauty Mac doesn't need.

"I'm serious, Bodes. Trust me. You put on your rock star and you kiss your bride like the fucking band depends on it. Because it gives Marley the memory of the best kiss of her life and it gives the photographer the money shot. Next step, you have that photo hung up in your house in the most romantic and perfect light possible. Every time Marley gets a little irritated with you, you make sure you walk her past that picture...and you're golden, man."

"Take yesterday, for example. Ashlynn is so miserable right now, she sort of lost track of her priorities and was desperate to go into labor. She went to Erewhon's and bought three pineapples. She heard pineapple brings on contractions or something. She was going to juice all three and drink 'em all down. Now, I don't know if that shit is true or a myth, but I damn sure wasn't taking any chances of her going into labor last night. So, of course, I accidentally dropped the jug of juice. She swore I did it on purpose—"

"Which you denied," Adam nods in approval. Mac grins at Leed and punches Adam now.

"Right. And she was bitching at me to go get her more pineapples—"

"Which you definitely weren't going to do—" I surmise.

"Right. So I just danced her over to our wedding portrait and boom. Pineapple forgotten while we kiss just like the day we married. Of course," he tosses away the tissue and rakes his hair with a sigh. "then I had another problem."

"Yeah, because sex brings on labor, too," Adam quips.

Leed nods wearily. "Right. Luckily, Matt got me out of that..."

Trace throws back his head and laughs. "That's why you texted my dad to come do a donut in your newly sodded yard with his motorcycle? Because you are afraid to have sex with your pregnant wife?"

Leed gives Trace a withering look. "Dude, I am in no way afraid of that, I'm gonna miss the fuck out of pregnancy sex, but there was a higher mission to keeping Baby Girl in the oven at least another day—"

Leed and I fist bump over Mac's head, and he continues, "...and I did not tell Matt to do that. I just told him Ashlynn had snapped and was trying to induce her own labor despite Bodie's wedding today, and she needed a distraction from her personal misery. He ran with it and took it way too far." Leed grumbles. "Not only is she now really irritated with him, he cost me a fortune. That was a sustainable lawn I just installed. No need to use pesticides and shit to keep it nice. Now it has to be resown. I'm not made out of money, you know..."

Confusion and silence descend. Since Legacy, Leed's branding has shot him to the next level, financially. Plus, Riley's fielding tons of offers from Hollywood, which so far Leed is uninterested in.

Leed tosses his hair again. "Did that last line sound good? I'm practicing. To say it with a straight face, to my kids someday..."

We all bust out laughing. Mac beats on Leed. "Stop.Before.You.Ruin.My.Makeup!!!"

Leed grabs my wrist, forcing my hand out for examination. My hand isn't shaking anymore. "Yeah, I'll stop. Mission accomplished," he winks at me.

Leave it to Leed to lighten the moment.

Riley throws open the doors. We all blink. He and Varrick strut in like Green Berets or some shit. Varrick is on a radio.

"Sullivan, get some bodies on the back wall of the estate. We've had a breach. Enact the alternate route for the bridal entrance."

Varrick's words send me reeling. It's not just my hands shaking now. I'm trembling all over. I glance quickly at the mirror. No, I'm actually not shaking at all. I just feel like it.

"The Irish?" I manage to croak.

"No, mate, not the Irish," Riley's voice is surprised. He looks at once to Varrick, who slaps his radio into Riley's hands and crosses the room, grabbing me by the back of the neck.

"Bodie. Look at me. That's all done. I've spent the last year and half tuned in to every back channel into the IRA, making sure there is no vengeance planned. They lost interest in Sully Lorcan and his cell the minute they managed to get themselves all killed by a gang of what they considered inferiors. I swear to you, the Irish have no interest in you and our family. You went to jail, and they closed the case on what happened. You're safe. We're all safe. This day, every day. I am sure of it. Okay?"

I nod slowly. Varrick tags me on the chest hard. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He smiles. "All right then. This has been a long fucking mission, Operation Reunion. Today, you finally hit jackpot."

"Jackpot," I grin and the band all yells and hoots and echoes Varrick's mission completion code.

"Wait, what's the problem, then?" Trace the Caretaker asks.

Riley straightens his glasses. "I just caught the wedding planner at the back gate, letting in a TMZ contributor."

"You gotta be fucking kidding."

"No. I fired her, of course. She's out, and so is TMZ. I guess I'm the wedding director now," he gives a wry smile. "This is why I eloped..."

"Bullshit," Trace coughs into his hand. "You eloped because Row drunk proposed to you."

"She may have drunk proposed, but she married me hungover." Riley grins.

"Now that's love," Mac squeezes her man.

Adam laughs and claps Riley on the back. "That's right. We have to wrangle these hellions however we can, man."

"Right." Riley adjusts his glasses, and claps his hands. "Lets go, then. The photographer is ready for the band..."

It takes our favorite photographer ten minutes to get the band shots on what the Paramour Estate terms "The Great Lawn," and a few more of us sitting around like bad asses on the red velvet couches in the Salon, and then Riley is directing Leed and I to the ballroom where the ceremony is taking place.

We enter beneath an elaborate wooden ceiling laced with bowers of jasmine. The room is filled with hundreds of floor length taper candles capped in flame, but it's the light of friends that warm me. The guys and Kat and Ash rustle with love on the front row, and it's all good.

A string quartet plays as Varrick escorts my mother down the aisle. He brings her all the way to me. The high ceilinged room echoes with our whispers.

"Baby. So handsome." She can't say more.

"I love you, Mama. Thank you for teaching me how."

She starts bawling, Varrick starts soothing, the room starts laughing lightly. They take seats beside Ashlynn, who is also crying. Her tears move me, and I step out to her to speak to her.

"You are the most gracious woman I know, Sunny. Thank you."

"It's as it should be, for this," she whispers, and kisses me on the cheek.

Three year old Lennon, in red curls, tulle, and stage presence, is cheesing at me in the open door at the back of the ballroom.

"Take it away, Little Star," I call to her with a wink. More laughs.

Riley, bending by her side, issuing assurance and instruction, sends Lennon down the aisle. Petals drip from her fingers like melody as she skips. Mac tinkles laughter and Adam nods approval as they entertwine hands.

Lennon hit her first cue perfectly.

Behind them, Ollie holds hands with his mama as they glide down the aisle. Ollie is the Ringbearer and Tamara, Marley's only attendant. Leed grips my shoulder as they approach.

"Love of every kind here in this room, brother. Fucking beautiful," he says in my ear.

Ollie breaks from his mother's hand to run to Ashlynn and kiss her belly. Leed laughs like a loon, causing the whole room to erupt. Ollie, sensing he has the stage, struts to me and daps me up, then his dad. Tamara's face is wet as she breaks form to hug me, them moves like the model she is to her mark, dramatically twirling her long shimmery dress the color of jasmine streaking.

The music changes. An instrumental version of Goo-Goo Dolls Come to Me begins. Darius and Marley appear in the dim light at the back of the room.

I'd like to tell you the expression my tall, proud son bears, but I only have eyes for his mama.

Marley is swathed in tulle, but wearing a look of triumph.

My Queen. My Nike. My goddess. Head held high, eyes shining. Her silvery slipper starts down the aisle, and I feel Victory approaching.

When they arrive at the altar, that's when I finally focus on Darius. I note it's a weird a thing, to incur pride from your own offspring.

"About damn time," he says as he shakes my hand and I embrace him. He kisses his mama's hands, places them in mine and cuts around us to face the congregation.

"Welcome family, friends, beautiful people," he smiles. "They...uhh...they tell me I'm not old enough to legally officiate this ceremony, but I'm not down with that. I feel like...maybe I exist to bring my mom and my dad together."

Marley breaks her sure gaze at me to shine adoration on him. He reaches out to correct a crooked part of her long veil. For a long moment, he looks between us.

Lost.

Found.

It's the same damn emotion for all three of us right now, because it doesn't matter which, as long as we are all three together.

"Fortunately" Darius intones smoothly, "there's a really amazing man I know, that is actually qualified to marry my mom and dad. And to me, he feels like family, so I'm honored that he's going to let me help bind my parents' everlasting commitment." Darius steps to the side. "Reverend Heartley..."

The Rev prompts us in the traditional vows.

Almost.

Have or hold. Better or worse. Richer or Poorer. Sickness or health. Love and Cherish.

Ride or die.

Peter takes the rings from Ollie, blessing them and passing them to Darius. He holds his mother's ring up, looking through it like an optical.

"I see a pretty bright future," he muses as he drops the ring into my hand.

We wrote our own ring ceremony.

"Marley. Our love is this room and this metal," I say as I slip the ring on Marley's finger. "Jasmine and titanium. The sweetest and strongest things on earth. Eternal bliss. Eternal strength."

Darius leans in to admire the wedding ring on Marley's hand. "Looks real good," he tells her with a smile, as he hands her mine.

Marley pushes my wedding ring on. "This ring means...us. Forever and for real. Never take it off, and I will never, ever stop fighting to keep our love as feverish as it was when it began, and as full of faith as it is today."

The Reverend hands Darius his well worn bible. Darius rubs it, then looks between us.

"You've kissed a thousand times, maybe more. Today, the kiss is a new thing. Today your kiss is a promise. A covenant between husband and wife."

I'm vaguely aware of the Reverend laying his hand on the Bible."In the presence of these witnesses, in keeping with tradition, in accordance with law, in the sight of God and all people, you are now husband and wife."

Darius now. "She's all yours, Pops."

I remember Leed's advice. "My wife," I murmur as my hands slip beneath her veil.

I kiss her soul.

I kiss her senseless.

She stumbles and I catch her, but I let her go, too, so that we are still kissing as I dip her.

As I put her back on her feet, her eyes fire wildly. "My husband," she returns, breathless.

"You bet your sweet ass, Jasmine."

I raise her wedded, banded hand in triumph as the crowd starts to cheer.