Best She Ever Had (9781617733963) (11 page)

They arrived at the wedding chapel nine minutes later, in
less
time than the cabdriver had said was possible. After Korey handed him the money, they strode toward the chapel's entrance.

“I can't believe you gave him a hundred bucks! Aren't you the same guy who rather than give a bum a whole dollar asked him if he could give you back fifty cents in change?”

“That was then. This is now. I'm older. Maybe I've changed.”

“Uh-huh.” She stared at him warily. “Well, don't get too crazy with your generosity, big spender. You're gonna go broke out here if you keep doing that.”

“I'm not worried. We made it here, didn't we?”

They had indeed, and the Las Vegas wedding chapel was just as Cynthia had envisioned—or, more accurately, what she had feared.

A giant, flashing, heart-shaped neon sign was out front, two stories above the roadway, advertising complimentary Vegas show tickets with each wedding ceremony. Dancing cherubs were positioned over the archway entrance, and when Cynthia and Korey stepped through the double doors, an organ rendition of Elvis Presley's “Love Me Tender” greeted them, courtesy of hidden speakers.

Cynthia looked around the semicircular lobby—at the dusty plastic flowers and ivy, the glass-paneled walls, the fire-engine-red carpet, and the sundry photos on the walls of couples throughout the ages who had gotten married at the chapel—and she felt almost faint. She wasn't sure if she was more alarmed at the idea that Clarissa could be behind one of those doors fifteen feet away, exchanging wedding vows with Jared, her possible brother—or that Clarissa, her own flesh and blood, could get married in a place this cheap and tacky!

“Welcome to the Blue Moon Wedding Chapel!” the woman behind the counter drawled. She looked like she hadn't changed her hairstyle and makeup since 1984; she had frosted, teased bangs and a puffy ponytail held back by a neon pink scrunchie. She wore heavy purple eye shadow, blue eyeliner, and enough rouge that she vaguely resembled Bozo the Clown. She adjusted her butterfly-shaped glasses. “How may I help you? If you'd like to look at our list of wedding packages, I can—”

Korey held up his hand to stop her. “We're not getting married. We're here looking for a couple who might be.”

The woman gazed at them in confusion. “Excuse me.”

“Two teenagers,” Cynthia said, stepping forward. “A girl named Clarissa and a boy named Jared. Did they get married here?”

Cynthia's mouth went dry and her heart raced as she waited for the answer.

“Teenagers?” the woman squinted behind her tinted lenses. “Well, we had a young black fellow and his fiancée come in about twenty minutes ago.”

“You did?” Cynthia didn't think it was possible, but her heart raced even faster. “Where'd they go?”

The woman pointed over Cynthia's shoulder. “To the . . . well, to th-the Blue Hawaii room,” she stuttered. “They were fired up to get married, so we gave them the first opening we had, but—”

“Clarissa!” Cynthia shouted as she raced toward the door.

“Ma'am, what are you doin'?”

“Clarissa!” Cynthia yelled again as she threw the door open. Korey reluctantly followed her after mumbling his apologies to the woman behind the desk.

“Ma'am, you cannot interrupt our ceremonies!”

Cynthia ran down the grass-mat aisle of the tiki bar-themed room, just in time to hear the minister utter the words, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

The minister wore a lei and a Hawaiian shirt to match the room décor. The two smiling witnesses were dressed as hula dancers with grass skirts and bikini tops.

Jared and Clarissa turned to each other to seal their wedding vows with a kiss.

“No, you can't!” Cynthia bellowed. “You can't! Stop! Don't kiss him!”

The bride and groom paused as their mouths hovered inches apart. They turned to Cynthia.

That's when Cynthia skidded to a halt. That's when she finally realized that she wasn't looking at Clarissa and Jared, but at a petite Hispanic woman who looked to be in her early twenties and an older black man. Both stared at her, slack-jawed.

Oh, damn,
she thought.

She had barged into the wrong wedding.

“Why the hell can't I kiss him?” the woman asked, dropping her hand to her hip.

“Uh.” Cynthia flapped her arms helplessly. “Uh . . . well, umm . . . I . . .”

“Sorry!” Korey stepped forward. “Sorry to interrupt, folks! She thought you were . . . someone else.”

“What?” the groom barked.

Cynthia whipped around to Miss Frost and Tease. “What the hell is this? You said Clarissa and Jared were in here!”

“I said we showed them to the room,” the woman argued, her face now bright red, “but if you would've let me finish, I could've told you they didn't make it to the ceremony part! They signed the license and the girl rushed out a few minutes later!”

Cynthia's shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

“‘Oh?'” the woman shouted with widened eyes.

“You just ran through this establishment screamin' at the top of your lungs! You just ruined someone's wedding, and all you have to say for yourself, lady, is ‘Oh?' ”

“It was an honest mistake!” Cynthia argued stubbornly.

Miss Frost and Tease pointed to the opened door. “Leave! You two better leave right now before I call the cops and have you escorted out!”

Korey wrapped a hand around Cynthia's arm. “Come on,” he mumbled as he tugged her toward the door. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

“A
t the rate you're going, we're gonna end up getting arrested long before we manage to find the kids,” Korey muttered as he sat in the leather seat of the taxi.

They had hailed a cab not too far the Blue Moon Wedding Chapel. They were heading back to their hotel.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that Clarissa and Jared had walked out already?” Cynthia glared down at her phone screen. She pulled up the app to track Jared's cell phone. “That Cyndi Lauper reject said they were getting married! I was trying to stop it! That's what we came here to do, right?”

Korey slowly exhaled, telling himself to stay patient with her, though dealing with Cynthia was sometimes like being locked in a room with a raging lunatic. Still, it was best not to choke her—or throw her over his knee and spank her.

Hmmm,
he thought. A faint smile crossed his lips. That second option might not be such a bad idea. In fact, it could be rather enjoyable. He could imagine her plump, golden rear end in a red lace thong, bent over his knee. He could imagine caressing it, maybe smacking it playfully. That could be fun.

Korey snapped out of his reverie. His smile faded.
Damn.
Where had that come from?

“Where do you think it came from?” the voice in his head mocked. “The longer you're around her, the more likely you are to be attracted to her. You always were in the past!”

But he was on his guard now. He wasn't a lovesick eighteen-year-old chump anymore. He was a grown man, and he wouldn't get sucked into her crap. He knew what pain came with sleeping with and falling for Cynthia Gibbons. There was no way he was going back down that treacherous road.

“I'm just saying that I ain't eager to see the inside of a Las Vegas jail tonight, that's all.” He turned away from her and peered out the window. “So if you could keep the crazy to a minimum, I'd appreciate it.”

“Korey, if you call me crazy one more time, I swear I will . . . Wait!
Wait!
I found Jared!” She sat forward in her seat as the light turned red and the cab drew to a stop. “Sir, we have a slight detour. Can you take us to this address?” She held the phone up to the driver's face.

He nodded. “Sure.”

She looked almost giddy when she sat back beside Korey.

“Where are we headed?” he asked.

“No idea! I just gave him the address. I guess we'll find out when we get there.”

“Hopefully it's not another wedding chapel.”

“I highly doubt that. Based on what that lady said, they're not going back into any wedding chapels tonight—maybe not ever!”

“Why do you say that?”

“You heard her! She said they got the marriage license, but Clarissa ran out before they could start the ceremony. Obviously, my little girl is coming to her senses! And it's about damn time she did!”

Korey grimaced. He didn't want the kids to get married any more than Cynthia did, but hearing that Clarissa had rushed out of the wedding chapel before she and Jared had a chance to exchange vows didn't make him want to jump for joy either. The kids were in love. He still wished them all the happiness in the world; he just wished they would take things slower.

“If we're lucky,” Cynthia continued, now grinning, “they've already broken up.”

“I don't want them to break up,” he began slowly. “I just don't want them to get married. They're too young for it now. Maybe in the future, they could—”

“They will
never
get married. To suggest they should get married, even in the future, is just”—she curled her lip in disgust and gazed out the cab window—“a horrible idea. Let's just put it that way.”

“Why is it a horrible idea?”

“It just is. Okay?”

“Are you saying that because of that Gibbons family rules bullshit?”

“It's not bullshit!” She turned around to glare at him. “They are . . . are important, time-honored rules in my family that—”

“They're bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit,” he repeated, drowning her out. “It's all bullshit, Cindy! I know you drank the Kool-Aid back then, but I'd hoped you weren't still gulping it down now that you're tappin' on middle age. You should know better!”

“I don't need to be reminded of how old I am, Korey Walker,” she countered tightly.

He could tell he had hit her Achilles heel with that one. A vain woman like Cynthia was bound to feel self-conscious about her age.

“And I wasn't drinking any Kool-Aid back then!” she shouted. “I was being logical and practical. I considered all the alternatives presented to me and decided what was best.”

“Which is why you called me up in the middle of the night, asked to meet, fucked me in the backseat of my car, and then announced you were gonna marry someone else?”

She pursed her lips and closed her eyes. “That is not how it happened.”

“No, that's
exactly
how it happened!”

He should remember. He had been replaying that night in his mind over and over again for almost twenty years, wondering how he had allowed Cynthia to set him up like that. How did she make him hope they were going to be reunited, only to crush him in the end? It must have been amusing for her—one last “ride” on Big Korey before she walked down the aisle with her sugar daddy. It had taken Korey years to finally let go of his anger toward her, to finally move on from what she had done that night, but now the anger and hurt came bubbling back to the surface.

“What you did was . . . was . . .” He struggled to find the right words. “It was cold-blooded . . . heartless . . . downright—”

“Oh, for God's sake, Korey! I wasn't trying to—”

“Here you go!” the cabdriver announced. “That'll be twenty dollars and fifty cents.”

Korey momentarily shoved aside his anger, opened his wallet, and handed the fare plus tip to the driver. He climbed out, not looking back to see if Cynthia followed him. He didn't want to think about her right now. Instead, he wanted to focus on the task at hand, which was finding the kids. He gazed at the sign above him and squinted in disbelief.

“The Big Lizard?” he murmured.

It was an apt name. A ten-foot-tall plastic lizard stood near the entrance. The doorway looked like it was cut out of craggy rock. Several drunken partygoers carrying giant drinks shaped like didgeridoos stumbled through the door. Behind them, loud music played, and voices and laughter could be heard.

Korey glanced over his shoulder at Cynthia, who had just stepped out of the cab.

“Are you sure that
this
is the right place?” he asked her.

She nodded even though she seemed every bit as doubtful. “That's . . . that's what the app said.”

He looked up at the sign again, shrugged, then tugged open the door. They both walked inside, where they were greeted by a perky blond hostess wearing a safari hat and a stuffed koala draped around her shoulders, making them halt in surprise.

“G'day, mates!” she gushed in a bad Aussie accent, shouting to be heard over the clamor. “Welcome to the Big Lizard! Is it just the two of you?” She picked up two plastic-encased menus from a small shelf behind her. “Would you like a seat at a table or at the bar?”

“Uh, actually, we're here to look for . . . I mean to meet . . .
meet
someone,” Korey immediately corrected himself and grinned. “They're probably waiting for us, so we'll just . . . you know . . . head back there.”

“Sure! Go right ahead,” the hostess said before turning her attention to another group who had just stepped into the restaurant.

“Let's split up!” Korey called to Cynthia as they pushed their way through the rowdy crowd that was yelling at the game on the flat-screen TV near the bar. “Keep an eye out for the kids, and text me the moment that you see them!”

Cynthia nodded, then turned to walk in the opposite direction.

Korey gazed around him, staring at the patrons who stood at the bar, danced on the dance floor in a small pit several feet below, and sat at the small dining tables. The place was filled wall-to-wall with people, so finding Jared and Clarissa would be a challenge. Not to mention the fact that the lights were turned low and fake fauna hung from the ceilings and along the walls, creating even more visual obstacles.

Korey eased through the crowd, excusing his way past tray-laden waiters and waitresses. When he neared the bathrooms, he paused. He spotted a couple standing several feet away, talking to one of the waitresses. The waitress pointed them toward the bathrooms and walked off. When the couple turned, Korey's heart skidded to a halt. He blinked in amazement. He instantly recognized Jared and Clarissa.

The two looked resigned, almost sad, which made sense considering that they had allegedly walked out of their own wedding little more than hour ago. Jared leaned down and whispered something into Clarissa's ear. Clarissa nodded. Jared wrapped an arm around her shoulder, gave it a squeeze, then began to walk toward the bathrooms.

“Jared!” Korey yelled, making his way to the bathroom doors, no longer saying “Excuse me” as he bumped into people. “Jared!”

“All right, party people, you know what time it is!” a loud voice simultaneously blared on the overhead speakers, drowning out Korey's shouts. “It's midnight and we're about to get—”

“Messed uuuuuuup!” the crowd in the dance pit shouted.

The music then spiked so loud that the walls seemed to vibrate.

“Jared!” Korey barked. “Jared, damn it, boy!”

But his son didn't hear him. Instead, Jared continued on his path to the bathroom and pushed open the door with a metal kangaroo on the front that said MATES in bright orange letters underneath.

Korey raced after him, almost knocking over a waiter who carried a tray covered with drinks, a side of ribs, and skewered grilled shrimp. Korey hastily murmured an apology before rushing to the bathroom. When he pushed the door open, he saw several men standing in front of the urinals. One man opened a door to one of the stalls. A few more stood near the sinks, but nowhere did Korey see Jared.

Damn it,
he thought with frustration, clenching his fists. It had only been a matter of seconds between the time that Jared had walked into the bathroom and Korey had followed him. How had he lost him already?

He stood awkwardly near the entrance, stepping aside so other men could walk around him and use the bathroom.

“Well, don't just stand here!” a voice in his head urged. “If you just hang around staring at everybody, they're going to think something's wrong with you.”

Korey wavered only a few more seconds before walking toward the stalls, trying to inconspicuously lean down and gaze at the shoes underneath. Maybe he could spot Jared that way. As he passed one stall, the door swung open and he jumped back to keep from getting hit. A towering Hulk Hogan type in a ripped T-shirt stepped out and glanced at Korey quizzically.

“You waiting for this one?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder to the empty stall.

Korey paused, then nodded and stepped inside. He glanced at the toilet. He stood awkwardly for nearly a minute.

I'm in here, might as well use the bathroom, I guess,
he thought. He had just lowered his pants to his ankles and sat down when he heard a familiar voice.

“Yeah! Yeah, it's cool, I guess,” Jared said. “I'll hit you up when I get back. All right? . . . Whatever, man! I got this! . . . Yeah, talk to you later. Okay, bye.”

Korey frantically jumped to his feet and raised his jeans back to his waist. He was zippering his fly just as he shoved the door open and rushed outside the stall. He looked toward the sinks and saw Jared standing with his back toward him, washing his hands.

“Boy!” he exclaimed, as he ran toward Jared. He grabbed his son by the elbow and roughly turned him around. “What did you think you were doing? I've been running all over this damn town looking for—”

When the young man turned from the sink with soaking-wet, soapy hands and glared at Korey, Korey knew instantly that it wasn't his son.

“What the hell is your problem!” the younger man shouted, yanking his arm out of Korey's grasp. “Do you mind?”

Korey gaped. “Sorry, I thought you were . . .”

Korey's words faded as he turned back to the stall doors. He could have sworn it had been Jared he had just heard.

“Hey, did somebody lose their phone?” a voice shouted at the other end of the line of sinks, near the bathroom entrance.

Korey looked up to find a skinny white man with a goatee waving a cell phone in the air. The plastic blue casing looked eerily like his son's phone.

“Uh, that's . . . it's mine, I think,” he said, walking toward the man.

The guy frowned. “
You think?
Either it is or it isn't, pal.”

“It's mine,” Korey said firmly before snatching the phone out of the man's grasp, making the stranger grumble.

He scanned the phone and saw that it was indeed Jared's. He could tell from the Batman sticker on the back and the crack on the edge of the screen.

“Shit,” he muttered. So it had been Jared who had walked into the bathroom, after all, but Korey had missed him—again. Worse, Korey's son had left the phone behind, making it impossible to track him. Dejected, Korey dropped the phone in his jean pocket and walked out of the men's room.

 

“You didn't find them either?” Cynthia asked as she neared the hostess desk where Korey stood, waiting for her.