I sat on the huge round white ottoman with a back that looked like a pedestal but was much more comfortable in front of the stage and the mirrors of the bridal shop. I was there for Lula, but just being in a room with all that silk and satin and flowing white had me squirming and glancing constantly at the door. But I sat there and I tried my best to look comfortable. I knew my commitment issues were bad when I balked at the idea of helping Lula find a wedding dress. I mean really…how messed up was I if the mere idea of being around all that white material gave me the hives. And I did have the hives. I have the salve to prove it.
Lula was currently trying on dress number fifteen. The dresses she tried on prior to this one were somewhere in the back of the shop searching for their dignity and weeping with despair. If dresses could weep, trust me those dresses were weeping.
The problem with Lula finding a suitable wedding dress is that Lula is, after all, Lula. I mean she's a former street prostitute with the fashion sense of, well, a former street prostitute. Granted she always dressed colorfully. She always had on attention getting clothing. She always managed to squeeze her size 22W body into a size sixteen and I have no idea how she managed that. Oh her flesh always seemed to be pouring over some waistband and out of some neckline, but the girl still worked it. After all she managed to catch Tank. It could be because she had some skills in the bedroom that I can not begin to imagine, but it could be just because she's Lula. Lula is audacious. She's a sexual being. She's…amazing. I loved her. I could see why Tank loved her. She made Tank feel like he was the sexiest man on the planet. To her…he was.
But shopping for a wedding dress with Lula was sort of like being at the dentist. In this case I didn't have any Novocain and the dentist was pulling one tooth every five to seven minutes. It was horrifying. It would be horrifying even without the hives, but the hives certainly exacerbated the situation.
It also stood to remind me that the odds I'd ever buy a wedding dress for myself again were pretty slim. I was attracted to all the wrong men. They were all either cheating assholes, control freaks, or Houdini disappearing into God knows where at any crucial moment. Oh…or they lied. Of course, Brian's lies were part of his job. Did that make them forgivable? Didn't he deserve to suffer? The man spent the night in my bed keeping me warm knowing that the contract he was peddling was complete and utter bullshit. I was annoyed. I reached up to scratch the hives on my chest with a sigh. Just the thought of Brian made me itch. He was a man who was looking for commitment and even though I told him he was barking up the wrong tree, he was like a bird dog with a prey. He wasn't taking his eye off the prize. Unfortunately, I was the prize.
I glanced around the shop and scratched again. I was grateful for the black turtleneck that hid the rash beneath. Lula didn't need to know my fears. She had enough of her own without adding mine to it. She always thought the world was going to find out about her life and… Okay, not the world. Most of the people in the world she didn't give a shit about. But anyone that Tank loved she didn't want them to think badly of her. Honestly though, he loved her. If he was concerned that her past would bother anyone else he loved he never showed it. But then…Tanks life was a big secret to me.
Funny…most of the guys at Rangeman had secret pasts. About the only person I knew anything real about was Gabe. His mother told me everything in the world about him when he was in the hospital after taking bullets for Padma. That was before they eloped three weeks ago. She was just a client then. Now she was much more important. Gabe was the first Rangeman employee (besides Ella of course) to be married. And he was happy. It made the other guys look at their girls a little differently. Lula and Tank may be engaged first, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if another Rangeman employee beat them down the aisle. I'm thinking maybe Cal and Natalie. Sometimes I get the commitment heebie-jeebies just looking at them.
Lula exited the dressing room with the harried attendant behind her. She was wearing white (which was really a push for her considering her former profession) and the dress was tight. I do mean it was tight. I've seen sausages that weren't packed that tightly. She was bulging. It wasn't particularly attractive just so we're clear. The attendant, who was helping her dress, looked like she was about to pass out. I wasn't sure if it was the tight packaging of Lula's assets, or her worry about the dress. And that dress didn't look cheap. Lula sure looked like she was about to burst the seams on it.
"It looks a little tight," I said with a frown. The look in Lula's eye became murderous and my tactic changed immediately from concern about the dress to concern about my physical safety. I blinked, "It's not that tight. It's just a little tight. I mean, just a smidge. I mean not much at all."
That must have satisfied her need for blood because her expression became benign and she turned back to look at herself in the mirror. "Well, I'm planning to lose a few pounds before the wedding anyway," Lula said surveying her reflection. "I mean, not too much though. Tankie likes a little cushion for the pushin if you know what I mean."
The attendant blanched. Lula's mouth did not operate with a filter when discussing her sexploits with Tank.
"It is a little tight, but if I buy it smaller it will be too loose by the wedding. And there won't be a seamstress on the ship to fix it."
"We can alter it before you go," the attendant said softly.
"I suppose," she bit her lip studying the dress thoughtfully. "Well, this one is pretty and all, but I don't think it's me. Let's try on some more."
I sank back and watched them disappear, on to number sixteen. Number fifteen would join its cowering friends in the back. I wished for a moment I was a cowering dress in the back. It would mean I was out of the wedding dress shopping business. But then I'd be surrounded by white. I felt myself pale and my palms began to sweat and I reached up absently to scratch my chest. Well, maybe not.
"Shopping for wedding dresses," Brian asked dropping beside me on the ottoman.
"Not for me," I said and immediately scratched my chest where the hives were the worst.
"Hey…don't panic. I'm not proposing," he grinned and grabbed my hand.
"Ha-ha," I made a face and slouched down.
"Did Grandma get any information?"
"Did you," I raised a brow.
"None what-so-ever," he shook his head. "I don't think Mrs. Dinks liked Brady too much."
"Why…wasn't he oozing with his 'I'm such a stallion' personality?"
He grinned, "Is that what you see?"
"Please," I rolled my eyes, "he's so full of himself it's a wonder he can get out of the house without a mirror gliding along beside him so he can constantly check his reflection."
"You don't like him?"
"I've known a few guys like him," I shrugged.
"That's not really an answer," he raised a brow.
"I don't really intend to answer it," I said returning his brow with my own.
"So who's getting married," he asked leaning back with a smile.
"Lula and Tank," I muttered.
"Oh man…one of the men in black is getting hitched?"
"Yep," I nodded.
"And remind me…is Lula the…"
"Former prostitute," I nodded.
"Interesting," he nodded thoughtfully.
"Yea," I agreed.
"They're going traditional?"
"Yea," I nodded. "They're getting married at sea. They're looking for a boat. I'm the maid of honor."
"Ranger is the best man?"
"Yep," I agreed.
"That will be interesting," he grinned.
"Will it," I shook my head frowning. When I thought about standing in front of a priest watching Tank and Lula get married with Ranger nearby didn't sound interesting to me. It sounded…it sounded demoralizing.
"So you didn't get any information from the Dinks?"
I gathered myself together and pushed the thoughts of Ranger out of my head. "My recon hasn't reported anything yet," I said with a straight face.
"I don't believe you," he nudged me with his shoulder. "You're a terrible liar. But…I deserve it."
"Yep…you do," I said serenely.
"Are you planning on punishing me?"
"Yep," I nodded.
"How?"
"I don't know yet. There's this sticky little issue of you being a federal agent. I have to be careful what I do so I don't end up doing time."
"Ah," he grinned and got to his feet. "Let me buy you dinner tonight and try to make up for it."
"You can try," I shrugged.
"I'll see you at seven."
"I'll be there."
He leaned over and kissed the top of my head, "maybe your hives will be gone by then."
"Don't hold your breath," I said as he walked away.
Lula exited the dressing room moments later wearing a silk sheath that showed every ripple of flesh on her round body.
"Oh my," I blinked.
"Yea…this here is sexy," she galloped to the stage and turned in the mirror.
"I got to get me one of them dresses when Burt and me get married," Grandma Mazur said coming up behind us. She fingered the material at Lula's thigh, "whooo wheee, that is some slippery material. I'm thinking you could wear that later on that night as well. Some slippery friction would come out good on your wedding night."
"Oh yea," Lula agreed. "That's a good idea."
"Hmmm…Lula," I said fighting to choose the words carefully. I didn't want a repeat of her last murderous glance my way or any of the previous ones either. Whatever I was about to say could mean my life. I had to pick just the right words. I bit my lip, "I thought you and Tank were going for a more traditional wedding?"
"We are," she said absently and focused on her reflection.
"Well…while this dress is lovely," I assured her sincerely. After all, the dress would look great on someone a few sizes smaller or at least someone wearing their real size. "It's not a very traditional dress."
"It's not," she frowned.
"No, it's a bit modern."
"But you said the real traditional one wasn't good for my figure," she glared.
"It wasn't," I shook my head to resist the shudder of nausea that occurred when I remembered the dress. "It didn't properly accentuate your curves. Tank likes your curves. He wants to see his woman up there not a cotton ball."
"You're right about that," Grandma nodded enthusiastically. "You got nice bosoms Lula you can't hide them suckers away."
"No, you can't," I agreed shaking my head.
"Dang," she said after a moment. "You're right. What kind of veil could I wear with this dress anyway?"
"Exactly," I nodded enthusiastically.
"All right," she sighed and headed off to the dressing room as Natalie came in waving and happy. "Nice one Lula."
"Not traditional enough," Lula said as she disappeared into the dressing room.
"She looked like a bag of cellulite," Natalie whispered to me.
"With too many donuts," I agreed.
"How many dresses has she tried on so far?"
"That was number sixteen," I said sorrowfully. "I think they're getting worse. She had on this one that was mostly just strategically placed sequins," I shuddered.
"She's got some style that Lula," Grandma sighed in envy.
"When you and Burt get hitched you should get her to be your wedding planner," I suggested.
"Good idea," she brightened.
"Where's Connie," Natalie asked.
"She's working. She'll be here any minute," I said. "Hopefully Lula will have a solid choice or two by then."
Connie breezed in just as Lula exited the dressing room.
"Oh my," Natalie blinked.
"Oh," Connie hissed.
"Scarlett O'Hara," Grandma grinned.
"You look like a southern belle," I blinked. I'll be honest. She looked lovely.
"White girl…is you cryin," Lula blinked at me.
"You look beautiful," I said softly over the knot in my throat. In that dress she didn't look like a former prostitute. In that dress she looked like a bride.
Lula looked in the mirror and blinked. "Is that me?"
"That's you," the attendant smiled gently.
Lula studied her reflection for a while, "this is the one?"
I nodded.
Natalie grinned, "It's definitely the one."
"Can I wear this to get married on a boat," she asked.
"You can," the attendant smiled.
"You're a princess," Grandma said tearfully.
"I'll take it," Lula announced.
I had been though meringues, dresses that looked like cottage cheese, dresses that were so tight it was a wonder she could breath and now this dress that made her look like what she was. I felt the hives begin to melt away. Marriage could be beautiful. Lula just proved it.
