Disclaimer: None of the major characters in this work of fiction are my creation and I disclaim any rights thereto. The Leaning Tower of Pizza, however, is real.
The author extends sincere thanks to the best betas anyone could have; you deserved a better story.
He's Pretty Heavy, He's My Brother
by
Owlcroft
Mark McCormick slouched out onto the poolside patio and stood, looking thoughtful, next to the table piled with papers.
Judge Hardcastle glanced up at him and said, "Did I hear the phone ring? Hand me that file on Wilson."
"Yeah." McCormick passed him the file and put his hands in his jeans pockets.
"So, what?" asked the judge.
"What, what?"
"Don't start quacking at me," Hardcastle looked back at the paper-piled table. "I can tell when something's on your mind. Who was it that called?"
"Um, it was a friend of mine. He's, ah, gotten into a little trouble and wanted me to help him out." He rocked on his heels for a minute. Getting no response from the judge, he added, "So, how do you feel about a trip to Las Vegas?"
"Las Vegas?" Hardcastle snorted. "Are you kidding? I have to testify Monday and this is Thursday. I can't go to Las Vegas." He set down the Wilson file and finally focused on the ill-at-ease figure next to him. "You can, I guess. If this friend is really in trouble and you feel like helping him out. Oh, wait a minute. Is it Sonny?"
"Are you kidding?" McCormick was incredulous. "I said it was a friend!"
"Oh. Well, is it at least somebody I know?"
"Yeah," Mark replied slowly.
"So, who is it and what happened? Somebody lose his shirt at the roulette table?" The judge's attention was heading back to the files.
"Not exactly." McCormick sat down at the table and pushed the paper pile to one side.
"Judge, I don't . . . look, I'm going to go help this guy out because he's a friend and I think he's in trouble through no fault of his own. Now, I'd really like it if you could come with me, but if you don't think you have the time, that's okay."
Hardcastle looked at him piercingly. "You haven't told me who it is or what the problem is. How about you cut out the tap-dance and get to the facts?"
Mark sighed and leaned back in his chair. "He says he's being blackmailed by some chorus girl who's got a picture of the two of them that would lead most people to expect that they were having a relationship likely to result in --"
"Hold it, hold it." The judge had a hand up. "You only talk like that when you're trying to snow people with your gift of glib. So far, I've figured out some floozy's got a picture of a guy in flagrante delicto or a close approximation. She's probably using it to get a pay-off, right?"
"Well, that or marriage." Mark sighed again. "She seems to think he's rich and she'd rather tie the knot than settle for a one-time buy-out."
"So, what does he want you to do, and who the hell is it? Oh, wait, I bet I know." Hardcastle slapped the table and leaned back. "It's Teddy, isn't it? Has to be."
"Noooo, but you're close." McCormick shut his eyes and waited.
It only took a few seconds. The judge sat up straight and said flatly, "No."
Mark opened his right eye slightly and peeked at the angry man across the table. When nothing more was said, he opened both eyes fully and nodded. "Yeah, it is. But, Judge, it's not his fault."
"Hah! That's what he's told you. It is Gerald, right?"
"Yes, it's Gerald. But really, Judge, I don't think it is his fault this time. And he does need some help." McCormick rested his hands on the glass tabletop. "I think somebody just needs to explain to this . . .lady--"
Hardcastle snorted at his choice of word.
"--that Gerry's not rich and can't afford to buy her off. Just tell her what kind of guy he is, you know? He really didn't want you to know about this, but I think it would be a good chance for the two of you to be on the same side again." Mark waved a hand toward the ocean. "You know, fighting the forces of Evil Extortion together. Opposing the Bad Blackmailers. Defending the Rights of the Righteous."
"That's enough. You're repeating yourself." Judge Hardcastle looked at the younger man seriously. "You're going out there whether I do or not, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. I told you, Gerry's a friend and he needs help." McCormick looked back calmly. "You know he's been trying, Judge. Maybe it's your turn to try a little."
Hardcastle shook his head and took a deep breath. His scowl eased a bit and Mark started planning what to pack for the two of them.
"All right." The judge pushed his chair back. "We'll go see what he's gotten into. But I'm not doing any more than I would for a guy I'd met at the ballpark. Got it?"
"You bet." Mark smiled and added, "And we won't do any less, either."
ooooo
By eight o'clock that night, they were standing outside door 238 of the Desert Sands Hotel and Casino.
Mark knocked and a nervous voice from inside asked, "Who is it?"
"Gerry, it's me," Mark answered.
They heard a bolt being drawn back and the door opened slightly. Gerald Hardcastle peered around the jamb and drew in a breath quickly. "Milt!"
"Come on, Gerry, let us in." The judge sounded peeved, not ferocious, and his brother opened the door wider to allow them to enter.
"Milt! Mark! Great to see you!" said Gerry with anxious joviality. "Hurry up, get in here, and let me shut the door!"
Mark set down the suitcase he was carrying and surveyed the judge's brother critically. "Are you really afraid she's lying in wait for you in the hall, Gerry?"
"I'm not taking any more chances with that loony dame. She's nuts!" Gerald took his brother's suitcase and put it on the couch. The judge picked it up again and put it next to the door. "She's absolutely goofy and I wouldn't put anything past her."
"Okay," said Hardcastle, spreading his hands pacifically. "Let's start from the beginning here. Who is this woman and how did you meet her?"
Gerald Hardcastle took a deep breath, blinked a few times, then shook himself briskly. "What am I thinking? Now you're both here, everything'll be fine, right? So, hey, guys, have a seat." He turned to the tiny kitchen. "Can I get you anything? Got plenty of stuff to eat, any kind of drink you might want. And, check this out. Place even has a little fridge. Some kinda hotel room, huh? And the best part? It's free! It's a comp!" Gerry waved a hand toward the wall with the television console. "Bedroom's through there. Really nice. And it's right over the pool, so I got some incredible scenery, you know what I mean?"
Judge Hardcastle held onto his patience with an obvious effort. "Gerry. That's great, it really is. And it's a comp, that's terrific. Except," his tone rose perceptively, "that means you're spending a certain amount in the casino every day, so it really isn't exactly free now, is it?" He stopped himself abruptly. "But, so what? It's your money, and your life, and if that's what makes you happy, then fine."
Gerry gave McCormick a questioning look.
Mark smiled at him and said, "Okay, now it's your turn to pretend to be a grown-up."
"I am not pretending to be a grown-up!" shouted the judge. "I am a grown-up and so is my brother and we're gonna deal with each other as grown-ups." He took a breath, then said politely, "No, thank you, Gerald, we don't need any food or anything to drink. What I would like is to know exactly what's going on."
McCormick raised his eyebrows interrogatively and added, "Start with her name and the first time you ever saw her."
Gerald sat heavily on one of the barstools and leaned an elbow on the tiny bar. He rubbed a hand over his face, then shrugged.
"Her name's Emerald Starr and the first time I saw her was day before yesterday."
Mark and the judge looked at each other and then back at Gerald. "Go on," Mark prompted. "How did you meet her?"
The judge covered his eyes with a hand in preparation.
"She asked me for directions to the buffet." Gerry glared defiantly at his brother. "You thought it was something . . . else, didn't you? Something . . . tawdry."
"Hey," murmured Hardcastle, "you're telling it. I'm believing you so far."
"Well, it's true." Gerry huffed a little, then continued. "I told her how to find it and that was it." He put his hands out at shoulder-height, as if in surrender. "That was it. Then yesterday, we met in the lobby here and said hello or something and that was the second time I ever saw her in my life." His hands slowly dropped back down and he hung his head. "Then, last night, she knocked on my door."
The judge made an effort and didn't cover his eyes this time. "Go on."
Gerry got up and started pacing. "I asked who it was and she said I didn't know her but she'd locked herself out of her room and could she use my phone." He threw his arms wide. "Well, what was I supposed to do? Being a gentleman--"
"Hah!" said the judge.
"Being a gentleman," repeated Gerry, "I opened the door and there she was. She was wearing some kind of robe thing and I told her to come in and she did. Then, I went to shut the door and she threw off the robe and she was completely naked under it and she jumped on me and I saw a flash bulb go off and I pushed her away and she grabbed up her robe and ran out the door!"
He looked up at the ceiling. "Milt, I know how it sounds, but that's the truth, I swear it." He sat down again and looked at his brother. "I didn't even know her name until I got the letter this morning."
Mark stirred in his armchair. "You got a letter from her. How? And do you still have it?"
"Yeah, it's right here." Gerald took an envelope from his jacket pocket and held it out to Mark. "It was pushed under the door. I didn't see it until about eleven, and that's when I called you."
McCormick looked at the front of the envelope. On it was written, in a round, flowery script: "To Jerry Hardcastle, from Emerald Starr". He handed the envelope to the judge, then unfolded the letter and read it aloud. "'My darling Jerry, I really need for you to decide what to do. I think our baby should have his father's last name, but if you insist, I'll raise it by myself.'"
Gerald interrupted at this point. "I swear I never touched her, Milt! You gotta believe me!"
Hardcastle held up a hand and nodded for McCormick to continue.
"'If we are going to be married, it should be real soon. If you won't marry me, then you should support me and your child. Let me know which you'd rather do. Your own, Emmie.'"
Mark handed the letter to the judge. "That's pretty obvious, isn't it? What ever happened to finesse and subtlety?"
"They got jobs as cocktail waitresses just like mystique and temptation." Hardcastle was shaking his head over the letter. "You know where 'your Emmie' lives, Gerry?"
"No! How would I know that?" Gerald scratched his head, then his face lit up. "But you can find out! Come on, Milt. You know everybody. Can't you just call up some cop and find out her address?"
The judge handed the letter back to Gerry. "Not right at the moment. Tomorrow morning I'll see what I can find out. Right now, I want you to look me in the eye and swear this is a scam."
"Milt! I swear it!" Gerry stood at attention, crossed his heart, and held up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute. "I never touched her!"
"Okay." Hardcastle nodded and looked at McCormick. "That's good enough for me. How 'bout you?"
"I believed him before we got here," Mark grinned. "But I have two important questions."
Gerald looked eager to help. "Just name it, Mark. What can I tell you?"
"One, why does she think you have a lot of money; and two, where is the buffet?"
ooooo
The older men admitted defeat when McCormick went back for his fourth plate of food.
Throwing his napkin onto the remains of chicken casserole, mashed potatoes, succotash, shrimp mornay and peas with baby onions, the judge asked his brother, "Did you talk to anybody about having a lot of money? Did you hint to anybody that maybe you were rich or were going to be rich?"
Gerald was playing with a few lima beans, trying to get them to spin on his plate. "I told you, Milt. I don't go around telling complete strangers that I'm rich. And I don't know too many people here anyway. Who would I tell?"
Mark came back with a plate of desserts. "You guys sure you don't want any?"
The Hardcastles groaned in unison.
As he carefully separated two pieces of pie from the brownie a la mode, McCormick looked up at Gerald. "You know, she wouldn't have to think it was you that had money. Could she have gotten the impression that there's money in your family and that old Dad might buy her off?"
"No." Gerry wrinkled up his face momentarily in thought, then looked shamefaced and added, "But, I did mention . . ." He cast a sideways look at his older brother.
"I don't believe this." Milt covered his face with his hand, then determinedly stood up and said, "Is there pecan pie?"
Mark nodded, swallowed, and told him, "It's toward the end, and there's six flavors of ice cream and the whipped cream's in a glass bowl in the back."
As the judge strode defiantly toward the dessert bar, Gerald turned to McCormick and asked, "Why is he being so nice to me? He's being so . . . so damned patient. Is he all right?"
"Sure," McCormick snickered. "He's just pretending you're a friend of mine and he's along for the ride. See, we talked about it on the way here." He decided to tackle the apple pie first. "This is all part of the 'forget the past and start over' plan. He's decided the best way to do that is to think of you as someone else. I mean, not as his brother, but as someone he doesn't really know that well. Remember at Christmas, how he acted like you were just guys who'd happened to meet and could maybe get along pretty well?" The apple pie was nearly gone. "That's the plan here, too. The past is the past and the two of you have a chance to start all over again." Mark looked at Gerry and nodded. "I think it'll work if you both want it to. You sure you don't want some dessert?"
Gerald was unaccustomed to Mark's appetite and watched in appreciation as he started on the second piece of pie. "Where do you put it all?" he marveled.
The judge wandered back with a small portion of whipped cream on his plate as the excuse for his foray to the Land of Desserts.
"Here," he carefully put the plate in front of McCormick, "I brought you some more." He sat down heavily and looked at his brother. "Okay, who did you tell I was how rich?"
"Milt, it wasn't like that. Honest, I was just shooting the breeze with some fellas down at the Nugget's sports book and hey! This is the best time to get a bet down on the World Series. Have you seen the odds on some of these teams? I'm telling you, Milt, a $500 bet on the Royals would net you a bundle!" Gerald looked like he was ready to start a comprehensive lecture on baseball odds, but the judge forestalled him.
"What, exactly, did you tell them?"
Gerry humphed a little, decided it was better not to watch Mark eating the whipped cream, and said, "It was just a bunch of the guys, that's all. We were standing around, deciding what to do if we hit the big number, and I said I'd buy a place like yours. Maybe," he cleared his throat uneasily, "I might've described it a little, you know, how nice it is, right on the beach and all. But, guys, honest. I didn't mention any names or addresses."
Hardcastle sighed. "You didn't have to. Don't you get it? 'Emmie' was probably standing there listening, which explains why she doesn't know how to spell your name. She overheard the part about the estate and decided even if you didn't have the bucks, you had family that did. That's good enough for her."
"Didn't even have to be her," Mark said, scraping up the last of the whipped cream. "Remember, she's got an accomplice. Somebody took that picture of her and Gerry."
"You wanna leave the pattern on the plate?" said the judge in a pained voice. "Okay, we think we know what's going on and why they figure you're a good target. Now, we've got a plan or two in mind, Gerry, but we need a little more info on your girlfriend before we finalize anything. First, though, we have to get a place to stay."
"Milt! Mark! You're my guests here!" Gerald beamed at them. "I'll arrange everything. Remember, I'm a favored customer!"
ooooo
Hardcastle looked at McCormick, who looked back at him. Their room was just big enough to hold twin beds and one dresser.
"Oh, well," the judge sighed. "I don't care. Hopefully, we'll only be here tonight and tomorrow."
Mark was peering out the window into the alley below. "Yeah, but did you see our view? Not only do we get two Dempsey Dumpsters, but Elvis is sleeping in one of them."
"That's great." Hardcastle had his pajamas on and was heading for the bathroom. "You keep up the yakking and you'll be in the one next to him."
Mark raised his voice to be heard over running water. "So, you planning on a heart-to-heart with Emerald tomorrow? Straight ahead with Plan B?"
The judge shouted back, "Yeah, once I get her address and the name of her possible accomplice. Gerry and I'll do that and you can check out chapels and stuff."
"Hey! Hey!" McCormick yelled out the window. "Hold it; Elvis is in that one!"
"What are you doing?" the judge said peevishly, climbing into bed.
"The garbage men were just about to collect Elvis." Mark turned away and took his turn in the bathroom. "They seemed to know about him, though. They even put him back in when they were through."
Hardcastle put his arm over his face and said tiredly, "This town is just too strange."
ooooo
While Judge Hardcastle collected information from the county seat, Mark and Gerry went to the sportsbook at the Fremont. After Gerry had picked up his winnings on a horserace, they waited by the front door for the judge to meet up with them.
"You haven't gotten your bar results yet, have you?" Gerry asked idly.
"Nope."
"You expecting them pretty soon?"
Mark shook his head, still peering through the window, watching for the judge. "They take forever, about four months." He smiled a little. "They give you just enough time to cram for the next one if you've failed."
"Yeah, but you didn't fail." Gerry was confident. "Milt said there was no way you couldn't pass."
"Well, I told him the questions and what I answered and he said it sounded like I did all right, but . . . I guess I've had too many things I thought were going to be okay go south on me to count on anything." Mark cast a glance to his left and stood a little straighter. "We may be getting company here."
A blonde young woman in six-inch spike heels and a gold lame' skirt was walking toward them.
"Follow my lead," whispered Gerry as he put an arm around Mark's shoulders.
"Hi, fellas," cooed the blonde. "Either of you want a date? Or maybe both?" She looked at them coyly from under her improbable eyelashes.
"Oh, honey," cooed Gerald right back at her. "We're together." He tilted his head to Mark and raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Sorry."
"That's okay. Enjoy your trip," she smiled and teetered past them.
McCormick was somewhat disconcerted, but managed to smile. "Couldn't you just say we were waiting for somebody?"
"Nah." Gerry took his arm back. "Now word will get around to the other regulars here and they'll leave us alone."
"You're pretty familiar with this place, aren't you? I mean, Las Vegas."
"Oh, sure. Vegas, Reno, Tahoe, Atlantic City, you name it, I've spent a considerable amount of time there." Gerald swiped a hand at himself. "Just look at me. This is the uniform, baby – white shoes, sansabelt, open collar. The Tourist Look. Camouflage. I look just like a tourist in town for a convention, hoping for a good time."
Mark leaned against the wall and considered this. "You mean you want people to think you're an amateur, just another target for them."
"Exactly. Gives me another edge, see? Now, there's no need to burden Milt with this." Gerry winked and nodded. "We seem to be doing all right with the 'hi there, do I know you' routine. I don't want to mess that up, especially before this little predicament is taken care of."
"Speaking of that, there he is." Mark pushed himself away from the wall. "Hey, Judge, over here."
"Oh, good." Hardcastle was obviously pleased with the information he'd gotten. "Now, Gerry, I want you to find a pawn shop and buy a really cheap ring. One that looks old and worn and, well, cheap. Okay?"
"Can do, Milt. There are about fifty pawn shops within a five-minute walk." Gerald turned back to Mark to explain. "They like to keep them off the Strip. Looks better to hide them away down here." He faced his brother again. "But what did you find out? What's the plan?"
"I'll tell you all about that when you get back with the ring. Now get going, there's still a lot to do." The judge faced McCormick. "We'll wait here. I want to go over some stuff with you."
Gerald sighed, shrugged and left while the other two settled themselves in a relatively quiet corner.
Mark looked at Hardcastle. "So, she got a record that looks like she'd go through with it?"
The judge rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "Not sure. She's got a couple of solicitation charges still pending, and her father's been cited for drunk and disorderly. Nice-sounding family, huh? The good thing is they look like they're still new at this."
McCormick peered over the judge's shoulder. "Uh-oh. She must not be a regular. Let me handle this, Judge."
As the tall brunette on four-inch heels approached them, he flung an arm across Hardcastle's shoulders.
"We're together," Mark simpered at the brunette as the judge stared at him in horror.
"Well, I'm real happy for you, but could you tell me where the buffet is?" she queried.
ooooo
Over lunch at The Leaning Tower of Pizza, Gerald insisted on knowing what the judge had found out about Emerald Starr.
The judge rubbed his hands together and grinned. "Miss Susan Marie Platt and her father, William Edward Platt, will shortly have a visit from a retired judge who happens to be the brother of her intended. We'll have a talk, gets some facts out into the open and see what she decides. If she agrees to give the matter up, great. If not, then you get married." He beamed at Gerry.
"What?" Gerald yelped. "Married? Are you out of your mind?"
"Maybe. I'm helping you, aren't I?" Hardcastle gestured for him to lower his voice. "If she's stubborn about it, you'll take her to the courthouse to apply for the license while we rent a chapel. Then, I'll do the honors."
Mark took pity on Gerry. "Look, we're hoping she'll call the whole thing off. But if she doesn't, we're going to try to call her bluff. She can't really want to marry you, Gerry."
Gerry shot him a reproachful look.
"Okay, I didn't mean that the way it might've sounded. But you know she's just out for the money. And if we can convince her there isn't any, then your problem's solved."
"Yeah, but--" Gerald stood up abruptly and waved the paper ticket in his hand. "We're thirty-six."
As he went to collect the pizza, the judge leaned over to McCormick. "You don't mind, do ya? I just couldn't face another buffet."
"Nah. Pizza's always good. But I'm going back to the buffet tonight. It's Prime Rib Night!"
Gerald slowly lowered the pizza to the table and the judge said, "Why is it that people think 'all-you-can-eat' means 'eat-'til-you're-sick'? We all do it, every time and I just can't figure it out."
Gerry took a slice of pizza onto his plate and sprinkled on red pepper flakes. "It's the bargain mentality, Milt. People think they're getting a real deal on buffets like that. And they are, to a certain extent. What they don't realize is it's all part of the casino's plan. You pull people in for the food, and they're too stuffed to move, so they stay there and lose their money at the craps table."
The judge finished chewing and said, "Like a loss leader, you mean? Good pizza; you were right about this place."
"Exactly. Casinos don't exist so people can have fun and win money. Their business is making money off of people who think they're smarter than the oddsmakers. Even if they were, they still wouldn't win. There are stories I could tell of places right here in Vegas that I've caught cheating."
"Oh, yeah?" Hardcastle thought about that for a moment. "Then what's the difference between all those people and you, Gerry?"
Gerald snorted. "I win."
ooooo
The judge sent McCormick off to check into chapel availability, while he and Gerry paid a visit to the Platts.
Standing in front of the apartment door, just about to knock, he felt Gerry touch his arm.
"Milt," he whispered, "what if she doesn't believe us? What if she decides to go for it?"
Judge Hardcastle shrugged. "Then I'll send you a real nice wedding present."
He knocked and the door was answered promptly by a young woman in a tank top and shorts.
"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed.
The Hardcastles looked at each other; then, assuming she recognized Gerald, the judge stepped forward.
"Miss Platt?" He pulled Gerald into the apartment with him. "I'm Judge Hardcastle and apparently you know my brother, Gerry. I believe you recently sent him a letter. Could we talk to you about that now?"
"Oh, I don't know." She looked around her apartment, then turned back to them. "Well, I suppose . . . if it's about the letter . . .well, I guess so."
Not the smartest pup in the litter, thought the judge.
"Thank you. Could we sit down for just a minute?" He smiled encouragingly and nudged Gerry into a chair.
"Um," she said, still looking around.
"Perhaps your father could join us if he's available?" The judge was hoping somebody with an idea of what was going on was home.
"Yes, indeed," said a forty-ish man coming from the tiny patio. "I was hoping Gerald might drop by today to discuss the wedding plans." He smiled at all of them and then offered a hand. "I'm Bill Platt, Emerald's father. And you're . . ."
"I'm the rich one," said the judge with a smile. "Only, I'm not really rich, just by comparison with Gerry here."
"Well, I'm sure money's not all that important where true love is concerned," Platt said with a condescending wink at his daughter. "If Gerry's the man my little girl wants, then --"
"But, I thought it was a matter of the baby on the way. See, I'm a little confused here, and I'm hoping you can help me out." Hardcastle was using his man-to-man tone, looking sincere yet puzzled. "Gerry says he doesn't know your daughter from a hole in the wall, and yet she claims she's pregnant and he's going to be the father. Can you help me reconcile those two statements, Bill? I can call you, Bill, I hope? You call me Milt."
Platt opened his mouth, but the judge forestalled him.
"See, I'm afraid that what the two of you aren't aware of is Gerry's tendency to exaggerate a little. Yeah, I've got a nice house in Malibu, but it was my wife's originally and I'm living on my pension and my savings; I'm a retired judge, ya see. Bill, I think maybe it would be a good idea if I let you in on Gerald's prospects, as a husband, I mean."
Platt once again tried to get a word in, but Hardcastle had learned something from McCormick over the last five years and he plowed right ahead.
"Gerry here's a okay guy, but kinda the black sheep of the family, if ya know what I mean. A ne'er-do-well, ya might say. No job, no bank account, just depending on his family to see him through. Though that's getting a little thin right now, isn't it, Gerry?"
Gerald nodded hastily.
"I guess I'm the only one still willing to lend him a twenty now and then. 'Course he never pays it back, so it's not really a loan, is it? But I tell ya what. I think getting married would the best thing in the world for him. Force him to settle down, get a job, make his own way in the world. And, of course, I know a father would never let his little girl have too tough a time, am I right? So, you'd keep an eye on the happy couple, help 'em find a place to live, somewhere close here. And I'd kick in with a birthday present for the kid once in a while. But there's one thing I gotta make clear to both of you right now."
The judge stopped to take a breath and to add emphasis to his next sentence.
"Gerald's not getting one more penny from me, not now and not in the future."
The Platts stared at him blankly.
"Let me put that another way. The faucet's been turned off as of now. If he's gotten a girl in trouble and has to marry her, that's when the free lunch ends. He's a grown man and can take care of his own family. And," Judge Hardcastle stood up, "so there are no misunderstandings, Gerry's not even mentioned in my will."
"Well . . ." Bill Platt sat limply, looking at his daughter. "I don't know what . . ."
Susan/Emerald jumped to her feet. "He's got to marry me! I don't care if he doesn't have any money. I have to be married and it has to be really, really soon!"
ooooo
"After that, all she would say was he had to marry her and she wasn't going to discuss it any more." The judge put his beer down on the bar. "She and her dad and Gerry have gone to fill out the application and get the license. I never saw a girl with so little sense or gumption."
McCormick finished his beer and smiled slightly. "Gumption sounds like a waitress in a bar in Fort Worth."
"Huh. Does at that." Hardcastle smirked a little. "So, looks like we got a wedding to set up. Are you sure we couldn't rent the place for just five minutes?"
"Nope." Mark shook his head. "Fifteen minute minimum and they said we were lucky they had an opening at such short notice. Two bucks if they provide plastic roses for the bride to carry and two more if we want music."
"Little Chapel of the Cactus. I can't think of a more romantic name," said the judge disgustedly.
McCormick made his high-pitched hmmp noise of amusement, then noticed Gerald approaching the bar.
"Hey, Gerry!" He waved and Gerald spotted them.
"Milt, what am I gonna do?" Gerry waved at hand at the bartender and plopped heavily onto the stool next to Mark. "Rye, straight up, ginger back," he ordered.
Mark looked at him curiously and Gerry explained, "Picked it up from the aunts."
"What you're gonna do, is show up at the Little Chapel of the Cactus," the judge grimaced and shook his head, "at eleven-fifteen tomorrow morning. If the Platts show up, we have a ceremony. If they don't, we go home."
Gerry leaned on the bar to peer around McCormick. "Mi-ilt. The plan's not working! Haven't you noticed? She was supposed to call it off when she found out I don't have any money!" He sank back and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "What is wrong with that girl?"
Mark patted him gently on the back. "Cheer up, Gerry. The plan will still work. Probably. Once we get her into the chapel, with the judge saying the words, she'll back out. You'll see."
He looked back at the judge. "It's five-thirty. The buffet's got the prime rib out."
Hardcastle closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're gonna give you a half-hour head start tonight. You go ahead."
"You sure?"
Gerry waved a hand weakly and the judge pushed McCormick gently in the direction of the buffet.
"Go. Eat. Just leave a smidgen for us."
The Hardcastles sat at the bar in silence for a few minutes.
Gerald finished his ginger ale and set down the glass. "Look, Milt," he stopped, cleared his throat, then tried again. "About this plan of yours."
Hardcastle turned to face him. "You got nothing to worry about, Gerry. She's not gonna go through with it. We just have to figure out why she's so desperate to get married and then handle it."
"But that's just it! Suppose she really is pregnant and figures any husband is better than none?" Gerry waved at the bartender again and pointed at the glasses in front of him. "You want another beer?"
The judge shook his head. "Look, no offense, but there's got to be other guys around here she could trap. Why'd she pick you if it wasn't the money angle? Now, maybe there's another reason in addition to that, but we'll find out what it is and deal with it, okay?"
"But when? When will you do all this finding out? And how?" Gerald nodded his thanks to the bartender and said, "All this goes on my tab, okay?"
"We'll find out tomorrow at the ceremony," said Hardcastle confidently. "We've got the place for fifteen minutes. That ought to be plenty of time."
"I'm doomed. Doomed!" Gerry put his head in his hands, then looked up again to locate his re-filled shot glass.
"Now, Gerry. Have I ever let you down?" The judge was enjoying this, but felt slightly guilty about it. "Don't you trust me?"
Gerald sighed deeply. "Yeah, I guess that's true. You never have let me down." He put on a smile and faced his brother. "I do trust you, Milt. Whatever you say, I'll do it."
Now the judge really felt guilty.
ooooo
The interior of the Little Chapel of the Cactus was appropriate to the name. Decorated with plastic saguaro cactus plants, decorative rocks, even a stuffed lizard, it gave the impression of an abandoned movie set.
"The only thing missing is a vulture," Gerry whispered.
"Or a few cow pats," his brother whispered back.
The Hardcastles and McCormick had arrived a few minutes before eleven-fifteen and the eleven o'clock ceremony was just finishing. The bride and groom wore matching cowboy outfits and their witnesses were dressed as saloon girls.
"Classy place, Mark. Just right for the occasion." Gerald was peering into a glass case of scorpions.
"Hey, I wanted nothing but the best for my favorite uncle," McCormick grinned at him.
The Western wedding concluded, the groom yelled "Yahoo!", the bride shouted "Yee-hah!", the saloon girls shrieked "Ride 'em, cowboy!" and they all ran out the side door firing off small cap pistols.
All three members of the Hardcastle party shook their heads.
"Okay," said the judge. "Let's set this up. Gerry, you stand here. McCormick, over there."
"I'm not standing next to a tarantula, Judge!"
"All right, over there, then. Just so I know where you are." Hardcastle looked up as the door opened and the Platts entered.
"Great! Right on time! Over here, please. We only got fifteen minutes and I want to get this show on the road." The judge motioned to Bill Platt to stand next to the tarantula and positioned 'Emerald' next to Gerry.
"Now. I got the license, we got two witnesses, and I'm a member in good standing of the Nevada Bar, so let's get started." He looked at Gerry, standing at attention beside his intended. "There's usually a lot of stuff about dearly beloved and the institution of marriage, but I'm gonna skip that, okay? Right. Gerald Andrew Hardcastle, do you take Susan Marie Platt to be your wife?"
Gerald Andrew looked his brother in the eye and said, "I trust you, Milt." He closed his eyes and added, "I do."
The judge turned to the young lady next to his brother. "Susan Marie Platt, do you take Gerald Andrew Hardcastle to be your husband?"
She swallowed hard and said, "I do."
"Why?" asked the judge.
"What?" she responded.
"Why do you want Gerry to marry you? We got another what . . .?" He looked at McCormick.
"Twelve minutes," Mark held up his arm to display his watch.
"Okay, we got time. So, tell me why Gerry. He's got no money to speak of, no job, no home. What's the attraction for you?"
"Um, because he got me pregnant?" she offered tentatively.
"No, that's not it, because it isn't true. What's in this for you? Why do you have to be married?" The judge was intently curious.
"I just have to, that's all. Can't we just get on with it?" She was beginning to fidget slightly. She looked over at her father and said, "I just have to, that's all."
"Well, can you help me understand this?" Hardcastle took her arm gently and moved her away from Gerald just a bit. "I mean, I don't see what you get out of marrying Gerry. Nothing's going to change for you. You'll still be here in Las Vegas, you'll probably have to get a real job, you and Gerry will be living with your Dad in the same apartment you are now, you won't have any--"
"No!" Emerald looked at her father again. "No. We'll have a place of our own. We won't live there." She looked back at the judge. "Why wouldn't we have our own apartment?"
"Because Gerald can't afford it," Hardcastle said quietly. "Is that really important to you? Is that why you're so desperate to get married? So you can have a place of your own?"
"Oh, no. Oh, Susie. That's not it, is it?" Bill Platt came over to his daughter and put a hand on her shoulder. "Is that why you told me you wanted to marry this guy? Oh, Sue, we could've worked something out. You don't need to do this. Besides, the guy's poor. He's a loser. You can do better than that. Ellen will help you find somebody else. You'll see; we can get you a rich guy."
"Who's Ellen?" The judge signaled to Gerald to keep quiet.
"Ellen's my girlfriend and she really is pregnant. She's still living with her folks 'til we can get married and have a place of our own. But we just can't afford a big enough place for us and the baby and Susie, too." He looked helplessly at his daughter. "Pumpkin, you can't just marry some slob so Ellen can move in with me. We can find you a real nice guy, a guy with a future, a guy with a bank account."
"But, Daddy, I thought this guy was rich, so it would be okay." She pouted prettily and added, "And I really wanted some nice stuff, too. Are you sure he doesn't have any money?"
"Take my word for it, Miss Platt. He really doesn't." The judge cast a glance in McCormick's direction.
Mark held up nine fingers.
Hardcastle looked at Platt, who looked at his daughter. "So, you don't really want to marry him, do you? All those things you told me were just so you could move out and make room for Ellen?"
"Yeah," Susan admitted slowly. "It wouldn't be really nice for you guys to have to sleep on the hide-a-bed and . . ." she looked at Gerald. "You seemed to be a nice enough guy. Are you sure you aren't rich?"
"Oh, I'm sure, all right. Never did have any money. No chances for it in the future, either. Nope, not me." Gerry stopped abruptly as he saw his brother draw a finger across his neck.
"Well, if you think you can find a guy that's rich, Daddy, then let's do that." Susan smiled around and said, "If that's all right with you guys."
"Yeah, I think that's a fine idea." Hardcastle smiled back at her. "It was nice meeting you both, but we've got to get going. You take care now, you hear?" He ushered them toward the door, where the next wedding party was assembling. "We'll take care of things here, so you run along and start looking for Mr. Right, okay?"
"Can I take it the marriage is cancelled?" asked McCormick. "'Cause we've only got
eight minutes left and I think the lizard just blinked."
ooooo
"But see, Milt isn't a Justice of the Peace, he's just a member of the bar. The marriage wouldn't have been legal anyway." Mark was halfway through his second plate at the brunch buffet. He poured syrup over his French toast and then gestured with his fork at Gerald. "So even if she'd gone ahead with it, we'd still have time to get you out of it, because you wouldn't legally be married to her."
"He could've told me that, ya know," grumbled Gerry. He piled bacon on top of his cheese omelet and pressed down to meld them together. "I was sweating bullets there for a minute."
Judge Hardcastle sat down with his second plate. "You told me you trusted me, Gerry. Wasn't it true?"
"Yeah, I did. But you can trust somebody and still be nervous. And don't tell me you weren't enjoying it, either!"
"Maybe, a little." The judge sprinkled pepper over his crab salad. "But I got you out of it, didn't I? And with eight minutes to spare."
"Near gave me a heart attack, though." Gerald looked at Mark's nearly-empty plate. "You got a tape worm or something? How can you eat like that and still be skinny?"
"Nervous energy," grinned McCormick. "Burns the calories right off. Try being Tonto for a while, you'll see."
"Yeah, well," Hardcastle took a forkful of hash browns, "It doesn't work for the Lone Ranger."
McCormick headed for the buffet line again and Gerald put down his knife and fork. He looked at his brother seriously and asked, "Did you really mean the stuff you said to the Platts about me? That I'm shiftless and a ne'er-do-well and a loser?"
"I never said you were a loser. Platt said that, not me."
"Yeah, but you did say the other things. Do you really think that?" Gerald looked sadly hopeful.
"Nah, not really. Well, I guess the part about you not having a job and not much money. But you're not actually a black sheep, more like a gray sheep maybe." Hardcastle went back to his crab salad.
Gerald smiled and said, "I'll take that as a compliment." He pushed a devilled egg across his plate, took a deep breath, then said, "I really appreciate you bailing me out. Thank you, Milt."
The judge looked back at him and shrugged. "No big deal. I'd've done the same for any of the kid's friends."
Gerry frowned, then nodded. "Still. Thanks."
"And besides, you're my brother."
ooooo
"We'll be home by nine o'clock." McCormick put down the visor against the sun. "You'll have all day tomorrow to get ready for the Wilson trial."
"Yeah. Won't need all day. I just gotta get the dates straight in my head." Hardcastle lowered the visor on his side. "Hey! Something I forgot. I checked to see if Sonny was in town, but he wasn't. Would've been nice for you to see him again since we were here anyway."
"Judge." Mark made a face, then started again. "Judge, look. I appreciate you checking, but if Sonny had been in the next room, I wouldn't have bothered stopping by. I don't need him, okay?" Mark shrugged. "I guess what I'm trying to say is the guy I knew as my father when I was little doesn't exist anymore. Sonny's just somebody I happened to be related to. My real family is all Hardcastles. I got two terrific aunts, an uncle who's a real piece of work, I suppose I could consider Warren a cousin. Oh, and there's D.D. Well, I suppose every family's got one of those."
Hardcastle grunted. "That's true enough." He pulled his Yankee cap further down his forehead. "So, you don't need Sonny, huh?"
"Nope. Probably never did, but I didn't realize it then." Mark glanced at the judge briefly. "So don't go inviting him to the party, okay?"
"What party?"
"The one you've been planning for when I get my bar results. I only want family and friends, no outsiders." McCormick grinned. "Did you think I didn't know about it?"
"Well, I hoped, maybe. Guess I knew I couldn't keep anything secret around you anymore." The judge slouched in his seat. "Wake me up when we get home."
"Sleep fast, Judge. There's a clear road in front us."
finis