By daybreak on The Big Day, Phyllis was practically running around the house like a chicken with it's head cut off. She felt like there was a million things to do before that afternoon. Big D was just sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, and drinking a cup of coffee, calm as ever.

"Calm yourself down, Phyllis," he commented, not bothering to look up from the paper.

"Calm down?" Phyllis shouted. "How can I calm down? I've got a million things to do, and a million things to worry about! What if it rains?"

"The wedding is indoors, and the reception is right next to the chapel. Rain will not be a problem."

"What if the flowers don't arrive on time?"

"I've already called the florist. They are going to call me when they deliver the flowers to the chapel."

"And the photographer?"

"Confirmed."

"The catering?"

"I've already talked to Mrs. Collins about it. She's at the diner right now, making some last minute preparations."

"And my dress and the girls' dresses?"

"They're already at the chapel. Remember? You said you and the girls might find it easier to leave your dresses at the chapel and get dressed there? Mainly because you didn't want your brother getting his hands on them. Again. And before you say anything else, I've confirmed your appointment at the salon downtown for your hair, as well as the girls' hair. Now sit down, and have some breakfast, otherwise, you'll end up passing out halfway down the aisle."

"All right, all right."

Phyllis walked over to the counter, and poured herself a cup of coffee. Big D put the newspaper down, walked over, and took the cup out of her hands.

"You won't be needing this today," he said, draining the coffee into the sink. "You're amped up enough as it is."

"Sorry," Phyllis said. "I'm just worried, chief. I just know Fluey's going to pull something."

"If he knows what's good for him, he won't," Big D said. "I've confined him to his room for the next two days, and if he disobeys me just one more time . . . . ."

Phyllis nodded. She knew it was better not to get Big D angry. He was good at keeping his temper, but heaven help you if you pushed him too far.

"Do me a favor and go take him some breakfast," Big D said. "He may be grounded, but I don't want him to starve all day."

"Right, chief."

Phyllis grabbed a bowl, a glass, and some cereal out of the cabinet, got some milk and orange juice out of the refrigerator, and fixed up a quick breakfast. Then she put the juice and cereal on a tray, and went upstairs with it. She knocked on the door.

"Hey, Fluey, are you up?" she asked. No answer. Phyllis figured he was still asleep. She slowly opened the door, and saw what she apparently thought was Fluey, completely sacked out. But it wasn't really. Fluey had prepared for either Big D or Phyllis to check on him during the middle of the night, so he placed a couple of pillows under the comforter, to make them think he was still sleeping. And both Big D and Phyllis knew darn well Fluey was a very heavy sleeper. Not even a sonic boom going off in the backyard would wake him up!

"Figures," Phyllis sighed. "Oh well. I'll just leave his breakfast here. I'm sure Big D won't mind if he sleeps all day, just this once."

Phyllis put the tray down on Fluey's desk, and left, closing the door behind her. Then she came downstairs.

"He's still asleep," she reported. "I figured you wouldn't mind if he sleeps all day."

"Normally, I would," Big D said. "I don't want him to get into a habit of this. However, if he spends the entire day sleeping, then at least I'll know he'll stay out of trouble."

Phyllis nodded, and she went to get her own breakfast.

Across town, Coiley was having his own breakfast while watching Courtney walk up and down the kitchen. She'd take a step, stop, take another step, stop again, and so on and so on.

"Courtney?" Coiley's father, George Collins, asked. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing," Courtney said.

"What do you need to practice for?" Coiley asked. "You already know how to be a flower girl. Remember, you were the flower girl at Sue's wedding."

"I remember," Courtney said. "But I'm practicing to make sure I don't forget."

"Oh brother," Coiley groaned. Then he finished his breakfast, stuck his dishes in the dishwasher, and started to leave.

"Where are you going?" George asked.

"Over to Multi's," Coiley said. The boys were so used to referring to each other by their code names, they very rarely used their given names anymore, unless it was in front of someone who wasn't aware of their double lives.

"I'll see you guys at the wedding," Coiley continued, as he headed for the door. "Though you guys are going to have to get there early. Courtney's dress is at the chapel already, and she may need some time getting into it, you know. That, and Phyllis and Raphael are going to be doing some photos before the ceremony."

"I know," George said. "It took your mother nearly twelve hours to pull herself together before we got married. Just don't tell her I said that."

Coiley laughed, and then went out to the Impossi-Mobile to head over to Multi's house. Multi was just finishing up breakfast when he arrived.

"Hi, Multi," he said. "Ready for the big day?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Multi said.

"So now that Franky's been kicked out of the wedding, who's gonna escort Danalleah down the aisle, anyway?" Multi's older sister, Windy, asked.

"I think Phyllis asked Dr. Phelps if Jamie would do it," Coiley said. "That's the last I heard."

"I guess we'll find out when we get there," Multi said, shrugging. "It's going to feel kind of weird, though. The three of us are so used to doing these things together, you know?"

"Well, he brought it all on himself, you know," Windy replied. "If he hadn't tried to sabotage the wedding, and if he hadn't tried to kill his sister's fiance during the rehearsal . . . . ."

"Yeah, do me a favor, would you, Win?" Multi asked. "Stay out of this, okay?"

Windy just shrugged. Then she heaved a sigh.

"I love weddings," she said, dreamily. "I can't wait until I get married."

"I can," Multi's father, Ken, mumbled under his breath.

"Da-ad!" Windy shouted, having heard him.

"Sorry," Ken said, shrugging. "I don't blame Franky for going all nutso. I'd do the same thing if it were Windy getting married."

"Dad, if it were Windy getting married, you'd want to have the guy drawn and quartered," Multi commented.

"I thought Franky was the wise guy of the three of you," Ken said, giving his son a Look. Multi just shrugged, then he and Coiley went to get Skittles and work on some last minute preparations for the wedding.

Meanwhile, Fluey was just starting to come around. That was some strong stuff that Raphael and Luke used to knock him out. He groaned, and shook his head out for a moment in order to clear it, and looked around his surroundings. All he could gather was that wherever he was, it was dark. He couldn't see much. He also knew he was sitting on the floor, and tied to a pole, or a beam or something. His ankles were tied together as well, and Raphael and Luke had gagged him to keep him quiet. He felt cold metal against his wrists, and he figured these two must have handcuffed his hands behind the pole.

Great, he thought. How am I gonna get out of this one?

Fluey began struggling, trying to slip at least one of his hands out of the metal cuffs. As he was working on that, the door slowly creaked open, and a light clicked on. Once the light was turned on, Fluey saw that he was in some kind of closet, or storage room or something. He figured he was probably at a warehouse or something. He heard footsteps coming toward him, so he looked up and saw Luke standing there.

"Yo, Vince!" he called out. "He's awake!"

"Good," Raphael (or is it Vincent?) said, walking over. "Good, good, good. Mornin', Franky-boy. About time you woke up. We were getting worried about ya."

Fluey shot Raphael a dirty look, that clearly said, "yeah, right." Then he continued trying to maneuver his hands free.

"Come on, kid, you know you're never gonna get anywhere that way," Luke said. "What are we gonna do with him, Vince?"

"I don't know yet," Raphael said.

"Well, we gotta do something with him before the wedding!" Luke shouted. "We can't leave him here all day."

"Sure we can. As long as he stays tied up."

"What if he manages to get loose?"

"Naw, he won't get loose."

Raphael then took a switchblade knife out of his pocket and activated the blade. Then he kneeled next to Fluey, and held the side of the blade against Fluey's throat. Fluey gasped, and began to get nervous.

"In fact, Franky-boy is gonna be good and do everything we tell him to," Raphael said. "Because if he doesn't, we'll off his sister and send the sheik his girlfriend instead. And maybe we'll bump off his grandaddy while we're at it, if he misbehaves. And we'll make him watch as we slowly slit Grandad's throat. What do you say to that, Franky-boy? You gonna be a good little boy and do everything we tell ya?"

Fluey slowly nodded his head. He had no idea if these guys were bluffing or not, but he didn't want to take chances. Once Fluey nodded, Raphael deactivated the switchblade, and tightened the ropes binding Fluey to the pole.

"Good," he said, reinforcing Fluey's gag while he was at it. "Now look, kid. Here's what I want you to do. I want you to stay in here, and stop moving around. You're gonna be a good little boy, and sit still until we get back from the wedding. And you're not gonna make any noise, otherwise, your sister's gonna get it. Get it?"

Again, Fluey nodded. Raphael laughed deviously, tousled Fluey's hair a bit, and stood up.

"Just remember what I told ya, Franky-boy," he said. "If you want your sister and your grandpa to stay alive, you'd better do what we say."

Both Raphael and Luke laughed, as they left the storage room, turning off the lights, and closing and locking the door behind them. Even though they had shut the door, Fluey could still hear them.

"Man, I still say we bump the kid off now," Luke said.

"No," Raphael said. "We can't kill him here and now. Besides, we might need him alive."

"How come?"

"Insurance. Just in case Phyllis, Gramps, or one of the kid's pals gets wise to our little plan. We'll finish the job after we get out of the country. Better call the airline and get an extra ticket for the kid."

"Gotcha."

Fluey just sat there and sighed. It looked like there wasn't any way out of this one.

About an hour later, Phyllis was up in her bedroom, picking through her jewelry box, trying to decide which pieces of her collection would go best with her wedding gown. As she was going through her jewelry box, she found a little ring buried at the bottom of it. It wasn't anything spectacular, just a little plastic ruby on a plastic silver setting. She remembered the day she got it. It was Valentine's Day, and she was six years old. It had been at the local park Phyllis went to every day after school with Daisy and her mother. A little boy, about nine years old, had given it to her. He found it in a box of Cracker Jacks. He and Phyllis had met the summer before. Phyllis was five then, and her playmate was eight. Phyllis had been eating an ice cream cone, but it fell off the cone after a couple of licks, and she started crying. An eight-year-old boy came up to her, and gave her his ice cream cone. And every day after that, Phyllis would go to the park and play with the little boy, until he announced his family was moving. He gave her the ring he found in the Cracker Jacks box as a goodbye present, and Phyllis gave him a little clay heart she made in art class. The sad part was that she never even new his name. She had all but forgotten about that little boy, until she pulled the little ring out. As she was thinking about it, Big D knocked on her door.

"I just came to see how things were going," the chief said.

"They're going fine," Phyllis said.

"What are you holding?"

"Oh . . . . just this little plastic ring."

Big D walked over, and took a look at that ring. Then he smiled.

"I remember this," he said. "You were six years old, and you said a boy at the park gave it to you. Then I remember you saying once you were grown up, you were going to find this boy and marry him."

"Yeah, and you said how could I find him and marry him if I didn't even know his name," Phyllis said. "To this day, I still don't have the slightest idea who that boy was."

"Considering you've had several young men in your life."

Phyllis nodded, and put the plastic ring back in her jewelry box. Then she took her string of pearls and her matching pearl earrings, and put them on. Then she took them off, and put them in her purse.

"I think I'd better wait to put those on until after I get into my dress," she said.

"Good idea," Big D commented. Then he sighed. "I honestly didn't think this day would ever come. I really didn't. I can only hope you're sure about going through with this."

"I'm sure, chief," Phyllis said. "This is the right one. I know it."

"If you're sure."

"Don't tell me you still don't like him, chief!"

"I'm not fond of the man, if that's what you mean. But . . . . . if he makes you happy, then that's all I'm concerned about."

Phyllis just smiled. She knew Big D wasn't the type to get all sentimental and mushy over things like this. It was just the way he was.

Exactly half an hour later, everyone was at the chapel, getting ready for the "Moment of Truth." Being the traditionalist that she was, Phyllis had opted to take most of the wedding party photos after the ceremony, since it was considered bad luck for the bride and the groom to see each other before the ceremony.

"I sure hope everything goes smoothly," Coiley commented.

"I hope so, too," Multi said. Then he sighed. "I don't know, I'm starting to get a funny feeling about this."

"Yeah, me too. I don't know exactly what it is, though."

"Me neither."

While the boys were trying to figure this whole thing out, Phyllis was putting some final touches to her hair and make up. As she was doing this, there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"It's me," a familiar Texas-accented voice said. Phyllis knew it belonged to Mike. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure, Mike," Phyllis said, a little surprised. The door opened, and Mike walked in, wearing his usual coveralls.

"What are you doing here?" Phyllis asked. "Big D said you weren't coming to the wedding, and I thought you'd be halfway to Texas by now!"

"Yeah, I know, but I booked a flight that leaves tomorrow," Mike replied, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I'm not plannin' on stayin', I just dropped by to say good luck, you know. Uhhh, I've also got a present for you, but would you mind openin' it now, considerin' I'm leavin' tomorrow, and all . . . . ."

Mike handed a small box to Phyllis. It wasn't wrapped in any fancy paper, just tied with a piece of silver ribbon. Phyllis opened the box, and unwrapped something from the tissue paper. Inside was a clay heart. She stared at it for a few seconds, and then turned it over. On the back were the words "Phyllis Dawson Grade 1" etched in it.

"Where . . . . . where did you get this?" she asked, looking at Mike, oddly.

"Well . . . . . you probably don't remember, 'cause it was a long time ago," Mike said, again rubbing the back of his neck. "But . . . . you gave it to me at the park on Valentine's Day. You were six, and I was nine, and my dad and I were movin' back to Texas, 'cause he was in the army, and that's where we ended up transferred to. And I gave you this plastic ring I found in a box of Cracker Jacks."

Phyllis just held the clay heart in her hand. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She and Mike had known each other and worked together at the SSHQ for three years, and she never even realize that he was the little boy she said she would one day marry. And she knew he couldn't have been making that story up. She never told anyone about the ring, or the clay heart. As far as she knew, only Big D knew the story, and he wasn't the type to go around telling those kinds of stories.

"In any case, I'd better hit the road before someone sees me and calls the etiquette police or somethin'," Mike said. "You know, I always wanted to ask you out, but I never got the chance. Not enough nerve, I guess. And . . . . I also guess it's too late now."

Phyllis simply nodded. Then Mike left, and she sat down, trying to get her bearings. This was a revelation she wasn't prepared for.

As Mike was leaving the chapel, he saw an old Volkswagen van pull into the parking lot. It looked as if it had seen better days. It was a bit rusty, and painted a disgusting olive green color. As he stood there, staring at the monstrosity, the front doors opened, and out came Raphael and Luke, all dressed up for the wedding.

"Hey!" Mike called out. "What's with the van?"

"The Ferrari broke down," Raphael said quickly. "We had to use Luke's V-dub here."

"She may be old and rusty, but she runs like a dream," Luke said.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Mike?" Raphael asked. "Don't tell me you're here for the wedding, dressed like a grease monkey!"

"Well, Raph, I am a grease monkey," Mike said, shrugging. "I just came by to see Phyllis, and wish her good luck."

"Oh," Raphael said. "Well . . . . gotta go. See you around."

"Yeah," Mike said, getting a good look at the van's license plate. Raphael and Luke then went into the chapel. As they were going in, Raphael accidentally dropped an envelope on the ground. Mike picked it up, opened it, and looked at the documents inside of it.

"You will," he said, and he dashed over to his motorcycle. He twisted one of the handlebars slightly, and the dash opened up revealing a computer inside of it. Immediately, Mike began typing. That van of Luke's looked about as familiar to him as Raphael did, and he wanted to check in on the license plate.

Finally, it was time to get things started. Though Big D noticed Phyllis looked a little out of it all of a sudden.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "All of a sudden, you seem distracted."

"Oh," Phyllis said, shrugging. "Nerves, I guess."

Actually, Phyllis was thinking about the conversation she had with Mike a few minutes ago. She was beginning to wonder if she was making the right decision. Did she really love Raphael, or was she really that desperate to get married, just because all of her friends were married? She didn't have too much time to think about that much. The next thing she knew, she was walking down the aisle. But she was still a bit in a fog. But she managed to snap back to attention at one point.

"If anyone here has any reason why these two should not be wed," the minister said, "speak now or forever hold your peace."

"HOLD IT!" a voice from the back of the chapel screamed. Everyone turned around and saw Mike Rogers standing there, holding some papers in his hand.

"Sorry to interrupt, but you can't continue this ceremony!" he shouted.

"I assume you have a perfectly logical explanation for this, Rogers," Big D said, calmly, but everyone could tell he wasn't amused.

"I do, chief," Mike said. "I can prove that Raphael Caprezio is nothin' more than a fake! He and his pal arrived on the scene in an old van that I knew I've seen before. And he happened to drop an envelope on the way inside the chapel, and this was inside."

Mike handed the papers he was holding to Big D and he looked through them.

"What the devil?" he asked. "Letters to a Middle Eastern sheik . . . . . and photos of women that mysteriously disappeared, ones we've been trying to track down for months. We'd been working on a human trafficking case for awhile now, but we didn't have any leads."

"Until now," Mike said. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the mastermind of a human trafficking ring, Mr. Vincent de Leo, alias Raphael Caprezio!"

Raphael just stood there, calmly. His "parents," Mario and Francesca stood up from their places in the congregation.

"Oh the humiliation!" Francesca shouted, sounding a bit overdramatic.

"How could you do this to us, my son?" Mario shouted, sounding just as overly dramatic as Francesca.

"Don't buy that, Big D," Mike said. "Those two are Harold Dupre and Ginger Astor. They're part of de Leo's gang, and so is Luke!"

"How did you find this out, Mike?" Coiley asked.

"It wasn't until I saw the van," Mike said. "Six years ago, in Texas, my father and I were makin' a run to the grocery store when we saw this guy with a thirteen-year-old girl, and he was tryin' to shove her into the back of this disgustin' olive green Volkswagen van. And the girl was strugglin' somethin' fierce. My dad knew this was a kidnappin' attempt, and he decided to step in, and I followed. Dad and the guy got into a fight, and as they were goin' at it, I took the girl inside the store so she could call her parents, and the police. Then I ran back outside just in time to see the guy take out a gun, and shoot my father, about five times in the chest, right through the heart. Dad didn't even know what hit him, so I guess that was a blessing, I don't know. Luckily, the police came, and arrested the murderer. That's when I found out his name was Vincent de Leo, and he was convicted of murder, thanks to my testimony on the witness stand, as well as the thirteen-year-old girl's testimony. So, obviously, he escaped prison, changed his name a multitude of times, and carried on in the practice of human traffickin'. When I saw that van of his, I looked it up on my computer in my motorcycle. I knew I had my man, even though he altered his appearance between six years ago and now."

Mike handed a picture of Vincent de Leo from six years ago. It looked a bit like Raphael, except in the picture, his hair was long, greasy, and unkempt, and he had a scraggly looking goatee. But the face was definitely the same.

"I believe we have some questions for you, Mr. Caprezio," Big D said, glaring at Raphael.

"There's obviously some mistake here," Raphael said, calmly. Then, in a lightning quick move, he reached into the jacket of his tuxedo, and whipped out a gun. Then he grabbed Phyllis by the arm, pulled her close to him, and put the barrel of the gun against her right temple. Naturally, people began panicking.

"Nobody move!" Raphael shouted. "Everyone stay right where you are!"

Everyone immediately froze, except for Luke, and Raphael's alleged "parents." They took their own guns out, and held them up.

"Okay, now, everyone on the floor," Raphael continued.

"I've had enough of this tomfoolery," Big D said. "I've a good mind to . . . ."

Raphael then pressed his gun against the side of Phyllis's head again, and tightened his grip on her. His finger was on the trigger, and dangerously close to pulling it. That stopped Big D in his tracks.

"You want me to blow her brains out, Gramps?" Raphael asked.

Big D glared at Raphael, and got down on the floor. There was no way in the world he was going to take the chance of this nut killing his granddaughter, that was for sure.

"I'm glad you see it my way," Raphael said with a laugh. "Harry, Ging, keep these guys covered. Make sure none of them gets outta here without hearing from me first."

"Gotcha, boss," Ginger said.

"Come on, Luke," Raphael said. "Let's make like a banana and split."

"Right," Luke said, and he grabbed hold of Phyllis's other arm. "Let's move, Doll Face."

"Oh yeah, one more thing, Gramps," Raphael said, to Big D. "Don't try to be a hero. We've also got your snoopy little grandson."

"What?" Big D shouted.

"Yeah, he broke into our apartment and we caught him snooping around last night," Raphael said. "So I recommend you do everything I say, old man, or else you ain't never seeing either of your grandkids again!"

Big D just glared. This was the only thing that would render him helpless: both his grandchildren in trouble. Coiley and Multi were at a bit of a stand still as well. And they had the same idea Big D had. Keep calm, and do everything they were told to do for the moment. When it came to hostage situations, the boys had been trained not to take unnecessary risks. They would have to wait until an opportunity opened up.

Raphael and Luke practically dragged Phyllis out to their van, and opened the back doors. Phyllis climbed in. Normally, she would have just karate chopped them both, and kicked them both where she knew it would do the most damage (and she was wearing a pair of high heels, for that matter), but she wasn't about to do that, not with a gun pointed right at her, that's for sure (after all, who would want to take their chances when you've got a gun pointed on you?)

"Let's get back to the hideout," Raphael said, as he and Luke climbed into the front of the van, and started it up. They were just about to pull out of the parking lot when a blue motorcycle drove up, and blocked the van's path. It was Mike. He had managed to slip out of the chapel when Raphael was shooting the ceiling.

"Goin' somewhere, bud?" he asked.

"Get outta the way, you overgrown grease stain!" Luke shouted.

"I ain't goin' nowhere and neither are you fellas!" Mike shouted.

"Okay, Tex, you asked for it!" Luke shouted, and he put the van into reverse and started backing up. Mike stood firm.

"What are you going to do?" Phyllis asked, nervously.

"You'll see, toots," Luke said, and he snickered evilly. Raphael smiled sneakily.

"Give 'er all she's got, Luke," he said.

"Check," Luke replied. "I'm gonna run him, and his bike, over!"

"No!" Phyllis yelled.

Luke didn't pay any attention to her. He slammed on the gas pedal and came racing toward Mike and his cycle at top speed, leaving tire tracks in the pavement.

"I can't watch!" Phyllis shouted, and she sat down on the floor of the van, covering her eyes with her hands. The next thing she heard was the sickening sound of crashing metal. She definitely felt the impact, but the van kept right on going. Phyllis stood up, and dared to look out of the back windows of the van. She saw Mike's motorcycle, mangled up and completely destroyed. Bits and pieces of it were scattered all over the parking lot, but she didn't see Mike anywhere. But somehow, she just knew he must have ended up a mangled mess as well. There was no way he could have jumped out of the way in time. And Luke and Raphael were howling with laughter over it, like a couple of hyenas.

"That takes care of that," Raphael said. "On to the hideout so we can close the deal with the sheik!"