She Woke Up Married (10 page)

“Lunch break. I sold fifteen magazine subscriptions in four hours. That’s some kind of record for me.” Millie smiled.

“Hey Turner, I decided to quit smoking for the baby’s sake.”

“Thank you so much, Millie, I know how hard that is for you.”

“I’m tough. I can do it. But I’m going to need some patch or something. I figure a nicotine patch here, a Manhattan there, I’ll get through it. What’s this gal’s story?”

“Millie, this is Sarah Eastman. We grew up together on the Island. Her parents were missionaries with my parents. She’s decided to go to nursing school here in Las Vegas, and we’re going to put her up until she gets on her feet. Sarah, this is my roomate Millie.”

Millie eyed Sarah carefully. “And Las Vegas just popped out of a hat?”

“I wanted to see Turner again.” Sarah laced her hands in front of her demurely, nervously placing them under her chin.

“Well you picked a hell of a time, sweetcakes, but pile in. You can bunk with me. I’ve got twin beds. Can you cook? ’Cause I’m sick of cooking, and from what I gather, Princess Paris ain’t going to be much help around here.”

“I can cook a little. I can learn.”

“Oh, brother. Don’t they teach you girls anything these days?” Millie went off into the kitchen.

Sarah looked exhausted to Turner, but he’d have to have had a chart to figure out the whole time zone craziness of these women. Except Millie—she always kept crazy hours. Pretty soon they’d all get on track anyway. Hopefully.

Turner felt the extreme need to go to Graceland Chapel, chat with Reverend Danny Vernon, and have an hour or two of prayer. Patience. He’d pray for patience.

Paris stretched and yawned. She had no idea what time it was except for the fact that it was dark in the room. She hated total darkness. She’d have to put a night-light in here.

She reached next to the bed, felt for a lamp she vaguely remembered, and pushed the switch over. A blinding light pierced her eyes, and she covered them with her hands. Ouch. Did Turner not know that bulbs came in twenty-five watts?

She thumped herself back against the hard pillows. My God, where was she, anyway, Howard Johnson’s? The sheets were scratchy, the mattress was hard as a rock. Paris threw back the covers and stomped out of bed.

This was a calculated error on her part. She
felt the nausea rise like a tidal wave. There better be a bathroom in this place very near, and very empty.

Paris ran out the door of Turner’s bedroom, naked. She had no time to think about these kinds of details. That door—the one that Sarah person was just coming out of—that was her goal. Paris sped up and knocked Sarah out of the way. She slammed the door behind her, fast.

“Wow. She’s got it bad,” Millie called to Sarah from her bedroom. “Why are you up so early, girl? Come in here and chat at me.”

Turner groaned. He was used to Millie, who needed hardly any sleep, clanging pots at the crack of dawn, but he was not used to seeing a naked woman streak through his apartment at 5
A.M
. That’s what his Indiglo Timex watch glared back at him. 5
A.M
. Poor Paris.

He tried to stretch out his legs, but they hit the end of the sofa. He’d better try and get back into those pajama bottoms he’d kicked off. Sarah probably wouldn’t appreciate seeing him in the buff. But it had gotten so damn hot last night in the sleeping bag that he’d pretty much tossed everything aside.

He felt with his foot at the bottom of the bag and pulled them up with his toes till he could reach them. Hopefully he could just slide into them before any of the ladies hit the room.

Paris splashed water over her face. She didn’t have a toothbrush in here yet, and she didn’t feel like using Turner’s. She didn’t want any more of his contributions to her body—no germs, no sperms. That’s what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Why the hell would a woman voluntarily subject herself to this horrible condition? Why would you willingly say
Oh, let me have your love child, it will be so wonderful. Never mind while I yak my guts up for nine months and get fat and ruin my figure and be ripped open by a ten-pound screaming….
She couldn’t even goon. They must be insane. There must be some mind control men do that make women go willingly into this state—pregnancy.

She didn’t want to think about insanity right now.

She heard a huge thump, which got her mind back to more immediate matters.

She was naked and needed to get back to the room from whence she’d fled. She was pretty sure she’d seen knucklehead Turner on the sofa, and she knew Sarah had already gotten a full Monty of her, but hey, she’d been naked around women her whole life. Modeling was anything but a career for the modest.

So to hell with it. She flung open the door and marched herself naked right down the narrow hall, with Sarah and Millie gabbing behind her
in the end bedroom. She walked across the living room, where Turner was on the floor, wrestling with a pair of pajama pants. He must have fallen off the sofa.

“Give it up, Turner, I’ve seen the package.” Paris flung her comment at him as she passed. She hid the huge smile that hit her mouth by turning into his bedroom door and vanishing. What a clown that boy was. Some things never changed.

Oh, brother.
Turner bounced to his feet and finished pulling his pajama bottom on and fastening the button just in time to see Sarah standing at the other end of the room, staring.
Oh, brother, again.

“I’m so sorry, it got pretty hot last night and I had to shed some layers.” Turner apologized.

Sarah smiled an odd smile. “Millie is going to teach me how to make breakfast.” Then she scooted back down the hall like a high-strung dog. He better not even think those words or he’d end up with one of those, too. Now, how was he going to get some fresh clothes and a shower around here?

First, he was going to barge in on naked Paris. He’d only gotten a short look at her as she’d passed for the second time, but it was enough to make him wish his wife would reconsider sharing his bed. Her bed. Whatever. She was so
round and delicious, and her breasts were so…well-proportioned. He remembered her in the tub on their wedding night, all slippery and wet.

That got him all hot. He got a semi-erection thinking about her that way. Enough to make his pajama bottoms bulge. But hey, this was his wife he was thinking about.

Sarah came back in the room. Her eyes just grazed over him as she headed for the kitchen. He saw her cheeks go scarlet. He was just not even going to think about that. Turner headed for his old bedroom with speed and determination. He knocked on the door, then turned the knob and went in. By now, the offending erection had wilted into submission.

“Hey!” Paris groused.

Although why, he didn’t know. She was back under his covers. In his nice, firm bed.

“I’ve seen the package, Mrs. Pruitt.”

“Humph. This mattress is hard as a rock. What is this, a reverend thing? Denying the earthly pleasures?”

“If I was into denying myself earthly pleasures, I wouldn’t have married you, my dear.” Turner danced around Paris’s trunks and suitcases so he could get to the large antique armoire at the foot of the bed. There was just enough room for him to manuever the drawers open.

“Sweet-talkin’ Turner. I’m going shopping. What the hell time is it anyway?”

“About five-fifteen in the morning. Sarah’s learning to make breakfast, Millie is going to consume a pot of coffee, and I’m going to eat and run. I’ve got business back at the chapel.” Turner pulled the clothing he needed out of their neatly folded piles.

“Figures.”

“What does that mean?” Turner turned to look at her.

“Nothing.”

“I’m here for you, Paris. You can call me any time. I’m leaving you the chapel phone number, and anyone there can tell you where I went if I step out. I’m helping Reverend Vernon go over some music. I’m also going to get the names of a few doctors. We’ll need a good OB.” Turner turned back to the armoire. “Maybe Sarah would like to go shopping with you later. We’ll also need some groceries for this crowd. I’ll leave you some money.”

“Oh, that kind of shopping. I don’t do that kind. Don’t you just call the grocer and have it sent up?”

“No, we don’t have it sent up. We get up off our fannies and buy milk and bread.”

“How very primitive of you.” Paris sounded cranky. Then again, she’d sounded cranky since they’d gotten on the plane in New York.

“Why don’t you just rest today. Have a good meal, get your bearings. Millie can take Sarah
shopping,” Turner suggested. “I’m going to take a quick shower and get going.” He finished selecting clothes, then shut the armoire doors and all the drawers. He was going to nab that bathroom for a shower before it was gone forever.

“Have a nice day,
honey.
”

“You too,
darling.
” Turner marched out of the room with his clothes and made it to the open bathroom. A shower. A cold shower.

Paris couldn’t believe she was wide awake at five-fifteen in the morning. She picked out one of her suitcases and opened it on the floor. Bears. Bears! Well, they couldn’t just stay in there forever, they’d get musty and unhappy. She grabbed an armful and placed them on the bed. She’d just unpack everything and make this room more bearable…
bear
-able. She giggled at her own joke.

She was getting on the phone to the nearest department store as soon as they opened. This mattress had to go. Maybe even the bed. Plus she’d need her own linens. They should be in one of these trunks. Unless it was a trunk the airline was bringing over later. She’d just buy some new linens anyway, just in case. And since she could not fit into a single pair of pants she owned, she’d have to go maternity shopping. Donna Karan had maternity clothes, didn’t she?

Paris busied herself unloading the contents of
her suitcases and trunks onto Turner’s bed. She found paper in his bedside table and started making a shopping list.
Her
kind of shopping. Three-hundred-thread-count shopping.

Turner took a two-minute shower to conserve the hot water. Only time for one verse of “You Left Me Cryin’ in the Chapel.” Plus he had things on his mind, and he’d think much more clearly in his own office—away from here. He had questions to sort out. Like how he was going to support three women, and how he was going to get Paris to stop thinking she’d be the worst mother on earth, and how he was going to keep his hands off her.

Maybe working two jobs would help. Besides his job at Graceland Chapel, there was always work for a good Elvis in Vegas. There were lots of private parties and conventions. Also, summer in Vegas through September was the peak wedding season, then things quieted down until December and New Year’s.

It was a good thing that he’d found the interim reverend. Danny could stay on as Turner’s assistant. That would be a first, having an assistant. Turner would have some free time.

Turner knew Graceland Chapel could easily support a part-time assistant. He’d gone over the books carefully when he’d bought the chapel a few years ago, and it’d barely been breaking even at that point, but he’d done a few do-it-
yourself renovations to class the place up, and business had picked up nicely. Enough to pay the overhead and a little on the side.

But he’d need more than a little on the side if he was going to keep up with Paris, Sarah, Millie, and baby makes four. He’d have to save up for a larger apartment—or a house. First and last months’ rent could really add up on a decent place.

He’d just have to put his name in to the Elvi booking agency and get some action going. He wiped the fog off the bathroom mirror and peered at his reflection. He’d have to let the sideburns grow out again.

When he left the bathroom, fully dressed, Turner heard all sorts of banging and thumping coming from his bedroom, so he decided to join Millie for a cup of coffee and a muffin instead of attempting another round with Paris.

“You’ve got yourself a wildcat there, Reverend,” Millie said. She had to remove the Tootsie Pop from her mouth first. Turner figured that was her replacement for the usual morning cigarette.

“Looks like it.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in a non-cartoon mug and sat down heavily on a kitchen chair. “Any suggestions?”

“Just let nature take its course.” Millie smiled. “Everything will work out.” She took a gulp of
coffee and stuck the sucker back in her mouth.

“You should be preaching this Sunday, Millie. These are great muffins. Thanks for baking so early in the morning.”

“Sarah made them. She’s not too stupid in the kitchen.”

Millie hadn’t bothered to take out the lollypop that time, so it had come out a little garbled, but Turner got it. Just then Sarah emerged from the hallway, looking very conservative in a white high-necked, long-sleeved blouse and a dark floral skirt. Turner hoped she hadn’t heard Millie.

Then he remembered she’d seen him…inflated. He just hoped Sarah wasn’t very observant. Fat chance, but Turner hoped anyway.

“Sarah, good morning.”

“Good morning, Turner.” She gave a wan smile.

“Millie tells me you made these muffins. They’re very nice. Apple spice?” Turner went for the distraction.

“Yes, thank you. Millie is a good teacher.” Sarah got a cup down from the cupboard, went to the stove, and poured herself hot water. She squeezed a wedge of lemon into the cup and added a little honey. All this had been carefully laid out next to the stove, Turner noticed.

“I thought I’d go to the chapel for a while, then run over to the college and see about enrollment forms for you.”

“Oh,” Sarah said. “I thought we’d do that together. Or I’m happy to do it myself.” She carefully sat down across from him with her hot lemon water and sipped it slowly.

“I can’t let you just wander around Vegas alone. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together.”

“I’d love to come and see the chapel, Turner. Can I just go along?”

“Of course.”

Millie had a smirk on her lollypopped lips. She removed the sucker and spoke up. “I thought I’d hit the Piggly Wiggly early before my calling hours. Can we do that first, come back here, then you and Sarah can go to the chapel?” Plop. Back in it went.

“Sure. I guess we’re a one-car family at present, so we better make do,” Turner replied. He took a deep draw off his coffee. If this day was any indication of the complications that awaited him, he was going to need more than patience to get through it.

Paris stalked through the bedroom door, sniffing the air. Turner twisted in the chair to see her approaching in some kind of flannel gown. Her hair was all crazy. She looked like Raggedy Ann, but meaner. She also looked more like six months’ pregnant. Turner thought this was odd. He guessed he hadn’t noticed when he’d glimpsed her glorious body earlier.

“What’s that I smell?” She got closer. She spot
ted muffins. She dove in and practically stuffed one in her mouth whole. “Hmmmm. Good.”

Sarah was staring at her.

“Paris, I’m going to take Millie and Sarah food shopping, then drop Millie back here. Then Sarah and I are going to the chapel and later over to Nevada State College to get some enrollment information. Would you like to come along?” Turner asked.

Paris got a strange look on her face. Her left eyebrow twitched up high on her face. She looked at him for at least thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of some women’s deadpan stare is very unnerving. Then she peeled another muffin out of its paper wrapper, took a big bite, and chewed. That took some time as well. Finally, she answered him.

“I don’t care what you do. I’ve got some shopping to do too, so when you and
Dara
are all done, you’ll need to drive me to the nearest mall. Hopefully there’s a decent department store nearby. There wasn’t any when I left here years ago.”