The Chapel Wars (22 page)

It was around six in the morning when my phone buzzed with a text.

Sam: It’s over. I’m over.

Me: Are you okay?

Sam: No.

Me: But you are alive and plan on staying that way until you get to work and I can talk to you?

Sam: Not coming to work

Me: But it’s Valentine’s Day

Sam: Salt. Wound. Thanks

Me: Seriously, Sam. I need to know you’re going to be okay

Sam: I’m not suicidal if that’s what you’re asking, Holls

Me: I’ll figure it out. I’ll check on you tonight. Sorry. Thinking of you, K?

Sam:

Enduring Valentine’s Day in the wedding business is like working as a mall Santa at Christmastime. And this was my first Valentine’s with a valentine. A valentine who
loved me
. When I saw his car in the parking lot, I blew a kiss.

Camille came in at ten, looking like absolute crap. Mom even stopped her at the door. “Camille, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Camille just stared vacantly at my mom. “I’ve been better, but I had to work. Is Sam here?”

“Didn’t he tell you he’s not coming in?” Mom asked.

Camille gave me a broken look.

“Oh, I was supposed to tell you,” I said. “Sick.”

“Yeah, something must be going around.” Camille fiddled with her necklace. “Hey, can we talk?”

Another couple walked in and Mom was back in planner mode. Camille and I slipped into the Bridal suite. She didn’t sit, just stood, wringing her hands.

“I came in because I know you needed me, but I’m quitting after today, okay?”

“Camille, you don’t need to quit.”

She slumped into the bridal chair, a Queen Ann Victorian with original velvet backing. Grandpa Jim adored that chair. “I was only working here to be with Sam. I mean, I know I sucked at this job.”

“No, well … sort of.”

She rubbed at her temples. “I hope he’s okay. He got mad again after you got out of the car. I’d never seen him cry like that, it was awful.”

“He loves you.”

“I love him.” Camille thunked her head against the wall. “Where does that get us? Did I tell you, I told my parents? This week? Not how long I’d dated Sam, just that I had started dating a guy.”

“Were they mad?” I asked.

“Not really. Just that I’d lied. They wanted to meet him. I thought … I actually thought we would have a chance of, like, making it. And then he had to pull out a stupid promise ring. I didn’t even know what a promise ring was until he explained it to me.”

“Sam’s just old-fashioned about things.”

She closed her eyes. “Do you hate me?”

“What? No. Of course not.” I slipped into the seat next to her and squeezed her hand. “I don’t want to choose sides, but—”

“I know. Sam is your best friend. You were only friends with me because you had to be.”

“That’s not true.” Not entirely. “I mean, yes, of course I’m going to be friends with Sam still but … don’t tell him this. He was acting crazy.”

Camille’s eyes flew open. “He’s a lunatic! I’m still so mad at him.”

“Yeah …”

“Anyway, I don’t know. I think this is really it, like we’re really done. So, I just … I’m glad I got to know you, you know? We can’t be friends now, I get that—”

“Camille, of course we can—”

“Shut up. We won’t. There’s some sort of code.” She stood up and offered me her hand. “But if you ever need help, like … with an outfit or some other girl thing, text me. Sam doesn’t need to know.”

“You’ll get back together,” I said without much conviction. Seeing Sam the way he was last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if he dubbed Camille She Who Must Not Be Named.

She wiped at her eyes. “I don’t know how the human body can produce this many tears.” She smiled. “Anyway, it’s my last day, so let’s go sell some memories.”

“Grandpa Jim used to say that.”

“I know.” She opened the door. “I did pay attention once or twice.”

The next few hours flew by. I didn’t get a break until three, when I decided to go check on James in the hand-billing trenches.

What we did last night on the Strip is similar to the hand billing that happens at the marriage bureau, except on the Strip you sift out the potential customers, and at the marriage bureau, the customers come right to you.

In the past, the couples got their license at the courthouse, and hand billers would sit on the steps and wait for them to walk outside so they could get into their face. People complained, laws were passed, one particularly aggressive chapel was put out of business, and now all hand billing took place in a designated area.

My brother sat on a curb around the corner, spitting out sunflower seeds. There was a seed stuck between his teeth when he smiled. “How many? So far?”

I sat down next to him. “Four couples came in with brochures. You’re rocking it. How’s the competition looking?”

James flicked a seed into the gutter. “There’s a guy who’s almost gotten into two fights already. The regulars said he’s new. He keeps running after couples and no one stops him. It’s making me mad.”

“Then he’ll get kicked out soon. These guys are usually selling ceremonies so cheap they don’t even make a profit.”

James wiped his mouth. “Yeah, well, I don’t like losing. I care about this chapel too, know that?”

“Of course you do.”

“Not like Lenore,” he said.

I squinted across the street. Lenore was away at college, this wasn’t her problem, but James was mad she hadn’t come down to help out for Valentine’s weekend. The truth was, Lenore hadn’t really helped out
any
weekend. She’d just be in the way if she were here. “She’s got other things going on, James.”

“Everyone has other things going on,” he mumbled.

“You can have other things going on and still care. About a business or friend or family. Hearts have more room than you think.”

He looked at me sideways. “So you are feeling feelings all of a sudden.”

“I’ve always felt them. I’m just telling you about it now.”

“I’m not going to hug you, if that’s what you want.”

“Then you’ve officially ruined my Valentine’s Day.” I picked up a seed and cracked it between my nails. “Anything else exciting happen?”

“Not really.” James chewed on his lip. “Except for your boyfriend looking retar—dumb. In that costume.”

I stood up and brushed off my skirt. He wasn’t reusing Hello Kitty, was he? “What costume?”

“You don’t know? Dude, this day just got so much better.” James hopped up and practically sprinted around the corner. I followed him as fast as I could in my pointy flats.

“Look!”

Dax was standing on the corner, hand on one hip, wearing a
cupid costume. If you have ever seen an illustration or cartoon of cupid (you being
anyone
), then you know cupid does not wear a shirt. Just a diaper and wings. Oh, and the bow and arrow. Let us not forget that bow and arrow.

I sauntered up behind Dax and whistled. He glanced back and cursed when he saw me. “Don’t start.”

“I think this street corner is officially my favorite spot in Las Vegas.”

It was the second time I’d seen him without his shirt, the first happening during our spa/heated pool hop at the Golden Nugget last week. Then it was dark, now it was light, and oh, how I saw the light. He had more chest hair than I would have thought, which, considering his perennial stubble, shouldn’t have surprised me. Shirtless, I fully believed he had the manly capacity to chop down trees, wrestle a bear, and eat three steaks in one sitting. An angry red scar skirted across his shoulder, begging to be touched. He was muscles and hair and skin and … I wanted him. In that cheesy costume involving
a diaper
, I wanted him.

Dax covered himself. “Shut up. It’s bad enough that it’s freezing out here.” He narrowed his eyes at James, who was practically rolling on the sidewalk, laughing. “You said she wasn’t coming.”

James giggled. “You’re wearing a diaper, dude. Like I could stop her.”

I covered my mouth, trying my best not to grin. “Dax, I …”

“Shut up.” He growled. “Every couple walks over to
me
first,
even if it is to make a smart remark.” He unsheathed an arrow from his quiver, which was actually a rolled-up brochure for Cupid’s Dream. It was a corny idea. I wished I’d thought of it. “Poppy called and said we’ve had twenty-five walk-ins today.”

James scowled. “People who would spend the most important day of their lives at a chapel based on a guy in a diaper waving a sign are not the kind of people we are marketing to anyway.”

Dax gave James a little bow. “Touché.”

James wandered back to the group of seven men standing in the designated hand-billing area. I could spot the new guy right away. Anytime a couple walked out of the bureau, holding hands, the new guy would shout or run over and shove a brochure into their face.

Dax shook his head. “I already called the police. It’s going to get ugly when they make him leave.”

“Maybe you can shoot him with one of those arrows.” I widened my eyes. “Make him act nice.”

Dax grinned. “I’ll shoot you with one of my arrows.”

“That sounds like an innuendo.”

“Only if you want it to be.”

I wrapped my arms around his bare chest, feeling savagely territorial as cars honked. Dax pulled back and waved at a truck filled with middle-aged women.

“Cupid’s Dream!” he called. “For all your wedding needs.”

“So this is my Valentine’s present.”

“I thought I’d manage to avoid you. I should have paid your brother to keep you away.”

“Wild horses … no, not Greek enough. Wild
chariots
couldn’t keep me away.”

Dax’s phone rang. “Hey, sorry. It’s my poppy. I’ve got to give him some stats.”

“So you’re at work and you’re talking. That’s good, right?”

He nodded and stepped away, which is the polite thing to do if you are taking a phone call, but I wanted to hear. When I didn’t budge, he walked down the street like he was sharing confidential information with a CIA operative.

I wandered over to the hand-billing area to see how they worked in action. A middle-aged couple approached and started what seemed like an auction. The haggling made me slightly ill.

“Okay, who has packages for under one hundred dollars?” the man called out.

The hand billers started shouting out prices and waving brochures in the air. James ducked under two guys so he was in front. He was a scrappy, hardworking kid when forced to be.

The budget-conscious groom had a red-and-white-streaked beard and one of those T-shirts that is supposed to look like a tuxedo. His bride-to-be wore a pretty navy-blue dress with sequins around the hem. She flashed a shy smile at me while her almost-husband haggled over price.

“I can’t believe I’m about to get married. Finally,” she said.

“Congrats.” I smiled. “I’m Holly, what’s your name?” Grandpa always said to do introductions right away and use the couple’s name while you speak. It’s hard to say no to someone you know by name.

“Julia.” She lowered her voice and nodded at her husband-to-be. “Patrick always wants a bargain.”

“Of course.” I paused. “What do
you
want? I mean, is there a certain chapel you’re looking for?”

Julia pursed her lips. “I’m a little more traditional. I was reading online about one that has a drive-through? That doesn’t seem right.”

I glanced back at Mr. Drive-Through himself, a.k.a. cupid, but he was still on the phone. He was getting animated, waving his hands around. I couldn’t tell if he was mad or just into what he was saying. Maybe they were having an amazing sales day.

“Yeah, you can get whatever you like. I can tell you where to go if you want a theme wedding, Julia, but if you’re looking for something small and sweet—”

“I am!” she exclaimed. Patrick had talked the pushy hand biller into going down to seventy-nine dollars, and it looked like the deal was almost done. We would lose money if we went that low.

I ducked into the crowed and grabbed a brochure from James.

Julia flipped to the price section first.

“We’re a family-run place. My grandpa owned Rose of Sharon for almost thirty years.”

“Does he still?” she asked without looking up.

My voice caught in my throat. I’d heard him pitch this place so many times, I could sell to this woman ten different ways. “It’ll always be his chapel. But I’m sort of running it now. It’s charming, very classy. We have fresh flowers every day; my dad is the photographer.”

Her eyes misted up. “It sounds like a dream. But how much?”

The pushy hand biller was already giving Patrick directions to the chapel.

“We’re more high end than some of these guys, and our prices can only go so low, or else we can’t give that experience. Our base package is one hundred fifty dollars, but we are doing a hundred-twenty-dollar special today.”

“Patrick!” Julia called. “I want to get married at this place.”