I nodded again but at this news I felt my chest expand so much I was finding it hard to breathe.
“He’ll expect bling,” he finished.
Learning this, for the first time in my life I had to make a conscious effort to suck in air.
I searched for then found my voice. “This is a lot of bling and I don’t know –”
“Signing bonus.”
I blinked then asked, “What?”
“Yours to keep. Signing bonus.”
My chest deflated but I felt a strange warmth invading my insides.
“Ty,” I whispered.
He finished buttoning his shirt, went to the bed, tagged the bracelet and came to me. He bent low, grabbed my wrist and lifted it. I held it up as he clasped it on, all business and he did it like he’d done it before. Often.
Then his hands went away but his eyes came to mine.
“My business is important to me. You’re facilitatin’ me gettin’ on with that. I appreciate it. Signing bonus.”
Then, without another word, he walked to the desk and rifled through a bunch of bags there that I hadn’t noticed, what with diamonds and impending nuptials and all. He pulled out a glossy, distinctive colored bag, the same as the boxes still scattered on the bed and out came two more boxes. One, he opened then unearthed cufflinks and put them in his cuffs. The other, he opened, pulled out whatever was in it and then put it in his trouser pocket. I would find out later that was our wedding bands.
Then he went to the duffle, pawed through it and pulled out socks.
Five minutes later, he was adjusting his collar under his suit jacket as we walked out the door.
Twenty minutes later we were at the Liberace chapel of love.
A little over five minutes after that, Walker was handing over cash for a wedding, a bouquet and photos.
One minute after that, his hand came to my elbow, fingers curling around, that strange, intense heat hit my skin where his fingers touched and he led me to an open corner, a small space but the only space void of happy, soon-to-be linked for eternity (maybe) lovebirds.
His hand dropped and my mind centered on the touch that still burned the skin around my elbow. Then my eyes caught on something and I forced myself to focus.
Across the way, there was a silver gild framed, full-length mirror and in it, Walker and I were reflected.
I was wearing a blush-colored, silk crêpe, to the knee, snug fitting, sleeveless dress, the bodice a wide vee that showed lots of chest and hints of cleavage, the material skimming over the points of my shoulders to dip into another vee that exposed my back to the bra-line. My hair was down and I’d curled it in chunky curls so there was a lot more of it than normal and normally there was a lot of it. My shoes were fantastic. My diamonds, more so. Much more.
Even being such a big guy, he wore his suit well. The one hour tailors had done a good job. The suit wasn’t shit, not at all. And it fit him perfectly. It was fabulous, it was expensive. Maybe not top-of-the-line Italian but nothing to sneeze at including the shirt, the material of which was very fine, the tailoring, for one hour, spectacular.
My heels were four inches. I was five nine so my heels put me at six foot one. He still towered over me. I had ass, I had tits. I was not petite or slender, not even close. His mass still dwarfed me.
The bouquet I held looked like it was made for my dress. The shoes I’d found, the same (I had a sixth sense when it came to shoes – it took me an hour and a half to find the dress – the two pairs of shoes I found, tried on and purchased in twenty minutes).
I couldn’t help but think we looked good together. If you had showed me his picture and told me to build his perfect mate, I would have said, first, lithe, graceful African-American with a long neck, slender arms, elegant hands and a short-cropped afro that exposed her perfect skull. Second, I would have said a California girl, tan, blonde who looked like she spent her days surfing and her nights fucking his brains out.
But seeing us, we worked. And seeing us in that mirror, I couldn’t help but think we not only worked but we worked in a big way.
I turned to him and tipped my head back.
“Thanks for the signing bonus,” I whispered. “And the bouquet.”
His eyes dipped to mine. Then he jerked up his chin. Then he looked over my head and scanned the room.
Thirty-seven minutes later, we were in the chapel with Liberace.
Ten minutes after that, Walker was rumbling at Liberace to stand aside as the photographer angled for our picture, a picture he wanted Liberace to have no part in. Liberace looked crushed. I gave him a dazzling smile to help with his despondency and was pleased to see this worked. Then Walker yanked me into his side with an arm around my shoulders and pointed his blank stare at the camera. I wound my arm around his waist, tilted the front of my body, pressed it into his side and aimed my dazzling smile at the photographer. Then the photographer snapped our photo.
Ten minutes after that, rhinestone lady handed us the folder with our photos and our marriage certificate.