on a deep green, sheath dress with one shoulder bared.
Jet was wearing a pale pink strapless number with a black ribbon at an empire waist. Al y was in a dark blue halter dress with a deep slit up the front and serious cleavage.
Tod and Stevie were in tuxes.
Hugs, air-kisses and handshakes were exchanged, I introduced my folks to Tod and Stevie and Eddie stopped a waiter to get us glasses of champagne.
“Girlie, you look gorgeous. I’m giving you that dress. It was made for you,” Tod said to me.
I laughed for the second time that night and I hadn’t been there ten minutes.
“You can’t give me this dress. It had to cost a fortune,” I told Tod.
“Fortunes come, fortunes go. Gowns are forever and that gown was meant to be yours,” Tod replied.
“Tod, the last time I wore a formal dress was to a frat party Christmas bal . Thank you but, I couldn’t,” I declined, I thought graciously.
“You can, you wil , you won’t give me any backtalk,” Tod contradicted and then turned his eyes to Hank. “See she has somewhere to wear it,” he ordered.
I looked to Indy for help, not only with the dress but because I didn’t know how Hank would take being ordered about by a gay man (or any man for that matter).
She was smiling huge.
“Don’t fight Tod. You’l lose,” she advised.
“Ha!” Tod barked. “You want to talk about your wedding colors again? Lee!” Tod turned to Lee. “How do you feel about tangerine and chocolate as wedding colors?”
“I thought we went over this –” Al y butted in.
“Shush, I’m not talking to you,” Tod shushed Al y and his eyes cut back to Lee. “Lee?”
“Don’t ask me, the wedding doesn’t concern me. My job is to show up and I’l be sure to do that,” Lee answered.
Al the female and gay men’s eyes grew round.
Eddie looked at his shoes. Carl grinned. Dad chuckled.
Hank’s arm slid around my waist but his head turned to the side. He was feigning avid interest in a banner with a crest that was attached to the wal .
Al this meant Lee was very, very alone.
“I’m sorry?” Indy asked, turning to Lee.
“Do what you want. I don’t care. I’l be responsible for the honeymoon,” Lee told her.
“That’s it? You want to have a tangerine and chocolate wedding?” Indy asked.
“I don’t even know what that means,” Lee returned and when Indy opened her mouth to speak, Lee went on, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “And, gorgeous, I don’t want to know.”
“I don’t believe this,” Indy hissed under her breath.
“Son, let me tel you something. Even if you don’t care, pretend you do. Honestly, it’s the best way to go,” Dad, the voice of experience, decided to wade in. “She talks about toss pil ows. You don’t care about toss pil ows. You don’t even know what toss pil ows are. Pretend that toss pil ows are your highest priority in life.”
Eddie chuckled under his breath. Carl did it straight out.
Lee smiled at Dad. Hank was stil memorizing the banner but he was now biting his lower lip.
Mom turned to Dad, eyes narrowed and said, “Excuse me?”
“Trish, just last week, we had a forty-five minute discussion about the curtains in the living room,” Dad said.
“You think I give a shit about curtains? I care that there’s beer in the fridge and the TV works. I don’t care about curtains. I didn’t hear a word you said about the curtains.”
“You agreed to the curtains with the little trumpets on them! You said you loved the idea! I already ordered them. I thought it was al decided,” Mom cried.
Dad looked back at Lee and nodded sagely.
Mom’s face got red, “Are you saying you don’t like the curtains with the trumpets?”
“I’m sayin’ I don’t care. Get whatever you want. I don’t even see the curtains,” Dad replied.
“Guys –” I tried to run interference.
“I just do not believe this,” Mom groused. “I knew I should have gone with the curtains with the little horses and riders on them. The trumpet curtains are going to look sil y. What are the neighbors going to think?”
“Mrs. Logan, for what it’s worth, I think the neighbors are going to like the trumpet ones. The little horse and riders…” Stevie offered, wincing a bit and shaking his head.
“You sure?” Mom asked.
“I’m sure,” Stevie assured her.
“Wel then, thank you,” Mom smiled at Stevie and took a sip of her champagne.
I turned into Hank’s body, lifted on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “You can come back into the room, crisis averted.”
He looked down at me, eyes smiling.
Then he asked, “How much do you care about curtains?”
“Wel …” I drew it out, because I cared about curtains like, a lot. They set the tone for the whole room.
“Okay, let me rephrase that. How much do you care that I don’t care about curtains?”
I grinned at him.
“Not much.”
His smile hit his mouth. “We’re set then.”