Chief Terry was confused. “Who?”
“Aunt Tillie. I mean, Alexis Kane. Why do you think she led us to you? You know she did that, right?”
Chief Terry shrugged. “I have no idea. Alexis does what she wants, when she wants and how she wants. She’s all knowing, all powerful and the one person in this world I fear.”
“That definitely sounds like something that she would make you say,” Landon said.
I gave Chief Terry’s hand a squeeze and then released it. “I’ll make sure the real you knows she made you say that. You might want to get a little retribution for that one.”
“Okay. I’m sorry you’re not my minion.”
I cracked a smile. “I’m kind of sorry I didn’t get to be a vampire for a bit, too.”
Wow! There’s something I thought I would never say, let alone mean.
LANDON AND I LANDED IN a church vestibule on the other side of the door. There was no sign of the others, but the woman who notified us about the gift shop stood in the center of the room with a clipboard.
“This is … extravagant,” Landon noted as he stared at the ceiling. “This is a big freaking church.”
“It is,” I agreed. “I wonder why we’re here.”
“You’re here for your wedding, of course,” the woman said. “Now … come along. We’re behind schedule already. You need to get dressed and ready.”
I was dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, but … what?”
“Yeah, what?” Landon almost sounded as if he was suffocating. Clearly the announcement freaked him out more than it did me.
“You’re getting married,” the woman repeated.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. You hired me as your wedding coordinator.”
“Oh, well … .” I looked to Landon for guidance but he seemed lost in his own little world. “You’ll have to excuse me, ma’am. I’m a little flustered. You know … nerves. Can you remind me of your name?”
“Of course. It’s Bianca Venezuela Columbia Madagascar Smith.”
“Bianca Venezuela Columbia Madagascar Smith, huh?” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I spared a glance for Landon. He looked a bit shell-shocked. “That’s quite a mouthful.”
“You can call me Jan.”
“Jan?”
“That’s my professional name,” she explained. “Bianca is my stripper name. I only strip on weekends, though.”
“Of course.” I rolled my neck. “So, can you give a little heads-up about what’s going on here?”
“Yes, and please be specific,” Landon said. “Start with the part about us getting married.”
“It’s been on the books forever,” Jan said. “You proposed during the great hotel fire last month. You were trapped in a stairwell together, running out of oxygen, and wanted to make sure that Echo knew how much you loved her. It was a glorious proposal. Everyone thought so.”
“Sounds fabulous,” Landon drawled. “Obviously we didn’t die.”
“No, you were saved by a helicopter that landed on the roof at the last minute. It was very dramatic.” Jan’s smile was serene. “You accidentally fell during the flight and were missing for two weeks. Your partner found you soon after, but you had amnesia. Frankly, it’s a miracle you guys made it this far.”
Landon shot me a rueful look. “We manage to get through everything. Go back to the amnesia, though. Are you saying I survived a fire, fell from a helicopter, got amnesia, recovered from amnesia and we’re getting married all within a month?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Just asking.” Landon held up his hands. “So … a wedding, huh?”
I expected him to turn tail and run, something that might occur on a sitcom rather than a soap opera. He remained where he was, though.
“I’m confused about how I can even get married,” I interjected, hoping to take the onus of the conversation off Landon’s broad shoulders. “I’m already married.”
“Right!” Landon looked relieved when I made the point. “She’s already married. She can’t do it a second time.”
Even though it wasn’t a convenient time, I couldn’t stop my agitation from bubbling up. “There’s no reason to get worked up. It’s not as if it’s really happening.”
Landon furrowed his brow. “Are you angry?”
“Should I be? It’s a made-up world, Landon. You don’t have to act as if I’ve got scales and run away to get out of whatever is going to happen here. It’s not real.”
“Bay … .” Landon’s expression shifted into something I couldn’t identify. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shook off my irritation. “Let’s just get through this.” I focused on Jan. “Tell me how it is I’m not a bigamist and I’ll start moving through this scene.”
“You divorced Mr. Ferrigno on Witch Island six weeks ago,” Jan explained. “It was in all the newspapers. You managed to get a quickie divorce even though he would’ve contested it if he’d known. He was unhappy, but you’re free.
“You told me this story,” she continued. “Why don’t you remember it?”
“I suffered from a bout of amnesia earlier in the day, too,” I replied. “I’m still getting over it.”
Jan looked relieved. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Yes, that’s the highlight of both of our days.” Landon turned to me. “What do you think we’re supposed to do here?”
“Follow the story.”
“And that means … getting married?” He said it with equal parts trepidation and doubt.
“It’s a soap wedding,” I offered. “We won’t make it to the ‘I dos.’ Something will happen to interrupt the ceremony. You’ll be safe.”
“That’s not what I was getting at, Bay.” Landon’s irritation was palpable. “I simply want to know what’s about to happen. I don’t think that’s asking too much.”
“Of course not.” I tugged on my limited patience. “While you’re figuring out what you want to do, I’ll head to wherever it is I’m supposed to be getting ready. I’m sure there’s a bridal room here.”
Jan beamed. “There most definitely is. Your bridesmaids are waiting for you.”
“Great.” I was stiff when I turned to Landon. “I’ll bet Clove and Thistle are my bridesmaids. You should go wherever Jan wants you to go, and find Sam and Marcus. I’ll see you at the altar, if you’re there. Don’t panic. I guarantee it will be interrupted.”
Landon wrapped his fingers around my wrists to still me. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Great.” I refused to look him in the eye. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“I AM GOING TO RIP that old lady’s throat out with a pair of tweezers,” I announced when I found Clove and Thistle standing in the middle of the bridal suite a few minutes later. They both wore pastel dresses straight out of a nightmare. “Why do you look like pieces of saltwater taffy?”
“Because apparently Aunt Tillie is a diabolical loon,” Thistle replied, twirling in front of the mirror so her peach-colored dress fanned out. “I truly hate that woman.”
“That’s what she wants.” I glanced around, the leading edge of my irritation dulling. “I suppose there’s a dress I have to wear.”
Clove, who seemed more at ease in her mint-colored dress, pointed toward a garment bag hanging over a dressing room door. “There.”
“Is it as hideous as your dresses?”
“We haven’t looked yet,” Thistle replied. “We were too busy ogling the monstrosities Jan laid out for us. She’s an evil woman, by the way.”
“She doesn’t seem that bad to me.” I was resigned as I trudged forward. “I guess we should get this show on the road.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Thistle asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? We’re stuck in a soap opera world, and I’ve officially had my fill of it. I want to go home.”
“We all feel that way,” Clove offered. “You seem a lot worse off than when we saw you ten minutes ago.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re pretty far from fine,” Thistle argued. “What’s going on?”
“Yeah, spill,” Clove said.
I opened my mouth to tell them exactly what was wrong and then snapped it shut. Now wasn’t the time to whine and feel sorry for myself. “It doesn’t matter.” I vigorously shook my head. “It’s nothing.”