“Nope. It looks pretty damned good.”
“I think so too.” He smiled. “And believe it or not, it’ll be easy to keep. You can probably even find a barber who’ll follow the style.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.” Rich’s dimples, a lot like Rick’s, popped.
What the hell? Might as well ask. Jimothy said, “Rich, are you going to go to the wedding?”
For a second, a wash of something like anxiety crossed his face, but then the nothing-touches-me grin was back. “We’ll see about that too.”
Ten minutes later, Rich had stopped at the desk, made wild, painful faces at Jimothy when he got the bill, paid it with a big tip, and walked out laughing.
Felicia stood beside Jimothy. “Whew, that’s one tough man.”
“Yeah.”
“I think you like him.”
Jimothy laughed. “Yeah.”
Felicia crossed her arms. “But I sure see how he’d make anybody run for the closet.”
Jimothy sighed.
Rick pulled into the parking lot of the church and stopped the truck a few aisles over from the cluster of cars with Hank’s Mercedes at the middle. Likely the wedding party. Man, he felt weird, and not just because he was in dress slacks, a long-sleeved shirt, and a sports jacket. Hell, he even had on hard shoes. But mostly he felt—disconnected. It was like he’d pulled a foot out of his familiar world and now had no place to plant it. He was balancing on one leg and ready to fall over any minute. Yes, that was a weird image, but it really described it. He’d lost his direction. No, more like he’d lost his guide.
Jimothy.
He hadn’t talked to Jimothy since their meet-up in the bathroom. Jimothy hadn’t called him, but then, he hadn’t called Jimothy. Why?
Because Jimothy’s dad wouldn’t want him having sex with a guy who was in the closet?
Jimothy didn’t seem to care about that, and why should Rick care when Jimothy didn’t?
That was the reason. The fact that Jimothy didn’t seem to care bothered Rick. It made whatever they had less. Trivial. Something only good enough to do in hiding, but not worthy of sharing with his dad. Yes, that was wacked coming from him, but there it was.
Was it enough to keep him from sneaking into another bathroom with Jimothy? Probably not if he got invited, but it still bothered him.
Fuck. Get in there.
Hurrying, he slid out of the truck and jogged to the doors of the church. He pulled them open, stepped into a quiet entry, and then passed through double doors into warmth, lights, and the chaos of a lot of people milling around and talking.
Setting his face into some version of pleasant and interested, as if he belonged, he walked to the group of people with Alice at the center. She looked up. “Oh, thank heaven.” She stepped beside him, gave him a hug, and then turned with her arm around him and said, “Everyone, this is my brother, Rick.”
He took a quick glance around, but no sign of their father. I’m it.
In a quick blur, he met Mr. and Mrs. Martinsburg, Hank’s parents and Alice’s soon-to-be in-laws, the Reverend somebody-or-other, and then a rattled-off list of Kimmy, Mary, Frankie, Bob—Paul, John, George, and Ringo for all he could remember.
Alice stage-whispered, “There will be a test later.” She grinned and then got down to business. “Our wedding coordinator”—that was Mary—“and the reverend were just starting to walk the ushers through their duties.” She frowned. “Mary, since Rick’s going to be walking me down the aisle, do we still want him to usher?”
Mary, a super-efficient woman in her forties, widened her eyes. “Yes, we need him. If he was best man, it wouldn’t work because he’d be in a different part of the church, but as an usher, he’ll be in place as soon as you need him. One of your bridesmaids will simply have to do the exit procession alone.” She clapped her hands—in a school-teacher way not a Jimothy and Alice way. “Ushers, since so many of our guests are mutual friends of the bride and groom, we won’t be dividing according to bride’s and groom’s side of the church.”
Rick gave Alice’s arm a little squeeze. They both knew it was because their family had few friends while the Martinsburgs knew everyone in Southern California.
Mary waved her arms. “Please fill the pews on the outside aisles since everyone will scoot to the center aisle in order to see the bridal party’s entrance, and if they enter from the center aisle, they’ll block everyone else from getting in. It will be chaos. That doesn’t include the mother and grandmothers of the groom. They enter from the center aisle, of course, and are placed in the first two rows reserved for them. Remember to give each guest a program.” She looked around at the guys. “Is that all clear? Take guests to the outside of the pews and ask them to move in as far as they can. Now, bride’s party, let’s assemble at the back of the church and—”
The double doors of the church swung open and in walked—Dad! Holy shit.
He was waving his arms and actually half smiling. “Sorry I’m late. I somehow went to the wrong church. They tried to recruit me for their choir.”
Not only was he there, some freaking post-holiday miracle, but he was wearing a really nice sports coat and slacks—definitely from Benny’s—and his haircut screamed fashionable but still appropriate. No one could have done that but Jimothy.
Alice’s eyes might just fall out of her head. It took a full minute, but she finally reacted. “Dad. Oh, hi. So glad you made it.” She was clearly—or at least clearly to Rick—walking a line between showing she was happy he was there and not letting everyone else know she was stunned. She hurried over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Rick stood near enough to hear her say, “You look great.”
“Thanks, kid. So, am I too late to get my marching orders?”
“No. Uh, right on time.” She turned to Rick. It was obvious she didn’t know what to do. She’d asked Rick to walk her down the aisle and even said she preferred him, but having her actual father there meant, at the very least, less explaining to everyone. Plus, hell, he was her dad, and the fact that he’d made an obvious effort to be there meant something.
Rick stepped in. “Hey, Dad, good to see you.” His gaze met his father’s, and Rick worked hard to keep the slightest hint of self-satisfaction out of his expression. “Great hair.” He grinned and ran his fingers through his own do.
“Yep, that little fairy friend of yours fixed me up.” He barked a laugh. “I promised him I wouldn’t use the other F word.”
Rick wasn’t sure whether to swear or laugh. His father just suggested that he’d called Jimothy a fag—and that Jimothy had called him out for it.
Alice glanced back and forth confused, but still seemed relieved that Rick and their dad weren’t yelling at each other.
The wedding coordinator clapped her hands. “Are we ready to get on with the procession?”
Alice said, “I’ll introduce you to Hank’s family after the rehearsal, Dad. Uh, if you’re able to come to dinner.”
His glance swept over the large group milling around the church, but he said, “Yeah, I can probably do that.”