It wasn’t until he stepped onto the small platform that he realized the back row of folding chairs was occupied by six men, most of whom appeared to have been plucked from a holding pen at the police station. One man wore a grungy knit cap and slurped from a can of Campbell’s soup, while another leaned his head against the wall, releasing a small snore.
“We’re all ready,” Angelica singsonged as she entered the chapel through the double doors, her hands pressed together at her breasts as if in prayer. “Your beautiful bride is ready. Shall we begin?”
He nodded, finding it difficult to push out a yes. His chest was so tight with nerves he could hardly breathe. He noticed a clock on the wall over the entrance, the hands in the shape of angel wings. 11:49. At least Libby hadn’t taken off yet.
Angelica glided over to a stereo system in the corner and pressed a button. Music poured into the room and the double doors swung open as if by magic.
Libby filled the doorway, Noah’s bouquet in her hands, looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. Their eyes locked and everything else fell away. However strange and unconventional this was, it was right. It was them.
The first lines of the song “Teen Angel” played on the speakers overhead—the original recording from the 1950s, from the sound of it.
“Oops, wrong song,” Angelica murmured, pressing a button that stopped the music. “That was from the last couple.”
Libby’s eyes widened and she held back a giggle.
God, he loved her.
Tinny piano music filled the room, reminding Noah of something from the 1980s. Then he realized it was something from the 1980s—his mother had listened to this song over and over when he was a kid. “Angel Eyes”. Was it destiny that they played his mother’s favorite song?
Angelica gave Libby an exasperated look. “Well, what are you waiting for? Tito’s about to start singing.”
Sure enough, Tito’s voice floated around them, but there was still no sign of Tito. “Girl, you’re looking fine tonight, and every guy has got you in his sight.”
Noah had no idea where Tito could be, but he didn’t care. Libby was walking toward him with a soft smile on her lips. But then she stopped halfway down the short aisle, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape.
His heart skipped a beat. Had she changed her mind?
Sensing movement behind him, he looked over his shoulder. “Oh. My. God.”
Now he dearly regretted paying for the top-of-the-line service. And to his horror, he now realized why Tito had been wearing a robe.
A hole had opened in the arched ceiling and a pair of bare, hairy legs dangled from the opening.
Tito continued to sing, putting emotion into his words as he belted out the rest of the stanza.
Noah considered grabbing Libby and running the hell out of there, but his feet were frozen as the horror continued to unfold—the lower part of Tito’s abdomen was now visible, including his fabric-draped groin.
Libby burst into hysterical laughter.
Angelica planted her hands on her hips and gave Libby a dirty look. “Shh!”
Libby covered her mouth and gave up all pretense of walking gracefully down the aisle, instead rushing over to Noah as he stepped off the platform to meet her. She grabbed his arm and whispered, “What in the hell is happening?”
“I have no fucking idea.” His gaze had found its way back to the still-emerging man. Tito’s bare chest was now visible, as was the small golden harp he held in his hands. He dropped another couple feet, then remained in place as his feet began to kick the air.
“I told you no demonic angels, Noah,” Libby whispered.
His stomach clenched and he turned to apologize, but her grin spread from ear to ear.
“Did you request this?”
“You actually think I would?” he asked in dismay.
“Asks the man who took me to see a giant hairball,” she countered in a whisper.
“Shhh!!!” Angelica hushed louder.
One of the homeless-looking guests sat up and pointed. “Hey, that man’s wearing a diaper!”
Angelica stomped her foot. “Shh!”
But Tito was too caught up in his performance to notice the commotion. He kept belting out the song as he descended, and to add gravitas to the occasion, the front of the chapel darkened and two spotlights flashed on, bathing Tito’s now visible and very hairy chest with a warm glow. As soon as his shoulders cleared the space, two wings unfurled from his back, both covered in white and silver feathers with sparkles that caught the lights. One of the wings caught on the wire holding Tito in the air, tilting him sideways. His arms flapped and his legs kicked as he hung there, suspended three feet off the ground. He released a little yelp, but almost immediately continued to sing and strum his harp.
Libby broke into giggles again, burying her face in Noah’s arm to muffle the sound.
A true showman, Tito jiggled enough to free his wing and landed gracefully on his feet. Without missing a beat, he turned his attention to Libby, crooning with even more earnestness as he repeated the chorus.
“Hey.” Another man in the back shook the snoozing guy next to him. “You gotta see this.”
The younger man roused, then blinked. “Dude, what was in that weed?”
“I don’t know, but we gotta get some more.”
“Shh!!!” Angelica snarled as she grabbed their arms and pulled both them out of their seats.
“Hey! I want to see the show,” one of them protested, but she pushed them out through the doors. The four remaining men looked startled.
“I think I should get a refund on the deluxe package,” Noah mumbled.
Libby giggled again. “Is this guy performing the ceremony?”
“Meet Tito, and I’m thinking that’s a yes.”
“Oh, my God. We’re getting married by a man wearing a diaper.”
“Nothing but the best for you, Libby St. Clair.” He grinned. “At least it’s not a skirt. And in case you’re wondering what’s underneath . . .” He motioned his head toward the ceiling.
Libby looked up and gasped, followed by a new round of giggles.
Tito finally stopped singing and cast an unamused glance at Noah and Libby. “You’ll have to come up onto the stage so I can perform the ceremony.”
Oh, crap. How much time had they lost to Tito’s theatrics? “What time is it?”
“What?” Tito asked.
“Is it midnight yet?”
“It’s 11:55,” Angelica shouted from the back of the room. “Tito still has time for another song.”
“How about Tito sings after he pronounces us husband and wife?” Noah asked, trying to curb his impatience. He took Libby’s hand and helped her onto the platform in front of Tito.
“You’re carrying the bouquet,” Tito said, scrunching his nose. “I tried to convince him to use a real one.”
Noah started to explain, but she smiled up at him. “It’s beautiful. But you don’t have a boutonniere.”
“I don’t need one, Lib.”
She gave him a short scowl. “Yes you do.”
Angelica climbed up onto the platform, taking photos with a small click and shoot camera, but from the looks of it, she was putting more of Tito in the frame than the bride and groom.