Page 62 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

Annie blinked and looked down. The pile of hair was attached to the biggest bosom she’d ever seen. If Elvis was still alive, well then, so was Mae West.

“We’re here to get married,” Fisher said, handing her their license.

“How wonderful!” the woman exclaimed with a clap. “I’m Bambie and my husband Frank is the minister. Do you know what kind of ceremony you would like?”

Fisher glanced at Annie and she shrugged. “What are our options?”

“Well,” Bambie sucked in a breath, giving her bosom a life of its own. Obviously, the repetition of the speech had not diminished her enthusiasm for the task at hand.

Annie glanced around the foyer. Big scarlet roses, the size of her fist, trailed up the floral wallpaper that matched the red carpet, which matched the overstuffed velvet couch and chairs in the corner of the room. Annie wasn’t sure if she was in a chapel or a bordello. Then again, this was Vegas, it could be both.

“What do you think Annie-girl?” Fisher asked her.

“Whatever you decide is fine,” she said, unwilling to admit she hadn’t been listening.

“We’ll go with the short ceremony, with music, flowers and some photos,” Fisher said.

Annie felt the room lurch to her right. She grabbed Fisher’s arm to keep from falling.

“Annie, are you all right?” he asked, steadying her with his hand.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she lied. This time the room lurched to the left and she stumbled into his shirtfront.

“Annie, what’s wrong?” He held her by the shoulders and pushed her back so he could study her face.

“No...no...nothing,” she answered. Her teeth began to chatter, and she had to clench her jaw to keep it from clacking.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Oh, she’s just got prewedding jitters,” Bambie said. Reaching around Fisher, she patted Annie’s hand. “Oh, your hands are like ice. Not to worry, dear, that’s perfectly normal.”

Fisher glanced at Annie with a frown. She forced a smile, but it felt more like a snarl. He took her hands in his and began to chafe them.

“You look like you’re about to be executed,” he said.

“This might be easier with a blindfold and a cigarette,” she joked.

“Annie,” he whispered as he pulled her close and hugged her. “This isn’t for real. It isn’t a real wedding or marriage. We’ll have it annulled as soon as possible.”

“I know,” she said, feeling her stomach constrict into a painful knot. What Fisher said was true. She wondered why it didn’t make her feel any better.

While Fisher went into the chapel to meet the minister, Annie went to the ladies’ room to freshen up. Freshen up was a relative term as she spent most of her time sitting on a yellow chaise lounge with her head between her knees, willing herself not to throw up while Bambie fussed with her hair. When it was time to perform the ceremony, she didn’t know if she felt relieved or resigned.

Bambie played the organ while Annie, clutching a fistful of cream-colored roses, walked through the courtyard towards Fisher. Hundreds of tiny white lights illuminated the lush rose garden that surrounded them. Rose bushes bursting with flowers of every size, shape and color covered the walls, and the walkway was knee-deep in scattered petals. The scent of the roses was so strong it made Annie dizzy.

Fisher stood beside the minister at a small stone altar at the end of the courtyard. He looked gorgeous in a dark navy suit and burgundy tie. If they were here for any other purpose, Annie would have been intoxicated just by the sight of him. But they were here to perform this bogus wedding ceremony and she was having a hard time just placing one foot in front of the other. She felt as if she were wading through quick drying cement.

Fisher watched Annie struggle with each step she took. She’d said she didn’t believe in marriage, but he’d had no idea it was an absolute phobia for her. She looked so frightened and fragile, he was tempted to call the whole thing off. But then, there was a ridiculous, egoistic part of him that was hurt by her reaction to marrying him. Granted he was no great prize, but still, she could do a lot worse. But this wasn’t really a marriage, he reminded himself.

Too bad. Annie made a stunning bride. Her curly red hair had been piled on top of her head and cream-colored roses were tucked carefully amidst the fiery curls – Bambie’s doing, no doubt. A few strands had escaped her topknot to trail down the back of her neck and the sides of her face, softening her features into a look of striking beauty. Her cream-colored halter top sundress flared around her knees and accentuated her curvy figure—what a figure it was. Her matching high heel sandals showcased her long legs, and it was all Fisher could do not to give her a hearty wolf whistle of approval.

When she drew near, he saw that her blue eyes were wide and her lips were compressed into a thin, tight line. She looked scared to death.

He took her hand in his and squeezed. Her eyes darted up to meet his and he winked at her. A small smile was her only response.

Bambie ended her boisterous rendition of “Here Comes the Bride” and came to stand beside her husband to witness the ceremony.

“Dearly beloved...” Minister Frank began to read the ceremony, and Annie felt her stomach flip over. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t get married. It didn’t matter if it was in name only. Marriage was an unnatural state leading to inevitable heartbreak and disappointment.