Saturday

Chenae’s POV

Lula and I wake up bright and early (or somewhere around 9 AM) and go for a run. She’s determined to get her stomach flat for that wedding dress. I’ve gained a little weight and now that I’m going to be in the wedding, I need to trim down a bit.

I’m going to be in my brother’s wedding! I had to praise HIM and give thanks for my blessings. The one thing I assumed my attitude had completely ruined was given back to me. I have my brother’s love and respect again.

“Wait! Let me check with Steph, see if she wants to run with us,” Lula says. She calls Stephanie and learns she did her exercise already on the treadmill at the hotel. So we set off to run around Carencro. About thirty minutes into the run, Pierre catches up with us. He slaps Lula’s butt and turns around, running backwards.

“Hey, Pretty Thang! You gotta man?”

Lula is huffing and laughing. “Yeah, I gotta man. My man is bigger than you.” She winks at me. “My man is all that and a bag of chips.”

Pierre turns around and slows up to match us. “Really? Well that’s a damn shame. I was gonna ask if you wanted to sneak away with me this evenin’ and catch a movie.”

Lula stops, so we stop with her. “Really?” Her eyes are wide.

Pierre nods. “I gotta date?”

She pulls him close and I start walking. I have no idea what they’re saying but I hear them both laughing quietly. It makes me smile. Eventually, I hear pounding footsteps behind me and I turn. Pierre pats my shoulder as he runs past and Lula jogs to catch up with me.

“Whew! How far are we from the house?”

I look. “About three blocks.”

“Well, let’s blast that out, then.” She picks up the pace and we head home. I shower and change and get started on the wedding website. It’s beautiful and Pierre has given me a CD with pictures on it. I’m stunned to see that my non-sentimental brother has lots of pictures of himself with his bride-to-be. Plus, they posed for a formal one and both of them look extremely happy.

That formal picture is the centerpiece of the website.

-oOo-

I’m looking at Lula’s friends.

They’re all genuinely happy for her. They’re chiming in with suggestions and tips, well, all except Stephanie. She’s distracted. Connie and ML are helping her make smart choices and they tease her and joke but they’re clear that it’s her wedding. No one’s trying to take over.

Not even Momma.

Wilma’s and Thelma’s weddings were productions. Momma kept a tight budget for those because Pierre helped but he said that wasn’t his to pay for. Wilma and Thelma had lovely weddings but Lula’s?

Lula’s wedding is going to be the wedding of the year around here. No one will ever top it.

I’m watching her best friend. Stephanie. She looks less of a mess right now. Actually, she looks rather pretty. Put together. Composed.

With Señor Scary by her side, I’m not sure how she’s managing that, but she is. Actually, Ranger looks . . . happy? I’m not sure if happy is the word I want to use, but he definitely looks more relaxed than normal. Open. Amused.

She smiles at him and he looks . . . happy.

It’s weird.

I look over at Antoine. I wonder if he was as shocked when Pierre asked him to be in the wedding as I was when Lula asked me.

-oOo-

Flashback

“Chenae!”

I smile and wave at Lula. I’m always surprised when she looks happy to see me. I’ve treated her like shit and it’s like, all is forgiven. Sigh. Much better woman than me. I hold a grudge.

“Hi, Lula.” I nod at her friends. I wonder which one is the stripper. The skinny one?

“This is Steph,”—the skinny one—”Connie,”—Betty Boop—”and Mary Lou.” The stay at home mother. The bonbons went straight to her butt. Where’s the stripper?

I snap the rubber band on my wrist three times. My new coping mechanism when I notice I’m being judgmental. Lula told me not to underestimate these women. I’m trying.

“What are you working on?” the skinny one, Stephanie, asks.

“Excuse me?”

She nods to the rubber band. “We had a friend—”

“Sally Sweet!” Lula and Connie start laughing. Stephanie grins.

“Yeah, Sally Sweet. Every other word was a curse.”

“And he was a school bus driver!” ML says, starting to laugh.

“Oh god! How horrible! He shouldn’t use language like that around children!” I’m astonished.

“Which led the rubber bands,” Connie says. “He’d snap them every time he cursed or nearly cursed.”

Oh. “Did it work?”

“He gave himself a great bruise,” Stephanie says.

I look at the rubber bands on my wrist. Sounds less promising.

“Anyway, this is my future sister-in-law Chenae,” Lula says proudly.

I smile. She’s not bad. We’ve worked a few nights each week on her college Algebra questions. I’m beginning to respect her more. She doesn’t give up. Ever.

“Hello.”

“Hello! Lula’s told us so much about you,” Mary Lou says.

I snort and sit. “I’m not as horrible as I come across.”

The ladies look at each other then back at me. “Actually, she said you’re a senior at Tulane. Social work major. You’ve inspired her to follow in your footsteps,” Mary Lou says, disapproval on her face.

And there it is. The stinging rebuke. “Sorry.” I blush. “I’ve been a grade-A bitch to her for months. I assumed that’s what you meant.” Momma stares at me and I cringe. “Sorry, Momma. I know. No foul language.” She nods, satisfied.

Connie stares at me hard. “Lula said you were Tank’s baby sister and taking his engagement hard, but the word ‘bitch’ was never used.”

The room is quiet. I’m feeling stupid. I hear Lula sigh.

“Anyway, we were talking about the guest list and some of the arrangements Mrs. CJ’s made.”

Thanks, Lula. “Right. I finished some of these for Momma. All the bridal salons are ready. I contacted hairdressers, makeup artists, and barbers for the men. I checked with the Tank about the men and he told me all the guys have a tux except one. I assume that’s Hector and he said he’d check with him—”

“Hec has a tux,” Stephanie says. “He’ll be thrilled to get to wear it.”

“Really?” Lula asks.

Stephanie laughs. “Hec has almost 100 ties. He loves formal clothes. He’ll love putting on his tux for a day.”

I make a note. “Great. I ordered the cummerbunds and the ties. Oh, and I faxed your floral selection to local florists and here’s the quotes.”

“Thanks, girl! When did you have time to do this?” Lula beams at me and I feel grateful I busted my ass to get it done for her.

“I have a multipurpose printer. I put everything together and faxed it off. Thelma found a calligraphy student who is ready to handwrite all our invitations but we need to get those off fast. Wilma got quotes for a block of hotel rooms for the out of town guests and we’re just waiting for a final guest list count.” I check my checklist. “You have a passport?”

“Passport?”

“Yeah. Just in case Tank wants to take you out of the country for the honeymoon.”

“Oooh, like the Bahamas,” Mary Lou says.

“Or Jamaica,” Connie says.

“Or the Virgin Islands,” I chime in.

They look at me. “Nice choice,” Stephanie says.

I smile. “Thanks. Anyway, I’m ready to put together your wedding website this weekend once you make your choices.”

“Do we need one?” Lula asks.

“Well, it would be nice to include that in the wedding invitation along with a ‘Save the Date’ card and a preaddressed, stamped postcard with the reply. That way, your guests can go to one place and find out where you’re registered.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Lula looks overwhelmed at my list. Mary Lou notices and smiles. “Well, first things first—”

“Right! Chenae, I need to speak to you.” Lula waves for me to follow her to the kitchen where I see a pot of étouffée.

“Pierre’s been at this, huh?” I’m looking in the pot. There’s barely anything left. I find a bowl and scoop out the rest.

“Everyone’s been at that. Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you would like to be a bridesmaid.”

I stop scooping to turn around and stare. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why me?” I put the bowl and ladle down. “I mean, I’m honored and flattered but you and I have been at each other’s throats for months. I’m not one of your best friends, like those women out there. So why me?”

Lula smiles. “Because you’re Tank’s little sister. His baby. You mean the world to him and lately me and you been getting along OK. It would mean a lot to him, and to me, to know you support us.”

I stare at Lula in shock. I never expected to be a part of this wedding, even though I always hoped and assumed I would be one of my brother’s bridesmaids. I feel the tears well up.

“Thank you. I would be happy to, Lula.”

“Good.” I sniff and she hands me napkin. “Plus, I figured if you were in the wedding, that would kind of kill your attempt to object. Can’t do no dramatic ‘I object!’ from the front of the room. What you objecting to? You in the wedding! You objecting to your dress?”

I stare at her, she smiles at me and we both laugh.

Much better woman than me. Pierre chose quality after all.

-oOo-

“So, what do you think?”

I’m stuck between Antoine and Bobby. Bobby’s cologne is giving me fits. I just want to . . . I’m wound tight being close to him.

I look at my scoring sheet. “Yesterday’s caterer was much better but today’s baker was superb.”

Bobby smiles. “My thoughts exactly. So, how is my investment doing?”

I blush. “Up two percent.”

He whistles. “Damn! Already? How sustainable is it?”

“Blue chips are doing well. Plus, we’re about to go into the Christmas season. Last push for the retail sector. This is the time for make or break profits.”

He looks intrigued. “Excellent. Well, I think Hec plans to add to the fund. You’ll need to ask him though. How’s your Spanish?”

“Terrible. I know some phrases.”

“Well, lucky you. We recently realized he learned French. Est-ce que votre français est toujours bon? (Is your French still good?)”

I blush. “Oui, monsieur.”

We laugh. My heart does a little pitter patter before calming. He’s still 15 years older than me. I’m still a child in his eyes.

“What do you plan on doing when you graduate? Last I heard, you were ditching social work for finance.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” I start telling him what I’m up to and he smiles.

“Proud of you, Shug,” he murmurs.

I blush. “Really?”

“Yeah. I never saw you as a social worker. I thought Tank should have steered you to finance, but he’ll never tell you what to do.”

I smile. “Yeah. My big brother praises where praise is due and corrects when it’s needed.”

“Exactly.” He smiles. “My sister is a stockbroker in Atlanta. They have an opening in their office. I told her about you. She’d like to meet you.” He smiles. “Interested?”

I grins. “Absolutely!” I’m thrilled. A job?

He nods. “I’ll tell Geneviève to expect your call. She’s annoyed I have money invested with you and interested to see your results. I told her you invested Tank’s money as a teenager. She’s intrigued.”

“And annoyed.”

He grins. “Very. Anyway, Spelman undergrad, Wharton grad.” I inhale sharply. She went to the best schools. “I’ve never sent anyone to her, so be prepared to impress.”

“I will.” I’ll contact Soror Bernice and ask her to help me. I could have a job if this goes well.

“I know.”

I gaze into his warm brown eyes, looking at me in approval for the first time in months, and sigh mentally. God I wish you loved me!

“So, Lula?” he asks, nodding in their direction.

I laugh. “I was wrong. I like her. She’s been calling me every week. She’s funny as hell and she doesn’t give up.” I roll my eyes. “Even on my silly behind.”

He laughs, a loud strong laugh and everyone looks over. He grins and waves. Pierre shoots Bobby a look.

“I think he’s concerned you might try to have your wicked way with me,” I whisper. Bobby grins and moves in close. I’m anticipating a kiss on the cheek (lips! Please kiss me on the lips!) when I hear a choked laugh.

I forgot Antoine was on my other side. He chokes on his water then starts laughing. I look over and Bobby lips brush my cheek (Yes! Lip contact!). “Nah, Shug. I prefer my gonads where they are,” Bobby whispers in my ear. “And Antoine’s been watching the entire time. I prefer more privacy to be wicked.”

His voice is in my ear promising wicked things. I squirm delicately in the chair and smile. “Tease.”

“You started it,” he replies. He motions for my score sheet and we pass those over to Momma, who is watching us like a hawk. Bobby gives her his most charming smile and she smiles and starts scoring the sheets.

“Butter wouldn’t melt, huh?” I whisper.

“Life skills, Shug,” he replies. “Life skills.”

–oOo—

I climb back into Antoine’s car in a daze. He’s barely closed his door before he starts laughing.

“If I didn’t respect Bobby Brown as much as I do, I’d bust his head open for teasing you like that,” he says, grinning.

I blush. “I can handle myself, thank you,” I reply primly.

“Girl please. Bobby is a shark. He’ll eat your guppy ass alive.” Antoine starts the car and we begin our little caravan back to Momma’s. “And he didn’t do anything except sit there and smile at you!” Antoine starts laughing again.

Thanks, Antoine. Asshole. I smile at him. Pierre was right. Antoine’s not so bad at all. He’s been coming to see me in New Orleans. All of a sudden, all of my so-called friends are calling me again but I’m holding them at arm’s length.

I’ve seen what their friendship is really about. It’s about what I have. Pierre and his friends would be there for each other through thick and thin because it’s not about the money. Pierre’s woman loves him for him, not the money. I’ve learned. The stuff does not matter.

Pierre was right. As always.

We get out at Momma’s and troop inside. No one is interested in eating anything so we just sit around and get to know each other.

Ric is sitting on the end of the couch with Stephanie next to him, his arm slung around her possessively. I don’t know how anyone, including her, could not see him staking a clear claim on her. Lula is next to her and Pierre is sitting next to him. I watch my brother listen to his wifey and her best friends gab about the wedding. Occasionally, he’ll look over at Ric, and they’ll stare at each other and both look away chuckling.

No matter how many times I watch them do that, it’s still weird.

Meanwhile, the newest contestant for Señor Scary, Hector, is in the kitchen with Momma and Lester. They’re watching as she attempts to replicate the flan she made Thursday. Bobby is laid out on the floor, nearly asleep.

Stephanie stands and stretches. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Ric smiles. “Want company?”

“No.”

His smile falls and, for the first time ever, I feel for him. He’s clearly in love with this . . . I don’t know how to characterize her. Bitch is coming closest. She’s been snobby and rude ever since she arrived. Lula’s hurt but she’s hiding it well. Unless it involves the food, Stephanie hasn’t really cared.

Some friend.

She heads out of the door and Ric settles back against the cushions and closes his eyes. I get started on the wedding website and Momma pulls the flan out of the oven. Ric opens one eye.

“Well, I do need to gain weight,” he says, and heads to the kitchen.

---

Steph’s POV

I walk for a while, trying to sort out my feelings and thoughts.

I really haven’t felt like myself lately. I don’t know why but I have to get a handle on this. I’m snapping at everyone, even Ranger. He’s been quiet and he’s not saying much, but I can tell my picking fights with him every night is getting on his nerves.

I look up and I’m back at Mrs. LaPierre’s house. The past 48 hours have been eye-opening.

I don’t know Ranger. I don’t know Ric. This guy, who doesn’t share flan, cleans, and teases me, Tank, Lula, and Mrs. CJ? He’s a mystery.

Mrs. LaPierre has a beautiful garden and her rose bushes are stunning. I sit in the garden and admire the display. Within five minutes, the lady herself comes out with a bucket. She merely nods at me and starts deadheading her roses. I tense, waiting for her to start asking questions, but she says nothing. Just keeps working.

Peace and quiet and no one trying to talk to me. About time.

She continues to work in her garden while I sit and think. Finally, she comes over and sits next to me.

“Talk to me, baby. I don’t know the background, I don’t know the history. I’ll just listen.”

I look at her, at her calm face and warm brown eyes, and I start talking. I tell her everything, about moving out of my apartment, the psy-op run on me, the pressure of living Ranger’s life and how the review of this branch is going. She passes me a handkerchief, even though I don’t need it.

I have no idea why I said everything I just did but once I say it, I feel better. I smile at her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I have a question for you.”

I knew there’d be one. “Shoot.”

“Who is Stephanie Plum?”

I blink. “What?”

“Who are you, baby? I know who you are to Ric, to Lula, to my son. I know who you are to Bobby, Les and your friends. Who are you to you? Do you know?”

I mentally gape at her.

She smiles. “Sounds to me like you forgot who you are. Makes sense. You been living for everyone else for so long that you lost sight of you. That’s why you feel so confused right now. I been there. I know.”

She stands and puts her gardening tools back in her bucket.

“Once you figure out who you are to you, you’ll be able to determine how you want your relationships with everyone else to go.” She smiles. “Now, don’t stay out here too long. Mosquitoes will eat you alive.”

She pats my hands and walks back to her house.

Who am I to me?

Good question.

-oOo-

I wake the next morning with Carlos curled around me. I smile and turn in his arms.

“Good morning.”

“Yo.” He smiles and plays with my hair. I kiss his cheek and run for the bathroom. I finish up and crawl back in bed.

Carlos is looking at me and I can see he’s waiting to see who he woke up with this morning. I sigh mentally and crawl back into his arms.

“Sorry.”

“For?”

“Being such a bitch lately.”

He snorts. “You haven’t been a bitch.” I look at him. He smiles. “Hard to understand, won’t talk to me, but you aren’t a bitch.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“So?”

I sigh. “I . . . can we have some time alone today?”

“Yes.” He picks up his phone and texts. “Clear.”

“Thanks.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

He pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. “I’m good at doing nothing.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

-oOo—

We finally talk. I hear about his childhood and I see why Tank was concerned. Nearly all of Carlos’s stories involve Les in some way or another. They were brothers.

“If I got into trouble, I guarantee you Les was there,” he says, laughing.

“Sounds like it. So how did you end up in juvie and Les didn’t?”

The blank face slams into place so fast I’m stunned. I watch and wait and eventually the face lifts. He’s composing the story in his head.

“I’m the youngest of five. Les is an only.” I nod. I knew that. “My brother was in college and my sisters lived to meddle in my life, so I joined a gang to get out of the house. The local head was a guy named Tomas.”

Hmm . . . Hector’s Tomas too. I listen closely.

“Remember I told you what I looked like as a kid?” I nod. “Well, I hadn’t hit a growth spurt yet, so I looked more like Les at that age. Small, skinny, with long hair. I looked girly.” I smile. “Yeah. Anyway, Tomas was gay, although I didn’t know, and I looked like his type.”

I sit up. “Did he . . .?”

Carlos’s face shutters for a moment. “He tried. Meanwhile, I was getting a reputation as a good getaway driver. I knew all the roads between Newark and Elizabeth. Anyway, the day I got caught, I’d just told Tomas I didn’t swing his way. Quit trying. I had my jimmie tool to break into the designated car, had just gotten the door open, and that’s when the cops came by. I hadn’t started the car yet, but it was clear that’s what I was up to.

On the way to the police station, the cops talked about the ‘lucky tip’ that helped them catch me.” He looks at me. “Only three people knew I was boosting a car that day. Tomas, me, and Piman.”

My mouth drops. He nods.

“Piman showed up at juvie to talk to me almost immediately. Once I told him that they caught me red-handed, he told me to work with my advocate to get a light sentence. I shouldn’t have to go down for much. If there’d been any chance, he would have muddied the waters for me but he couldn’t. Tomas showed three days later and he acted concerned but he was smug.”

I’m angry and pissed on Ranger’s behalf but I listen.

“I got six months with a year of probation. My family was hurt and angry, but Les?” He laughs, a hollow laugh. “Les got even. He stole Tomas’s stash, little by little and hurt Tomas’s chance of moving up in the gang. There was an open spot in Miami and everyone was fighting for it, but Les fucking up Tomas tipped it to Piman. In return, Piman helped Les set Tomas up on my behalf. Tomas went down for five years.” He smiles coldly. “In prison.”

“Good.” But that’s scary as hell. Les is dangerous. Tank was not joking.

“So I get out and my family sends me to Miami.”

“Les?”

“Hated it, but it was good for both of us. We finally got to stand on our own as individuals. Meanwhile, Piman told every set leader under him in Miami that if I attempted to join, refuse me.”

“Why?”

“Because he wanted me to stay clean. Between Les’s deviousness and my leadership skills, he wanted us to succeed. The gang was not for me and he knew if I got back in, I’d pull Les with me. Les would follow me into hell to have my back. I’d already made the decision to never go back, but he added insurance.”

I like Piman more and more.

“So I was there for four years before I went back to NJ for college. He took the fall for one of his men just as I got into college and he told me to get out of Miami. Piman showed up at my football games, helped me get into the Miami clubs as part of his entourage and taught me how to be a man.” Carlos laughs. “I had uncles and cousins in Miami, but Piman became my surrogate big brother. He was serious about me keeping my shit clean. He also had someone keeping an eye on Les, which is how I always knew what Les was up to.”

“No wonder it doesn’t matter to you.”

“What?”

“Being under constant surveillance,” I reply. “Always having someone watching you. Never having privacy.”

He’s quiet for a minute. “I’m a private person but I don’t see having people around me as a lack of privacy. I see having someone at my back as concern and care. Trust. Having someone at my back means I concentrate on doing what I need to do. If I’d had someone at my back the day I was caught, I might never have gone to juvie.”

“You might still be a gangbanger too.”

He nods. “True. That got me off the path I was on, but the lesson carried on. I believe in backup. I believe in not going it alone, especially when I’m doing something dangerous. The best moments in life are not by yourself.”

He pulls me close and kisses me deeply. He hooks his iPod into the bedside radio and we dance to whatever comes on. We just dance, holding each other, barely moving.

“The best moments in life are with someone,” he whispers. “I’ve had some of the best moments of my life with you. With Tank. With Les and Bobby. With Rachel, the day she had Julie. Every time I remember something good in my life, someone’s been there with me. You?”

I’m staring at him. My worst moments in life involved everyone telling me what to do. Dickie, my mother, my family, Joe.

The skip of the week. The stalker of the moment.

My worst moments in life involved other people.

-oOo-

I’m finally done planning Lula’s wedding shower. I catch Chenae at Mrs. LaPierre’s the next morning.

“Chenae.”

She turns. Tank’s little sister is a beautiful girl. Tall and thin, with honey brown eyes and long gorgeous hair, she could be a model. I never realized, until I looked at her closely, that Tank has a tiny dimple. She has deep dimples, like her mother and brother.

“Yes, Stephanie?”

Being around her makes me feel . . . not good enough. Tank clearly expended some time and money into Chenae. She had a ‘Burg-style upbringing, from the sounds of it. She’s another Val.

“Hi. I did some planning for Lula’s wedding shower and the bachelorette party. I wanted to talk about it with you.”

“OK.” She clears some room on the dining room table and motions for me to sit. “What are you thinking?”

“I’d like to have the wedding shower here before the wedding. Vegas for the bachelorette party.”

Her brow lifts (can everyone do it except me!?). “Vegas?” she asks, a little witheringly. “Isn’t that somewhat . . . tacky?”

I shrug. “Our one trip to Vegas was a disaster.” I tell her about our trip to capture Samuel Singh and she laughs until her mascara runs.

“Oh God, that’s a mess! And Lula drove back just to bring back the dog?”

“Yeah.”

Her face softens. “That’s sweet.” She smiles. “That’s Lula. Anything helpless or in need.” She sighs. “OK then. I can see why you’d want to go back. Now, the Luxor is considered cheap, or at least it was the last time I was there. What are you thinking?”

“Well, we want to gamble and have a good time. I also want to invite your sisters and your mother to join us.”

Chenae frowns. “I’ll check with Wilma and Thelma. They may not have the funds. Momma?” She grins. “I’m not sure how she feels about gambling.”

“Well, there’s the food and the shows and maybe we can do some shopping.”

“In that case, Caesar’s Palace or New York New York. Caesar’s is in the middle of the strip and has some good restaurants.” She starts searching on her computer. “How many guests?”

“Ten, at least. Possibly more.”

She raises an eyebrow. “A firm count soon would help. Do these people have email addresses?”

I shrug. “I don’t know about Jackie, but everyone else should.”

“OK. I’ll make a private EventBrite page and that will have the ability to track who confirmed.” She sets up the page in minutes and links it back to her wedding website. It’s impressive.

“Nice job.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I did a lot of events for my sorority. This was the easiest way to keep track.”

I nod. “And you can have people pay through that?”

“Yes.” She takes me through the backend setup and I’m thinking of how to make that work within RangeMan before I remind myself that this is supposed to be a RangeMan free weekend.

“Well, thank you for the help. Look, I’m busy and exhausted. Do you mind helping me? I can take care of most of the guest list, but I need help making sure everything gets booked.”

She stares at me for a moment before nodding. “Certainly. Just email or text me. I’ll try to get things done as quick as I can.”

“Thanks.” I stand and turn to leave.

“So, are you really Lula’s friend?”

I turn. She’s staring at me, arms crossed across her chest. “What?”

She stands. “Are you really her friend? Because I’m just meeting you and you don’t seem like much of a friend to me.”

I’m confused. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re right. I don’t and what I’ve seen this weekend makes me wonder why you’re Lula’s maid of honor instead of Connie.” She looks at me. “I’ve heard all these stories about how tight you four women are. Lula’s been looking forward to your visit for weeks. She got everyone in the family excited to meet you and, so far, you’re a disappointment.”

I’m stung. Another person for whom I’m just a disappointment.

She walks over and looks at me coldly. “I’m not sure what drama you have going on in your life. I don’t really care. But Lula’s about to become my sister. My brother loves her. I’d like to meet the person they both adore, because if this is that person I’m confused.

You’re reminding me of some of the people I just cut out of my life. People who aren’t really happy about my happiness and aren’t really there for me unless I can do something for them. You could at least fake being happy around Lula, even if you aren’t feeling it. Otherwise, why show up?”

And she walks off.

---

Mrs. CJ’s POV

I take Ric by the arm and encourage him to walk with me. Like Pierre not so long ago, the boy is in love and confused. I don’t know how to help him. I can see that his woman has lost her way and until she finds herself, she’ll keep him at arm’s length.

We walk, not saying anything, before he turns to me.

“How’s William?”

I grin. “You remember him?”

“Of course,” he replies. “How is he?”

“Back from New Orleans. We were gonna have dinner Thursday night but then you boys arrived, so we’re going once y’all leave.”

“Good.” He tucks my hand into his arm. “Good to know he’s a good man.”

“He is.” I laugh. “Pierre wanna see him again. Thinks it time for him and William and Antoine to have a man to man to man talk.”

Ric laughs. “Add me, Les, and Bobby onto that list. The Jarhead needs a warning.”

I slap his arm. “I will not! Y’all gon’ run my po’ man off!”

“No we won’t. Gotta make sure he understands you come with five sons, not two.”

“Oh Ric,” I breathe. “That’s so sweet.”

He looks at me and smiles. “You’ve been another mother to me from the moment we met. No man is going to take advantage of you. Ever.”

I tug him down and kiss his cheek. He blushes and we continue walking. I’m not sure how to open the conversation but I finally just decide to speak from my heart.

“Your woman is confused.” He stops and stares at me. “I think, in her heart, she loves you but a lot of things have happened to her in a short amount of time. Her entire world has changed.” I look at him. “Right now, she wants, she needs, an anchor. You love her?” He nods. “Then you need to anchor her. Help her understand that no matter what happens in life, you’ll always be there for her.”

“She knows that.”

“No, baby, she doesn’t. If she does, she doesn’t believe it.”

-oOo-

We return to the house and Stephanie is standing there looking like somebody killed her dog.

“Babe?” Ric says softly. “Everything OK?”

She shakes her head. He walks over to her and pulls her into his embrace. “Wanna talk?”

“No.”

“Want to walk with me?” She nods and they head outside. I head to the kitchen to make a light breakfast. We have two more caterers to try today before the kids leave for Texas. The boys troop in, hot and sweaty. They found the old basketball and played a pickup game outside.

“Who won?”

“We did,” Les says, gesturing to himself and Tank. “Got the big man to post and I handled everything else. I played in high school. I still got it.” He dribbles the ball and the other men talk insults in Spanish. I glare at them and they smile.

“There’s no way you know what we’re saying, Mrs. CJ,” Bobby says.

“You’re men. I’m sure there’s a few bad words in there.”

They laugh and I set the fruit salad and bread on the bar. The boys can make toast. Bobby points to a seat and I sigh loudly, smile, and sit. They dish me up some breakfast then handle themselves.

“What’s wrong with Angelita?” Hector asks.

The boys look at me. I shrug. Chenae walks in.

“Shug, do you know what’s wrong with Stephanie?”

“No. Why?”

“She looked upset.”

Her brow rises. “She’s probably mad at me.”

I turn. “Why”

“Because I told her that if she wasn’t happy, she could at least fake it around Lula.” She looks at Pierre calmly. “I know I didn’t always like Lula, but I’ve come to appreciate her. I like her and she’s about to be your wife. She’s family and she’s hurt. I’m hurt for her. She’s a good person and right now, her best friend is acting like she’s not happy for her. Her other friends are happy and if they aren’t, they’re darn good actresses. She could at least fake it.”

Pierre’s face is blank. Finally, he nods.

“Thank you, Shug.”

I catch Pierre’s eyes and we both nod.

Shug probably said a little more than what she just admitted to.

---

Steph’s POV

The final caterer is a total mystery.

“He’s new and because he’s new, he doesn’t want to prejudice the vote for or against him,” Mrs. LaPierre says. We nod, as if we understand (we don’t) and get ready to eat.

“I’m stuffed,” I mutter to Ranger after the second course. This person is fabulous! The first course was a selection of appetizers. Oysters on the half shell in a variety of different ways, tiny crab cakes that tasted of crab, not filling, and grilled and BBQ shrimp. There were tiny Dixie cups filled with shrimp and grits, tiny muffelatas, grilled duck breasts on a bed of lettuce, and finger sandwiches filled with everything from pimento cheese to roast beef. The second course was a choice between shrimp and corn chowder and the best crawfish étouffée I’ve had since Mrs. LaPierre’s on Thursday evening.

The main dish is served and I hear Ranger groan. I know.

Prime Rib with Au Jus, grilled chicken with a honey mustard sauce, and fried chicken with waffles.

“Baby, if that tastes half as good as it looks, we have a caterer,” Lula says, groaning. She looks down the table at me and Ranger. “Steph?”

“Hire them,” I reply around a mouthful of beef. Ranger is eating the grilled chicken, after scraping the sauce off.

“ML?”

“I’ll have to lose ten pounds after this wedding, Lula,” ML moans. “This fried chicken is excellent.”

“Connie?”

“Hey, what about us?” Les cries. “Don’t we get a vote?”

“In a minute,” Lula replies. “Connie?”

“Ugh,” Connie moans. “Honey, this will be the wedding of the century due to the food! Hire this guy. Pronto.” She looks over at Mrs. Carol Jean. “How many weddings has he done?”

Mrs. CJ looks nervous. “Well, this would be the first one, but he’s anxious for everything to go right. He’s gon’ make sure everything is perfect.”

“Well, that’s a minus,” ML tells Lula. “You don’t want to be the one he practices on.”

Tank’s brother Antoine is looking at his plate in confusion. “I think I know who this is.”

“Then don’t say nothing,” Mrs. CJ says firmly.

“I won’t,” he replies, but he looks at Tank and Lula. “If this is who I think it is, I agree with Momma: He will go above and beyond to make sure it’s perfect for you. I mean, look at how much he’s outlayed just to win the vote. Shrimp round here might be cheaper than most places, but it still ain’t cheap. Plus prime rib? Crab? Muffelatas? He did all this, kept it warm, and made sure everything was perfect just to win the bid.”

We look at our plates. Good point.

Tank is looking at his mother and brother before he sighs. “Key!” he yells.

Ranger’s head snaps up. “Key?” he whispers.

Tank’s twin appears, looking nervous. “Pierre. Hey.”

My mouth drops and Ranger closes it gently. “Tank’s dad gave him a few extra siblings,” he whispers, his face clearly saying this isn’t a topic of conversation Tank likes.

Tank groans and Connie and ML’s eyes light up. “Pierre?” they echo in surprise. Tank stares at them and they smother the giggles. Tank motions for his brother to pull up a chair.

“How long you been at this?”

“A few months,” he replies, nervously. “I’ve done a few events, great reviews, but I wanna go solo.”

He stares at his brother before looking at Lula. “Your opinion?”

She smiles at Key. “The food is wonderful! I mean, when we had your food at Paul’s, that was good, but this? This is . . . ” Lula finishes her shrimp and grits with a happy sigh. “This deserves awards. Everybody should eat this. Imma need to-go box. This the kind of stuff drive-throughs are made for.”

Key grins and he looks just like Tank. “You’re staring,” Ranger whispers.

“I can’t help it,” I reply, still looking. “It’s like Tank times two.”

Ranger looks as if he’s thinking of smiling. He swipes at my prime ribs and chews. “Damn. That’s good.” I glare. I wasn’t done!

Meanwhile, Tank and Lula are having another silent conversation. Finally, Tank nods and turns back to his brother. “You have a price list?”

“Yeah.” Key leaves and returns with the list. Lula and Key start haggling over the menu.

“Steph, you wanna help?”

I shake my head. “I can’t move. I’ll help with the dessert menu. Let Connie handle this part.”

Connie and ML grin and move in to help. Bobby and Ranger also decide to help. Hector sits next to me.

“Full?”

“Stuffed.”

“Me too.”

I put my head on Hector’s shoulder and fall asleep.

---

Tank’s POV

I see why Momma didn’t want to prejudice me for or against the last caterer.

If I’d known it was Key, I don’t know how I would have voted.

I loved the food. It was the food of my childhood, done fancy, and it was excellent. Key knows his stuff. Still, having him cater my wedding feels awkward.

I look over at Antoine.

About as awkward as having Antoine DJ my wedding. Family should be celebrating with me, not working, which is why I asked Antoine to stand with me. I’d planned to anyway, but that seemed like the best moment.

I look at Key. Lula and Key are working through the menu and Connie and ML are reminding her not to overload. It’s a lot of food. Don’t order too much. I look over. Steph’s asleep on Hector’s shoulder.

I know Shug said more than she admitted but I gotta agree with her explanation. I had to comfort Lula yesterday. She wondered if she’d offended Steph and I explained that Ranger said they needed time alone. Steph’s been increasingly cold and quiet during this trip and, right now, I’d like her to go home. I don’t like seeing Lula cry. Whatever has Steph acting like this has got to go.

Thank god Connie and ML have been covering Steph and Candy and Lula are getting along like new best friends in the building. They even went shopping together and Hal called me asking me not to let that happen again.

The boy is short on closet space. I laughed my ass off when I hung up.

I watch Lula and Connie plan the menu, with Bobby’s help. I’m estimating this wedding at $50,000. I’m not begrudging Lula a single penny, though. I want her to have everything she wants. She’s giving up a lot to move to Texas and marry me. I want this day to be perfect and special for her.

I stand and walk over to Antoine. “First song: Spend My Life with You by Eric Benét.”

He nods. “Good choice.”

I motion for Key to stand. “Hey, we’re not done,” Lula cries.

I kiss her forehead. “Keep working on it. We need to have a word.”

Her jaw clenches but she nods. I motion for Key to follow me. We hit the kitchen area of the church and I stare at him for a moment. Key is me without the Army, without the help.

Key is me without a strong mother to guide me and people in my corner to help.

“You got the staff for this?”

He nods. “I got 20 already committed if I win your bid. I can hire more if I need to.”

“You gonna make a profit out of this wedding?”

He smiles. “I hope. I—”

“Don’t hope. Make sure of it.” I look at him. I see the pride in his face. “What’s the plan?”

He looks at me silently. “I don’t want handouts.”

“Good. I don’t do handouts, but I do invest in sound businesses. It’s how I made my money. What’s the ultimate plan?”

“Restaurant. I’m tired of slinging hash at Paul’s.”

“Business loan?”

“Not a single bank in town will listen.” He snorts. “Not even the so called ‘black bank’.”

” Capitol ?”

“Yeah.”

I nod. The restaurant business is a tough one to break into. “Talk to Chenae. Convince her of your business plan. If she thinks it’s sound, I’ll invest.” I look at him hard. “Don’t mistake. I’ll be a silent partner, but I will keep an eye on things until you can buy me out.”

“That’s all I ask, Pierre,” he replies, straightening up. He extends his hand and I shake.

“You won the bid.” I smile. “I’ve never seen my best man eat like that without my mother putting the plate in front of him.”

Key grins and we rejoin the group. Lula looks up. “I think we have a menu.”

“Good. Key won the bid?”

“Yeah. That was an easy decision.” She looks over. “It’s 150 guests but remember to count your staff and the vendors in the list, so you need to cook for 200.”

I look at Ranger. He grins; I groan and reconsider the pomp and circumstance of this.

Maybe . . . maybe the courthouse wasn’t a bad idea.

---

Steph’s POV

I smell cake and it’s getting away from me. I open my eyes to the sight of Ranger holding a gorgeous piece of red velvet in front of me and smiling.

“Welcome back. Last dessert guy is here.”

“Tank’s relative?”

“Nah. You missed her greeting.”

Well, whoever it is knows their stuff. They seal my vote when they present perfect mini cannolis with a note.

“I know the bride lived in New Jersey for years, which is where she met the groom. I thought a nod to the desserts of the Northeast was also appropriate,” Lula reads. “Well, that’s nice. I wonder if I should tell her that I’m more an apple pie girl.”

“No!” ML, Connie and I all cry. The cannolis are fabulous. “You can use these as a goodbye sweet gift to thank people for coming. This could be your favor.”

Les and Bobby mutter something and Tank grins before wiping his face. He stares at Ranger. Ranger stares, grins and goes blank faced.

“What’s the joke?” I whisper.

“What? The dinner isn’t enough of a thank you? Everyone’s going to waddle away from this reception,” Ranger says, smiling.

Lula and I decide on the bride’s cake quickly. Four tiers, decorated in buttercream, not fondant, and each layer will be a different flavor. A sheet cake of each will be cut and slices placed in front of the bride’s cake to serve everyone (and keep costs down).

“The bottom three layers will be dyed blue but it’ll be chocolate on the bottom, then red velvet, then vanilla, with the top layer for me and Tank in cheesecake.” She looks at me. “Groom’s cake?”

Tank groans.

“Tank? Your favorite dessert?”

“Sweet potato pie when we were kids,” Chenae says.

Tank nods. “Fruit now. Pears and cheese.”

“Oooh, that sounds good,” Connie says. “Something light to finish.”

I stare at Ranger and we both hide a grin.

“Yellow butter cake decorated with the Army Ranger’s insignia,” Bobby says. “A nod to the groom’s history.”

Lula smiles. “Yeah, I like that better.”

Tank groans and looks at Bobby. “No surprise health checks for at least two months.”

“You kidding me?” Bobby says, grinning. “I’m letting my pants out for this reception.”

-oOo-

I’m back in the Escalade with Lula, ML, and Connie headed back to San Antonio. Connie and ML are in the backseat, asleep. Connie’s snores are making me laugh. I wonder . . . well, the guys drove Les’s Range Rover. I’m sure they’re all still awake.

Chenae’s words stung, deeply, but she was right. I’ve been so caught up in my own drama that I forgot about Lula. I forgot about her wedding shower. I haven’t given the first thought to a bachelorette party. I really haven’t helped much this weekend.

“I think your wedding is going to be beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

I wince. Lula’s voice is cold. And hurt.

“I’m sorry I haven’t helped out much.”

Lula is quiet. “I didn’t expect you to plan it, Steph, but I was hoping you’d give me some opinions. Your opinion means a lot and you’ve been married. I never have.”

I snort. “Lula, I didn’t plan my own wedding.”

She looks over. “Really?”

“My mother and Mrs. Orr planned my wedding. I didn’t get to decide on anything.”

“Oh.”

I exhale. “I crapped it this weekend.”

Three mile markers pass before Lula says anything. “Well, you helped me decide on a favor. And we got the menu done.”

“Right.”

“And I got my dress.”

“And you look beautiful. I told Ranger that if Tank didn’t shed a tear at the sight of you, he wasn’t human.”

Lula laughs quietly. Connie’s buzzsaw continues in the back.

“I like the dress you picked out in Houston.”

“Yeah, but I saw a better one. Wanna go back?”

She looks over. “Road Trip!” she yells, excited.

“Huh?” ML sits straight up, eyes wide. “What?”

“Yeah, road trip,” Connie mumbles and flips to her other side.

Lula and I look at each other and laugh.