Jennifer Johnson Is Sick of Being Married (28 page)

“What now?” Ed sighs. “What a Goddamned shitstorm of a day.”

Mother Keller makes a face. “I can't hear very well . . . but I have a message that says Jennifer's holding a press conference . . . by herself?”

“Well, I'd like to see that!” Ed chortles. “She can't very well introduce a new president when he isn't even there!”

Mother Keller tries to hear better and finally she roars,
“Silence!”
so loudly that the whole limo goes quiet. Brad stops shouting, Dizzy and Bi'ch stop singing, even the chicken stops squawking as Mother Keller's face transmogrifies into a contorted knot of fear and confusion.

“What is it, Mom?”

“Jennifer's not introducing the new president . . . She's . . . throwing a gay wedding.”

“How? Where?”

“Drive!” Mother Keller suddenly shouts at Nick. “Drive, Goddamn it! Drive faster! Drive fucking faster!”

 

Meanwhile, Christopher and Jeremy make their way down the aisle slowly. They've waited a long time for this and they take their time, smiling at friends and waving as hundreds of cameras pop and flash at them. Christopher and Jeremy step on a gold aisle runner and loud club music starts pumping as another curtain swings open, revealing a DJ with a huge mixing board. They dance the rest of the way. They boogie down the aisle together, and they have clearly practiced their routine. The delighted crowd cheers even louder for them as cameras start popping and flashing even faster. When Christopher and Jeremy reach the altar, I step up, holding a bouquet of all-white roses.

I'm Christopher's best man.

There's a clap of thunder from above. We look up and a large glittering disco ball descends from a billowing cloud of smoke near the ceiling. Inside the disco ball is none other than Black Janet Reno the drag queen, Christopher's all-time favorite. Black Janet Reno is lowered onto the altar and hops out wearing six-inch glittering stilettos. Picking up a microphone, she says, “Honey-children, can I get a
hallelujah
!”

The whole room shouts,
“Hallelujah!”

“Is today the day our Lord has made?” she shouts. “If it is, say
hallelujah
!”

“Hallelujah!”
we shout. Tears well up in my eyes. Maybe because I'm emotional or terrified, or because everyone is shouting so . . .
loudly.

Black Janet Reno presides over the ceremony. She's the entertainment and the wedding officiant. We rehearsed this and she knows to move quickly, but when will I learn, you can't put a drag queen in front of camera crews and expect her to leave willingly. I'm not too nervous until Nick text-messages me:
ALMOST THERE!

I try to keep calm and message him back:
PHO READY!

Pho is definitely ready, but that doesn't keep me from sweating bullets. How long is this freaking ceremony anyway?
Can't they hurry up?
Black Janet Reno sings “You Are So Beautiful” and the boys read a poem they wrote together for the occasion. An ode about two yachts that pass in the night . . . the USS
Farfel
and the
King Filippe Roheim III.
I start tapping my foot while nervously watching the elevator doors right behind me. I stood here on purpose, so I'd know when the Kellers got here and could body-block if things got ugly.

Now it seems like a really stupid idea. I imagine gruesome scenarios in which the Kellers burst through the doors with the police in tow, right before Christopher and Jeremy say, “I do.” I can't let that happen. Among all the other things that are happening, my best friend is getting married, and that's more important than all the rest of it.

 

Back on the highway, the hearse careens and exits at the downtown ramp. Everyone inside the vehicle is hanging on to each other for dear life and the chicken has started pooping on people. Ten minutes later Keller's security camera catches a hearse squealing into the underground parking lot and lurching to a stop in front of the open elevator doors. Brad bursts out of the limo and runs for them, his parents close behind him. Mother Keller shouts at her husband to hurry while Nick holds the doors for everyone and they all pack into the elevator together. Todd, Brad, Mr. and Mrs. Keller, and the whole board of directors jam in there, eager to find out what's happening upstairs.

The chrome doors of the elevator close and Nick looks over at his partners in crime, Dizzy Bee, Bi'ch, Star Fan, and a chicken. They all refrained from getting on the elevator.

They just nod silently at each other and take the stairs.

Meanwhile, my little cyber-ninja, Pho, was able to hack into the elevator's mainframe and access its operating system as well as the fish-eye security camera inside. In the video we see the beleaguered Keller crew, so close to their destination, all scrunched inside the elevator as Brad repeatedly punches the button marked
LOBBY.
Nothing happens. Then the elevator rockets one floor and a screeching sound is heard as the elevator jerks to a stop.

“What happened?” Ed shouts. “Why aren't we moving?”

“We're stuck between floors,” Brad says, trying to pry open the chrome doors with his manicured fingertips.

His mother looks at her cell phone, furious. “We can't let this happen on company property,” she says. “We can't let her marry a couple of fucking . . . queers!”

 

Back in the lobby, my phone vibrates. It's an emergency text message from Pho, who's monitoring the elevator from a computer terminal upstairs.
HURRY! BRAD FIGURED OUT HATCH!

Crap! The elevator was supposed to hold them hostage for another fifteen minutes!

I give Black Janet Reno the emergency signal. Why did we pick thumbs-up for an emergency signal? It looks like I'm saying everything's okay! I have to flash thumbs-up at her two more times before she sees me. Her eyes go wide and she nods, and she quickly brings the ceremony to its legal conclusion. “Hopping quickly along like little bunnies!” She smiles, her glittery lipstick sparkling. “Do you, Jeremy, do you take this little snack cake of a cutie, Christopher, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,”
says Jeremy.

Suddenly a loud clanking noise comes from the elevator. Everyone looks. Mostly because besides the clanking, there is the very audible sound of Brad swearing his head off.
Shit!
It sounds like he's prying open the doors with a freaking crowbar . . . “Hurry!” I hiss, but Black Janet Reno is unfazed. “And do you, Christopher, take this luscious hunk of man meat, Jeremy, to be your lawfully wedded husband, forever and ever and ever-ever?”

I gasp as Brad stumbles out of the elevator smeared with grease.

“What the fuck is going on?” Brad shouts.

“I do!”
Christopher grins.

“All right, honey-children, then by the power vested in me—”

“Stop right there!” Brad shouts.

Black Janet Reno puts a fist on her glittered hip and says, “Who's gonna stop me
? You, white boy?
We didn't come this far to get knocked down by some greasy cracker. No, honey . . . by the power vested in me by God and these very fine Manolo Blahniks I am rocking, I now pronounce you honey-babies
groom
and
groom
!”

The newlyweds kiss and the crowd goes wild.

I look over as Mr. and Mrs. Keller crawl out of the partially open elevator doors. They too are smudgy and dirty. One arm of Mrs. Keller's chiffon dress is ripped.

“What've you done?” she says. “What's going on?”

Ed looks confused as reporters rush for him. They ask him if it's true that the store sold cancer-causing teddy bears and that he now supports gay marriage. Ed just looks around, bewildered, and Todd steps in, snake-oil salesman that he is, and gives the cameras some bullshit statement about Keller's continuing to be committed to the community.

“Look, Gramma! I'm a ballerina!” Mother Keller gasps as her grandson sails past wearing pink roller skates and a blond Barbie wig. He whirls around grinning and does a pirouette for her. Mother Keller spins and viciously grabs my arm, her claw digging into my skin.

“What have you done?” she hisses.

I look at her and blink innocently. “Nothing that you wouldn't do, Mother Keller. I just went after what I wanted tooth and nail, without any concern for what I destroyed in the process. It's a page from your playbook. I did exactly what I thought needed to be done.”

“I see. And you think you're going to
get away
with this?”

“Oh, I hope not,” I tell her. “In fact, what I'm
really
hoping you'll do is go right over there to those reporters and tell them that this whole thing was
my
idea, that the wedding wasn't sanctioned by Keller's, because then as
a bonus
the entire world will
know
that . . . by all definitions . . . I beat you.”

Her eyes narrow like she's a snake ready to strike. “You're a filthy little—”

“Of course you
could
take responsibility for the wedding yourself and tell everyone you were in charge. Say it was an experiment, an olive branch, a PR stunt. Whatever. That way no one would ever have to know that the great queen was undone . . . by a mere pawn.”

“Oh, you're in a world of hurt now, honey,” she whispers.

“Actually that's where I've
been
. In a world of hurt. Totally my own fault, for marrying your son and letting you and your family control my life, interfere with my happiness. Now I'm going to do a little interfering of my own.” I signal Ted, who's standing over by the elevators with my guest of honor. He picked her up from the airport himself. He also brought Ace.

Love that Ted.

“Ace!” I whistle for him. “Here, boy!” Ted lets him off the leash and Ace bounds across the lobby toward me, wagging his tail all the way. Mother Keller scowls.

“So? You rescued your crippled fleabag. I can get him back again.”

“True, but I think you might be tied up trying to get something else back again.” I call over to Ed, who's surrounded by reporters. They follow him as he makes his way over to me.

“Did you do all this?” he asks, face red.

I look over at Mother Keller and smile. “Speaking of true love, Ed, there's someone here to see you.” I nod at the small woman advancing toward us. She's petite, wearing a dark purple suit, and has dark short-cropped hair.

Mother Keller gasps. “No!” she whispers.

“Oh
yes.
” I nod. “Ada is here.”

Mrs. Keller hurries over to her husband's side. Ed looks pale. They both watch the small woman walking toward them.

“Ed, you remember your cousin Ada?”

Ed just keeps staring.

I sigh. “I just thought somebody should tell you.”

“Tell me what?” he whispers at me hoarsely.

I smile. “Ada . . . she's not your cousin.”

He looks over at me. “What?”

“Ada's not your biological cousin. She was adopted.”

“She was
not,
” Mrs. Keller says.

“She was, actually! Got the paperwork. Ada's not your blood relative, Ed. Right, Ada?”

Ada nods and smiles sweetly. Ed blinks at her and steps forward. Mrs. Keller just clutches her neckline and cries out, “Ed! What're you doing!”

Ed's blue eyes begin welling. “Ada? Is it you?”

She nods at me. “It's me, Eddie Bear.”

The ever-vigilant news cameras catch Ed Keller rushing forward, ignoring his wife's protests completely, and grabbing Ada, dipping her down, and kissing her deeply. “True love wins!” I shout, and every gay bee in the house starts cheering. Brad, however, is not cheering. He's scowling in the corner and waits to pounce on me when the reporters aren't looking. He's so mad he's almost speechless . . . but not entirely. He pulls me aside and demands to know
why
I've done this horrible thing. I ask him, “Which horrible thing, Brad? Warning the public about unsafe products or helping my best friend achieve one of his lifelong dreams?”

“You're fucking insane!” he says. “I'll make sure that you don't ever—”

“Oh, whatever, Brad. You know, I'm sorry, I just can't. You're so . . .
boring.
”

“Boring?”

“Boring! I never realized till now! I just wanted to be in love with you so I filled in all your blank parts with fairy tales. But man, are you boring. If you were a plant, Brad, you'd be mold. If you were an animal . . . you'd still be mold. If you were a beverage, you'd be like leftover hot dog water or something. Maybe something was floating around in there once, but it ain't there now, and—
hey!
That's my song!”

“What?”

“Sorry! Gotta dance!” I bound off for the dance floor. Dizzy Bee is singing my theme song by the Isley Brothers.
“It's your thing! Do what you wanna do! I can't tell ya who to sock it to . . . Ow!”
The music kicks up louder. My entire family has shown up and they're all dancing. Mom is smiling, Dad looks terrific, Lenny has ahold of Hailey with one arm and grips both the twins with the other, Christopher twirls Jeremy, and the whole Fang Gang has dropped into some sort of Hmong boogie, along with a hundred of their Hmong friends. Best of all, Nick taps me on the shoulder and we dance all night.

The reporters stay late too, eating caviar and swilling pink champagne before they go racing off to their newsrooms to deliver the incredible story of the first gay wedding in Minnesota, which was paid for by the Kellers and had nude bartenders, ball-gagged slave waiters, a nude trapeze artist swinging from the ceiling, and white horses pulling the newlywed grooms away in a pink carriage. Meanwhile the DJ—a hip newcomer named Iced-Tea—spins dance music till we nearly drop. I told him before he got there that he wasn't allowed to do any singing.