Swinging on a Star (2 page)
We arrived at Parma John’s less than five minutes after leaving Club Wed. The lunch crowd was already there in force, and the place was hopping. I searched through the mob of tourists for my best friend, Jenna, and found her at the counter, taking an order. She looked up at me with a crooked grin. “What’s up with you lovebirds? Hungry?”
“Yep.” D.J. and I spoke the word in unison, then laughed.
“It’s Wednesday.” She gave me a wink. I knew what that meant—the Simpatico Special, a large hand-tossed pizza split down the middle with toppings of choice on either side. D.J.’s first-ever trip to Parma John’s nearly three months ago was made on a Wednesday. We’d shared the half-and-half pizza then, and we’d share it now, for old time’s sake. Or maybe just because we were hungry. I was a little bit pepperoni. He was a little bit Canadian bacon. Simpatico!
“Gotta love Wednesdays,” D.J. said with a wink. Oy, what he could do to my heart!
I plopped down on an empty barstool and watched my best friend as she worked. Her freckles seemed more pronounced than ever this late in the summer. And she’d done something different with her hair. What was it? Ah, she must be experimenting with a lighter shade of red. Not bad, not bad. Then again, she was in love, and women in love tended to live on the edge.
Jenna chattered a mile a minute about her latest date with Bubba Neeley, D.J.’s younger brother. I tried to listen, really tried, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I was dying to tell her about Brock Benson, though I knew I shouldn’t. This would be a true test of my ability to keep a secret—keeping it from Jenna.
And Sophia. I turned as I heard my younger sister’s voice. She exited the kitchen with my older brother Nick on her heels.
Nick was the oldest of the Rossi siblings. He and his wife, Marcella, were parents to Deany-boy and Frankie, the world’s most obnoxious elementary-aged kids. And Sophia—God bless her—had watched those boys all summer long. No wonder she was in such a bad mood all the time.
Nick and Sophia were going at it, guns blazing. Nothing new there. D.J. and I watched their exchange with amusement. “
Those boys need some discipline, Nick,” Sophia said, putting her finger in his face. “You and Marcella let them walk all over you.”
He turned back to his work. “Marcella’s still having a lot of morning sickness. This pregnancy has been harder on her than the last two.”
I paused to think about his words. My sister-in-law was expecting a baby in the early spring. Everyone in the family was praying for a girl this time around. Not that we didn’t love the boys, but man, were they ever a handful!
“She’s too tired to spend a lot of time disciplining right now,” Nick said. “And I’m overworked. Besides, what difference does it make? School has started again. They’ll be fine.”
D.J. snorted and I jabbed him with my elbow.
The tips of Sophia’s ears turned red, a sure sign she was about to blow. “Deany-boy’s teacher is a friend of mine, and she’s ready to yank her hair out after only a few weeks. That kid pulls too many pranks.”
“Boys will be boys.” Nick shrugged and then joined Laz in the kitchen. He nodded in our direction as he passed by.
D.J. managed to keep his thoughts inside his head. I had to wonder if my honey was mesmerized by my family . . . or horrified. He never commented on their heated conversations, always smiled instead. I knew for a fact that the Rossis were the polar opposite of his clan out in the piney woods of east Texas. The Neeleys doted on each other round the clock and never raised their voices. That I knew of, anyway.
Lord, I know it’s possible. Could some of that spill over
on my family?
Just then, my younger brother Joey passed by me on his way to wait on a table. He paused to give me a kiss on the cheek and then shook D.J.’s hand. “What, no one offered you drinks?” He looked at the empty spot in front of us on the bar. “Want the usual?”
“Yep. I’ll take a Dr Pepper,” D.J. said with a nod.
“Same for me,” I added.
Within seconds there were two Dr Peppers on the bar. Just one more thing my sweetie and I had in common. With a wink, Joey disappeared in the crowd.
Thank you, Lord. There is hope for the Rossi clan!
As I followed his movements across the room, I noticed his fiancée, Norah, seated at a nearby table, and gave a little wave. She responded with a nod, then went back to reading a book. Norah was different from most of the girls I knew— quiet, and not so into the hair and makeup thing. And brilliant. Sometimes she startled me with her brilliance. Then again, she would have to be brilliant to choose my brother. Joey was the sweetest, most caring man I knew. Next to Pop, of course.
Though we hadn’t yet talked about Norah and Joey’s upcoming wedding, I knew it would be wonderful. They deserved a special day. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind waiting awhile, though. I couldn’t stop to think about their wedding just yet. Not with a Hollywood hottie on his way. I took a sip of the cold beverage, nerves all atwitter as I thought about my upcoming meeting with Brock Benson. What would it be like to meet a Hollywood star for the first time? Would I act like a silly schoolgirl? What would I say? I struggled to come up with an opening line.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
I looked over at D.J. as he spoke, doing my best to shake off my distraction.
“Oh, I’ve got work on my brain.” Sort of. Truth be told, I couldn’t stop thinking about the incoming best man. My cheeks heated up and I did my best to shift gears. Today was all about D.J.
My sweetie turned to me with an encouraging smile. “Big wedding coming up. Are you excited?”
“Y-yeah. Lots going on, though. It’s complicated.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “But let’s go back to what you were talking about on the way over here,” I prodded, eager to steer the conversation away from further comment about what had me so distracted. “What’s up? Something going on at work?”
“I’ve been really busy.” D.J. sighed. “The house we’re rebuilding was really hit hard during the hurricane. Took ages even to get the work started due to an insurance glitch. But anyway, I’ve been getting to know the owner. He’s a pastor of a small church on the west end of the island. His church was completely destroyed too. Wish there was something I could do to help—other than construction work, I mean.”
“Oh, wow.”
Since the hurricane, D.J. had worked more hours than ever. Thankfully, the island was finally getting back into shape, though certain pockets would be a long time in seeing total restoration. It did my heart good to know my softhearted cowboy was helping other people repair both their homes and their lives. This was one of the things I loved best about him. He always put others first. I had the feeling it came naturally to him, though I knew his parents and brother had the same undying love for people. It was really a God-ordained kind of love for people, the kind you couldn’t be taught.
“I feel really bad for this guy.” The worry lines in D.J.’s brow deepened. “Insurance wouldn’t pay to rebuild—the house or the church. It’s zapping him just to get the house up again, but the church . . . well, it looks like it’s a wash. Literally.”
I groaned at that news. So many of the people who’d lost their homes and businesses had been told their flood policies were useless. “So, what’s he going to do?”
“Don’t know. Right now he’s just depending on his little congregation to raise funds, but so many of them have been hard hit. It’s tough, that’s for sure.”
“Maybe we could do something to help,” I said. “After I’m done with this wedding, I mean.”
“That would be great, Bella. Let’s talk about that when you’re ready, okay?”
“Mm-hmm.”
D.J. took a swig of his soda. “So, what did you do today?”
“Oh, I, um . . .” I wanted to tell him everything! Surely it wouldn’t hurt for him to know, right? D.J. Neeley was the most reliable man I’d ever met in my life. “Well, as a matter of fact . . .” I leaned in to whisper when Nick rushed by, bumping into my drink and spilling it all over my lap.
I let out a yelp, and D.J. jumped back to avoid being splashed. Then he sprang into action, tossing me a handful of napkins.
I took this as a sign from above that I’d already said too much. I sopped up the mess in total silence.
A familiar voice rang out, causing me to look up from my damp jeans. Mama buzzed through the door of the pizzeria with Bubba on her heels. Jenna’s face lit up as it always did when she saw her sweetheart. Bubba gave her a wink, never slowing his pace behind Mama, who approached the counter and took a seat on an empty barstool. All the while she talked a mile a minute.
“You did a fine job at rehearsal today, Bubba,” she said. “But I can’t understand why you’re giving the people in the wardrobe department such fits.” She plopped her purse—an authentic Dolce and Gabbana—down on the bar and nodded at Jenna to bring her a glass of Diet Coke. Jenna flew into action. Within seconds, Mama had her lips pursed around a straw. Diet Coke always had a calming effect on her. I hoped today would be no different.
Bubba offered up a woeful shrug. “I ain’t never worn stuff like that before. Never thought I’d see the day when someone wanted to dress me up like a girl.”
D.J. snorted, and Dr Pepper came shooting out of his nose. I slipped him a napkin, and he remedied the situation before Mama could see. She had a tendency to frown on such things. Still, I found the whole thing hilarious. And I could certainly see Bubba’s point. What guy—especially one unfamiliar with theatrical productions—wanted to stand on stage in tights? And at the Galveston Grand Opera, no less.
“It’s not a girl’s costume,” Mama said, looking more than a little perturbed. “It’s authentic to the time period. We’re talking
The Marriage of Figaro
here. Did you look up those websites I sent you?”
“Yeah.”
“You saw the costumes?”
“Yeah.” His countenance hadn’t lifted at all, so I decided I’d better cheer him on.
“You can’t exactly wear your jeans and cowboy boots for this one, Bubba,” I said. “You’d stick out like a sore thumb. I know you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”
“Exactly. Which is exactly why this costume idea won’t work. I’m gonna look like a goober in those frilly getups they’ve made for me.” Bubba sighed as he looked to Jenna for support. She flashed a warm smile and placed her hand on his. I heard him mutter, “And Mama’s bringing all of our neighbors. I can just see the write-up in the
Splendora Daily
now.” He groaned, then snapped closed the menu he’d been holding and put it on the bar.
Poor guy. His days as a barbecue aficionado and shade tree mechanic were behind him now that he’d been “discovered” by my mama. One minute the boy was singing country tunes at a Fourth of July picnic, the next he was standing on a stage at the Galveston Grand Opera, belting out “Figaro.” With a slight country twang.
I glanced down the counter at my mother. She reached into her purse and came out with a compact, then touched up her lipstick and smacked her lips together. Maybe I’d better help her out this time. After all, the show opened in three days and would run for the better part of a month.
“
The Marriage of Figaro
is a romantic comedy, Bubba,” I said. “The costume is a part of the whole. You know? If people laugh, it will just add to the show.”
“Mm-hmm.” He didn’t look convinced.
“He’ll do it.” Those three words from D.J. sealed the deal. He looked at his brother and added, “Won’t ya?”
“Yeah.” Bubba sighed. “But I won’t like it.”
One tragedy averted, thanks to my knight. He always managed to save the day. Just another one of his many talents.
Mama turned from her compact to look at D.J. and Bubba. “You boys still coming to our house for dinner tomorrow night? Rosa’s cooking the same meal they’re going to be featuring on the Food Network special, and she wants our input, especially on the bread. She’s getting a little nervous, but having everyone there will serve to calm her nerves.”
D.J.’s eyes sparkled with a new enthusiasm. I knew he loved my aunt’s great cooking. Who didn’t?
“I’ll be there,” he said. “Six, right?”
“Yes.”
“What about you, Bubba?” I asked.
He nodded but didn’t say anything. I had a feeling the boy was ready to head back to the piney woods of Splendora to avoid facing this whole costume fiasco. Not that D.J. would let that happen. No, the show would go on, and all would be well. And Bubba would come to dinner. He was, after all, a really amiable sort of guy. I’d never seen him worked up like this before, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t last long, especially not with D.J. on the case.
“Oh, Bubba has to come.” Mama reached for her glass once again. “His vocal coach has asked me to work with him on his tone and inflection. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us before the show opens on Saturday night.”
Yes indeed. But they weren’t the only ones who had a lot of work to do, were they? Bubba might be focused on memorizing his lines and Rosa might be gearing up for the Food Network, but what they were facing paled in comparison to my new job description. Not only did I have to pull off a full-blown medieval wedding, I had to hide the best man until it was over. Heaven help me!
On Thursday afternoon at a quarter till five, I readied myself for the big meeting with the bride and groom and their best man. Hmm. Make that “first knight.” I kept forgetting the terminology for this medieval event.
I always prided myself on dressing nicely and wearing makeup, but I must admit I spent a little more time in front of the mirror on this day than usual. I particularly focused on my long, dark curls, which seemed to have a mind of their own. No point in Brock Benson thinking Texas girls were careless with their looks.
Glancing down, I smiled as my gaze fell on my boots. Until a few months ago, I’d never worn boots. That was before D.J. But now . . . now I understood both the comfort of a good boot and a good guy. And I couldn’t do without either one. Nor would I want to.
A sound from outside caught my attention. I looked through the open window to see Rob’s Hummer pull into the driveway. I still laughed at the fact that my medieval couple traveled around in a vehicle that looked rather Trojan-horse-like. Seemed fitting.