I'm wearing a black tux with the pants tied off at my knees. I have my signature silver argyle socks beneath them. Who knows what Bea will wear? She's eccentric to say the least, and Eric won't share, although I pry.
"Will you at least tell me the color?"
"Not telling you. Mormon, take my word for it. She'll look fabulous."
"Hey, do we have time for a quick mojito to calm the nerves?"
"Now we're talking."
Eric detours off the highway and we stop at Poseidon in Del Mar--the masters of the mojito. In a few sips, my nerves are calm.
Once we arrive at the Hotel Del, I check in at the front desk. They have our honeymoon suite ready. Bea is there having the final touches applied. Guests are gathering by the pool in the afternoon sun, sipping prosecco. I see my mother chatting with Grandma. I approach them.
"Hello, Ms. A, I see you've met my mother." I greet my mother with a kiss on the cheek. She looks elegant in her powder blue dress. "How was your flight?"
"It was quick, thanks to my Kindle. I finished two books."
"Well done."
"How's your writing coming along?" Mother asks.
"You know," Grandma interrupts, "you should be proud of your son. He's quite a talented blogger."
"Why, thank you, Ms. A. I wasn't aware that you read my blog."
"I enjoy it immensely." Grandma grabs my mother's arm. "He's also an amazing dancer."
Right. Maybe when I'm blotto on tequila and have a third leg strapped to me.
"Really?" my mother reacts.
"You're too kind."
The wedding coordinator directs us all out to the platform on the beach. It's time. Other hotel guests come to the edge of the resort to watch.
I take my position next to the justice. A guitar soloist begins the "Bridal March" song. The guests rise and turn to see the bride. iPhone pictures are snapping away. I see the doors open and catch my first glimpse of Lovergirl being escorted by Eric. Her hair is shorter and she's wearing the famous Marilyn Monroe dress worn over the air vent in The Seven Year Itch.
Wow!
My eyes water with delight. She's stunning. Eric hands her off to me, and we begin the quick ceremony. We exchange vows we've written for each other, slide rings over fingers, and share our first kiss as wife and husband. Our guests applaud as we turn and wave.
Suddenly, there's a commotion on the beach. Two military Jeeps approach and stop at the base of the platform. A helicopter appears and begins circling above us.
"What's this?" I ask Bea.
"I'm not sure, but I have an idea who it might be."
As the helicopter approaches, blowing sand, I notice a name written on the side: Crispy Salsa, or something. Who names his fucking bird? Only the most pretentious of asses. The copter lands, and Chris emerges with a bodyguard. They approach us. The bodyguard hands an envelope to Bea as I glare at Chris.
"Ma'am, this is a wedding gift from my boss."
She opens it and reads the notice within as she turns pale.
"What is it?"
"An eviction notice. Chris bought the Hyatt. I have ten days to move."
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