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“Are you crazy?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
I turn to my brothers.
“What else do you suggest we do? I won’t kill her. We don’t hurt women, remember? I can’t let her go back to Giovanni either.”
“I don’t know, man, maybe we can ship her off or something,” Bunny says.
“I’m with Bunny on this one. Keeping Giovanni’s spy here isn’t a good idea,” Donatello says.
“My mind is made up. I’ll keep her here until I figure out what I want to do with her,” I say.
They both know it’s useless to argue with me when my mind is made up, so they just mumble inaudibly.
“But not before I teach Giovanni a little lesson,” I add.
Bunny rubs his hands and smiles. “Now you’re talking. What do you have in mind?”
I turn to Donatello. “Do we have any priests in our contacts?” I ask him.
“Of course, we do. Men like us are embraced and accepted by the church. What the fuck, man?” he snaps sarcastically, and Bunny giggles.
“Then an officiant of some other kind will do. Get one this evening,” I say.
“Yes, umm, but one quick and minor question: why do we need an officiant?” Bunny asks.
“Because I’m marrying Giovanni’s girl,” I say.
Donatello sighs, and Bunny visibly gives up.
“What are you both waiting for? Go and prepare for my wedding. And get a maid in here on your way out to clean up this mess,” I say, waving them away. “Oh, make this wedding look good, too. We’re sending Giovanni a little bit of video so he can see what he missed out on,” I add.
I admire their ability to scrape up a wedding. By the time evening comes, they have turned the courtyard behind the house into a real wedding venue.
I walk into the outdoor space that is decorated with white flowers.
“Rings?” I ask Bunny. He slides his hands into his pocket and retrieves a box. I open it and see two rings inside.
“You’ve got great taste,” I say.
He chuckles. “Wasn’t a lot left to choose from after we split up the take from when we ransacked that hideout last month, but I didn’t think these were too terrible.”
“Where is Donny, by the way?” I ask.
“Present,” Donatello says, appearing, pulling a bald man behind him.
“Who is this?” I ask.
“The only person willing to do an impromptu wedding on a Wednesday evening,” he says, pushing the man toward me.
I turn to the officiant, who is shaking in fear. “You can preside over a legal wedding?” I ask.
He nods, quaking.
“He’s a dude who owes us ten grand, as well,” Donatello adds.
“Ah, I see,” I say, straightening the bald man’s collar. “Well, after this marriage, consider yourself debt-free,” I say.
