Gemma Halliday - Spying in High Heels

He pulled me close to him and I laid my head down on his chest. I could hear his heart beating. It was a comforting sound. He smelled like fresh laundry and mellow aftershave. I took a deep breath, inhaling his scent.

I closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was the vodka, the good cry, or Ramirez’s steady heartbeat beneath my cheek, but for the first time in days I felt peaceful. Calm, peaceful and so very relaxed. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift, feeling utterly comfortable in Ramirez’s arms.

I heard a phone ringing, echoing through my head like a car with too much bass. Slowly I flexed one limb, then the other. My neck was stiff, like I’d fallen asleep sitting up and my mouth felt like sandpaper. I managed to open one eye a crack.

And saw Ramirez.

Yikes!

I blinked hard against the assault of sunlight coming through my windows. What the hell was Ramirez doing in my apartment? His head was lolled back on the futon cushions, his mouth slightly open as his slept, making deep breathing sounds. Slowly it came back to me as I watched him. The Virgin Mary’s, the EPT. Ramirez’s hands up my shirt.

Uhn. I groaned. Oh God, I’d practically thrown myself at him. And then bawled all over him. I’d made a drunken fool of myself. I shook my head. Ouch. And I had the headache to prove it. And where the hell was that ringing coming from?

I dove for my purse on the floor, every movement jarring my head until it pounded like a marching band. Oh my God, someone stop the ringing!

“Hello?” I croaked as I found my cell phone.

“Maddie! Where the hell are you?”

I held the phone away from my ear, Dana’s shrill shriek assaulting me in so many ways I couldn’t keep track.

“Shhhhh. Hangover.”

“Oh my God, Mads. You’re hung over? I knew I should have picked you up this morning.”

Picked me up?

And then through my hung over haze I had a moment of clarity. Oh shit. The wedding!

I spun around, producing a new round of pain in my temples, and looked at the clock on my kitchen wall. Oh shit. 10:00!

“Maddie? Are you still there? The ceremony starts in half an hour. Your mom is starting to freak.”

“I’ll be right there. Don’t start without me”

I hung up, throwing the phone down on the carpet.

“Shit!”

Ramirez opened one sleepy eye. “What time is it?”

“Ten. I’m late. I gotta go. Shit!” I ran to my closet and pulled the Purple People Eater out of its garment bag. I didn’t even take the time to grimace as I stripped off the rest of my librarian outfit and threw it over my head.

Had I more time I might have waited until Ramirez was gone to strip down. As it was, I think the sight of me half naked and running around like a crazy woman woke him up quickly enough.

“Late for what?”

“Wedding. Mom’s wedding. Riverside. Shit!” I panted, trying to get the Purple People Eater closed in the back.

Ramirez stood up and helped me with the zipper.

“Thanks.”

“How late are you?” he asked, still rubbing his eyes.

“Late. Riverside in half an hour late. I am so freaking late!” I looked wildly around for my dyed purple shoes. I found one under my drawing table and hopped around looking for the other as I scooped my cell phone back into my purse.

“Okay, I’ll drive.”

I stopped hopping and stared.

Okay – my first thought when Mom told me she was getting married (after the initial shock that Ralph was, in fact, straight) was of the awesome act of God it would take to get Richard to come to the wedding with me. We’d only been dating four months and the Wedding Date is really more of a six months-and-up kind of event. Rating just after meet-the-parents, and just before buying a puppy together. After weeks of procrastinating, and weeks more of begging, pleading and playing the we’re-not-having-sex-until-you-relent game, I’d finally convinced Richard to go on the promise he could leave early if they started doing the chicken dance.

And, after one drunken night of Maddie the Horny Tear Factory, Ramirez wanted to go to the wedding with me?

I must have looked as shocked as I felt, because Ramirez grinned as he explained.

“My car has a siren. We’ll be able to get through traffic.”

Right. Siren. Duh.

I shook off the tiny prickle of disappointment that he wanted a quick route and not an evening of close dancing with me as I found my other shoe and made a mad dash for Ramirez’s SUV.

Usually the drive from Santa Monica to Riverside is a good hour and a half – Santa Monica bordering the ocean and Riverside bordering the last known outpost of civilization before heading into the desert of doublewides between L.A. and Las Vegas. However, with Ramirez’s police siren blaring down the 10, we made it in twenty-five. It was a good thing too because as we pulled up in front of the Garden Grande Motel, Mom and Mrs. Rosenblatt were pacing up and down like two vintage kitchy Energizer bunnies.

“Where the hell have you been?” Mom shrieked at me as I catapulted myself from the car.

“Sorry, I overslept.”

Mrs. Rosenblatt looked Ramirez up and down. Her gaze settled in his package region. “I can see why.”

My cheeks turned into two flaming pools of lava.

Ramirez just grinned.

“You, come with me,” Mrs. Rosenblatt instructed him. “I’ve got the perfect seat for you.” Before I could protest she grabbed Ramirez by the arm and steered him toward the back garden.

“No he’s just dropping me off, and…” I trailed off. What was the point? Mrs. Rosenblatt would probably just lecture me on the importance of sex for a healthy aura.

Ramirez just shrugged and grinned at me over his shoulder as Mrs. Rosenblatt led him away. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought he was enjoying this.

“Where is Richard?” Mom looked from me to Ramirez’s retreating form with narrowed eyes.

“Uh, well, Richard is kind of, um…”

Mom waved her hands in the air. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’re here. I’m getting married. That’s all that matters.”

Mom’s hands stopped waving. Her eyes got round. She visibly paled under her thick layer of foundation and startling blue eyeliner. “Oh God. I’m getting married.”

And then my mother began to hyperventilate. Right there on the sidewalk in front of the Garden Grande Motel in an empire waisted wedding dress with a two foot long train Mom had the breakdown to end all breakdowns.

“Oh God. I don’t think I can do this, Maddie. I mean, I want this,” she went on, “But oh my God, I’m getting married , and I swore I would never do this again, and maybe we should wait, maybe we should do it in the church after all, what if God really does want me to be Catholic, and what if he puts a curse upon our marriage, Maddie, you know I can’t take another failed marriage, I need God to be on my side, Mads.”

My head pounded, the marching band bringing out the big cymbals. “Take a breath. Pause for a period.”

Mom took another deep breath, still looking like she needed a paper bag. “What am I going to do if I blow this marriage too? I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Mom, if you don’t want to do this, now’s the time.”

Am I a bad person that I almost hoped she’d change her mind and I could go home and commune with my Mr. Coffee instead of parading down the aisle in Barney on Crack for all to see?

She bit her lip, creating little red lipstick flecks on her teeth.

“I do Mads. But, it’s just been the two of us for so long. And, well, Ralph’s great, but everything’s about to change. And I don’t know if I can take it. The change. Maybe I’m just too old for change.”