Dean Koontz - Tick Tock

Even Scootie was greeted with huzzahs, petted and nuzzled and talked to in baby talk. In addition to the enormous vases full of fresh flowers that lent their fragrance to each of the seven rooms in the suite, there were strategically placed, silver-plated bowls full of dog biscuits.

A clothing store in the hotel shopping arcade sent up two salespersons and carts laden with garments. Within ninety minutes of their arrival, Tommy and Del had showered, shampooed, and selected their wedding outfits.

He wore black tassel loafers, black socks, charcoal-grey slacks, a blue blazer, a white shirt, and a blue-striped tie.

‘You look very preppy,’ Del said approvingly.

She wore white heels, a figure-flattering white silk dress with white lace at the neck and at the cuffs of the long sleeves, and two white orchids in her hair.

‘You look like a bride,’ he said.

‘No veil, though.’

‘Wouldn’t want to hide that face,’ he said.

‘You’re so sweet.’

Just as they were ready to leave the hotel for the chapel, the mayor of the City of Las Vegas arrived with an envelope containing their license. He was a tall, distinguished-looking man with silver hair, attired in an expensive blue suit, wearing a five-carat pinkie ring.

‘You dear girl,’ the mayor said, kissing Del on the forehead, ‘you are the most glamorous creature I’ve ever seen. How is Ingrid?’

‘She’s splendid,’ Del said.

‘She doesn’t come to town often enough. Will you tell her that I pine for her?’

‘She’ll be so pleased to know she’s remembered.’

‘She’s more than remembered. She’s unforgettable.’

Del said, ‘Well I’m spilling a secret here, but I’m sure you’ll have a chance to tell her yourself.’

The major embraced Tommy as if they were father and son. ‘This is a great day, a great day.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

To Del the mayor said, ‘Dear, you have arranged a limousine, I presume.’

‘Yes, it’s waiting.’

‘Then just delay here two minutes, so I can pop downstairs and be sure the police escort is ready too.’

‘You’re an absolute jewel,’ Del said, kissing his cheek.

The mayor departed, and Tommy said, ‘Who’s Ingrid?’

Examining herself in the marble-lined foyer’s ornate mirror, Del said, ‘That’s what some people call my mother.’

‘Of course. Will she be very upset that she wasn’t at the wedding?’

‘Oh, she’s here,’ Del said happily.

Still capable of surprise, Tommy said, ‘How?’

‘I called her as soon as we arrived, before I showered, and she flew up in her other jet.’

On the way down in the elevator, Tommy said, ‘How could you possibly manage to arrange all this so quickly?’

‘You took so long selecting your wardrobe,’ she said, ‘that I had time to make a few calls.’

An enormous black stretch limousine waited in front of the hotel, in the shade of the portico. Mummingford stood beside it. He had flown up from Newport Beach with Ingrid.

‘Miss Payne,’ he said, ‘may I offer my best wishes for much happiness.’

‘Thank you, Mummingford.’

‘Mr. Phan,’ said the butler, ‘I offer you my congratu-lations. You’re a fortunate young man.’

‘Thank you, Mummingford. I think I’m more than fortunate. I’m blessed. And bewildered.’

‘I myself,’ said Mummingford, ‘have functioned in a state of perpetual bewilderment ever since coming to work for Mrs. Payne. Isn’t it delightful?’

The Chapel of Everlasting Bliss, one of Las Vegas’s more well-appointed wedding mills, was bedecked with so many hundreds of red and white roses that Tommy feared an attack of hay fever. He stood by the altar railing, trying not to fidget, smiling stupidly because the place was full of people smiling at him.

Designed primarily to provide a suitable quasi-religious venue to impulsive out-of-state couples who arrived in Vegas either alone or with a few carloads of friends, the chapel seated only sixty people. Even given such short notice of the ceremony, friends of the Payne family filled the pews to capacity, and another thirty stood in the side aisles.

At Tommy’s right hand, Roland Ironwright, the magi-cian, said, ‘Relax. Getting married is a snap. I did it myself eighteen hours ago in this very room.’

Accompanied by a nine-piece band, Frank sang, ‘I’ve got the World on a String,’ as only Frank had ever been able to sing it, while Mrs. Payne gave Del a final once-over in the vestibule at the back of the chapel.

Then the band struck up ‘Here Comes the Bride.’

Scootie entered from the vestibule, carrying a nosegay in his mouth, which he brought to Tommy.

Behind Scootie was Mai, Tommy’s sister, radiant as he had never seen her. She carried a white basket full of rose petals, which she sprinkled on the carpet as she advanced.

Del appeared, and everyone seated in the chapel rose to beam at her as she approached the altar.

Somehow Frank managed to ad-jib additional lyrics to ‘Here Comes the Bride,’ adding lines like ‘she looks so groovy, like she stepped out of a movie,’ without diminishing the beauty and solemnity of the piece. Indeed, if anything, his version enormously enriched the old standard, and he sounded fifty years younger than he was, not like a crooner at the twilight of his life but like a young swinger in the days of the Dorsey Brothers and Duke Ellington.

When Tommy handed the nosegay to Del and took her arm to lead her to the altar, his heart swelled with love.

The minister was mercifully swift in the performance of his sacred duties, and precisely when it was needed,

Roland Ironwright cut open a fresh orange and produced the wedding band from the heart of the fruit.

After the minister pronounced them man and wife at 11:34 in the morning, less than eighteen hours after they had first met, Tommy and Deliverance indulged in another kiss of earthshaking power, only the second they had ever shared, and the onlookers applauded joyously.

From his place in front of the band, Frank called out to Del’s Mother, ‘Hey, Sheila, you wonderful broad, come up here and do this number with me!’

Del’s mother joined him, and they shared a micro-phone to belt out an up-tempo rendition of ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin,’ which served as a recessional.

In the receiving line outside, Del reminded everyone about the reception at the grand ballroom of the Mirage at seven o’clock that evening. It promised to be the party of the year.

When the two of them were alone again with Scootie in the back of the limousine, returning to the hotel, Del said to Tommy, ‘Are you tired yet?’

‘I don’t understand it, but I feel as if I just woke up from the longest sleep on record. I’ve got so much energy it’s absurd.’

‘Lovely,’ she said, snuggling against him.

He put his arm around her, suddenly excited by the warmth of her and by the exquisite perfection with which her supple body moulded to his.

‘We’re not going back to the hotel,’ she told him.

‘What? Why not?’

‘I told Mummingford to take us to the airport. We’re flying back to Orange County right away.’

‘But I thought… I mean… aren’t we going to… Oh, Del, I want to be alone with you.’

‘I’m not going to ask you to consummate until you know all of my secrets,’ she said.

‘But I want to consummate,’ he said. ‘I want to con-summate this morning, as soon as possible, right here in the limo!’

‘Have you been eating too much tofu?’ she asked coquettishly.

‘If we go back to Orange County, we’ll miss our own party this evening.’

‘It’s less than an hour flight each way. We have maybe two hours of business when we get there. We’ll make it back with time to spare.’ She put a hand in his lap. ‘With time to consummate.’