Shelly Laurenston - Bite Me

Livy thought on that a moment. “He’s probably right.”

“The ceremony was beautiful, wasn’t it?”

“Oh God,” Livy sighed. “Are you going to insist on marrying that hillbilly now?”

“Why? So Ricky Lee’s sister and Sissy Mae can argue with Kyle about how my wedding should look while Oriana tells me my ass is too fat for the dress I choose? I think the answer is no.”

“Good. Because we both know I’d spend all my time with Coop tormenting you.”

“I know.”

“Oh, by the way . . . I went to the ATM this morning to grab fifty bucks out of my account. Just in case I needed the extra cash for anything. And I found some additional money there.”

“How much additional?”

“Two-point-eight million dollars.”

Livy turned just in time to avoid the spray of Sprite that came at her.

“What?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why is there that much money in your account, Livy?”

“At first I thought it was Jake fucking around, but then I figured out it was from my mother.”

“Your mother gave you money? Your mother?”

“I’m guessing it’s from my father’s life insurance policies.”

“So? Your mother never gives you money. She expects you to steal it like everyone else in your family.”

“That She-bear from BPC told me that someone had cleaned out Chumakov’s bank accounts. Chances are that was my mother with the help of Jake. So it’s easy for her to hand over the cash she got from the insurance, plus it’s a really smart way for her to get Aunt Teddy off her back. I’m his only daughter, so the Kowalskis can’t really complain that they didn’t get a cut.”

“What are you going to do with all that money?”

Livy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stick it in my savings and hope that the banks don’t crash again.”

“You know . . . you’d think you’d show a little enthusiasm now that you have so much cash.”

“It’s nice to know it’s there, especially if I ever lose my health insurance. But with lots of money comes lots of problems.”

“Are you going to tell Vic?”

“Not right away. Maybe in a few months.”

“Why so long?”

Livy held up her new camera rig. “He paid a fortune for this to replace the old one that got damaged. So I’m not about to turn around now and tell him that I could have bought sixty of these if I’d felt the need and still had lots of money left over. The money’s there if we need it, but I’m not going to make him feel he has to keep up with me when I did nothing to actually earn it.”

“Insurance money is to help your family after you’ve gone.”

“I told that old bastard I didn’t need his goddamn money. And his exact words back were, ‘Then you will get nothing, you little bitch!’ ”

“You and your father had an . . . interesting relationship.”

“The word you’re looking for is dysfunctional . We had a dysfunctional relationship.”

“And you plan to keep it dysfunctional even after he’s dead?”

“That has been my plan all along.”

Vic smirked when he saw Novikov look at his watch . . . again.

It had never been part of Vic’s plan to attend the weddings of Novikov and MacRyrie to the lovely Blayne and Gwen. Livy would be working, and he would have only come as her escort. But then Blayne had begged—literally, begged —for him and Shen to be Bo’s groomsmen. Apparently half the hockey team was standing up for MacRyrie, but other than two foxes who received a stern lecture about what they could and couldn’t do at the wedding from Novikov, followed by a printed-out, multi-page description of those things; and super-hockey-fan Lou Crushek, there was no one else to be his groomsmen. So Vic and Shen had agreed. Especially when Livy again reminded Vic about Novikov saving her life.

The service went well, though. Blayne cried, Gwen didn’t. The bridesmaids were made up of derby girls, wild dogs, wolves, and felines. When the two couples were announced to be husbands and wives, the wild dogs howled . . . badly.

And there, during it all, had been Livy. Dressed in black slacks, black sweater, and comfortable but sleek-looking black boots, she’d moved around that ceremony barely noticed. He loved watching her work. Her focus was always so intense. But when she worked, she didn’t stand for anyone annoying her. Especially wedding planners. She’d already threatened Cella Malone’s mother to “back up off me, old woman.”

Novikov glanced at his watch one more time before jumping to his feet and storming over to the door of the dressing room the brides were using. He banged on it, nearly taking it off the hinges. “You are late!” he yelled through the door.

“I will not be forced into a schedule by you!” Blayne shot back.

“Not forced! You agreed to this schedule! Agreed! ”

“If you don’t back away from that door, Bold Novikov, I’m going to mule-kick it!”

Shen leaned over and whispered, “You owe me fifty bucks. I told you he wouldn’t last ten minutes.”

“I’d feel bad for Blayne,” Vic whispered back, “if I didn’t know for a fact she knew exactly what she was getting into.”

“You have five more minutes!” Novikov bellowed. “And then I’m comin’ in!”

“And what?”

“And I’ll bring your father with me!”

“You bastard !”

It took another twenty minutes for the ladies to finish changing into their reception dresses. Gwen just looked bored by it all, never smiling unless she was looking at MacRyrie. It was clear she was doing this for his family and his family alone; the MacRyries were a respectable family of grizzlies.

But Blayne . . . Blayne was in her element. As far as she was concerned, this was a big party and she wanted everyone to have a good time. All those bears, felines, and canines together should lead to lots of fights and snarling, but Blayne had already managed to keep all the factions tolerant enough. The music and liquor would also help, of course. And Vic was sure that Blayne and Mitch Shaw would be able to get a good number of people out on the dance floor.

Vic was there to give Novikov a reprieve now and again from the crowds and all the loud music. They’d go outside the majestic reception hall that had been rented and stand around, talking about Russia and the great steakhouses Vic knew about. They ended up making plans to take a group trip there. A vacation. Something Novikov had started doing more because of Blayne.

If they actually went, Vic hoped they could also stop in Poland so Livy could spend some time with her Kowalski kin.

Vic didn’t know if any of that would be fun, but it would be worth a try.

Blayne suddenly skated through the dancing, partying crowd, pulling a reluctant Livy with her.

“I’m ordering you to take a break,” Blayne said as she shoved Livy into Vic’s lap. “You’ve been working for hours!”

“That’s what you paid me to do, Blayne. To work. At your wedding.”

“You’ve taken a ton of pictures. Just take a break.”

“Malone’s mother is gonna bitch about that.”

“I’ll deal with her. You just”—she wiggled a little—“relax with Vic.” She giggled and skated away, having removed her fifteen-hundred-dollar shoes and replaced them with sparkly white quad skates.

“You know,” Livy said, placing her camera on the table, “I think she actually believes she got us together.”

“Let her believe it. What do we care?”

“I hate seeing her so happy. She just gets perkier.”

“You could shift and attack her again.”

Livy laughed. “I don’t know what it is, dude, but my badger self just wants to maul her.” She cleared her throat. “But this is her wedding day. I will not maul her on her wedding day.”