Sammy Keyes and the Wedding Crasher (28 page)

So I’m just reaching for the door handle when something buzzes.

Then it stops buzzing.

Then it
starts
buzzing.

It takes another stop and start for me to realize that it’s Mr. Vince’s cell phone vibrating in the cup console between the front two seats.

I sneak forward and grab the phone, watching Flash and Bones the whole time. They may be off to the side and a little forward of the SUV, but one glance over their
shoulders and I’ll be wrapped in chains and heading for the lake.

Lucky for me, they don’t do any glancing, and by the time I’ve grabbed it, the phone’s stopped buzzing. So I duck back and punch in Officer Borsch’s number.

It never even crossed my mind to call anyone else.

After one ring, I hear his voice. “Borsch here.”

It’s intense.

Commanding.

Worried.

I whisper, “It’s me.”

“It’s Sammy!” I hear him call over the phone.

“Listen,” I tell him, keeping my voice down, “I’m really,
really
sorry I’m messing up your wedding, but it was
Vince
. The whole time it’s been
Vince
. He did all that Die Dude stuff to
himself
so he could get a psychological disability! The phone call, the rat, the scratched-up car—he did it to fake a nervous breakdown! It’s why he didn’t want Foxmore to think it was Billy and me. Oh, he loved torturing us, but in the end he wanted people to think he was in real danger! And you were right—the fire alarm wasn’t a coincidence. One of his biker friends called it in! And that clean spot on his car door? It was caused by a door magnet! You know, one of those big ones that people use for businesses? Like Bloomies? When they delivered your flowers, the sign was on all crooked, and—”

“Sammy! Stop talking! Where are you?”

“Uh, trapped inside the Die Dude Mobile at the Harley shop on Main Street.”

“He kidnapped you?”

“No! Well, not on purpose. I … uh … I accidentally stowed away.”

“How do you accidentally stow away? And on my wedding day!”

“I know! I’m sorry! And I
do
have the ring! But I’m stuck, ’cause I’m surrounded by bikers who are probably gonna wrap me up in chains and toss me in the lake when they find out I’m here!”

There’s a second of silence. “What lake?” And then, “Never mind! Hold tight. I’m on my way.”

So I hold tight.

And I sweat bullets.

Pop, pop, pop, out they burst, one at a time.

But as Bones and Flash get off their bikes and stretch their legs and come in close to inspect the DIE DUDE on Vince’s door, those bullets start
machine
- gunning out of me. I mean, Bones and Flash are right there. One good look inside and I’m doomed.

Then all of a sudden a brand-new cherry red Harley comes growling from behind the shop and onto the parking lot. The Vincenator’s on it, wearing chaps and a fringed leather jacket. “You monsters ready?” he shouts.

Gargoyle’s coming at the SUV, and since there’s no escaping, I crawl as far as I can, then dive into the cargo space behind the backseats, thinking that maybe I can sneak out the hatchback. But I’m barely there when Gargoyle gets in the driver’s seat. He shouts, “That is one tough ride!” out the window, then fires up the SUV. And since I can’t find a lever that opens the hatchback, I’m stuck.

Gargoyle puts the SUV in gear and follows Bones, Flash, and Vince out of the parking lot, down the street, and around a corner. And in my head I’m going, No! No-no-no! I mean,
now
what? Officer Borsch will never find me in time, ’cause in my hurry to hide I’d made the insanely stupid mistake of leaving the cell phone behind.

But then I hear a siren.

It’s not a full-blown honking or wailing siren.

It’s more a single siren.

Or maybe a
toy
siren.

And it does seem to be getting closer and a
little
bit louder, but Gargoyle sure isn’t pulling over for it. So I peek out the back window, and there’s Officer Borsch’s white car with his little portable flashing red light on top, starting through the intersection we’d just crossed, going toward the Harley shop, and away from us.

So, okay. Maybe there was a better way to handle this, but I’m a panicking purple fairy in a Die Dude Mobile with a gargoyle driving. And what panicking purple fairies in Die Dude Mobiles with gargoyles driving
do
is pop up and wave like crazy through the back window.

Lucky for me, Officer Borsch’s head whips a double take, and he skids and squeals, making the turn to follow us. But up front Gargoyle’s shouting, “What the
hell
?” and when I turn around, his face in the rearview mirror is terrifying. It’s like a big gray rock with bloodshot eyes, set to catapult.

And then he sees that a white car with a little flashing light and a toy siren is tailing him. “Who
are
you?” he shouts. “And what are you doing back there?”

“Uh … your fairy godmother? Here to say bibbity-boppity-boo?”

And that’s when I see that the traffic in front of us has stopped for a red light. I point and shout, “Watch out!” but it’s too late. Gargoyle crashes the SUV into Mr. Vince’s brand-new Harley.

Which smashes into Flash’s bike.

Which falls onto Bones’.

Officer Borsch screeches to a halt behind us and runs his lavender cummerbund and bow tie up to the Harley carnage in front of us. “Robert Vince!” he shouts. “You are under arrest!”

Gargoyle’s out of the car now, and ol’ Scratch ’n’ Spit isn’t even paying attention to Officer Borsch. He’s screaming at Gargoyle, cussing up a storm. “You
totaled
my brand-new bike!”

Officer Borsch grabs one of ol’ Scratch ’n’ Spit’s wrists with his cast hand and slaps a handcuff on it with his good one. “What are you
doing
?” Vince shouts at him, and believe me, everyone around is squinting hard at the Lavender Lover.

But the Borschman sure isn’t
acting
lavender. He pulls Mr. Vince out of the mess of motorcycles by the scruff of his biker jacket and says, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” He hauls him over to the SUV. “You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.” He claps the other half of the handcuff onto the Die Dude door handle. “Do you understand these rights?”

“What are you
doing
?” Mr. Vince shouts.

“Do you understand your rights?”
the Borschman shouts back.

“Yes! But … what are you arresting
me
for?”

“How about we start with for perpetrating fraud,
dude
, and I’m sure we’ll have at least a dozen other charges before this is done,
dude
.”

“But … I’m the
victim
.”

Police sirens have been approaching, and as two black-and-white units with racks of flashing lights zigzag through stopped traffic to reach us, I open the back door of the SUV and step out.

When Mr. Vince sees me, his jaw drops.
“Sammy?”

“Yeah, Curveball, it’s me.”

He blinks at me a minute, then wails, “No! No! No! No! No!” and starts beating his free fist against the SUV.

When the on-duty cops arrive, Officer Borsch turns the arrest and accident reporting and all that over to them and then hustles back to his own car, calling, “Hurry up, Sammy! I’ve got a wedding to get to!”

So I jump in, and off we go, the little red light flashing and toy siren wailing.

I tell Officer Borsch again that I’m sorry, but all I get out of him is a grunt. And I’m thinking he’s
completely
ticked off at me until he says, “I don’t know why I didn’t peg him. The guy’s an obvious lemon.” He shakes his head. “I just didn’t get his angle.” He glances over at me. “Disability for a nervous breakdown?”

“Crazy, huh? And really sleazy.”

“How long was he expecting to milk that one, I wonder.”

“Forever?” Then I shrug and add, “Or at least through Hogtoberfest?”

He gives me a quick look. “How do you know about Hogtoberfest?”

So while he blazes a path with his toy siren and portable flashing light, I tell him about my little eavesdropping at Cheezers and then what Brandi had told me on our walk over to the church.

Officer Borsch frowns. “Guys like that give the rest of us a bad name.”

At first I don’t get what he means, but then it hits me. “
You
have a Harley?”

He eyes me. “Don’t lump me in with those losers, all right?”

I laugh. “Never!” Then I eye
him
and say, “Like any of them would have the guts to bust a biker gang wearing
lavender
?”

He scowls at me.

“Hey, you look spiffidy-doo-dah.”

“I look like a damn fool,” he grumbles.

And that’s when something
else
hits me. “You must really love her,” I say softly.

He ducks past two cars that have pulled to the side out of our way. “I must.” Then he lets out a deep, puffy sigh and says, “I swore I’d never get married again. The first two were disasters. Let’s hope I’ve learned something in the last couple of decades, huh?”

Now, I had no idea that the Borschman had been married before, let alone
twice
before. And hearing this makes me wonder why so many people split up. I mean, you don’t get married unless you love someone, right? So how come so many people go from being in love to getting nasty divorces?

Officer Borsch sees me thinking. “They were my fault for the most part. I wasn’t exactly a communicator. I’d bottle things up, and it caused a lot of problems.” He shrugs. “Deb is the sweetest, kindest, most understanding woman I’ve ever known.” He takes a tight turn. “And it helps that she’s at the station. She knows what she’s in for, marrying a cop.”

We’re blasting down Constance now, real near Vince’s house. “Oh!” I cry. “My shoes!”

“Your shoes?”

“Stop right here!” I say, pointing to Vince’s house.

He nose-dives to a halt, and I jump out, only my shoes and skateboard are nowhere to be found. “Oh no!” I say, spinning around. And even though the shoes being stolen is not good, it’s really my skateboard that I’m upset about.

“Get in,” he shouts.

So I dive back in and slam the door. “Someone stole my skateboard! And the shoes! Debra’s going to hate me forever.”

“Sorry about your skateboard,” he says, then chuckles. “I
told
Deb it was risky having you in the wedding.” He eyes me. “You
do
have the ring, right?”

I hold up my wrist.

His gold band is still handcuffed to my bracelet.

He nods. “I think she’ll forgive you.” Then he screeches to a halt in front of the church, throws the gearshift in park, and bolts out the door. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“He’s back!” someone in the group of people on the front porch shouts into the church.

Now, Officer Borsch goes around the back of the church, but the changing room where I figure Debra is waiting is closer to the front of the church. So I hike up my skirts and charge my bare feet up the steps as fast as I can.

The people who are gathered on the steps move aside for me, and I’m so busy trying not to trip on my skirts that I don’t really look up until I reach the top. And when I finally
do
look up, who do I see?

Casey.

He’s, like, two feet in front of me, just standing there,
looking amazingly handsome in a long-sleeved button-down shirt and skinny black tie.

I gasp, and my heart goes positively wacky in my chest.

He smiles, then produces my glass-beaded shoes from behind his back. “I’ve been looking for the girl who fits these shoes.”

I laugh and put my hands out to take them, but instead of handing them over, he gives a little grin and says, “They were next to a skateboard on the side of the road,” then drops to one knee.

Everyone around us falls quiet as Casey reaches out, scoops my left heel forward, and slips a shoe onto my foot.

He smiles up at me. “It looks like I’ve found her.” Then he takes my right foot and slips on the other shoe.

I’m now three inches taller, and when he stands, I just blink at him, eye to eye, with a big Oh! on my face.

People around us start whispering like mad, but Casey just grins like they’re not even there. “I think they’re waiting for you in back,” he says, then steps aside with a half bow and a sweep of the arm, ushering me through.

I’m feeling totally light-headed and breathless, but when I stumble into the changing room, I get snapped back to earth.

“Sams!” Debra cries when she sees me. “What happened? Where’s the ring?”

“You really don’t want me to explain it now,” I tell her, and the minute I hand over the ring, she instantly forgives me. “It doesn’t matter,” she says. “You’re here, Gil’s here, we’ve got the ring … everything’s okay.”

I sort of laugh and say, “Officer Borsch told me you
were the sweetest, kindest, most understanding woman he’s ever known, and I think he’s right.”

Her eyes get teary. “He
said
that?” She looks around at Tippy and Brandi. “Girls, let’s move! I need to marry that man!”

So we grab our bouquets and line up, and after a short break in the music that’s been droning in the background, the organist goes
dun-da-da-da, dun-da-da-da
and begins the wedding march.

I start feeling a little heady again as I walk up the aisle. Like I’m floating or about to fall or … I don’t know what. It’s not from being three inches taller, either. And I
am
trying to take the walk slow like I’m supposed to, but it’s making the whole trip even more strange. It’s like I’m in a dream. And I know the church is packed, but the people in it are just a blur to me. I’m, like, in my own little cloudy world just moving forward, step by step by step.

It isn’t until we’re all lined up at the altar and Reverend Doyle has announced, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here …,” that I actually see people in the crowd. Some of them look vaguely familiar to me. Like I’ve seen them around town. Or at the police station. But most of them are strangers. People I’ve never seen before in my life. And there’s one
ancient
couple sitting in the front row that I keep looking back at. The man’s skin is mottled, and his hair is like sparse dried grass sticking out of a boulder. The woman is twitching like she might have Parkinson’s, and her dress looks like it’s draped over a collapsing hanger.