Wedding Survivor (46 page)

Eli blinked, uncertain what to make of that. "I, ah…" Hell, he didn't know what to make of it, and absently scratched his five o'clock shadow.

Jack snorted at Eli's obvious confusion. "Dude. What's the matter with you? You used to be quite the ladies' man, right? Do I have to tell you that you should have
called
her if you like her? She was royally pissed."

"She was?" Eli asked, wincing lightly.

'Totally," Jack said with an adamant nod. "And I guess I have to tell you that if you do want her, and you didn't call when you were supposed to, that now you're going to have to grovel, aren't I?"

"Grovel," Eli repeated dumbly, his mind already racing ahead to just how low he'd have to go in and grovel, and being, astonishingly, perfectly willing to do it. Frankly, he thought he'd do just about anything to see her smile again and wanted to kiss Jack for giving him an excuse.

"
Grovel
," Jack said, a little louder. "Shit, don't tell me one bad relationship and everything you ever knew about women suddenly flies out that birdcage of a head you've got. Grovel, as in, slither in and beg for mercy. But most important," Jack said with a grin, "don't take no for an answer. Pull out the big guns if you have to. Flowers, dinner… you know the score."

Eli glanced up at Jack and smiled for the first time since coming back to L. A. "I haven't forgotten
that
part," he said with a wink, and tossed the rag at Jack. "Clean that up for me, will you? I've got some groveling to do." And he strode out of the T.A. offices on his way to grovel like he'd never groveled before.

SINCE Mamie wouldn't pick up the goddamn phone, Eli had to bite the bullet and pay a call to the Banks house in Hancock Park. He went early Saturday morning with the hope of avoiding the book club, but he had apparently miscalculated, judging by the look of things—there were five women, five steaming mugs, and a single book on the table.

They ambushed him at the door.

The dark-haired one—Mrs. Farrino, he remembered—tugged on her T-shirt to pull it down just a smidge farther to expose more of her overexposed cleavage.

Mrs. Banks was holding the door open for him. "Come in, come in, stranger!" she cried as Bingo came bounding out, his tongue flapping, to jump up and greet Eli with great enthusiasm, leaving dusty pawprints on his trousers. "Oh my, don't you look nice and tanned and…" Mrs. Banks let her gaze sweep the length of him as he tried to get Bingo off. "
Hubba hubba
," she said with a wink.

"Hello, Mrs. Banks. And thanks. I think."

"Oh, my, it's so good to see you, Eli!" she said, beaming, and grabbed hold of his hand, yanking him inside. "Look what I've got!" she trilled to her pals.

"
Ooh
," they all trilled back in unison as Bingo trotted off to have a sniff of the shrubbery. "If it isn't that cute young thang Marnie likes to play with," said one with a coy little wink.

"Marnie, hell," Mrs. Farrino said, eyeing him unabashedly. "She moved out He's fair game. Eli, you look like you've been in the sun! Skinny dipping?"

"Oh, Linda! Don't scare him off!" Mrs. Banks scoffed. "Come in, Eli, and tell us all about your trip to Spain," she said, bustling him deeper into the dining room.

"Brazil," he kindly corrected her.

"Ooh, did you go to Mardi Gras?" the dyed blonde asked. "I always wanted to go to Mardi Gras. Did you go with anyone famous?"

"Ah… no," he said, nodding politely. "I think Mardi Gras happens earlier in the year. And I was not with anyone famous."

"Oh," she said, looking slightly disappointed, then shrugged and picked up her coffee cup.

"Coffee, Eli?" Mrs. Banks asked.

"No thanks," he said, quickly putting up a hand, which did not stop Mrs. Farrino from pouring a cup and holding up a package of artificial sweetener to her bosom. "Sugar?" she asked with a throaty growl.

"Thanks, but I'm in a rush," he said. "I just stopped by to see if you could tell me how to get hold of Marnie."

"Oh, that girl!" Mrs. Banks said with a roll of her eyes. "I can give you her address, but you won't find her there. She's
never
home. I swear, she is a little social butterfly, just flitting from place to place!" Mrs. Banks said, wiggling her fingers to indicate Marnie's flit.

"Really?" the blond one asked, perking up. "Is she seeing anyone cute or famous?"

"Who knows if he is cute or famous?" Mrs. Farrino scoffed. "She sure won't bring him around
here
—I told you she's afraid of us."

"She's not afraid of us, Linda," Mrs. Banks scoffed. "You may scare that poor UPS man half to death, but Marnie is not afraid of you."

"Are you kidding? Older women are all the rage right now. If I were her age, I'd be scared to death to bring my boyfriend around someone like me," Mrs. Farrino said, stabbing her very long nail to the table for emphasis.

"Shut up, Linda," another one said.

"Mrs. Banks?" Eh' quickly and politely interrupted. "Could I have the address?"

"Oh Eli, yes, yes, yes," Mrs. Banks said, and with a glare for Mrs. Farrino, she motioned for Eli to follow her into the kitchen as Mrs. Farrino explained to the others mat she'd just seen an Oprah show about the allure older women held for younger men.

Mrs. Banks opened an address book and ran her finger down one page. "Aha. Here it is," she said, and took a Post-it note. "Now if you catch her, you tell that girl her mother would like to see her before she's carted off to the morgue."

"I'll tell her."

Mrs. Banks held up the paper. "Here you are!" she said sunnily. "But don't be surprised if you don't find her. I know she has a wedding today, so she'll probably be out."

"Do you know where the wedding is, by chance?"

"Oh Lord, no!" she laughed. "She doesn't want me to show up to see her work!" Her smile suddenly faded into a sad frown. "I'd love to see her at work," she pouted for a moment, but she brightened instantly and handed the Post-it to Eli. "Good luck, Eli! And please don't be a stranger!"

"I won't, Mrs. Banks," he said, pocketing Marnie's address. "I really appreciate it." He turned around and started out of the kitchen toward the front door.

"Oh, sugar, you're not going, are you?" Mrs. Farrino called out to him.

"Yes, he's going, Linda! He did not come here to see you, he came to see Marnie, so I guess you'll have to wait for the next young man to prove your theory!"

"Jealous!" Mrs. Farrino shouted at Mrs. Banks as she and Eli walked by.

"Do you see what I put up with?" Mrs. Banks asked cheerfully and opened the door for him. She patted his arm. "I really hope you two work it out," she said. "You're a good man, Eli. Marnie would be lucky to have you."

He cocked a brow at Mrs. Banks; she cocked one back. "You think I don't know what's going on between the two of you? She's a good girl," she said, and smiled fully. "
You'd
be damn lucky to have
her
."

Eli smiled at Mrs. Banks. "I know," he said, and walked out the door, then turned halfway around. "Thanks," he said.

She waved her fingers at him, and he could hear the ladies inside calling her to come back and quit flirting with Marnie's boyfriend. Still wiggling her fingers, she shut the door.

Eli walked out to his truck, but before he could reach the driver door, Mr. Banks appeared, wiping his hands on an old red rag.

"Hey there, Eli!" he said, extending his right hand. "I was wondering when you'd come back around."

"Finally made it," Eli said, shaking his hand. "I'm trying to track your daughter down."

"Oh that's easy," he said. "She'll be at the Fernando Wedding Chapel in Hollywood today. I took something to her earlier." He grinned and glanced at the house. "Just don't tell her mother," he said with a wink. "We wouldn't want her showing up to see Marnie at work."

"No, we wouldn't," Eli agreed. "Thanks for the tip, Mr. Banks."

"No problem. Now there's something you ought to know. Marnie can be a little like her mother sometimes, and by that I mean obstinate. I find if I just give her mother a little time to cool off, she usually comes around." He winked at Eli, and turned around, walked back toward the garage.

"Damn," Eli muttered to himself as he got in his truck. "Am I that obvious?"

He drove to her apartment in Van Nuys and had to agree with Mrs. Banks's assessment of it. It was a dump in a rundown part of town, and not where he'd like to see Marnie living. He'd actually like to see Marnie living in a very tasteful bungalow in Laurel Canyon. With him.

Mrs. Banks was also right that she was not at home. Nor was she at the Fernando Wedding Chapel, although some dude was there wrapping flowers around a column.

"She ain't here," he said when Eli asked. "She said she'd be back in a couple of hours."

"What time is the ceremony?" Eli asked out of curiosity.

"Three."

Eli glanced at his watch. A couple of hours and a wedding would commence. He sighed and walked out to his truck. It looked like he was going to a wedding.

When he returned a couple of hours later, he was wearing a custom-made dark, pinstriped suit. He didn't want to be accused of not fitting in. He'd meant to arrive a little early so he could catch Marnie before everything got too hectic, but there'd been traffic on the 405, and now he was only a half hour away from someone's march down the aisle. It did occur to him mat this possibly was not the best time to find Marnie, but he'd gotten dressed up and come all this way, and hell, all he wanted to do was ask her to please talk to him.

After the wedding, of course.

He walked into the back of the chapel, told the usher he was just going to peek inside before being seated, and slipped into the back.

He caught a breath in his throat. Eli had thought about her, dreamed about her, but he was not prepared for his body's visceral reaction to seeing her. Marnie was at the altar, setting a big floral display. She was wearing a simple, elegant green dress that skimmed her body and from which her legs, long and shapely, seemed to reach down for miles. Her hair, that bouncy mane, was pinned to the back of her head, and sparkling green earrings dangled from her ears.