Alien in the Family

and who he’s talking to.” He grimaced. “I’ll take the risk Reynolds and James took with the photographer over the risk our parents took with telling everyone at this wedding who and what we really are.”
    “I’m with White. Oliver’s thrilled to be getting the exclusive,” Chuckie added. “Believe me, he has a team of C.I.A. operatives and two A-C field teams assigned to guard him. Every person assisting him is either from my team, your mother’s team, or an A-C. His footage is being altered immediately, and the only conversations he’s catching have more to do with your clothing, or lack thereof, than anything else.” He flashed the exaggerated leer again. “From what Oliver’s already told me, he’s gotten some excellent shots.”
    “Let me know if there’s anything really good,” Christopher said. “I’ll probably place a big order. Most of the guys want a shot of Kitty in her lingerie.”
    “It’s an outfit. For clubbing. Like this is a club and I’m wearing it here, at a club. At a party at a club. Chuckie made me wear a jacket and everything.”
    “Right. So, Reynolds, remember, pull out the good ones, and don’t let Kitty or Jeff see them. I figure we can charge, easy, ten to fifteen dollars a pop.”
    “Oh, the shots of her butt? Those’re worth at least twenty-five per eight by ten.” Chuckie and Christopher were really cracking each other up. Of course, I knew my skirt was tucked between my bottom and Martini’s arm, and I hadn’t seen Oliver or a camera flash once this entire time, so I wasn’t overly concerned. If I’d really been showing that much, one of my relatives would have mentioned it.
    Aunt Carla showed up, effectively breaking up our meeting. “So, Katherine, nice party. And, young man, you’re fine with her displaying everything she owns all over?”
    Then again, maybe they were all just waiting for Aunt Carla to mention it.
    Martini grinned. “Yeah. I like showing off what no one else is ever going to get to touch.” He walked us away, leaving Aunt Carla open-mouthed.
    “Have I mentioned I love you?”
    “More than the guys in Tears for Fears?”
    “Yeah.”
    “More than the guys in Aerosmith?”
    I had to ponder. “Yeah. Even more than Steven Tyler and Joe Perry. Put together.”
    “Wow. Guess I’d better marry you, then.”
    “Well, only if you want to.”
    Martini spent the next hour or so showing me that he really wanted to. It was a great party.

CHAPTER 66

    OF COURSE, READER WAS TRUE to his word and dragged the wedding party off at midnight. I made some Cinderella jokes he didn’t laugh at. I was allowed to stay with Martini all the way through the casino and up the elevator. Martini carried me through the casino—some I figured because he enjoyed it, some because I’d whined that we’d been here ages and I hadn’t gotten to gamble once, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
    For once I didn’t feel like I was being watched. Apparently the plan Chuckie and Reader had in place was working. Let the one paparazzo in, and the others were miraculously kept out. Worked for me.
    Reader actually let us take our own elevator but left Christopher and Chuckie stationed at the top floor and himself at the lobby level.
    “James, you’re taking this whole Wedding Planner from Hell thing a little far, aren’t you?”
    “Uh-huh. The elevators send off major alarms if you stop them on the way up or down. I’ll be paying attention, but if you try getting off on another floor and hyperspeeding somewhere, we’ll know.”
    “It’s the night before our wedding,” Martini grumbled.
    “Yeah. You know, in the olden days, I’d have her under lock and key because you still wouldn’t have scored a tongue-kiss, let alone anything else.”
    “Thank God for modern times.” Martini carried me into the elevator, waited for the door to close, then pushed every button at hyperspeed. “Let ’em worry.” He put me up against the side of the car, and we proceeded to make out like mad.
    The positive on stopping at every floor was that we got to make out a lot longer. The negative was that we couldn’t do anything more because, well, we were stopping at every floor, and this was Vegas—people were up at any and all hours. We knew there were people on some of the floors because we heard them. All but one guy were nice and didn’t try to join us in the elevator. The one guy came in, made a comment, Martini reached out, grabbed him, and threw him out, all