Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

incredible piece of news about myself.”
“And this is it?” His eyes narrowed in disbelief.
“What?”
“Marrying … ol’ Tinseltits.”
She felt both mortified and relieved. “No,” she replied quietly. “I didn’t plan on publicizing this.”
“Did you plan on telling me?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Now.” She smiled feebly. “A little too late, huh?”
He looked away, fixing his gaze on the hillside. Wilfred had reached the folly and was now just a fleck of yellow beneath the duncecap roof. “In more ways than one,” said Michael.
“It doesn’t really mean anything,” she said.
“What?”
“This marriage. It’s just an arrangement to satisfy the immigration people, so Teddy can get a green card …”
“… and wag weenie in San Francisco.”
“I didn’t ask about that,” said Mona.
He stared at her, slack-mouthed. “How did this happen? I mean … how long has this been in the works?”
“About three weeks, I guess. Not long.”
“You met here or in Seattle?”
“Neither. The arrangements were made through … a sort of clearinghouse in Seattle.”
“A clearinghouse?” He almost spit out the words. “For what? Mail order brides?”
“Yes,” she replied flatly. “As a matter of fact.”
He gave an ugly little snort. “Does anyone here know about this?”
She flashed on that Fabia woman, snapping her way through the house. “Oh, yes,” she answered. “It appears to be Easley’s worst-kept secret.”
“It figures,” he said. “I’m always the last to know.”
His petulance made her impatient. “You weren’t supposed to know at all, Mouse. You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“When is it happening?”
“Tonight. In the chapel.”
“Swell.”
“It’s just the family. And a few of their friends.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of the way.”
“I didn’t mean that.” She felt better, just the same; the whole ordeal was embarrassing enough as it was. “It’s not like it really means anything,” she added. “People get married for immigration purposes all the time. It’s just a business proposition.”
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much is he paying you?”
“Oh … five thousand.”
“Not bad.”
“Well,” she acknowledged somewhat proudly, “it’s usually just a thousand or so, but this was a special case, and they thought I could handle it.” She couldn’t help thinking what a feeble boast that was. “The organization gets ten percent, of course. Like an agent. Anyway … it’s a fair price for all concerned.”
“Sure,” he replied. “It’s a double ring ceremony.”
She didn’t get it.
He tweaked one of his nipples.
“Oh.” She laughed uneasily, then tried to counter with her own joke; it might be the only way out of this mess. “Yeah,” she said. “I told him to hell with Immigration—he’ll never make it through the metal detector.”
He remained sullen.
She studied his face, then got up and went to the dresser and began arranging his breakfast dishes on the tray. “I’m going back to Seattle in two days,” she said. “I’ve had a nice little vacation … made some money. And everyone’s better off. I don’t need this guilt trip. Mouse.”
“That’s your doing,” he said, “Not mine.”
She slammed down the marmalade jar. “When the fuck did you get to be such a little prig?”
He didn’t answer right away. “You don’t know what I am,” he said quietly. “You haven’t stopped running long enough to find out.”
“Mouse …”
“What do you want from me, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you telling me this now? What do you want me to say? Congratulations on a lucrative but meaningless marriage?”
She picked up the tray and headed for the door. “I wanted your blessing, I guess. I have no idea why. I have no idea why I’m even talking to you.”
“If you ever made a real commitment …”
“Oh, fuck you, Mouse! just … fuck you. I don’t need this. Since when did you get to be an expert on commitment. You and Jon and your half-assed little … whatever you call that relationship …”
He scorched her with a long, silent glance. “I’ll give him your best,” he said.
She drew herself up and tried to remain calm. “I’m my own person,” she said.
“Fine,” he replied. “Go for it.”
She looked at him a moment longer and stormed out, marching back to her room with the tray. She threw herself on the bed but avoided a crying jag by rising again and hurling a paperweight at the