Page 46 of Southern Comfort
“Okay. I hear you.”
That is a first. In the history of Landon versus Women, there has always been pushback. Then if a few cocktails were involved, it would get worse. They almost always ignore the line I draw in the sand. Chicks love to dance, it’s their thing. They want it to be mine. Until they see for themselves. Kim isn’t like that. She’s not like anybody. The thought floats in my mind all the way to the church.
Now, sitting in the back pew of St. Stephan’s, I ruin all lofty thoughts of the woman, as I imagine a dirty rotten image of me fucking her later. A sinful taking. Sinful because my intentions are one hundred percent impure. Is it noble to admit the obvious?
I think in a church there may be some unwritten law that requires a certain standard of meditation. Thinking about pussy is likely frowned upon. Shit. God will understand. A man is only so capable of denying himself what has been purposely made undeniable. If I am made in his image, obviously he is a horny deity.
The place is pretty full, stragglers arriving a little late slide into whatever seats are left. Most vie for the aisle. Nobody wants to sit in the last pew, here at the far end, furthest from where the procession will take place. I have nabbed the best spot. When it ends, I will be closest to two exits.
Just as I congratulate myself, a large, fashionable group stops and files into the pew. There are enough of them to take up the open space. Damn. That’s Atticus Swift. It’s the entire Swift family. The Memphis Mavericks dynasty. Shit. I am not mistaken. There’s Sawyer. Last year’s MVP. He’s married to the only daughter. I remember seeing them in the ballpark’s VIP suites on tv. Very cool.
Don’t want them to catch me staring, as they nearly fill the space between us. So I look past them every so often. It’s probably not fooling anyone. They are used to public stares and interest. But looking like a groupie at my age is whack. Dad will like hearing this. He and Mom knew the parents back in the day. When all us kids were little. I don’t even remember. Wonder if Kim knows them? Next time I ring Belle because of a team win, it will take on new meaning.
Man. Good looking group. That must be the parents. The father was a ballplayer too. Yeah. Boone Swift. I get a smile andnod from the mother, who takes her seat a few feet away. There is a hint of recognition when she sees me. Like she is trying to connect the dots. I return the smile.
Bringing up the rear, another couple arrives and motions for the family to scoot down. That’s the oldest brother. The sports agent. Rick? No. Brick. That’s it. The blonde he guides into the pew is the wife. She’s a hot shot agent too. The announcers are always talking about how they represent some of the top earners in baseball. I’ve heard Power Couple more than once.
The Swift’s move down, and the mother sits right against my leg. It is a tight squeeze, but I’m glad I picked this spot to sit. I smile.
“Bride or groom?” she asks.
“Groom. I’m a guest of one of the bridesmaids. The groom’s sister Kim. Landon Podesta. You are a Swift, I take it.”
“Landon Podesta? Your dad and mom owned Mom's?
My surprised expression precedes my answer. She remembers.
“Yeah. My mother passed, but dad still has the place.”
There is compassion behind her eyes as she answers. “I heard that. I’m so sorry. Yes, we have been to Mom's many times, although not for decades.”
Then she leans over to her husband and says, “Boone! This is little Landon! Ronnie and Victoria Podesta’s boy!”
All eyes are on me now, including their grown children who have no clue who Ronnie and Victoria Podesta are. But Boone does.
“Landon! Last time we saw you, you were pissed at the Pope. Remember Lucinda?”
She chuckles as quietly as possible, then turns back to me.
“We were your parents’ friends when we were all in our early twenties. We had so much fun together.”
“I’ve heard. Dad speaks highly of you. Mom did too. She said you all had a blast together, to use her word.”
A wide grin accompanies mine, as the images of my mother young warm my heart. Boone and his wife are enjoying the memories as much as I am. Damn. I had a great childhood. Even someone else’s memories of my folks settle soft.
The guests pay attention as important family members begin to be escorted to their seats. Dominique’s, and Colter’s. I don’t know all of them. But they go to the first pews. That says it all. Lucinda leans over and whispers.
“Let’s talk at the reception. I want to introduce you to the family, and Boone and I have stories of your parents!”
“I’d like that. Yes.”
We quiet as the groomsmen enter and line up next to the altar. There are smiles on each face as they wait. Especially on Colter’s. I detect no nervousness. Hunter looks good. Wonder who he just winked at? The kid has a certain swagger. Confident but not so much as to be an asshole. Music breaks my concentration, and the guests react to the signal. We stand and eyes are pulled to the back doors. They open and the first face I see is Kim’s as she leads the procession of bridesmaids. Beautiful girl.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kim
Every box is ticked. This setting is as singular as the love being celebrated. Colter and Dominique’s backyard, with the pale pink Weeping Cherry tree, looks magical. Planted on a berm, up-lights showcase the prolific bloom. Add the romance of a starry night. That gets me every time.
