I didn’t want Elvis at my wedding. I loved him, but not that much. Little Ritchie was out too. No music. No fake flowers. No walks down the aisle on the arm of a dead rock ‘n’ roll icon. Instead, we were escorted to a little room with an actual minister and a row of tiny candles, and side by side, in a couple of words, we said we would. Richer and poorer—Finn flinched at that like he didn’t like that he was the latter. In sickness and in health—it was my turn to wince. I knew Finn thought I was a little crazy. My gran thought I was a lot crazy. Or maybe that was just how she liked to make me feel. And finally the words ‘”Til death do us part”—and we looked at each other then, knowing exactly how death could part us from the ones we love.
“I do,” I said.
“I do,” he said.
All done.
They provided a witness, we exchanged simple rings—I wouldn’t have been surprised if our fingers turned green beneath our cheap bands, but as long as Finn wasn’t turning green, I couldn’t care less. Monique threw in the slim, gold bands with the $500 I paid for the rush wedding package, and the $3,800 I laid down for our fancy duds, which included everything from our underwear to the diamonds in my ears, along with a few extra pieces of silk and lace that Monique was sure I would need, and which I gladly agreed to.
I added a tip for her and another $100 tip for Pierre. They had both saved—and made—my day. If we ever made it out of the mess we were in, Monique was going to be my new go-to girl for dresses. I was good to people who were good to me, and I told her as much. Plus, I was going to be hiring my own people from now on. Gran would not be calling any more shots, starting today, starting now, starting with the man who I’d just pledged to love all the days of my life.
He was sober and serious, silently observing it all, like the process was an elaborate equation he hadn’t yet solved, but when he said “I do,” I believed him. And when I said, “I do,” I meant it with all my heart. And considering that my heart had swollen in size, filling my chest so I could hardly breathe, that was saying something. I was surprised I wasn’t floating, the sensation of helium in my head was so pronounced that I clung to Finn’s hand to hold me down.
We posed for some pictures, but made them use a disposable camera, which we took with us, not eager to see our wedding pictures splashed everywhere before we even made it to LA. It was our secret, our moment, and we would tell the world when and if we felt like it.
We retreated to the boutique and changed our clothes, though I kept on the lace panties and pulled on the matching bra. We relinquished our finery to Monique, who packaged it carefully in garment bags that were constructed like padded cells, complete with reinforced compartments and straight jackets. We walked out of the boutique three hours after we had arrived, bags over our shoulders, rings on our fingers, and a five hour bus ride before us. No romantic honeymoon for Bonnie and Clyde.
We stopped at a deli, and Finn bought us sandwiches and cupcakes with frothy white icing and sprinkles, the closest thing we would get to wedding cake on our big day. When Finn stuck a thick candle in mine, I started in surprise.
“Did you steal that from the ceremony?” I asked, laughter making me wheeze.
“Yeah. I did. I grabbed it and snapped it off at the top and shoved it in my pocket in case I didn’t have the chance to buy birthday candles.” His mouth twisted in a small grin. “I think I got hot wax on my tuxedo pants.” The smile faded, and he leaned forward and kissed my lips gently. “Happy Birthday, Bonnie.”
“I forgot,” I said with wonder. And I had. The last time I’d thought about my birthday was before Finn pulled off the highway in that dumpy little town and rocked my world behind a run-down café that had seen much better days, but never a better make-out session.
“No more hard birthdays. Only happy anniversaries. Deal?” Finn entreated sweetly.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and licked at the frosting around my giant candle. It had been the best birthday I’d ever had—the best day I’d ever had, no contest. I sent a little love note skyward, hoping Minnie could forgive me for making new memories on our day.
“Deal,” I said, my eyes holding Finn’s.
“You wanna shake on that, Bonnie Rae Clyde?” He grinned widely at my new moniker.
I laughed and nodded, extending the hand that wore his ring. Gran was going to crap her pants. I laughed even harder. Yes, indeed. It had been a very good birthday.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THEY BOARDED THE bus without hassle or second glances. Finn made Bonnie put her hat back on and her glasses too. She was beautiful enough to receive second looks for that reason alone, and the more they could play down her looks, the easier it would be to keep her identity hidden. The bus departed right on time, and Finn breathed a little easier, knowing they would be in LA, even with another stop, in roughly five hours.
He had felt a slight but ever-increasing drum beat of trepidation since they’d left St. Louis, the pitfalls and problems at every turn creating a sense of unavoidable disaster that even the ring on his finger could not completely drown out. He was happier than he’d ever been, and he was more terrified than he’d ever been. He was madly in love, yet he hardly recognized himself. And he should have known the final stretch would go no smoother than the rest of the journey had.
Forty-five minutes outside of Vegas, the bus broke down. It started to cough and shimmy, and the bus driver babied it along to the closest exit, which fortunately was not in the middle of nowhere, though Primm, Nevada was the strangest town Finn had ever seen, plopped down like a tiny island in the middle of the desert—an island so small it made Vegas seem like a continent. A strip mall that was built to look like an old western town, several hotels, and a roller coaster that ran between manufactured rock mountains were the main attractions, and in the darkness, he felt a little like Pinocchio visiting the island where all the boys turned into donkeys. What was it called? His mom had read Pinocchio to him and Fish when they were little, and it had struck a chord in him. Fish loved the story and asked for it every night, but Finn wasn’t as entranced. He related a little too closely to poor Jiminy Cricket trying to keep Pinocchio in line.