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The doorbell rang and Ranger walked in, carrying the plastic-bagged dress. He was in his tux, with a five o’clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes.
“You look like you could use a beer,” Morelli said, getting to his feet.
“It’s been a long day,” Ranger said, handing the dress over to me.
I carried the dress upstairs, took a fast shower, and pulled what was left of my hair into a ponytail again. I searched in Morelli’s medicine chest for aloe ointment and smeared some on my blistered neck. I slipped the acres of pink taffeta over my head and struggled to get it zipped. What had originally been a dress from the Little House on the Prairie collection was now straight out of the Little Whorehouse on the Prairie collection. It was so tight and cut so low in the bodice that my boobs were all popped out. If the material hadn’t snagged on my nipples they’d have been popped out too. I smashed myself in as best I could and went downstairs.
I marched into the living room in my dress and sneakers. “Do not say one word,” I said. “I will personally make a eunuch out of anyone who makes a crack about this dress or my hair.”
“I like it,” Morelli said.
“You’re skating on thin ice, mister,” I told him.
Ranger set his empty beer bottle on the coffee table and stood. “Let’s get this done.”
I followed him out and stood looking at the 911 Turbo. “I’m not going to fit,” I said. “How am I going to get all of this dress into this little car?”
“Get in and I’ll do the rest,” Ranger said.
I swiveled around, dropped into the seat, and Ranger beat the dress into submission and stuffed it in. He was laughing when he got behind the wheel.
“Now what?” I asked.
“You’re wearing sneakers. I hope the bridal shop lady never finds out.”
“You didn’t notice in the house?”
“My eyes never got lower than your nipples. If it wasn’t for the fact that Morelli would shoot me I would have taken you on his front lawn.”
Perfect, I thought. I have half my hair burned off, I’m wearing the dress from hell, and all I have to do is show a little nipple and I’m a sex goddess. Something to remember.
Ranger rolled out of the lot and headed for Hamilton Avenue. “Your apartment is relatively clean and your door is fixed. I have another cleaning crew coming in the morning. I wouldn’t advise going back there tonight. It’ll be fine after tomorrow.”
“Orin?”
“Defused and taken away.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” Ranger said. “I want to let it rest.”
“When you’re ready to talk about it I’ll tell you what he told me before he set my hair on fire. He was very, very sick.”
“I know he was sick. And maybe someday I’ll want to know his reasoning and his inner demons, but right now I’m moving on.”
He parked in the church lot and we walked to the side door. We were originally supposed to be with Kinsey and Amanda prior to the wedding, but circumstances had of course changed that. The other ushers were already collected in the vestibule. Guests were beginning to arrive. A room had been reserved for the bride and her bridesmaids. Ranger dropped me there and went to wait for Kinsey.
Everyone was there but Amanda. She was coming with her parents. None of the other women were popping out of their dresses and no one else had hair styled by a Bic lighter. They were relatives of the bride, college roommates, and best friends. They were all good people, including me in their pre-wedding excitement. No one mentioned my hair, but it was the elephant in the room.
“It was set on fire,” I finally said. “I had an episode with a crazy person, and he set my hair on fire.”
Everyone went bug-eyed.
“What happened to the crazy person?” one of the women asked.
“He blew himself up.”
“Get out! You mean like guts all over the place?”
