Read The Shoes Come First: A Jennifer Cloud Novel Page 54
~
A large white canopy tent had been set up, exposing a long table full of food. I was sure Vincent must have lots of money, because the food was catered. There wasn’t a casserole in sight. Instead there were silver warming trays filled with meatballs and little chicken strips. Mounds of cocktail shrimp heaped over silver trays, with a giant ice sculpture in the middle shaped like a fish. How in the hell they were keeping that thing frozen in the hundred-degree heat was beyond me.
Gertie found me and promptly cut in line. I heard some complaining behind me from the toothless twins.
“Kiss my ass!” she called back to them.
“We’d be here all night!” they responded in unison.
“Hey, Jen, what a wedding, huh?” Gertie said.
“I can’t believe you got your tongue pierced.”
“You saw, huh? Drives my new stepdad crazy.”
“Why do you want to drive him crazy?” I asked, putting some shrimp on my plate next to the fruit kabob.
“You know he works with the Mafia,” she said, lowering her voice as she piled her plate full of chicken.
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope, see that fish?” Gertie pointed at the sculpture. “Vinnie’s nickname is Vinnie the Fish.”
“Why?” I asked, wide-eyed. “Does he like to fish?”
“No, silly, many of his business partners end up down at the docks with the discarded fish.”
“Gross.”
“Tell me about it.” She piled her plate high with meatballs. “I’m on a special diet; you can only eat meat.”
Several round tables were set up under the tent. They were covered with white tablecloths. In the middle of each table were two glass fish dancing around a votive candle.
Gertie explained to me that she had to sit at the head table since she was in the wedding party, but she would come find me later. I located my parents, but Eli had found a spot at the Gambino girls’ table. They were swarming around him like honeybees, saying things like, “Oh, Eli, I love your accent,” and “Eli, your blue eyes are so dreamy.” Yuck! I sat down next to Uncle Earl.
“Hello there, youngun,” said Uncle Earl.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Wha’d she say?” he asked Aint Mable.
“She asked how you are,” Mable shouted.
“Oh…I’m better than a fat kid in a candy store.”
Wow, OK, great, I thought as I smiled politely and looked to my mom to help me out with this conversation.
“Uncle Earl, are you ninety-two or ninety-three?” my mom asked.
“Climb a tree?” he responded. “Naw, I can’t climb a tree, but I can sure chop one down.”
Good grief. Conversation with Uncle Earl was more work than I was into at sixteen.
“Can I be excused?” I asked my parents. In our house it was understood you had to ask permission to leave the table. Dad would look at Mom. Mom would either nod her head, which meant we could go, or she would purse her lips, which meant we needed to finish something on our plates. I looked over for the sign. Head nod. Great.