WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT WHEN CARMA'S INVOLVED?

TREINTA Y SIETE

“Sorry for the wait. Everyone thinks they can show up in Vegas and get hitched on a whim.” It’s how they advertise.

Never in my life would I want to drunkenly marry someone. Waiting didn’t sound like a problem. He tried backpedaling, claiming it wasn’t a bad thing. I beckoned for him to hand over the envelope. He told me it should contain copies of all completed forms and their driver’s licenses or state identification. Yes, the man said ‘should’. Alixxander’s identification was missing. How convenient. He assured me they couldn’t have gotten married without their ducks in a row. Sure they couldn’t. I’d believe that when pigs grew wings and took flight.

“They had to come in person to pick up the approval letter and show identification.”

“Yes.” I let my disappointment show over the clear lack of oversight but thanked him for his time and assistance in the matter. “Quickie Vegas marriages don't last long. Absence of impulse control is what this state thrives upon.” Ya think?

Returning to my rental, I immediately compared the documents received through the mail and the ones just handed over. I thought a clerical error occurred. But nope. The date on the preregistration paperwork matched two different charges from two of Alixxander's accounts in two different states. According to his datebook, he was in court. His main account showed a coffee purchase at seven thirty in the morning.

I reached out to Mr. Driver to ask if he knew the whereabouts of his client on the day in question. He put me on hold for almost fifteen minutes. I wasn’t going to hang up. If I had to fly back to Boston and ask him face to face, I would. He returned with a cockamamie story about Carma having a spa day with her girlfriends. I accidentally on purpose spaced out telling him I knew it was a lie. With no follow-up questions, I thanked him before ending the call. The account with Carma's name attached made an expensive lunch purchase over twenty-seven hundred miles away from Massachusetts. In North Las Vegas, Nevada. It offers access to the city's action without being immersed in it.

Chapel White Castle is where the magic of marriage took place. It looked as redneck as it sounds. Get married, then head behind the chapel for a meal of your choice at the White Castle. I am a firm believer in marrying for love. Some places are too tacky. The gentleman behind the counter was helpful, at first. After explaining my profession and why I was there, he began acting shady. His partner dug out the physical copies and wouldn’t you know the photocopy of the groom’s identification mysteriously vanished. The magic tricks were next level. The ungracious worker copied what they had before rushing to begin the next ceremony.

Sure, I was curious to see how it went down. Eight chairs were set up in the closet-sized room. Couples don’t often have an entourage when visiting such places. I remained silent and watched intently. The bride and groom were madly in love. It was written all over their faces. For how long was up to them. Some couples want a fun and easy wedding, the rest are dumb. Out of my peripheral I saw the tiny red light in the upper right-hand corner of the room.

After the ceremony, I approached the front desk to ask, “Do you record every ceremony?”

“We do. Some couples are blackout drunk, and they don't remember.”

Funny how he didn’t think it was worth mentioning considering the vanishing act of Alixxander's identification. I asked if they had a duplicate I could look at. Once I confirmed or contradicted the identity, I’d be on my merry way.

“Look lady, I don’t want any trouble.” Along with that came an admission of accepting a monetary bribe in the amount of twenty grand to discard it.

“You didn’t, did you?”

“Consider it my insurance policy just in case someone came sniffing around.” And Bingo was his name-o.

The fcknut had the gonads to ask if he should return the money. I told him not to bother because he’d be lucky to have a job. Handing a xerox of the original xerox to me, I chuckled. To be on the safe side, I watched the ceremony before it was burnt onto a disc. It was over for Carma and her accomplice, Evan. They tied the knot. Alixxander was nowhere in sight. I had the fcking c*nt by her fcking c*nt. No doubt Alixxander’s money was used to bribe the guy. A sum that large would’ve been flagged by his bank. Figuring out how she acquired the large sum was added to my list. I can tell you the owner of the establishment was none too pleased when he learned a worker helped a woman commit marriage fraud.

Alixxander’s hotel was my last stop. A printout of outrageous charges, mostly on gambling and alcohol, was provided. When Carma arrived, the honeymoon suite got booked under his name, alongside his original room. Luckily for me, the hotel kept security camera recordings for two years before wiping them. Guess who never left the hotel to attend his own wedding and never made use of the honeymoon suite. The newly married couple did, though. I had more than enough to bury that btch. When will humanity learn that no one can escape the consequences? Had Alixxander bothered to dig instead of taking her word for it and accepting it, a ton of heartache could have been avoided. Her charade days were ending.

An unknown number with a Boston area code showed up on my caller ID. Normally, I don’t answer unknown numbers. But.... “Harmoney Sanchez, how can I help you?”

“Are you representing Alixxander Savage?” The gentleman spoke with urgency.

I’m never inclined to disclose client information over the phone unless they are my client. I put down the paper with Alixxander’s name and Evan’s face. Tons of people had to know he chose me to represent him. Politely, I informed him that I wouldn’t answer his question.

“My name is Eli Denton. I have pertinent information you need to hear.” He had my attention.

“However true that is, I still refuse to answer your question.”

He begged me not to hang up anyway. Befuddled isn’t a word I use enough. It accurately described my state of mind when it had anything to do with Alixxander and his drama. Mr. Denton, or I should say Dr. Denton, either way, the man said he was being blackmailed. What does that have to do with Alixxander? Nothing. Carma Whitlock, on the other hand. That dastardly woman wasn’t just blackmailing her doctor. Oh no. A few nurses from his staff and some working in the hospital too. I ludicrously asked why she would do that. I should’ve known better. She lied about marrying Alixxander.

Just when I thought that woman had no more stunts to pull. Dr. Denton started by telling me the female baby he delivered was not premature. Carma was thirty-eight weeks when she gave birth, not the thirty weeks she had us believing. That explained why she looked ready to bust at the seams in court.

Remorse littered his voice. He accepted full responsibility to save the jobs of the nurses. While that is commendable, it wasn’t for me to decide. After telling him so, he did a one eighty and denied everything. Said he would deny our conversation unless I allowed him to save the careers of the nurses who got caught up because of him. Weighing the limited options, I agreed to wipe the knowledge of them from my memory.

He continued to pique my curiosity by saying he overheard a conversation where Carma offered a significant amount of money if a certain test were to come back in her favor. I automatically assumed it had to do with DNA. So did he, which was why he took a second sample. Everything was done out of fear, but that didn’t make it right. The people he sought to safeguard were not the only victims caught up in Carma’s fcked up scheme. He figured two could play the blackmail game.

“Miss Sanchez, that woman shouldn't be allowed to ruin a man's life and let him go on thinking he's a father when the opposite might be true.” I agreed wholeheartedly. More than he could fathom.

You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when he said there was more. I had to stop him there. If I were home, he could’ve gone on until my ear bled. I’d already booked my flight and my arrival time was for mid-morning. He suggested we meet instead of a lengthy phone conversation. We would negotiate a time and place once he knew I was home. He begged for forgiveness and asked me to understand why he didn’t say anything sooner. Alixxander and everyone else involved are the ones he should be asking to forgive him. I still thanked him for his honesty at the end of the call. When things are said and done, the children pay the price.

I do not recommend counting chickens before they hatch. Carma’s lies were catching up with her, and it was time to pay the piper. Trust me, I didn’t discount her pulling something out of her ass, but I was recklessly optimistic.

They say home is where the heart is, but my apartment is where my bed was. I couldn’t get to either because a crew of men were working on the elevator. Taking the stairs was out of the question because they stopped at the floor below mine. Strolling back outside, I saw Alixxander’s beater. I called for an estimation of time until I could go home.

“Alixx's phone.” Immediately, I became sick to my stomach.

“Is Mr. Savage available?”

“Girl, when are you going to start calling us by our first names?”

“I'm sorry?” I was genuinely confused.

“Alixx is on his way down to get you.” If I couldn’t go up, how was he going to come down?