“Where are we going?” I said to Nico when we got into my car.
“The reception hall. You remember. Aunt Pinky and some of the others are decorating for the wedding, and I promised we’d be there to help.”
This was strange. I’d thought we had to be checking something out for Jimmy and Magda.
It occurred to me, since I was already involved up to my neck, that I might as well get the whole story. So when we pulled into the laneway leading to the reception hall, I stopped the car and cornered Nico. “Does this new business have anything to do with the truck that got hijacked?”
“Technically, it wasn’t hijacked, Gina. We weren’t in the thing when they stole it.”
“Don’t change the subject. Does this involve the cargo we were moving?”
“It might,” he said cryptically.
“Come on, Nico. Give!”
He sighed. “You remember the Last Chance Club from the retirement home.”
“Of course,” I said. Who could forget their main event, speed dating for geezers?
“Well, remember they all wanted to take a bus trip to Vegas but couldn’t afford it? That’s what the underground funeral home was all about. They wanted to raise money to play the tables.”
“I get it, Nico. Embalming for dollars. Continue.”
“Right. Well, they tried another tack to raise money.” Nico turned to look at me. “You have to realize that these people are really old, Gina. They remember the old ways. Fondly.”
Old ways. Okay. I could buy that. But what…?
“Oh. My. God. They’re the bootleggers!” Sweet Jimmy and dear Magda. Channeling the 1920s right here in The Hammer. I started to giggle.
“Jimmy found the old family recipe for grappa. He went to Vince for permission, and Vince has been bankrolling the operation. Those bottles in the truck were grappa, not gin.”
“So my godfather is the bootlegger?” Well, that was fitting. Just like his grandfather before him.
“He’s the money behind it. Jimmy and Magda are the managers. Joey and Mario are the muscle.”
Well, they sure weren’t the brains.
I put the car back in gear and continued along the laneway.
The Forum is a typical Italian banquet hall. By this I mean it is extremely overdecorated and gaudy.
Several Roman columns line the drive. As you drive up to the entrance, a huge fountain greets you. The fountain has several marble cherubs frolicking about in it. If you look closely, you can see water spurting out of their wee-wees. You really don’t want to look that close.
The building itself is a mixture of Roman temple architecture and over-the-top baroque. My relatives don’t believe in doing anything halfway. Yes, the family owns it.
I parked in the reserved parking out front. There were four cars there already, including my aunt Pinky’s Lexus.
“Good,” said Nico, noticing the Lexus. “That means the others will be here too.”
“What others?” I said. But Nico was already out of the car and making for the stairs.
There are a lot of steps leading up to the main double doors. You can’t miss the doors. They are painted gold. Not yellow. Gold.
If the doors fail to impress, wait until you open them.
“We’re in the Venetian Ballroom,” said Nico. “I can’t wait for you to see it.”
Nico grasped one of the gold handles and pulled. I walked into the foyer and was immediately blinded by sparkly light dancing off a wall of mirrors.
The Forum has a huge ballroom and a smaller banquet hall. So theoretically, two events can take place at one time. Not so for my wedding. We would have the whole building to ourselves. This was more a safety precaution than anything else. A lot of, shall we say, important people were going to be at my wedding. Big Sally, for one. The security would be top-notch.
The event rooms are on the main floor, which has an impressive twenty-foot ceiling. The kitchens and storage rooms are on the floor below. The land slopes downward at the back, so you can make deliveries without having to bother with stairs.
I walked past the tacky Greek plaster statues and the busts of Roman emperors. The Venetian Ballroom was straight ahead.
“Wait,” Nico called after me. “I want this to be a surprise. Close your eyes before you walk in.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. Nico was always one for the dramatic. He took my arm and guided me into the room.
“You can open them now,” he said.
I obeyed. Then looked. Then gasped. “Oh my god, Nico, this is fab!”
“You like it?” I could hear the happiness in his voice.
“I love it!” I clapped my hands together. Yes, it was over the top. But done in such a cheerful way that you couldn’t help but smile.
Nico had gone to town with the black-and-pink theme. Draperies of shimmering hot pink fell from rods high on the ceiling to pool on the floor. About thirty round tables for eight were set up. Each was draped with a black tablecloth. Silver cutlery and chargers gleamed under the many enormous chandeliers. Bright-pink linen napkins puffed out of every wineglass on the table.
The centerpieces were concoctions of mirror, crystal and more hot pink. I could see flower vases rising up from the center to magnificent heights. Everything sparkled as sunlight cascaded in from the palladian windows.
“Wait until we get the flowers,” said Nico. “And the ice sculptures. That will really pull it all together.”
Ice sculptures. I had to grin. Well, at least it wasn’t the pink flamingos I had been half expecting.
“Have you seen the head table?” Nico said.
I turned my gaze to the right. The head table was a reverse of the others. Black draperies framed the rectangular table. A pink tablecloth ran the length of it, with a glittering silver runner down the middle. Instead of centerpieces, the table had two enormous silver candelabras at each end. No kidding. Those candle holders had to be four feet high.
“It’s gorgeous, Nico. I truly do love it,” I said.
“Hi, Gina!” Pinky was walking across the parquet dance floor. Did I mention a dance floor? Yes, the room is huge. You could seat 250 people for dinner and not have to move tables afterward for dancing.
“Hasn’t Nico done a fabulous job?” She rushed right up to me and planted a kiss on either cheek. Then she did the time-honored thing of wiping her lipstick off my cheek with her thumb. She moved on to Nico next.
My aunt Pinky lived up to her name. That was a fuchsia wool Versace dress she was wearing. Pinky is a former beauty queen who still looks the part. She is the youngest of my mother’s sisters.
“Oh! Before I forget. Gina, I don’t want to alarm you, but Rosina in Palermo told Vera that Zia Sophia has seen a—”
“Crow! I know. I’m dealing with it.” That was a lie. I wasn’t dealing with it well at all.
“Come into the bridal room,” Pinky said to me. “We’re working on place cards there.”
“I need to go check something,” said Nico. “Be back in a bit.”
I dutifully followed Pinky into the bridal room, which was a special room off to the left, set aside for the bride and her attendants. It was over-the-top fluffy, dripping lace and satin. In fact, one might mistake it for a Victorian bordello.
Three very old ladies were seated around a glass table. It held a pile of lists and name cards.
“Gina!” said my great-aunt Rita. “You see? We all came to help.”
And there they were, the female contingent of the Last Chance Club from the Holy Cannoli Retirement Home. Minus Mad Magda, of course, who was at the hospital with Jimmy.
I started around the table to give my kisses. Great-Aunt Rita first, then Mrs. Pesce and Loose Trudy.
About Loose Trudy. Don’t ask. I did, and I’m scarred for life.
“Thanks for helping. You’re all wonderful to come here.” It was the right thing to say. I watched as they settled back in their chairs, each smiling broadly.
What a bunch of old dears. They looked so sweet in their colorful pastel tracksuits. You’d never know they were all retired ex-mobsters who had done time for armed robbery.
“So you bagged yourself a big one,” said Loose Trudy. “I like the big ones.” She giggled.
“You like anything that comes with a wiener,” said Mrs. Pesce. Her pug face was set to disapproval.
“Sausage, Jeanie. Big round sausage. Wieners are for sissies.”
“Behave yourself, girls,” Great-Aunt Rita ordered. “This here is a solemn occasion. Ain’t every day a mob goddaughter gets married.”
“I’m not a—” I started to protest. “Well, okay. Technically, I am. But not practicing,” I added.
“She’s had enough practice,” snorted Loose Trudy. “Them Loan Rearranger burglaries and all.”
Oh for crissake. Would I never live those down?
“Gina? Can you come downstairs with me for a minute?” Nico popped his head around the doorframe. His eyes were wide and frightful.
I looked over at Pinky, who shrugged. “Go,” she said. “We’ll be here for a while.”