“Scarlet, I’m sorry to let you—”
“Wait”—Scarlet cut me off—“before you finish, let me say this: Ian’s your best friend. You two have known each other for so long. It just wouldn’t be right for anyone else to plan his wedding. Not our wedding. We’re all about to be family. And family has to be there for one another. Now, I know you have your rule, but you also have a heart and that heart has to have some love for your family. If you’re everything Ian says you are, it just has to.” Scarlet pursed her glossed lips together and looked at me like I was holding the plug to her mama on a life support machine. I felt like Ian with all those cameras flashing on him at the birthday party. I could either let everyone down or be the life of the party.
“It’s just my policy—”
“Please, just this once?” Scarlet held out her hands together in prayer and closed her eyes.
I looked at Ian bug-eyed, but all he could do was shrug his shoulders.
“In three and a half months?” I said.
“I know it’s short, but I was thinking that for someone with your expertise, with your skill—I mean, you’re a master. Ian always says how amazing you are at what you do.” She was playing me like an African drum, but it felt so good. “You’ll have total control. We’ll follow your lead.” Scarlet looked at me with glassy eyes.
“OK,” I said, knowing what she’d just said was a lie. “As long as we keep it small and tasteful.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Scarlet said.
“Where are you two thinking about having it? I can have Krista look for dates once I get back to the office. It won’t be very warm here in three months, so someplace inside is best in case it gets too cold at night. Or we could do a tent.” I’d gone right into work mode and pulled out my iPad.
“Oh, I can’t get married in Atlanta,” Ian said. “I have to get married at home in New Orleans.”
I looked up from my iPad. “What?”
“I keep telling him that we can just have the wedding here. Have his people come to Atlanta. It’s halfway between New Orleans and Miami. It’s only fair. But he insists.”
“Scarlet, my mother would have a heart attack if I brought a woman into this family outside of her church.”
“Oh, you mean your mother whom I haven’t even met yet?” Scarlet asked. “And I thought we decided that we weren’t doing it in a church.”
“I was raised in the church!”
“Do you know what the Catholic Church did to those Africans during Middle Passage? Raping little boys and girls?”
“Yes, I know. I taught you that when you took my class!”
Shane, the waiter, was standing by the bar and he turned to us when he heard Ian’s voice go up.
“Y’all quiet down with all that,” I said. “We can talk about this later.”
“Ain’t nothing to talk about,” Ian said. “I have to get married in New Orleans.”
“Fine,” Scarlet agreed.
“And my father’s Zydeco band has to play at the reception.”
“What?” Scarlet nearly knocked her water over, but I caught it.
As they continued their bickering session, I signaled for Shane to come with the bill. What in the hell had I just agreed to?
“Why does your father’s band have to play at our wedding?”
“Because it’s my culture. The man might die if he doesn’t play at my wedding. Die, Scarlet! Die.”
“Well, I might die if I have to listen to Zydeco all night.”
“Who said anything about all night? We’ll play other music.”
“Like salsa? My parents like salsa.”