Dog Day Wedding Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Also Available

  A Note From Rich

  Acknowledgements

  Dog Day Wedding

  Rich Amooi

  Dog Day Wedding

  Copyright 2015 © Rich Amooi

  http://www.richamooi.com

  Cover drawn by Sue Traynor

  Editing by Mary Yakovets

  This book is a work of fiction. Seriously. References to real people, dead people, porcupines, freak-a-zoid robots, products, services, body parts, businesses, corporations, inanimate objects, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Characters, names, story, incidents, and dialogue come from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Ask your doctor if Rich Amooi is right for you.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, recorded, or distributed in printed or electronic form without permission from the author.

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  To the love of my life.

  My honeybunch.

  I love you more today than yesterday.

  But not as much as tomorrow.

  Chapter One

  “Somebody kill me,” muttered Giovanni Roma, fiddling with his cufflinks.

  All Giovanni wanted was a nice, simple wedding at a country club or winery. He wasn’t picky. His dream was to be married and to have a wonderful family with kids. That’s all.

  The house with the white picket fence? Not even necessary.

  Why would a white fence bring you happiness anyway? It’s just wood. Painted.

  Giovanni tried to keep his thoughts positive, but it wasn’t easy. His fiancée had insisted on a traditional church ceremony. He wasn’t going to argue. Anything to make Patricia happy.

  But Patricia had forgotten one tiny little detail though. The part where she was supposed to show up.

  “Where is she?” whispered Giovanni.

  He stared at the empty doorway of the church, along with the guests.

  “Don’t worry, she’s coming,” said Danny Castro, slapping his best friend on the back. “Relax.”

  Giovanni wiped the sweat from his forehead and blew out a deep breath. “Relax. Right.”

  All the Valium in the world wouldn’t be able to relax him.

  The organist continued to play “Canon in D” for the bride’s entrance.

  Danny smacked Giovanni on the arm with the back of his hand. “Maybe she got caught up in traffic behind the circus and an elephant got loose or something.”

  Here we go.

  “Come on,” said Stevie Marino, the other best man. “That’s not realistic at all. She’s probably putting crop circles in her parents’ wheat field. To keep out the aliens.”

  “A big sale at Macy’s?” said Danny, raising his eyebrows and looking for approval.

  Stevie held up a finger. “She got busted at the airport for being a drug mule!”

  The priest reached over and covered the microphone with his hand. “Please.”

  Stevie winced. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

  Giovanni glanced over at his two best friends. The guys looked sharp in their matching black tuxedos and red ties. As crazy as they drove him, they meant well. They were just trying to distract him from the current situation at hand. But nothing was going to make him laugh. His bride-to-be was currently a no-show.

  What if something bad had happened to Patricia?

  “Maybe we should call her,” said Giovanni.

  The priest gave Giovanni a reassuring smile. “These things always seem to run off schedule. Give it a few more minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  Giovanni’s gaze traveled around the dome of the cathedral, admiring the saints portrayed on each of the colorful stained glass windows. His eyes stopped on St. Francis of Assisi.

  The priest pointed to the window. “Do you know the story of St. Francis?”

  Giovanni turned to the priest. “No.”

  “You may find it particularly fascinating—his original name was Giovanni.”

  “No way!” said Danny.

  The priest nodded. “His mother gave birth to him while the father was away on a trip to France. She named him Giovanni. When the father returned he didn’t like the name she gave him, so he changed it.”

  Stevie squeezed Giovanni’s arm. “I like your name.”

  “Me too,” said Danny. “And no matter what happens here today, I want you to know you’re the nicest guy I’ve ever known.”

  Giovanni smiled. He couldn’t ask for better friends.

  “Patricia will be coming through that door any second,” said Danny. “I guarantee it.”

  Giovanni stared at the entry of the church. The guests’ whispers were getting louder.

  Danny pointed to the organist. “While we’re waiting, did you know Pachelbel’s ‘Canon in D’ was composed almost four hundred years ago?”

  Stevie sighed. “Myself, along with the majority of the other good-looking, upstanding citizens of this country, don’t give a flying steamy turd about Pocket Ball.”

  “Pachelbel.”

  “Him too.”

  Danny ignored him. “His compositions were forgotten for centuries.”

  “I guarantee you it’ll take me a lot less time to forget.”

  The song ended and the church attendants closed the doors. A few seconds later the organist started the processional again and they reopened the doors.

  “Bingo,” said Stevie, watching the entry and spotting a woman.

  A large woman appeared in the doorway wearing a bright yellow dress and an oversized hat loaded with bird feathers.

  Stevie frowned. “Maybe not.”

  The woman was like a deer in headlights. Everyone in the church stared at her.

  “Oh my,” she said and quickly sat in the last row.

  The doors closed again and the music stopped.

  Giovanni rubbed the back of his neck. “Unbelievable.”

  A minute later the music started up again and the church attendants swung open the doors for the third time, revealing a golden retriever.

  A man jumped up from one of the seats and yelled. “Cinnamon! How did you get out of the car?” He squeezed by the guests in his row one by one. “Excuse me. Pardon me. Oops, so sorry.”

  He snagged Cinnamon by the collar and led him toward the doors, but not before the dog had a chance to lift his leg and pee on the side of one of the pews. The man dragged the dog outside and the doors closed behind him.

  Giovanni adjusted the lapel on his tuxedo jacket. “Welcome to Ringling Brothers.”

  “Shit,” said Stevie. “This is starting to really suck.”

  The priest cleared his throat and pointed to the microphone with his index finger.

  “Whoops. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned again. And hey, while you’re at it, can you forgive me for the rest of the week?
I really don’t have a good feeling about it.”

  “You can’t cover yourself for the future.”

  “Why not?”

  “Asking for forgiveness only covers the past.”

  “I have to keep asking for forgiveness over and over again?”

  The priest nodded.

  Stevie let out a loud breath. “That’s very time consuming.”

  The priest turned to Giovanni. “You know, I have another wedding directly after this one. I can only give her a few more minutes. Then we’ll have to, uh—reschedule.”

  Giovanni held out his hand to Stevie. “Give me your phone. I’m going to call Patricia.”

  Stevie pulled the cell phone from his pocket and handed it to Giovanni.

  “Wait a minute,” said Danny. He scratched the side of his face and looked around the church. “I just realized something…it’s not just Patricia who’s missing. We don’t have any bridesmaids here either. Or Patricia’s parents.”

  “Uh oh,” said Stevie. “I’m getting a serious déjà vu.”

  Unbelievable.

  It was much worse. Giovanni had thought maybe something terrible had happened to Patricia. If that was the case, a friend or family member would have rushed to tell him.

  But that wasn’t the case at all. Giovanni didn’t like that feeling in his gut.

  He was going to get jilted at the altar.

  Again.

  Shit.

  How could he have missed that? Danny was right. There were two empty spots in the front row where Patricia’s parents should have been sitting.

  What did Giovanni do to deserve this? He was a decent person. He donated blood every year. He always bought Girl Scout cookies when neighbor kids came knocking on the door. He vividly remembered helping a little old lady cross the street not that long ago. He had a very successful guitar-making business and even donated guitars every year to underprivileged youths. Was the person in charge of karma on vacation? It wasn’t fair.

  In the back of his mind he wondered if today’s disaster was his mother’s fault again. She was the cause of the runaway bride at his first almost-wedding. Well, she technically wasn’t really a runaway bride—more like a didn’t-even-bother-to-show-up bride.

  Like the one today.

  Giovanni stared at his mother, Eleonora Roma, sitting in the front row next to his father, Alfonso. She was staring right back at him with her inquisitive round brown eyes, not even blinking.

  She wasn’t a happy camper.

  Eleonora stood up and brushed off her elegant cream-colored dress and approached the front.

  “Incoming,” warned Stevie.

  “Wonderful,” mumbled Giovanni.

  Eleonora was unpredictable and had a tendency to make a scene. She obviously knew there was a problem, but Giovanni was not in the mood to discuss it with his mom. Maybe he could compliment her on her new hairdo to distract her. Her short, curly golden-gray hair was more a light ash blond now in a full fringe style with volume and body. He could tell her it was very flattering to her round face, making her look a lot younger than sixty.

  Right.

  Who was he kidding? She would spot Giovanni’s insincere compliment a mile away. He had a much better idea. Better to get out of there. Now.

  Eleonora opened her mouth to speak, but Giovanni stopped her before she could say a word.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” he lied. “Be right back.”

  Giovanni slid right by his mother and headed to the exit. Two hundred eyes followed him as he walked down the aisle toward the door. Danny and Stevie would take care of the inquiring guests and sort things out. He felt guilty, but he just didn’t want to deal with it.

  Not this time.

  *****

  Giovanni got in his car in the church parking lot and quickly pulled his cell phone from the center compartment. Maybe Patricia had left him a message.

  Nope. Nothing.

  Why hadn’t she at least called to explain things? To let him know why she decided not to show up?

  Giovanni slid the phone into his tuxedo jacket pocket. He got on the road and drove through Los Gatos—a small, wealthy Silicon Valley town with a population pushing thirty thousand. After a few cars honked at him, he pulled over and erased “Just Married” from the back window of the car with his hand. He wiped his hand on the side of his tuxedo pants, got back in the car, and drove.

  It was one of the most beautiful days of the summer, but he wished he were somewhere else. Anywhere but here. He sat at a red light deep in thought. He looked down at his tuxedo and swallowed hard. His love life was a disaster.

  He needed a distraction. Anything at all, really.

  An older woman with tall hair interrupted his thoughts.

  “Help!” she screamed, pointing to the other side of the street. “Someone please grab my dog!”

  Giovanni cranked his head around and saw a small dog—a Yorkie—darting in and out from between the cars. The dog turned and ran in the direction of Giovanni's car, disappearing underneath it. Giovanni put the car in park, opened the door, and jumped out. He looked under the car for the dog. Nothing.

  Where did it go?

  The woman screamed again and pointed at a FedEx truck about a hundred feet away. It was headed straight for the dog who was now in the middle of the street licking himself. Thoughts of the dog being hit prompted Giovanni to jump in front of the truck.

  He threw his arms up in the air. “Stop!”

  The FedEx driver slammed on the brakes, the tires skidded, and the truck stopped a foot from Giovanni. He let out a deep breath and gave a thumbs-up to the driver for his quick reflexes. Giovanni ran by his car, slammed the door shut, and hopped on the sidewalk to chase the dog.

  A man in a silver Land Rover honked his horn and rolled down his window. “Hey! You can’t leave your car there!”

  Giovanni waved to the man and continued his pursuit of the dog. “Sorry! I’ll be right back!”

  When he was a little boy Giovanni had lost a dog and it was a very traumatic experience. He didn’t know the old lady, but he knew she was distressed and was determined to catch the dog for her.

  “Here boy!” yelled Giovanni, picking up speed.

  The dog didn’t respond to his yell.

  “Here girl!”

  The dog continued down the sidewalk past the Apple Store and Andale Taqueria—its cute little butt shaking back and forth. It had a pink collar that jingled with every step.

  Pink collar. Definitely a girl.

  Giovanni wracked his brain for female dog names.

  “Fifi!”

  Nothing.

  “Smooches!”

  Nope.

  “Rosebud!”

  She kept running through the intersection toward Town Plaza Park.

  “Muffin! Pookie!”

  Not even close.

  “Precious!”

  The dog suddenly stopped in the park under the redwoods trees, across from the post office. She turned to look back at Giovanni.

  Nobody was more surprised than the out-of-breath man in the tuxedo.

  She was a small dog, but long and lean. Her shiny gray and tan hair looked silky and fine. It was neatly trimmed short. Her tail was barely higher than her body.

  The dog moved closer to sniff Giovanni’s pant legs.

  He reached down to scratch her on the head. “You’re a cute little thing. Fast too. Is that really your name? Precious?”

  After a couple of scratches between her ears the dog rolled over on her back on the grass, asking for more. Giovanni obliged—rubbing her belly. He rotated the collar around so he could read the tag.

  Precious.

  Giovanni grinned. “Hello, Precious. What are you doing running all over the place? Did you know your mommy is worried about you?”

  She barked as if she was answering his question.

  Giovanni laughed. “That’s not safe what you did, you know?”

  She barked again.

  “Do you wa
nt to get hurt? Of course you don’t!”

  Giovanni realized he was talking in a doggy voice and looked around to see if anyone noticed.

  Nobody. Good.

  He rubbed her belly a few more times and picked her up. He held her close to his chest as he walked back down North Santa Cruz Avenue to find the owner.

  Precious reached up and licked Giovanni on the chin.

  Giovanni laughed again. “You getting frisky with me?”

  “Arf!”

  She licked him on the chin again and appeared to be smiling, her caramel sparkling eyes on him.

  Giovanni approached the owner and smiled, handing her the dog.

  “Precious!” said the old woman. She had a smile that covered her entire face. “You’re such a bad girl. I was worried sick.” She hugged the dog and kissed her on top of the head.

  “Well, the good thing is she’s okay,” said Giovanni.

  The tiny woman smiled again. “Thank you, young man. What’s your name?”

  “Giovanni.”

  She lit up. “An Italian boy.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m Beatrice. My late husband was Italian. He looked exactly like Luciano Pavarotti but bigger.”

  “Bigger than Pavarotti?”

  Beatrice waved off Giovanni’s question with her hand. “I didn’t care about that. I just wanted someone who kissed well and that he did!”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Yes! Lucky me! We had a passionate love affair and in the bedroom he would—”

  “Oh God!” yelled Giovanni, startling the woman.

  Too much information.

  Especially coming from a stranger who could be in her late seventies.

  Giovanni pretended to look at his watch. Hopefully she didn’t notice he wasn’t wearing one.

  “I need to get going,” he said.

  He didn’t want to sound rude.

  The woman was nice and he was happy Precious was safe, but Giovanni just wanted to go home and sulk. Precious started whining and tried to squirm out of Beatrice’s arms toward Giovanni.

  He reached out and petted her again. “You take care, Precious. And quit running out into the street.”

  “You must be someone very special. Precious has never been a big fan of the male species.”