Folding chairs had been set up around the upper deck. A tarp stood nearby in case of rain. The guests filled the rows until the entire deck was occupied. At the last moment, Bill took his place beside Thom while Daniella stood next to Sebastiano. As promised, she’d donned a tux and gelled her hair back in sophisticated lesbian attire, though Dan doubted she was one. With the change of wardrobe, her mood had reverted to her casual laughing self. To Dan, she was nearly as handsome as her nervous, elegant brother.
The minister, a stout, dark-haired woman in a cleric’s outfit with a bosom like a shelf, exuded a stern no-nonsense-on-the-job demeanour, though Dan suspected she was probably a lark in her off-hours. Her carefully inflected reading of the ceremony carried an air of respectfulness that many traditional weddings lacked. Her jokes, though few, were appropriate and her solemnity solemn enough without being too serious. If he and Bill were ever to marry, Dan thought, he’d look her up.
The couple exchanged vows, looking elated as they leaned together to seal them with a kiss. Their blue eyes seemed the connecting thread between the light-haired Thom and the dark-haired Sebastiano. Bill, whatever his hidden sorrows, more than looked the part of supportive best man to his best friend.
They stayed on the upper deck for pictures as the boat headed through the Adolphustown Reach and on toward Lake Ontario. Other vessels passed, exchanging greetings and horn tootings as they recognized the nature of the ceremony, though a face or two looked perplexed at not being able to locate the blushing bride in her fancy meringue outfit alongside all the handsome men in black and white.
After the reception line, the guests filed below deck to a dining room. Dan found himself seated with three straight couples who all seemed to know one another. Once past the introductions, they ignored him in favour of exchanging gossip about people he’d never heard of. They endured the various speeches made by and to both grooms. Dan carefully measured his intake of wine. Bill was drinking enough for the two of them. Thom and Sebastiano mingled with the guests. At one point, Thom plunked himself down beside Dan with a satisfied smile. “All good?”
“Very nice. Congratulations — it was a terrific ceremony.”
Bill drifted over and sat, placing his hand on Dan’s knee. Had he thought Thom was making a move on Dan? Was that what Bill’s difficulty had been earlier? Surely he knew Dan better.
Thom playfully squeezed his best man’s shoulder. “Thank you for loaning me Billy for the day,” he said to Dan.
“My pleasure.”
“Not a bad turnout,” Thom continued, looking over the assembled guests.
“Where is Sebastiano’s family?” Dan asked.
Thom pointed out a small dark-haired woman seated near to the bar. “There. That’s his Aunt Naida. His mother’s sister.”
“That’s it?”
Thom shrugged. “That and Daniella. The other side hasn’t really accepted it yet.”
Bill rolled his eyes. “You’ve got the bull and you own the barn. Who cares if you’ve got the pedigree or not?” He stood for a refill, pausing to look over the room. “They sound like a dreary lot anyway. They should be grateful you’re rescuing their son from his squalid life.”
Across the room, a woman in a yellow dress with a light green scarf threw Thom a smile. Had Catherine Deneuve’s younger sister been kidnapped as a child, this woman would have made a good candidate for the title of foundling. Her laughter carried to them from the group she was addressing.
Thom followed Dan’s gaze. “My mother,” he said.
Where some women faded with age, others grew into it with vigour and self-assurance. Not as the result of chemicals and operations, but through inner discipline and will. Lucille Killingworth was one of these.
“She’s beautiful,” Dan said.
“And deadly.” Thom smirked. “Don’t be fooled. Her approval is necessary, so I try hard to stay on her good side.”
“And keeping your brother in check is part of that?”
Thom gave Dan an appraising stare. “Bill never told me you were so perceptive,” he said.
“I don’t think he’s noticed yet. But I do my best to please.”
Thom’s eyes narrowed. “I like a guy who likes to please.”
“I take it Sebastiano’s a pleaser.”
“In every way. And I’m always happy to reward the men who please me.” He glanced sideways, chipping the ball back at Dan. “I don’t suppose it would be wise of me to make a pass at you?”
Dan couldn’t help smiling at the smoothness with which Thom had done just that. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. You’re not the type, are you? Or maybe I’m not your type.”
Before Dan could answer, the clinking of silver against crystal caught them off-guard. Ted stood, drink in hand.
Ted had removed his sunglasses. His eyes glittered weirdly in the light. “I’d like to propose a toast to the men in my illustrious family,” he said.
A strained look came over Thom’s face.
“First, to my loving brother Thom, to whom I owe everything I am today.” Ted looked at Thom and raised the glass high. “Yes, dear brother — everything.” The comment was met with applause. “And here’s to our grandfather, Nate Macaulay, the old son-of-a-bitch.” Dan flashed on the portrait of the malevolent N.M. “You could say a lot about the old bastard, but you have to admit he made a hell of a lot of money!”
“You tell it, Teddy boy!” someone called out.
“For fuck’s sake,” Thom mumbled.
Over at the head table, Lucille Killingworth maintained an expression of bemused tolerance.
“And of course,” Ted continued, “we shouldn’t forget our dear father who loved us so much he spared us his miserable company for the last twenty years.” The room had gone silent, mesmerized by the matador’s sword raised over the dying bull. “I’d like to see the look on his face if he saw his baby boy getting married to another man. I’d give anything to get him in here and watch his expression.”
Thom raised his glass. “Amen to that, brother,” he said loudly and downed his drink, inviting the others to follow.
Ted looked around with a silly grin, as though he’d just pulled off a very amusing joke.
“My undying thanks to my brother Teddy for his marvellous toast,” Thom said before Ted could start up again. “I think it’s time to adjourn to the other room for some music and mayhem of a different sort.”
The scraping of chairs filled the air as people stood and headed for the ballroom.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Thom mumbled.
The band played a gleeful concoction of trills and well-heeled themes. Rock transformed to rumba. The dancers twirled on, oblivious to the sea change as light glittered on women’s gowns and the dandruff-flecked shoulders of middle-aged men anxious to show they still had it, or perhaps just hoping they did.
Daniella came through the doors, still in her Dietrich drag. She stood watching the dancers, a martini glass held breast high. Her eyes lit on Thom and Sebastiano gyrating and grinding together at the floor’s centre. Her mouth formed a hard line. Still blue, but less than an angel. Then she spied Dan. Her expression changed as she swept across the floor to him.
“Danny! You’re so sexy!” she cried. She had a way of eliding her consonants, making one liquid syllable flow smoothly into the next, as though they’d been written just for her.