14 - J. T. Ellison [75]
“Yeah, LT, aren’t you supposed to be getting all beautified for the wedding?” Fitz was informal today, his hair an exceptional steely-gray, hunter’s plaid shirt untucked, his increasingly smaller paunch spilling over the tops of his jeans. He was unapologetic about his garb, just leaned further back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “And what time’s the rehearsal again?”
He winked at Lincoln Ross, who had glanced up from his industrious work digging a rock out of the tread of his Timberland boots. Lincoln gave Taylor a smile, the small gap between his two front teeth the only mar on his otherwise handsome face. She smiled back at him, comforted by his tranquility.
“You guys are a regular riot. Why are you all dressed like you’re going camping?”
“Because you weren’t supposed to be in today and we were all planning on cutting out and going camping,” Fitz grinned at her.
“Really? Camping? In a snowstorm?”
“Is it snowing again?” Lincoln went to the window, frowning at the street below.
“It was starting up when I came in.” Taylor started to go into her office, but all three men moved toward her, saying no simultaneously. Fitz guided her to his desk and held out the chair for her.
“Any reason in particular I’m not allowed to go into my own office, boys?”
“Nope, no reason. As a matter of fact, you really should bundle up and head on home.” Marcus smiled at her, Lincoln nodded his agreement.
“But I need to wrap a few things up.”
Fitz shook his head. “No, you don’t. Just stop thinking about it, LT. You’re going to be gone for three weeks. The Fibbies are all over this like a fried june bug. You get married, go to Italy and have a wonderful start to your new life. We’ll get it covered. I promise.”
“Has anyone heard from the esteemed Charlotte Douglas since she returned to Quantico? And is there any word on Jane Macias? There’s a serial killer out there, in case y’all have forgotten. I want to help. I think I should postpone—”
Lincoln cut her off. “Oh, hell no, sister. Not a chance. You’re getting married tomorrow whether you like it or not. End of story. How d’you like my head?”
Taylor looked him over. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it immediately, chastised herself for being so self-absorbed. Lincoln had shaved his head bare, removing the curly dreadlocks he’d been sporting for the past few months. His skin was a shiny café au lait, glistening with conditioner. She got out of the warm chair, circled him a few times, contemplating. He’d looked like a sexy Rasta singer à la Lenny Kravitz with the dreads, but Taylor couldn’t place who he reminded her of shaved.
“Very slick, my friend. That tux is going to be stunning on you. You’ll be the most handsome bridesmaid in the whole world.” She bumped his shoulder lightly with her hip, opened her mouth to speak. He cut her off.
“Naw, don’t you go making any speeches now. We’re all good with the setup. Fitz walks you down the aisle, Marcus and I have equal standing as bridesmen, even though we’ll be on Baldwin’s side, and Sam’s the maid of honor.”
“Matron of honor,” Marcus chimed in. “A maid of honor is for someone who isn’t married yet.” He grinned, happy to have a chance to poke fun at his friend.
“Whatever, butthead. All that matters is our favorite lieutenant’s getting married.” Lincoln jumped out of the chair. He and Marcus started a chorus. The baritone and tenor filled the room.
“Here comes the bride, short, fat and wide….” They dissolved into giggles before they reached the third line.
Fitz and Taylor watched the two goof off, shaking their heads and laughing at their antics. Despite the specter of a serial killer in their midst, the homicide team was in understandably high spirits.
Taylor looked at Fitz.