American Outlaw - Jesse James [90]
The day of our wedding, we slipped ourselves into our nicest duds and readied to receive all of our friends and family at the chapel. But when I showed up at the church parking lot, a surprise lay in store for me: amazingly, my dad had showed up at my wedding.
“Come by to pay your last respects?” I asked him, in a mildly cold tone.
“You invited me, didn’t you?” My dad gave me his hurt face. His beard had gone full white, but it was well-trimmed, and his eyes were vibrant. He looked handsome for an older guy.
“I invited you to my first wedding, too,” I said. “But you didn’t show up to that.”
“Jess,” my dad said, “give me a break, why don’t you? This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Say, who’s this little guy?” he said, turning to Jesse Jr., who was dressed up in a tux.
“Your grandson,” I said. “He’s five. Nice to meet him after all these years?”
“It certainly is,” my dad said, ignoring my tone. He picked up Jesse Jr. and held him in his arms. “Well, hello, young man, hello at last.”
My dad didn’t fool me for a second. Now that I was a success, he was showing up at my wedding for the same reason he’d come to my football games in high school: he wanted the world to know which tree the apple fell from. Let him preen for the crowd, I wasn’t going to fall for it.
“That was real nice,” I said, prying my confused son from his grandfather’s arms. “But I gotta get married now. Tell you what, we’ll see you in five years or so, okay?”
My dad just shook his head. “If you say so,” he said. Then he laughed. “I sure hope that wife of yours understands what she’s getting into.”
An hour later, Janine and I exchanged our vows. It was all easy as pie. We kissed up on stage in front of two hundred cheering people, danced the first dance, real slow and pretty. Just like my dad had done so many years earlier, I’d gotten myself hitched a second time. I’d snagged a new wife, delivered to my kids a brand-new stepmom. We were just another typical, fractured American family: held together with new love, hope, and masking tape.
——
My kids seemed to like Janine, cautiously. On the occasions when they stayed over at my place, Janine would bake brownies with Chandler and pick out clothes with her, or snuggle up with Jesse Jr. and play pretend, read him bedtime stories.
“Have you ever seen this book, Jesse, Curious George?”
He shook his head.
“Well, I just found it over at my old house. I used to read this when I was a little girl, just about your age!” Janine smiled. “Would you like me to read it to you? It’s about a silly little monkey.”
Jesse Jr. nodded, pleased. “Monkeys have tails.”
I was certainly happy for any help I could get with the kids. My crazy work schedule continued to wreak havoc on my life. It wasn’t enough to have a secretary at West Coast Choppers anymore: I had to hire a personal assistant, Audrey, just to keep up with all my obligations.
“Men’s Fitness is requesting to do a photo shoot with you.”
“Well, tell them no.”
“I already did,” Audrey said. “They’re insistent; they said they’ll pay good money. They’re even offering discounted ad space on the inside back cover. What do you say?”
“Hell, I don’t know,” I considered. “What else do I have to do this week?”
“You’ve got a six-day build for Monster Garage, and then you’re volunteering at Long Beach Poly on Sunday, doing something called”—she consulted her book—“a backyard build. Plus, you need to complete Kid Rock’s bike for his birthday, how far along are you on that?”
“Behind.”
“Well, step it up, we can’t move his birthday, now can we?” she said. “Oh, and you’re committed to do a GQ event on Saturday evening.”
“Great,” I groaned. “Another calm week.”
“Exactly,” Audrey agreed. “It won’t get truly crazy until the holidays.”
“Look, do me a favor,” I said. “Cancel the GQ thing.”
“But why?” she asked.