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When shift was over, Garcia and Johnson went for tacos. It was one week after Johnson's birthday.
Johnson was just adding more salsa to her tacos when Garcia cleared his throat. She looked at him from across the table. He was pale and clammy-looking, sweat soaking into his collar and pooling around the nose pads of his sunglasses.
"You know, if you have to go to the bathroom, you can just go," Johnson said. "What, do you want permission? It's a little late to suddenly develop manners."
It obviously took a massive amount of effort, but Garcia refrained from snapping at her. He took a deep breath through his nose and said, "Clementine, I got something to say to you."
"I said I'd pay you back. It's just a couple of tacos."
"Goddammit, Clementine, this isn't about tacos. Put the salsa down, this is serious."
Johnson put down the salsa. Garcia said, "Clem, I know your birthday just came and went, and, well, you're not getting any younger. Before you know it, you'll be all withered away and probably have one of those flappy things at the bottom of your chin, and it'll be just about impossible for you to find a man who'll want to lay down with your dry, barren –"
"Do I have to sit and listen to this, really?" Johnson said.
"For Christ's sake, I'm asking you to marry me, you dumb bitch," Garcia said.
She stared at him. "…What," she finally said.
Garcia stood up from the table. With a groan of exertion, he got down on one knee and pulled a cheap-looking box from his pocket. The people at the other tables turned and stared.
"Clemmy," Garcia said. "We're both getting older, and when I think about getting wrinkled and dusty and used up, you're the one I want to be with me while it's happening." He opened the box. The ring inside was a sickly silver and the stone looked fake. "Would you do me the honor of being my wife?"
Johnson looked at the ring. She looked at the people staring at them. She looked at Garcia, who was grimacing in pain from being on his knee.
"Oh, what the hell," she said, and held out her hand.
*****
"Good morning, gang," Dangle told the room. "Just as a heads' up, do you all remember that freelance K9 trainer we hired? The cheap one?"
"The one from Alaska?" Junior asked.
"That's the one. Anyway, long story short, she wasn't actually a trainer. She was wanted in six states for running illegal sled races, and she stole all our dogs." There was a stunned silence in the room, which Dangle waved his hands to dissipate. "It's fine, it's fine, highway patrol got her before she hit California. Tried to put six dogs in the back of a pickup. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Anyway, internal affairs are going to be coming around, so everyone get your stories straight."
The door opened and Garcia walked in. A minute or two later, Johnson followed.
"Well, thank you for joining us this morning," Dangle said. "Everyone, we can start the day now! Garcia and Johnson are here!"
"Well, I wouldn't mind if you went over the announcements again, because frankly I didn't understand a single thing after good morning," Wiegel said.
"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up, jokers," Garcia muttered as he took his seat. Johnson pushed her hair off her forehead and then reached for her coffee cup.
"What's that on your finger?" Williams demanded. "Is that…is that an engagement ring?"
The room went quiet again as everyone attempted to look at Johnson's ring. Johnson looked at Garcia, who shrugged.
Johnson held up her left hand. "Yeah. Congratulate me, you jabronis, I'm getting married."
"I thought you'd already been married, like two, three times before," Junior said.
"None of those marriages were legal," Johnson said.
"So who's the groom this time around, Clemmy?" Jones asked.
Johnson looked at Garcia, who shrugged. She put an arm around his shoulders.
The room went silent. Williams finally said, "Really? Garcia? Garcia? Garcia?"
"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," Dangle said.
*****
"So why'd you propose now?" Jones asked Garcia as they were driving down Mill Street. "After all that running around, fighting, on, off, back on?"
"Well, I see it like this," Garcia said. "I guess I'd have to say that I love her, and I want to be with her for the rest of my life, and I think she'd say the same thing about me."
*****
"Well, I've been registered at Macy's for going on fifteen years now," Johnson said in response to Williams' question. "If there's any way I can get a new juicer just for saying 'I do,' then I am going to go for it."
*****
"Here's what we're going to do," Dangle told the room. "This is the only chance Clemmy and Garcia are ever going to get to have a happy wedding, so we're going to keep our numerous, legitimate concerns and objections to ourselves and give them the best wedding Washoe County can provide."
"I don't think a church wedding –" Jones started.
"Oh, hell, no," Junior said. "Clem and Garcia try to even step into a church? Damn thing'll burst into flames before they even start the wedding march."
"Absolutely no churches," Dangle said. "Jones, take Garcia and go enlist Judge Holoubek for the ceremony. Williams, you, Wiegel and Clemmy go down to Ken's Bridal and find a dress. Junior, you and I will get the cake from Sweet Allison's. Let's make this a day to remember, people."
*****
Judge Holoubek wasn't at the courthouse. The secretary sent Jones and Garcia to his house instead.
"What kind of judge works out of his house?" Jones asked as they pulled into the driveway. "Why are all the people we have to deal with complete fucking weirdoes?"
"This is some bullshit," Garcia said. "Why do we have to talk to this guy? What about Judge Crocker? Why don't we get him to perform the ceremony?"
"Because Crocker had a total mental break last year and started searching people's bushes for fairies," Jones reminded him. "And no one else at the courthouse will talk to us. We're stuck with Holoubek."
"This is some bullshit," Garcia repeated but got out of the car and walked with Jones to the front door.
Jones rang the doorbell, waited five minutes and then knocked on the door. "Judge Holoubek? Hello?"
There was a massive belch from behind the door, which then swung open to reveal Judge Holoubek. His robe was undone and his stained wifebeater and boxer briefs were on full display. "'Sup?" he asked.
"Oh, goddammit," Garcia said. "I just want us to have a special wedding day, and this is what I get? I'm going back to the car."
"Garcia, please," Jones said. "This is the last judge in the city who will speak to us. The others are either crazy, dead or have orders of protection out on us. Let's just try to make this work, okay?"
"I don't see how we can," Garcia grumbled but stopped walking.
"Judge Holoubek," Jones said, "I'm Officer Jones. My friend here, Officer Garcia, he's getting married. We need a justice of the peace to witness the marriage license and perform the ceremony for him and his bride. Can you help us?"
"I don't do marriage licenses anymore," Judge Holoubek said. "Or ceremonies. Ever since my wife ran off last month I've pretty much lost respect for the whole enterprise."
"So I'm going to have to tell Clementine that we can't get married because the justice of the peace has an ethical objection to marriage?" Garcia said. "You're asking for some stick time, amigo."
Something dawned in Holoubek's bleary eyes. "Clementine? Clementine Johnson? Shit, I ain't seen that gal for years. She finally decided to latch onto some guy for real?"
"Yes," Jones said quickly, before Garcia could react. "Can't you do the ceremony as a favor for Clem?"
Judge Holoubek considered. "I'm going to need a case of beer. Also you need to have the ceremony here at the house. I got a little piece of jewelry that says I can't leave the area." He pointed to his house arrest ankle bracelet.
"Well, you'd better provide snacks," Jones said.
"Do you like stale Doritos?" Judge Holoubek asked.
"Let's just go get the beer," Garcia said.
*****
"I thought you had a wedding dress in your car. What's wrong with that?" Williams asked as Johnson looked through the racks at Ken's Bridal and Wiegel wandered through the aisles.
"I wish I still had that dress. There was a five car pileup out on I80 and the whole trunk went up in flames. Serves me right for keeping kerosene in there." Johnson pulled a lace sheath off the rack. "This looks like an oversized doily."
"Rai?" Wiegel called. "Do you think that lady knows if these will shrink in the wash? Because some of these dresses would look just darling on the cats, but they're all too big."
Williams looked to where Wiegel was indicating. There was a woman staring at one of the mannequins in the store window. She had grabbed a hold of the mannequin's long veil and was kneading it in her hands, seemingly unconsciously.
"Yeah, you stay away from her," Williams called. "We're just going to mind our business, huh?"
"We'll stop at the pet store on the way back," Johnson told Wiegel. "You can buy enough crap for five cat weddings there."
Wiegel shrugged and continued wandering. "If she breaks anything, I'm not paying for it," Johnson said.
"Just charge it to the department," Williams said. "Trudy's an occupational hazard all by her damn self."
"You know, I used to wear a white jumpsuit when I worked at the Peppermill," Johnson said, taking the outfit out and examining it. "But mine was a tearaway, so if I just pulled at the vest like so –"
"White fabric!" the woman by the store window shrieked, and knocked over the mannequin. "Silk! Lace! Satin! Organza! Yards and yards and yards of neverending! Enough!"
"Excuse me, do you sell tiny tiaras?" Wiegel asked.
"Tulle!" shouted the woman, and grabbed Wiegel in a headlock. "Let's see how white they'll be with a couple bloodstains!"
"Oh, Lord," Williams said. Johnson reached for her radio to call for backup. Williams pointed at the back of the store and Johnson nodded. Williams began making her way to the side of the store while Johnson approached Wiegel and the still-shrieking woman.
"So, is it the color or the type of fabric that's got you so upset today?" Johnson asked the woman. "Because if it's the color, there are some dynamite tinted sunglasses you can get at Claire's."
"Now, if you do have the tiaras," Wiegel said, slightly constricted by the woman's arm around her throat, "are they diamantes or rhinestones? Are those the same thing?"
"Trudy, it would be in your best interest not to talk right now," Johnson said. "Ma'am, would you be happy if someone brought you some sweatpants?"
"Everything is just so white," the woman sobbed, just as Williams snuck up behind her and quickly subdued her, pulling her to the ground. Weigel took a gulp of air. "So white."
"I feel your pain, girl," Williams said as she took out her handcuffs.
"So can anyone explain what the fuck just happened?" Wiegel asked.
It was only after they'd gone through booking and were filling out paperwork that they realized they'd forgotten to get Johnson her wedding dress.
*****
"Now, this is short notice, so we're not going to be able to get a real wedding cake," Dangle told Junior as they walked into Sweet Allison's. The bell above the door jingled. "Keep your eyes out for sheet cakes or stackable cupcakes."
"What about danishes?" Junior asked.
"When was the last time you went to a wedding and the bride and groom cut the danish together?"
"My cousin Minerva had a honey bun tower at her wedding," Junior said.
"Well, the next time I need to plan a wedding for hill folk, I'll call Minerva for advice," Dangle said. There was a heavy butter and yeast perfume seeping from under the closed Employees Only door at the back of Sweet Allison's, but there was no one behind the register, and the shelves were empty of baked goods, except for a rack of day-old scali bread.
"Did everyone in Reno do a cupcake run at the same time?" Dangle said. "Where is everything?"
"There aren't even any muffins," Junior said. "Usually there's at least some muffins and those weird licorice cookies lying around."
"Hello?" Dangle called into the empty void behind the counter. "Is anyone there? We need sheet cake?"
"Do you think they closed and just forgot to lock up?" Junior asked. "I've done that with the drunk tank a couple of times."
"Yes, I've read the complaints," Dangle said. "Hello?"
The Employees Only door burst open in a wave of searing, sugar-scented heat. A man in an apron hurried out, drenched in sweat and out of breath. He flinched in surprise when he caught sight of Junior and Dangle.
"Hello," Dangle said. "Are you the baker? Our coworkers at the Sheriff's Department are about to get married, and we're looking for a cake for them. We just need something like a plain sheet cake, but could you write 'Good luck, you two' on it? Or even 'May God have mercy on your souls'?"
"I'm not the baker," the man said. "I've never baked a day in my life. The baker's not here. We ran out of ingredients and the baker left."
"But your apron says Baker on it," Junior said.
"Oh, yeah. That. Well, the baker, before he left, he gave me this apron. Said it would help me improve my craft."
"But you just said you never baked," Dangle said. "What craft would a baker's apron help you improve?"
"…Model airplanes?" the man said.
"This whole store smells like cake," Junior said. "Why does it smell like cake if you don't have any ingredients?"
"I'm wearing cologne," the man said. "That's what the store smells like. I'm wearing just an entire shitload of cake cologne."
"Look, we just want a cake for our friends' wedding," Dangle said. "What's your deal, anyway?"
An almighty blast suddenly rattled the walls of the store. There was something that looked suspiciously like a fireball forming in the Employees Only doorway, and it was coming up close.
"Son of a bitch!" Dangle said, grabbed Junior's arm and took off running, the man in the apron following close behind them. They managed to get clear of the building just as it began to burn.
Junior radioed for help. Dangle coughed, wiped the soot from his eyes and looked at the man in the apron, who was sitting miserably on the sidewalk. "Sir, did we interrupt you just as you were setting the bakery on fire for insurance fraud purposes?"
"…Would you believe me if I said no?" the man said.
"Not for a second."
"Well, guess you got me there," the man said, and held out his wrists for the handcuffs. Dangle slapped them on. The air was full of the sound of fire trucks closing in.
Junior lit a cigarette and said, "I tell you what, it's still one of the best smelling arson scenes I've ever been to. What's that, cinnamon? I bet you that's cinnamon."
*****
The wedding of James Oswaldo Garcia and Clementine Johnson was held in the backyard of Judge Holoubek, who also performed the civil ceremony. The inebriated judge was supported on one side by Officer Jones and by Officer Junior on the other. Officer Jones sang an a cappella version of Steely Dan's Reelin' in the Years as the bride walked down a path of lottery tickets that Williams and Wiegel scattered before her. The groom wore his sheriff's uniform while the bride wore a halter top and redhot pants.
After the ceremony, refreshments of 7-11 coffee and chips were served in the judge's living room. The newly wedded couple cut a frosted honey bun together and shared their first dance to Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town, courtesy of Lieutenant Dangle's iPod. The party wrapped up around 3:30 pm.
Garcia and Johnson sat in the car together, the marriage license sitting on the dashboard, just waiting to be taken to the county clerk's office.
Garcia took his sunglasses off and turned to Johnson. "Well, what do you think, Mrs. Garcia?"
Johnson brushed the hair from her eyes and smiled. "I'd say it's been a pretty good day, Mr. Johnson."
"That sounds about right," Garcia said. He leaned over and brushed a kiss against Johnson's lips. "Ready to go?"
"Just waiting on you."
Garcia started the car and Johnson turned on the radio. They rode off down the road, Islands in the Stream drifting from the car's open windows.