Wedding of the Century

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Chapter 3

Pushing open the door of Bradford's Menswear, Jim scanned the main room for Ben or his friends. Spying a large group of what he would term "fraternity boys", Jim walked to the back. Smack in the middle of the blonde, well manicured group was Ben Riker, looking a little flustered and out of his league. "Afternoon, Ben. Gentlemen..." Jim said, smiling, totally relaxed from his lunch with Trixie.

"Jim! So great to see you. Glad you could make it!" Ben said, sticking out his hand to shake Jim's. "Most everyone is here. Think we're just waiting on Mart." He made introductions around the group.

Dan came towards him, holding out a bottle of beer. "Here you go, Jim."

"Hey, Dan. Isn't it a little early to be drinking?" He asked, raising a ginger brow.

"Trust me, my friend, you're going to want the liquid courage," Dan said, clinking his bottle against Jim's and taking a long drink. "Brian is in the back getting measured."

Jim nodded his understanding, held the bottle and stood listening to the conversations around him. Talk of sports scores, car repair, a new job on Wall Street and various other random discussions carried on around him. Jim was used to sitting back and observing. He enjoyed watching and figuring out what each person's story was.

Dan was the same way. He leaned against the wall next to his long-time friend and leaned his head slightly toward the redhead. "So, the bet is to you this time, isn't it?"

"I believe it is. OK, we're at fifty dollars, right?" Jim didn't wait for confirmation. He and Dan tended to gravitate toward each other at large social functions, especially if they didn't really know the people involved. Years ago, they discovered that it made these affairs more tolerable if they had a mission. They took turns selecting a person, selecting a bet and then spending the next few hours trying to settle the bet. It was Jim's turn and the bet was to him. "The target is, I think his name is Zack. The blonde in the striped sweater, no socks, and Docksiders."

"I believe that's Zac, dude. Just Z-A-C," Dan said in a 'surfer-dude' voice. "He's Ben fraternity brother and he lives in the Hamptons." This time he spoke in a snotty-society voice that they were so familiar with. It amazed Dan that no matter how rich the Wheeler and Lynch families were, they were just normal people. He never felt uncomfortable or like he was unworthy to be in their company. But due to those friendships he had many occasions to be treated to the upper crust of society. It always shocked him how some people felt that they should be treated differently due to the size of their bank accounts.

Since discovering his great uncle's safety deposit box, Jim was now the nation's newest multi-millionaire. Matt Wheeler had done everything in his power to keep the shares of stock from hitting the gossip mill. Jim, Matt, the accountants and lawyers had spent many hours discussing how to handle the fortune. The shares were rolled into a trust for the school that Jim planned to open. Dan would be willing to bet that no one in the room knew the quiet redhead could buy and sell them ten times over.

"Well, 'Zac' then, the bet is…he's in a long term monogamous relationship and he doesn't want his frat brother to know. I'm going on a limb here, an extra Grant on the table, that Zac and his girl have been going out since, umm, sophomore year." Jim said, tapping his beer with Dan's.

"You're so on, Frayne. No way he's in a relationship, unless it's with his spray tan artist." Dan replied, sticking his hand out to shake on the deal.

Just as the two friends struck their deal, Brian came out of the back room with an extremely flamboyant man. Brian's appearance was pale and sickly, as if he'd had finals during a blizzard, while suffering from the flu. The man with him was tall, dark-skinned, with closely cropped dark, well-styled, wavy hair. He wore a tight-fitting electric blue suit. The shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel.

Brian was walking toward his old friends. However, his approach was interrupted by the arrival of Mart through the front door of Bradford's Menswear. "So sorry I'm late, class ran long," Mart said in one rapid breath.

"Well hello, tall blonde and espiky," the tall, dark-skinned man said, interrupting the greetings. He had an extremely thick Spanish accent. It was reminiscent of the houseboy Agador, from the movie The Birdcage.

"Umm, hi, I'm, Mart, Mart Belden. I'm supposed to be with this group I think," Mart said, automatically putting his hand out in greeting.

"I'm Raoul, de tailor. I'll be fitting chew for cheur tuxedo. I'm looking for de final two groomsmen, Belden and Frayne," Raoul said, shaking Mart's hand, speaking to the group.

"Oh, I didn't know you were waiting for me. I'm Jim Frayne."

With emphasis on his LLL's, Raoul said, "HELL-lo, El Fuego, let's go measchure chew."

Dan leaned into Jim and whispered, "I told you you'd need the beer. Chug it, Frayne, trust me!"


Raoul led the friends to the back of the shop to the fitting area. "So Espiky, chew are a qwat, 33 waist for a 38 regular jacket and El Feugo, chew are a 44 long? Let's measchure cheur necks. Come cheer."

Mart's eyes were wide with shock and, for one of the few times in his life, he was speechless.

Jim grasped the situation a bit quicker and answered, "Yes, I'm a 44 long and I've a 16 inch neck." He figured the more information he could supply, the less likely he would need to be 'measchured.'

"Okay den, we measchure chew, Espiky," Raoul said, tossing his tape measure over Mart's head and quickly measuring his neck. With a flourish he flipped the tape measure away and caught it again, this time around Mart's waist. "Chess, I was right! 34. Now cheur inseam…" and Raoul quickly dropped to the ground and was measuring the length of Mart's pant leg.

The measuring took seconds and was over before Mart could even protest or supply any of the information himself. Raoul was busy writing numbers down on a clipboard. Mart reached over and grabbed the half-finished beer from Jim and took a huge swig. "Why do I feel like I should be smoking a cigarette now?" he whispered to Jim.

Taking the beer back, Jim snickered, "Hey, Spiky, get your own!"

"I jes need cheur chest measchurment. Arms up." Raoul pantomimed holding his arms to the side. "Come on, Espiky. I don't hab all day. Up!"

Left no choice, Mart raised his arms and stood very still as the tailor reached around him and carefully measured him. "Oh, chew like to esprise me, chew hide cheur muscles, 40 inches umm." Raoul wiggled his dark brows at Mart.

"Yes," Mart's voice cracked, clearing his throat and speaking in a falsely deep voice, "My fiancée, Diana, and I work out together."

Jim was standing out of the way, enjoying the show and laughing silently at Mart's discomfort. He was enjoying the fact that he was prepared with his measurements so he could avoid the 'Tape Measure Menace.' His mind was drifting back to his picnic in the park and the cuddling they allowed themselves before he took Trixie back to work.

"Cheer chew go, Espiky, try dis on. Let's see how eet feets." Raoul handed Mart a bilious yellow satin shirt. Mart reached out like he was going to hold radioactive material.

"This is what we have to wear? Please No. This is awful!"

"I know, that bride, cher taste is all in cher mouth. Che has no fashion esense," Raoul said shaking his head in dismay.

"I have to wear this?" Mart asked, holding the bright yellow satin shirt up and looking in the mirror at his reflection.

With a deep sigh, Raoul nodded. "Unportunately, chess. That bride, che picked eet. Scary, isn't eet? Come on, Espiky, poot eet on."

Mart took the scary shirt, unbuttoned it, and after taking his own conservative button down off, tried it on. The sleeves were extremely tight and it tapered tightly to his waist.

Raoul took a short-waisted black jacket off a hanger and held it up for Mart to put on. He got a pair of tuxedo pants and placed them in front of Mart and motioned for him to put them on, too.

"Oh my God! These are the outfits we wore when we were at Uncle Monty's ranch, Jim. Holy Hell!!"

"Shit! You're right Mart. These are the same type of thing we wore when we were waiters at the dude ranch," Jim replied, downing most of his beer.

Jim was so caught up in Mart's discomfort he didn't see Raoul heading towards him, brandishing the tape measure. Seconds later, he was being 'measchured' by the 'Tape Measure Menace.' He didn't even have a chance to protest. It wasn't until Raoul was measuring his inseam that Jim found his voice, "Dude, are you going to wine and dine me first? I'm not easy or cheap."

"Dat is eggsactly qwat El Guapo said," Raoul replied, laughing up at Jim.

Even though Raoul was measuring his most intimate areas, Jim couldn't help but ask, "El Guapo?"

"Chew know de dark one...chew where habing a cerveza wit him," Raoul said looking up at Jim. "I esee so many deeferent people, I jes choseuse neeknames. Eet is easier poor me to remember chew, beliebe eet or not."

"Oh, Dan. I should have known," the tall red head muttered to himself. Jim looked over to where Mart was standing, shell-shocked.

Mart was wearing the bright yellow satin shirt, tight black tuxedo pants and a cropped black jacket. "Crap! I look like a deranged bumblebee!"

"Dat is not a good look poor chew, Espiky," Raoul sat back on his heels, shaking his head. "Chew need to make chur chew wear something else beesides tighty-whites. Cause dose pants, dey cho eberyting. Chew hab BPL, chew know, bisible panty line." Raoul duck-walked over to Mart and began working the cuffs of the black pants.

"Beer, I need more beer!"

Jim silently handed Mart the near empty beer bottle and walked out of the back room to get two more. "I promise I'm not escaping. I'm just getting reinforcements."

"He woont lie, would he?" Raoul asked looking up at Mart.

"Mr. Honorable, no never. He'll be back, he'd better, 'cause it's his fault we're forced into this fiasco in the first place."

Jim returned, carrying the entire cooler with him. "No one was looking, I took it all." Jim opened the cooler and was pleased to find it full. "Mart," Jim said, opening the bottle and handing it to his still shocked friend. He took another one and was just twisting the top off when the back room was invaded by the two dark-haired BWGs.

"Yo, don't Bogart the beer, dude!" Dan said, coming all the way into the back room. He reached into the cooler and took three beers out, handing one to Brian and twisting the tops off the other two. He handed an open beer to Raoul. "Here you go. I think you're going to need it working with us."

"Oh, I quoldn't, weel I shouldn't. OK, eff chew ensist,." Raoul said taking a quick drink. "Chew all are going to geet me into trouble, I see dis."

"So, Raoul, my friend, what are we going to do with this, what did you call it, Mart? Oh yeah, 'deranged bumblebee'," Jim asked, gesturing up and down with his beer towards Mart. "This isn't going to work for any of us. What are we going to do about it?"

"El Fuego, chew are so right. Dis bumblebee outfeet, ees not good. Eet doz not represent Raoul well." Raoul let out a deep sigh and tapped his long fingers against his cheek, deep in thought as he stared at Mart. "I know, we make some minor ejustments, we jes dunt tell de bride. Che doz not need to know." Raoul raised his beer in salute. "Dis ess what we do. Dare are twelbe of chew. Seex wear de yellow wit de bright green accents and seex wear white wit a darker green. I vill tell de bride dat de compooter messed tings up."

"Raoul, I like the way you think, don't you, El Gaupo?" Jim said, clinking his bottle against Dan's.

"El Fuego, I concur."

Raoul picked up his phone and began speaking very rapidly in Spanish, "Hola Rosalee. Necesito su ayuda con la boda de Wellington-Riker. La novia es una locura. ¿Has visto los colores que quiere usar los padrinos de boda. ¡Oh Dios mío. De color amarillo brillante de la pelirroja más guapo, no puedo hacerlo. Vamos a asegurarnos de que esta boda tiene algo de gusto más allá de la comida, ¿vale?"

Translation - "Hello Rosalee. I need your help with the Wellington-Riker wedding. The bride is crazy. Have you seen the colors she wants the groomsmen to wear? Oh my goodness. Bright yellow on the most handsome redhead, I cannot do it. We are going to make sure this wedding has some taste beyond the food, OK?"

Half an hour later, after the extended phone call between Raoul and his counterpart at Lauren's Bridal & Formalwear, the colors were selected, the jackets and pants tried on, adjusted and Raoul had been invited to the bachelor party as a guest of the Bob-Whites.


After their international afternoon with Raoul, the men decided to finish up their time together having a few more beers at McTavish's Irish Pub, around the corner from the menswear shop.

"So, Spikey, what do you think of wedding planning now? Getting any ideas for you and the glamorous Diana?" Dan asked, leaning back comfortably in his chair, a man extremely comfortable in his surroundings. "Four more pints, Bridgette, please," Dan called out, making a circle around the table with his hand.

"Well, Señor El Guapo, I have made my mind up about few things. First, Diana and I will discuss important things like color, venue, and the wedding party. Although I really could care less, I just want her happy. But man, Ben is absolutely clueless about what is going on…no way do I want to be 'that guy', you know. Second, some things are essential and I will share equal weight in the decision making, like…"

"The food!" Brian, Dan and Jim interjected in unison. Good-natured laughter filled the corner of the pub as they enjoyed their thorough knowledge of one another.

"I was going to say the honeymoon," Mart replied. Saluting them with his beer and smiling, he added, "And the food."

"Well, Danny Boy, see you brought some new friends in with you," Bridgette said in a lilting Irish accent. "Where is Bonnie today?"

"Oh, Bonnie had to work. My friends and I had an appointment at the menswear. I thought I'd introduce them to the best pint this side of Galway."

"What a charmer you are, silky-tongued devil." The barmaid smiled saucily at the group. "Just let me know if you're needing anything else. Give Bonnie my best. We've got a wonderful group coming to play this weekend, you all should come back."

Dan watched the pretty dark-haired woman walk away. As he turned around to the table, he was greeted with three blank stares. "What?" he demanded. "I am neither married nor engaged. Furthermore, it's not against the law to look. Speaking of married or engaged…"

The table was silent as the two brothers and their long time friend all turned inquiring eyes towards the clueless redhead. Jim was deep in thought and taking a deep drink from his beer.

"What? Why are you all looking at me?"

Brian, always the voice of reason, broke it, "Um, hate to be a wet blanket, gentlemen, but I've got to get back sober, so this'll have to be the last of the liquid courage."

"Brian, don't interrupt during questioning. So, James, when are you going to get around to asking our fair-haired Madame co-President?" Dan inquired.

"Asking her what?"

"Trying to play obtuse doesn't really work for you Mr. co-President. But I understand your dilemma. I am a superior example of Belden/Johnson genes, traits and personality. It is a proven fact that eleven months isn't long enough to replenish the stock for a new baby. I can see why James wouldn't want to be tied to an inferior creature." Mart drained the last of his beer. "I know you have good taste."

Jim, used to Mart's soliloquies, was prepared for wordiness, but not the affirmation of his good taste. "What, exactly, are you saying?"

"Just confirming your good taste, you know." Mart looked slyly at Dan. "'Cause you aren't asking Trixie to marry you."

"What are you talking about, Mart?" Brian asked in mock older brother outrage.

Dan lifted a dark brow and eyed Jim with disdain. "I believe he is saying that El Fuego here doesn't think Trixie is good enough for him to marry."

"That's a load and you know it, Dan. I think Trixie is the most beautiful, loving, wonderful, and generous person I have ever met. She is everything to me," Jim said defensively.

"Then you are going to ask her to marry you?" Mart inquired.

"Well, my three amigos, not that it's any of your damn business, but I plan ask Trixie. When I know we are both ready," Jim growled.

Mart, Dan and Brian broke out in laughter and each lifted their beer in salute.

"El Fuego, my sister would have married you at thirteen if she could have done it legally," Mart said with a smirk.

Jim's face relaxed into a satisfied smile. "Good to know, Spiky."


Two weeks later, Jim Frayne knocked twice before unlocking the door to Trixie's duplex. "Trixie, sweetie, I'm here," he called as he and Sherlock entered. Jim released Sherlock from her lead before he took his jacket off and hung it up in the closet.

"Hi, Jim. I'm in the kitchen."

Rounding the chair at the end of the couch with Sherlock on his heels, Jim stopped short and leaned against the entry to the kitchen. A huge smile broke across his face as he watched Trixie lean over to pick up the tray with two loaf pans on it.

"There is a super nice view from this doorway."

Trixie giggled as she wiggled her hips while placing a foil package in the oven. Straightening, she closed the door, tossed the hot mitts on the counter and then threw herself into Jim's arms.

The kiss was long and sweet, expressing all the longing of a lengthy separation.

"Oh, how I've missed you," Trixie murmured when the kiss broke. "I don't like assignments that make me leave you," she added, nuzzling Jim's neck.

Jim carried her to the bar counter and placed her on the edge so her face was at the height of his. "Baby, I don't like it either. I missed you like crazy," he muttered before taking her lips in another slow lazy kiss.

The couple kissed, held each other and murmured words of love until the kitchen timer buzzed and startled them apart.

"I guess that means something important," Jim groaned, placing his forehead in the curve of Trixie's neck to catch his breath.

Pushing him gently back from her, Trixie gave him a quick kiss before hopping down to silence the buzzer. Leaning down she patted the patient Sherlock. "Hello, little girl. Did daddy take good care of you?" she said as she straightened her shirt then pulled the foil package from the oven and placed it on the table. "It means dinner is ready. Wash up. We can kiss more for dessert."

Jim scuffed his foot on the tile floor like a little boy denied a prize. "Aw, Trixie. I wanna kiss."

Sherlock yipped and chased the lace on Jim's tennis shoe.

"I promise, Jim. After dinner," she laughed as she placed a loaf pan of lasagna and bowls of salad on the table.

He swatted her gently on the rear as he went by on his way across the kitchen. Jim picked up Sherlock's bowls to give her some dry kibble and water before he continued to wash up.

"Wow, Trix, dinner looks great and smells wonderful. Did you make the lasagna or did Moms?"

"I did. I found a wonderful recipe that I wanted to try," she explained as she poured iced tea for them. "I can make it in loaf pans so I can make two meals at once. When the second pan cools, I can put it in the freezer for a later meal."

Sitting down at the table, they both tried the lasagna first.

"Trix, this is wonderful. This is a keeper recipe." Jim forked up a bit of salad. "Tell me about your emergency assignment. How did it really go? You didn't say much on the phone."

"They wouldn't let me say a whole lot about what was going on," she agreed. "The afternoon after our picnic lunch, while you were at your tuxedo fitting, I got a call from DC telling me to report to JFK by eight that evening." She took another bite of salad and chewed. "They wanted me to fill in for a sick agent and travel with the Secretary of State for her European summit trip."

Glancing at Jim, she added softly, "I tried to say no but it was a direct order since I was the closest female agent and the flight out was at ten that night. It was a tedious and boring assignment. I don't like security detail work. I had to go with the Secretary and her key staff to the bathroom and other places the male agents couldn't." Rolling her eyes, Trixie picked up another fork full of food. "There are limits to what should need to be done and what an agent should have to cover. In almost twelve years of knowing her and being her very best friend, I haven't ever been in the same toilet stall or store dressing room as Honey."

Laughing, Jim faked a shudder. "Definitely doesn't sound like anything I'd want to do."

Lifting a brow, Trixie's eyes glimmered as she replied, "You'd better not, Jim Frayne. I get exceedingly jealous of you even being in the same room with another woman."

He leaned over and hooked his hand around her neck to draw her face to his for a soft, sweet kiss. "You are all I need," he whispered.

"Ditto. Now, tell me about your fitting."

"Well," Jim drawled out slowly. "I've been dubbed with a new name that I rather like." Waggling his eyebrows, Jim smiled the lopsided grin she loved. "I hope one day soon to test out the name on you."

"What is it?" Trixie leaned toward him, intrigued.

Jim placed a kiss on her lips. "El Fuego. The fire. I hope to set you on fire soon."

"El Fuego. eres el fuego de mi corazón," Trixie whispered back. "You are the fire of my heart."

"I love you, babe."

"And I love you."


As they ate dinner, Jim told Trixie about the male BWGs' tuxedo fittings and time with Raoul the tailor. When Jim began the portion of the story where he asked Raoul if he would wine and dine him first, Trixie started giggling and couldn't stop. She was giggling so hard she snorted.

Jim pushed his chair back from the table, crossed his arms across his chest and looked at his love like she was crazy. "So you think it's funny that a man was 'measchuring' me do you?" he asked with a mock growl.

Giggling with tears streaming down her face, Trixie nodded her head, making her curls bounce. She grasped her sides as she giggled harder.

Jim eyes twinkled with mischief. "Raoul is a very handsome man. We invited him to Ben's bachelor party. I hope he can show up. I'd like to see him again."

Trixie sniffed and wiped her face with her hands. "Oh, Jim, you aren't going to dump me for Raoul, are you?" Trixie asked with a hiccup before she started giggling uncontrollably again.

A hand snapped out, grabbed Trixie's wrist and pulled her into Jim's lap. His lips captured her giggling ones in a searing kiss that took all the humor out of her and replaced it with desire.

"El Fuego," she moaned as he moved his lips to her face. "Mi amor."

"Te amo, Trixie."

"I love you so much, Jim."

Jim cradled her face gently in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. "Trixie, I need you as much as I need my next breath. You are all I have ever wanted or needed. I want you so badly that I ache."

"Jim, I want you, too."

Gently running his finger down the edge of her face, he tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "You going out of town and me working on the school, plus this stupid wedding of Ben and Sally's has kept us apart," Jim said softly. "I want our first time together to be special. Perfect. Everything that you ever dreamed for us. I want us to go away for a week together. Just us. I'll ask Miss Trask to take care of Sherlock. We can go to Mead's Mountain and stay in one of the new private cabins."

"Oh, Jim, really?" Trixie sighed dreamily. "Can we?"

"Yes, sweetheart, we can."


"We have the stupid wedding next weekend, you have to appear in court for a couple of weeks on the Anderson case and I need to deal with the school and house foundation. All these other commitments," Jim grumbled. "It will be your birthday before we can get away."

"OK. Can we borrow Bob and the Wheeler jet for right after cake on my birthday?" Trixie suggested with a hopeful look. "That would get us there by around ten."

Jim's brain registered that although Peter no longer seemed to have issues with him, he didn't want to risk Peter changing his mind and chasing him down Glen Road with his shotgun if Jim tried to take his baby away early from her birthday.

"How about we leave at nine the next morning, sweetheart?" Jim countered. "We'd still have a drive once we land and we'd need to get groceries and supplies for the week."

"I don't care, Jim. I think we should go on my birthday night. That would be perfect." Trixie smacked kisses all over Jim's face then hopped up. "Let's clear the table, do the dishes and then cuddle on the couch to make plans."

"But, Trix, what will you tell your folks? 'Gee, Moms and Dad, I gotta go now. Jim is taking me to Mead's Mountain so we can finally make love'. I don't think they'll like it."

Trixie placed her hands on Jim's face and smoothed the worry lines between his eyes. "I'll tell them we are going away for a week's vacation together. That's all they need to know." She searched his eyes and saw acceptance to the idea. "Besides, it is no one's business but ours when we make love or how often or how long." Trixie stood on tiptoe to kiss his lips gently. "And I hope it's soon, often and we take our time," she added with a wink.

"Sweetheart, I'm sure we'll do our best," Jim said with a grin as he waggled his eyebrows.

"Let's get this kitchen clean so we can make out on the couch," Trixie giggled before flipping him with a towel.


Jim sighed happily as he lay on the couch with Trixie draped across his chest. He held her with one arm, twirling a curl around his finger while his other hand played with Sherlock's silky ear.

"You sound contented," Trixie mumbled into his chest before placing a kiss on his neck.

"I've got you and Sherlock. What more could a man need?"

"Tell me more about your new friend, Raoul. What did Mart say when he was measured?"

Jim laughed. "Raoul called him Spiky. He said that he used nicknames to remember people."

"Spiky," she giggled. "That's perfect. What did he call Brian?"

"I don't know that he called Brian anything," Jim mused. "Dan was El Guapo."


"Raoul said it means 'handsome one'. Dan seemed pretty proud."

Trixie snuffled gently around Jim's neck. "I don't know what Raoul was thinking. You are muy El Guapo, El Fuego."

Jim wrapped both arms around Trixie and softly kissed her face. "You, my woman, are beautiful."

She captured his lips and deepened the kiss.

Slowly, his hands slipped under the hem of her shirt and rubbed up and down her back. Making circles across her smooth skin.

Trixie eased her hands to the buttons of Jim's shirt. She opened the top two before trailing kisses along his collarbone.

"Trix," Jim groaned. "I think we should stop. We need to cool down and Sherlock needs out." Pulling his hands away from her back. "Baby, I am El Fuego whenever I'm with you."

She raised up on one elbow and looked into Jim's desire darkened eyes. "My birthday can't get her soon enough for me. I know EXACTLY what I want for my birthday, Mr. Frayne," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"I can't wait either, baby. I know what I want to give you, too," he groaned as she eased away from him to let Sherlock out.





Wow! Jixemitri authors! We are very proud, honored and a bit surprised to be added to the list of Jix writers. All the writers here are amazingly talented and wonderful to read. See what happens when you leave the clubhouse door open? Riff-Raff enters. (psst, Jo, are you Riff and I'm Raff or is it the other way around?) Description: Description: C:\Users\Jim\Documents\Jo\WORD Web Pages\Stories\wotc3_files\image001.jpg Description: Description: C:\Users\Jim\Documents\Jo\WORD Web Pages\Stories\wotc3_files\image001.jpg Seriously, we write for fun and our love of the Bob-Whites. We hope that comes through in everything we write.

Thanks to the Author Liaison Team for accepting our application and to Mal for leading us through the steps getting us to today.

We are always grateful to CathyP, Misty and the other members who started Jix, the current owners, administrators and moderators who maintain and work so hard to make Jix the very best web site in the world.

We need to send our special thanks to BonnieH. Not only did she host our stories but she  dressed them in their original beautiful web pages. She has been our mentor and editor since the first story Jo dared Jenny to write. We couldn't ask for a better friend. Thanks, Bonnie!! {{{HUG}}}


For all the 'real' ones. We have a great deal of respect for your company and products.

        Father of the Bride and The Birdcage are excellent movies that had characters, played by Martin Short and Hank Azaria

        respectively, that inspired the creation of our character Raoul. We mean absolutely no disrespect by writing Raoul. He is

        such a wonderful character and we love him.

        El Fuego means 'the fire' and we think it is an apt description of Jim.

        Espiky isn't Spanish. Raoul just liked Mart's hair.

        El Guapo means 'handsome one'. Yep, that fits Dan.

        We made up Bradford's Menswear. If there is one somewhere, we mean no harm.

        JFK is a widely recognized and super busy New York airport.

        We made up McTavish's Irish Pub. If there is one somewhere, we mean no disrespect.

Header photo is from Free Pictures Web and green background is from Free Backgrounds