Blackburn

The groom snickered. 'Oh, yeah, well. That was Cindy. We went steady when I was fourteen, and we never did much back then, so we were sort of wondering how it would've been. You know. Last chance to find out. Doesn't mean anything.'

'If you say so.'

The groom drained his pint and shoved the bottle into the wastecan. 'The thing is, see, I told Eleanor I'd be faithful. And I will be, in the true sense of the word. I'll take good care of her, and I'll never hurt her. So I'm asking you not to tell her about this. It'd just upset her. It shouldn't, but it would. That's the way she is.'

'She won't hear it from me,' Blackburn said.

The groom reached out and squeezed Blackburn's shoulder. 'Thanks, man,' he said. Then he opened the door and went out.

Blackburn shut the door, then went into the stall and shut that door too. He wiped the toilet seat with a strip of tissue and sat down to think. The groom's philosophy almost fit what had happened between him and Dolores, except the genders were reversed. Maybe that meant that men and women were, in fact, alike. Maybe the normal condition for both sexes was a constant desire to copulate with as many different partners as often as possible, which would mean that people like him and Eleanor were mutants. Maybe it was perverse to fixate on one person and to want that person to return the perversion. Maybe he had been unreasonable to expect Dolores to refrain from fucking hairy strangers in the middle of the day, and Eleanor was being unreasonable to expect Steve to refrain from fucking Cindy at their wedding reception.

Maybe. He couldn't decide. The issue was complex, and he had too little information. He needed additional input before he could make up his mind.

He left the restroom and went to the end of the hall as 'The Tennessee Waltz' began playing in the main room. He watched the bride and groom take their spotlight dance. The bride's dress swirled, and the groom's hair was mussed just enough to make him look charming. They gazed into each other's eyes and grinned. As the song ended, they kissed, and their friends and relatives applauded.

The next song was also a waltz, and other couples joined in the dancing. Blackburn entered the room and walked around the dancers to the cake table. He ate a third piece of cake while he watched the dancers turn and twirl. The frosting was already starting to get crusty, but Blackburn didn't mind. He ate yet another piece after that, and drank two more cups of punch. By the time he finished, a dollar dance was in progress. For a dollar, anyone could dance with the bride. The collected money would go toward honeymoon expenses.

Blackburn took his remaining cash from his pocket and counted it. Four dollars and sixty cents. Spending a dollar here would make reaching Kansas City a real stretch. On the other hand, he wanted to talk to the bride, and this was his best chance. He put three dollars and sixty cents back into his pocket and got into the dollar-dance line.

The dollar dances were short, lasting a minute or less apiece, so Blackburn's turn came soon. As he approached the bride, he knew that all eyes in the room were on him, and that most of their owners were wondering who the hell he was. As he took the bride's warm hand in his, he saw the groom give him a nod. The groom had confidence in Blackburn's discretion.

'Hello, Eleanor,' Blackburn said. 'Congratulations.'

'Thank you,' she said. Her face was frozen in a smile, but Blackburn could see that behind it, she was pretty. She was shorter than she had appeared from a distance, and small-boned. She seemed so light that Blackburn had the impression that a strong hug would crush her. Her dark-blond hair was permed into ringlets. Blackburn leaned in close to speak to her, and the ringlets brushed his cheek.

'So now you're Steve's wife,' Blackburn said.

She rolled her eyes. 'It hardly seems real yet.'

'Till death do you part,' he said. 'I suppose you've thought a lot about that.'

'Pardon?'

'The till-death-do-you-part business.'

'Well,' the bride said, 'that's what marriage is all about.'

'I was married too,' Blackburn said. 'But it didn't last till death. Not hers or mine, anyway. She became involved with someone else. Of course, that sort of thing couldn't happen to you and Steve.'

The bride stiffened and looked away. Blackburn could see that she wanted him to leave now, but he couldn't. Not yet.

'It does happen, though,' he said. 'Sometimes it's the woman, sometimes the man. I guess they have their reasons.'

The bride looked back at him. Her smile had vanished. 'I can't imagine what. There's a Commandment against it.'

'I know,' Blackburn said. 'But what if something happens anyway? What if someone has a good, loving spouse, and he or she goes astray just the same?'

The bride's cheeks flushed. She was angry. Blackburn was ruining her dollar dance.

'Then he or she should be shot,' she said. She pulled her hand from Blackburn's. 'Thank you for the dance.'

Blackburn went outside and began to sweat again, so he rubbed his hands on his jeans to keep them dry. He went to the Valiant and took the Colt Python from under the front seat. The grip and trigger were hot. He returned to the building. It was too late to do anything for himself, but he could still do something for Eleanor.

Once inside again, he took a breath of air-conditioned air and cocked the Python. Then he yelled 'Steve!' loud enough to be heard over the music.

Heads turned. People saw the pistol. There were shouts. Some of the men started toward him. The music stopped.

The groom was standing on the far side of the room. It was a longer shot than Blackburn had ever tried. But the middle of the room had been emptied for the dollar dance, and the man dancing with the bride pushed her to the floor and lay down on top of her. The people near the groom moved away from him. Blackburn had a clear line of fire.

He used a two-handed grip and aimed for the head, squeezing the trigger as the groom started to run. The groom dropped and screamed. The men heading for Blackburn stopped and turned to look. The groom lay on his back, doubled up, rocking. Blackburn sprinted across to him, jumping over the bride and her dollar-dance partner.

The groom held his crotch with both hands. Blood was soaking his tuxedo pants.

'Damn,' Blackburn said, and cocked the Python again.

'Where's my dick?' the groom asked.

'I'm sorry,' Blackburn said. 'Bad shot.' Then he fired into the groom's right eye.

He turned and saw that the exit was clogged with people squealing and squirming like baby pigs. Other people were standing and staring like concrete prairie dogs.

'Welcome home,' Blackburn told himself.

At that moment the burly man who had clapped Blackburn on the back charged toward him. Blackburn pointed the Python at him. 'Stop,' he said, and the man stopped. 'Lie down,' he said, and the man lay down. So did everyone else, except for a few who still struggled to get outside. Blackburn let them go.

The bride crawled out from under her dance partner and stood. She looked at the groom, then ran at Blackburn. He lowered the gun and waited for her. When she reached him, she scratched his face. Then she hit him in the chest with her fists.

'Why?' she asked. She asked it over and over again.

Blackburn looked around until he saw the woman in the yellow dress. She was