I'm never gonna remember all these names.

"You know I think this is the most family members I've ever seen in one place." I commented dryly, enjoying a sip of the complimentary water. At least I hoped it was complimentary. We had to ask for a carafe.

"Come by my place sometime." Maria laughed, "We're less the brioche and booze and more the barbecue and beer."

"Hey, dis is not our food." Nikki grumbled. "I think dey've been trying to foist this brioche on everybody the last couple days. Somebody must have got stuck with it."

I took in the room again, noting how many of the people here seemed to share the dark curls on Nikki's head. Our seating had been noticed now, and occasionally a glance would be tossed our way, before conversation would change to slightly more conspiratorial.

"Oh crap. They noticed. Ok, Brace yourself, Brent. Dese can get crazy." Nikki sat up in her dining chair and pushed back a bit. "Just follow my lead, and smile."

"Smile and wave boys... smile and wave." I mumbled to myself, a sudden memory of rolling past a crowd of hostile onlookers, and getting the advice delivered via headset. For some reason my sergeant at the time had chosen to deliver it with a George Peppard impression.

The first person to actually approach our table was a rather thin older woman with elegantly done hair. She had the same dark curl as Nikki, but it was shot through with several streaks of grey. She strode at Nikki with an air of absolute authority, and her tone was sharp as she paused at the table. She wore what looked like an eighties pantsuit, but had accented it with a splash of red that almost looked like a cape across her shoulders.

"Nikki. You couldn't show up on time?" The woman's voice was deeper than I expected, and her eyes kept flashing to me and Maria in an obvious expression of questioning. She hadn't taken a seat, and towered over the table with her hands placed squarely upon it.

"It's not like I missed the wedding, ma." Nikki responded, her voice taking on a more exasperated tone.

"Your brother, he stays the whole time, and you decide you're going to drive off because you don't want to spend time with your family."

"Ma, de entire point of renting a Ferrari on Highway One is to drive it, not have it sit in the parking lot."

"And who is this? You show up late, you show up with people and you don't even introduce them?" The woman spoke sharply. She looked at me and Maria with a charming smile, her demeanor changing almost instantly.

"Right Ma, Brent... this is my mom," Nikki commented dryly, rising to her feet, and going through the formality of introducing me. "So uh..." She paused, noting that numerous other people had begun paying attention to her speaking. "Yeah, uh, everybody, this is... Brent and Maria... couple of my friends who I invited to come along."

I must say that the sea of rapt faces paying attention at that point was intimidating as hell. I'm pretty sure that Maria was feeling the tension as well, and the moment when all that could really be heard was the band went by with an agonizing slowness.

"Brent! So glad to meet you!" The woman spoke happily, and a murmur of assent seemed to roll through the crowd as the woman's eyes drifted to Maria. "And Maria, your dress reminds me of Hawaii. When I take my husband there, every woman I remember wearing beautiful colors like that."

The woman continued to speak, and I'm pretty sure that she would have continued for a much longer time had not a tray with small glasses grabbed her attention as it passed. It wasn't much of a relief however, as a veritable parade of people began progressing up to our table.

I wasn't sure at what point the small shot glass made it into my hand, and I'm not sure at what point I decided that one more shot wouldn't hurt. I don't remember half of the names. Honestly, I wasn't sure I remembered any of them. A lot of the guys were named Nick, I do remember that part. The party continued, and conversations flowed into one. I spent much of the time at our table with Maria and Nikki, just enjoying the atmosphere, music, and picking at the meal which I was assured was NOT indicative of the quality of the family's cooking, and that I really had to come back tomorrow for the good food.

Throughout the entire proceedings, my vision kept flitting to the booth where I knew Nikki's Husband sat. I kept expecting him to do something, maybe come over, punch me in the face, something. The entire time, he kept speaking to the older balding man in the small booth, the motions of his hands and pencil becoming more and more agitated.