Chapter 5 #2
He steps back and gestures towards the table.
Mica picks up the pen and signs in one neat clean line before passing the pen to me. Without hesitating, I sign my name with a dramatic flourish.
Rock signs as a witness. Then Jasper steps up beside him and adds his name as the secondary witness, with a flourish fit to match my own. Jasper is the weirdo in the family. I can tell that much already because he gives Mica a grin before walking off.
Mica picks up the marital agreement and hands it to me. “Yours for safe keeping, wife.”
Mica’s hand finds the small of my back again and I let the moment settle.
What happens next is more of a rave than a reception. They are roasting meat and food is appearing like magic.
The music is loud, the alcohol is flowing, and there are bare knuckle boxing matches for fun.
Mica stays right by my side as we meet and greet almost every guest who came.
Dozens of brothers slip white envelopes into my hands, so many that Queenie has to take them a couple of times because I keep dropping them.
They all have hearts or outlines of brides in ballgowns hand drawn in different colored ink on the outside.
I’m guessing they are cards saying congratulations, because there sure aren’t any wedding gifts.
Not that I mind. I would feel guilty accepting gifts under the circumstances.
At the end of the night we cut the cake, throw the bouquet, and then head upstairs because I’ve had about all the fellowship I can handle for one evening.
It seems that two hundred people have been waiting for exactly this moment.
Whistles and shouts come from every direction.
Boots begin stomping on the hardwood floor in a rhythm that builds.
Crude jokes are shouted by men who have been drinking too much. It’s a bawdy biker send-off.
Two prospects follow along behind us, dragging pillowcases. It takes me a moment to realize they’re filled with those cards everyone was giving me. The prospects follow us to Mica’s suite and dump all the cards on his huge king size bed.
“Out,” Mica commands as he pulls out his cellphone.
They scurry away and he jerks his chin towards the bed. “Lay on your back and show those long pretty legs of yours.”
I’m shaking my head before he can get the sentence out.
“What? No way.”
“It’s the tradition for our club. The brothers shower you, not us, with cash, and you thank them by giving them a sexy picture of your legs while wallowing all over their cash.”
“Are you being for real right now?” I ask, squinting at him.
He picks up three envelopes and rips the top off all three at the same time with his teeth and turns them upside down on the bed. Sure enough, hundred-dollar bills fall out.
“Come on, beautiful. I didn’t invent this tradition.”
I fling myself back onto the bed because what’s the harm in letting the brothers see the same amount of leg that my shorts show every summer. I lift my skirt and pose my legs to the side with my satin high heels showing.
Mica snaps several shots and sends them to the brothers before tossing his phone away. He goes to his knees in front of me and gives me a lopsided smile. “Do you want anything special from our wedding night?”
I know what he’s hinting at and quickly lower my skirt as I shake my head. “No sex.”
He just laughs. “I thought you might say that. How about help counting your money?”
I slide off the bed and sit on the floor across from him. I realize he’s got a couple of bottles of cold beer in his hand. I reach for one and he lets me take it.
“Is this money really mine to keep?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is. It’s called the bride’s share. You’re supposed to tuck it all away in case you decide the biker lifestyle ain’t for you. Most women save it to buy baby stuff, or one woman I know blew it all on scratch-offs.”
“It’s just basically the bride’s money to do whatever she wants. That’s a wild idea.”
“Yep, that’s about the size of it. You won’t need it because we’re gonna make a visit to your grandfather’s lawyer tomorrow so you can get your inheritance. I already set the appointment up.”
“I guess I can tear open envelopes by myself. Thanks anyway.”
Mica pushes himself up off the floor and takes another swig of his beer. “I’ll give you some privacy to decompress.”
“Thank you, Mica. For everything.”
“Goodnight, Nova,” he says. “If you change your mind about my offer, you know where to find me.”
“That’s a kind offer, but I’m not ready for anything like that,” I tell him.
He turns and heads to the other bedroom to sleep.
I take the property cut off and then squirm out of my wedding dress. Truth be told, I wish I had taken Mica up on the sex he offered. Being a virgin at my age is not cool, and he’s probably amazing at sex. Deep down inside I know having sex with a man you can’t trust is a bad idea.
I begin going through all the envelopes and discover there are no cards, like I thought. Only cold hard cash. Not all of them are hundred-dollar bills, of course. I get lost enjoying my last beer of the evening and opening all the envelopes. Some of the hand drawn pictures are really cute.
Somewhere along the way, my phone buzzes. I pull it out and open the texts from my friendly neighborhood stalker without overthinking the situation. I need to know what I’m dealing with. It’s just more of the same kind of rambling bullshit.
Then I read one that chills me to the bone.
You think a Sons of Rage property cut changes anything? You’re still you, Nova. And you know where to find me when this falls apart. It will fall apart. These things always do.
How does this asshole seem to always know what’s going on in my life? I lock the screen and toss the phone aside.
I go back to processing those envelopes because I need to keep my mind off what’s going on around me. I’ve got too many balls in the air, too many people who claim to have my back, and I still don’t know who I can actually trust.
Downstairs the music gets louder. Someone starts singing badly, and everyone cheers loudly. I’m guessing the revelry will continue through the night.
By the time I crawl into bed, I’m thoroughly exhausted. I lie back on top of the covers in my fancy bridal lingerie and look at the ceiling.