Chapter George Harrison - My Sweet Lord
GEORGE HARRISON - MY SWEET LORD
This wasn’t my first Sinners’ funeral, though I sure as hell wished it would be my last.
The chaos—it was something I’d never remember. That’d always come as a shock next time there was a service.
Depending on the popularity of the brother, Sinners from all around the country would ride in to attend the funeral.
Because it was Bear, because he was the original Prez, because the other chapters only existed because of him, they were all here.
Hundreds of new faces—some brothers, some Old Ladies. The men had ridden down on their hogs, but the Old Ladies had driven here in cages so their kids could come too.
I was used to the chaos of arranging a gala, but this was so out of my comfort zone that I was beyond grateful for the Posse.
Rene would probably have been able to manage, but Rene had never had to arrange a funeral this size because this was unique.
Bear was unique.
It was clear in the brothers’ faces. Some who’d probably never even met him. Regardless, the grief was the same. It was in their kids’ eyes, the somberness on the Old Ladies’ expressions…
Bear had mattered to so many people even though he’d quit the life years ago.
Rex was quiet for most of the morning in the run up to the service.
He had been last night too. After he’d proposed, he hadn’t taken me to bed.
He’d just closed his eyes and fallen asleep in the armchair, and because I was oddly comfortable—odd because nothing about my position was comfortable—I’d managed to get some sleep too.
His sorrow and grief made him curt with everyone but me. Well, Wynter too. She phoned to give him her apologies for not being able to make it and to tell him that she wished she’d had the chance to meet her grandfather.
Though he was pleasant with her, I knew it hurt that she hadn’t flown over. I’d made the suggestion, had offered to arrange a ticket, but she was being quiet. Something was going on, and she wasn’t willing to talk about it.
I didn’t know how deep the eyes Rex had on her could look, but after the funeral, when things had settled, I was going to have him delve deeper into the situation.
My instincts were on red alert with her.
They would have been with Rex too if his mind hadn’t been split in so many directions that he didn’t know which way was up.
At eleven on the nose, we headed outside. His bike was in the driveway for once, and I knew that was for ease. The compound was loaded down with hogs, after all.
I’d come back to the house to get changed after helping the Posse in the preparations for the wake and was wearing a simple black dress. Not ideal for a ride on the back of a bike, but it had to do. The unavoidable had happened—my pants and pencil skirts weren’t fitting me right now.
The straps were a little too dressy for the event, but I wore a leather jacket that covered them. Rex wore black jeans, a black tee, a black leather jacket, and his cut. It wasn’t a formal event, after all. Not for the Sinners.
“You okay, sweetheart?” I asked him softly. The place was ridiculously quiet in comparison to the clubhouse.
“I’ll be better when today’s over with,” he said grimly as he climbed onto the back of his bike. He twisted and helped me settle behind him. “Let’s give him the final farewell he should have had.”
Going out in a blaze of glory and not in a hospital bed…
He didn’t have to utter the words for me to hear them anyway.
The second I was settled, my arms around his waist, my inner thighs clasping his outer ones, he set off.
We headed down the driveway and out of the gates. All was quiet.
It wouldn’t be for long.
West Orange didn’t know what was about to hit it.
He revved his engine once he’d made it onto the road, and one hand settled on my knee as he called out, “Brace yourself.”
In answer, I clasped him tighter, and he roared down the road.
The second he passed the gates to the compound, I heard hundreds of hogs start their engines, and Nyx, as VP, waiting at the gates, surrounded by the rest of the council, began pulling out.
If the situation had been different, if this weren’t about Bear’s death, it would have been exhilarating to be a part of such a massive flotilla of hogs. Instead, it was bittersweet.
Tears pricked my eyes as I turned my face into Rex’s shoulder.
I knew Lily had arranged this, but I was surprised that Rex went along with her plans, mostly because at the end of our road, there was a hearse waiting. But when I saw inside the vehicle, I got it.
Instead of flowers, there were photos.
It must have taken Lily a long time to collate so many and to arrange for this.
Each picture was clipped onto a little stand so it stood up and wobbled with any movement. They were at different heights, some short, some tall, so that Bear’s coffin looked to be covered in them.
I could only imagine what they depicted.
Smiling Bear, angry Bear, drunk Bear.
A thousand different expressions, not a single damn one capable of showing the real man and his mettle.
And as these processions were meant to, it traveled at a snail’s pace.
Maybe that made it all the more impressive.
Rex and I led the procession, and behind us, the others fanned out.
Hundreds of bikes, cages at the back, each following the hearse, traveling around the town that Bear had pretty much bought and sold, crossing streets that were loaded with people, each of them pausing to gawk at the majestic spectacle in front of them.
My throat ached and my eyes burned as I tried to contain my grief. It was difficult. So difficult. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen anything more beautiful, and I ended up sniffling my way around town.
We completed a full circle and the hearse guided us up our private road and back to the clubhouse.
There was clearly some prearrangement here, because when the hearse crossed from public to private land, the driver held down his horn, and so did Rex, as well as Nyx and Link and the others, and the rest of the hundreds of bikers too.
The cacophony made my heart pound.
It was a celebration of the rebel. A man who’d manipulated laws for his own gain.
When we finally made it onto the compound, the noise still bellowed back to me. It should have given me a headache, but there was such a sweet joy in hearing it.
It was a reminder that we weren’t alone in this.
We were all grieving.
Rex pulled up in his regular spot, and I climbed off and hovered by his side, grateful to get there first so no one could get a flash of my panties.
Rex remained seated, his shoulders hunched, his back loaded with tension.
I pressed my hand to his nape, and I leaned over him to whisper, “King, I love you. I’m here. We can do this together.”
His hands tightened around the handlebars, but he nodded. Once. Then he climbed off the bike.
Silently, I held out my hand.
Silently, he accepted it.
Together, our fingers clasped in each other’s, we walked toward the hearse.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered as I got nearer to the quilt of color that were the photos.
There had to be over two hundred, minimum.
Rex’s hand covered mine before he released his hold on it. “I’ll see you by the grave,” he rasped, and, nodding, I kissed his cheek.
As I stepped away, the Posse were there. Lily and Giulia linking arms with me, talking about something Rex had asked to be added to the ceremony, Stone, Indy, Amara, Tiff, and Alessa joining arms with them until we were an awkward collective, walking toward a narrow space.
We didn’t let it stop us.
No one spoke as we settled around the grave site.
We just stood there, watching. From the corner of my eye, I watched as a couple dogs peered through the fencing as silent spectators.
Keira drew my attention away from them as she shuffled toward us, while brothers and the few Old Ladies from this chapter bookended us. Then came the other chapters and their women.
The tiny space was filled to the brim. But people just moved around the fence, cushioning the graveyard with the respect Bear had commanded.
I held up well.
Until a song blasted through the private cemetery.
I’d have been able to cope with Black Sabbath, or some other heavy rock band, but when ‘My Sweet Lord’ whispered along the wind, I pressed a fist to my lips and choked back a sob.
Eyes burning for real now, I remembered the last time I’d heard this—Bear and Rene’s vow renewal.
The pain shredded me as I thought about them then. So happy. So united. Not knowing she’d be torn away from her Bear soon afterward.
Tears poured down my cheeks as a song that should have been happy, triggered the purest pain inside me.
God, King.
My King.
This must be killing him.
But he must have been the one to pick it.
It wasn’t a Sinners’ song.
It was the song a husband selected for a beloved wife. The song a son played to commemorate parents he’d adored. Was that what Rex had added to the ceremony? Because of what we’d discussed last night?
I hoped it was.
I hoped our discussion had brought him some peace.
Mouth trembling, I watched when, finally, he was there; Storm, Nyx, Steel, Link, Maverick, and Sin at his back as always, while they carried Bear’s coffin toward us.
It was a testament, I thought, to men who rarely showed emotion, who killed and hurt people for a living, who thought nothing of committing the worst crimes… that their faces were twisted into grief-stricken grimaces.
As a unit, they walked Bear toward his final resting place—beside the love of his life, a love that had transcended even death—next to his Rene.