Epilogue
Katie
Two weeks later…
“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY not going to give me a hint?” I breathed out as Rooster kissed me gently.
He grinned giving my bottom a squeeze. “That would ruin the surprise.”
“Will I like it?”
“Baby, do you seriously think Minus, Razor, and I would take our women somewhere they wouldn’t like?”
“Well, no. I’d just hate to think it was somewhere like the Pink Priest.”
“Shit. You don’t like the Pink Priest?”
I gasped. “You’re taking us to the Priest?”
“Well, now I’m gonna have to—”
I gave him a sassy little grin as he scrunched up his face and let out an expletive. “You just fuckin’ played me, didn’t you?”
“I have always been smarter than you, honey. Just roll with it.” I wrapped my arms around him and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.
“This is so fuckin’ true,” he admitted.
“I love the Pink Priest. Thank you.”
He let out a quiet grunt as he kissed me back.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“Yeah, just waitin’ on you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Like always.”
I let out a mock gasp. “Rude.”
Laughing, he kissed me again, then walked out of the bedroom, muttering, “Come on, baby, grab your shit, we’re gonna be late.”
I followed him out to my car (it was too wet to ride) and we headed down to Portland to the Pink Priest. I couldn’t wait to see it through his eyes.
The foyer of the Priest was a hodgepodge of gold leaf and hot pink. The place looked like gaudy and elegant had a fistfight after drinking one too many lava lamps.
“What the hell kind of place is this?” Rooster breathed out.
I chuckled. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“Ah, that was not my first thought,” he said, glancing around.
Minus, Cricket, Razor, and Waverly walked in just as Friar Chuck, the Ma?tre’d, walked up to the podium. He was an extremely large, bearded man, and tonight he was wearing a pink paisley robe and a purple feather boa.
“Welcome to the Pink Priest, my name is—Cricket? Bitch, you look gorgeous, as always. How’s that hot as hell brother of yours?”
“He’s as ornery as ever.”
“Well, Hatch can do whatever Hatch wants to do in my presence,” he said, fanning himself.
“I’m gonna hurl,” Minus bit out.
“I’ll let him know.” Cricket chuckled. “I made a reservation for six. Do you think there’s a chance the confessional is open?”
“For you, honey? Absolutely.” He grabbed menus and then grinned. “Follow me.”
As our host led us through the main dining room, I held onto Rooster’s arm, mostly so he didn’t run into anything. His head kept whipping around like a meerkat.
I grinned. I got it.
Colorful lights were strung up everywhere, and the walls were adorned with velvet paintings the likes of Marilyn Monroe, Andy Warhol, and John Waters.
Papier maché heads of famous religious leaders were mounted and hung like big game trophies.
Everyone from Friar Tomás de Torquemada, the Inquisitor-General of the Spanish Inquisition, who’s mouth had been fitted with a ball gag, to televangelist mega-star Joel O’Sheen, his typically fluorescent white smile, painted an irreverent hot pink.
Whoever decorated this place had an obvious disdain for organized religion.
Everywhere the eye landed, there was some sort of visual dig on church, or its leadership.
We came to a heavy wooden door at the far end of the dining room that led us to a much smaller room with rough stone floors.
The space had no windows and couldn’t have been more than ten feet by ten feet.
The room was furnished with a booth and was lit only by candlelight.
Not romantic candlelight mind you, but more like a gothic castle, creepy Dracula shit.
We were seated by two silent figures in robes adorned with pink sequins, who then left us alone.
Once we had a moment to look over the menus, Jimmy arrived to take our drink orders.
Jimmy happened to be Robert’s husband (the chef), and they were the loveliest couple.
The fact that Jimmy was serving us personally was very special, but when the man literally yanked Minus out of his seat and pulled him in for a hug, I suddenly knew why he was serving us.
I glanced at Cricket, who rolled her eyes, but I did see a moment of panic in them as she rolled them back. Minus was not a big, squishy, hugger of a man, so the fact he was tolerating this was somewhat of a miracle.
“How’s Clutch?” Jimmy asked.
“He’s good, bud,” Minus said, ending the hug as quickly as he could then taking his seat again, grabbing Cricket’s hand like a talisman.
“Well, you tell him to not be a stranger.”
“I’ll do that,” Minus promised.
“What can I get everyone to drink?”
The men all ordered beer while us women all ordered some kind of soda and once Jimmy walked away, we stared at each other.
“Why aren’t you drinking wine, Cricket?” I demanded.
She smiled. “Well, you can’t drink when you’re pregnant. Why aren’t you drinking?”
I burst into tears.
“Shit,” Razor bit out. “Kate? You okay?”
I nodded. “I’m pregnant.”
“So am I,” Waverly said as she too burst into tears.
Cricket pushed Minus out of the booth and I pushed Rooster who were on the ends, and Waverly scooted out as well and we fell into each other’s arms as we cried congratulations.
The men also rose to their feet to shake hands, then they hugged us, Razor lingering in his hug with me telling me how proud he was and how happy he was for me.
“Thanks, Uncle Razor,” I said, bursting into fresh tears. He grinned, cupping my face, then releasing me to Rooster, who wrapped an arm around me tightly and kissed my temple.
“Dinner’s on me,” Minus said as we sat back down.
“I’m payin’,” Rooster said.
“No way in hell,” Razor countered.
Cricket held up her phone. “Hatch is paying.”
“What the fuck?” Minus hissed.
She grinned. “I texted him and told him we were preggos, and he said he was covering dinner. Do you want to argue with my brother?”
“Woman—”
“Yes, lover?”
As the two continued to argue, I leaned against Rooster and watched as my chosen family bickered back and forth and reveled in the joy of it all.
It had been a hell of a fight to get here, but we’d won the war.