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A collective coo of delight rippled through the congregation.
“Dearly Beloved,” Max spoke out in a clear, confident voice, louder than usual so it carried to the people gathered around. He was officiating the ceremony, a sweet touch, Carmelo thought.
* * *
Sophie offered her palm up. Max took the knife and, with a quick glance at Sophie, he brought it over the fleshy part of her hand, creating a neat but long line that immediately pooled with blood. The blade was sharp, but Sophie didn’t flinch, she didn’t even blink. He did the same with Phantom’s palm.
Then, Max held their bleeding hands up, and one of his hands on each of their wrists, he pressed their bleeding palms together. Phantom clasped her hand, hard, and their palms met. Carmelo stared at their conjoined hands as blood started to trickle down her wrist. A runaway droplet at first. Then another, and another. He wasn’t sure if it was hers, or his, or both of theirs. It was red, even in this low light, he could see it was very red.
This was an unconventional ceremony for an unconventional couple. The mute assassin, and the bubbly little cafe owner. Who would have thought? Polar opposites, and yet, they perfectly balanced each other out. Carmelo wanted to find the yin to his yang, but was he ready to commit like this? For better or worse? For forever? It made his neck itch. He wasn’t ready.
He heard a few intakes of breath and mutters from those gathered around them. Her parents weren’t in attendance, the mother had had a stroke, she was in hospital, stable, apparently, but still ill.
And then Max pulled out a thin rope. There were yards of it. He took Phantom and Sophie's hands, both of them. He placed Sophie’s other hand on top of their joined, bleeding hands.
“To protect,” he said quietly.
Then he took Phantom’s other hand, and placed it below, clasping.
“To support,” Max said again, softly.
Then he laid the rope on top of their joined hands. “As this knot is tied, so are your lives now bound. With the fashioning of this knot, do I tie all the desires, dreams, love, and happiness wished here in this place to your lives for as long as love shall last. By this cord you are thus bound to your vow. May this knot remain tied for as long as love shall last.”
Carmelo and the rest of the MC family looked on as Sophie gazed at Phantom’s hands, strong, big around hers. Carmelo was near the front, and he could see, they did not tremble. Phantom was gazing right back at Sophie, regarding her with a shocked kind of awe.
Max began to bind their hands together with the rope. He first looped around and then tied a knot on the top, a loop, like half a bow. Again, and again. The rope wound around their wrists multiple times now. And then he began a complex bow, tying it with the loops on top. He’d clearly practiced and knew what he was doing. Good kid, Carmelo thought. And Max spoke, his strong voice the only noise in the still, silent, makeshift ‘chapel’ that was really the underground car lot under the MC clubhouse.
Max continued. Someone sobbed nearby. It was all getting very emotional. “May this cord draw your hands together in love, never to be used in anger. Hold tight to one another through both good times and bad, and watch as your strength grows. These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, for a lifetime of happiness. These are the hands that will wipe the tears from your eyes: tears of sorrow and tears of joy. These are the hands that will care for you in illness, and hold you when fear or grief hounds you.”
Sophie’s eyes watered fiercely, hot and wet. Phantom, Elijah, his real name, stood there and did not let go.
* * *
But Carmelo had news for Colt. News that Carmelo was certain Colt would like to know as soon as possible. He held onto it for the ceremony, but now that it was over, and they had all made their way up to the garden area behind the bar of the MC Clubhouse, Carmelo wanted to catch Colt.
Carmelo scanned the crowd. Waiters were milling about with trays of champagne and canapés. The bikers were all wearing their black leather cuts, with white shirts underneath. Some even had bowties and black formal pants on. It looked incongruous, but neat and sharp, and matched perfectly because of how it clashed. The women were all wearing dresses, some of them were much shorter and gaudier than what would be considered normal attire at a wedding. Carmelo shook his head with fondness. The strippers and the sweetbutts. You could always count on them to lower the tone. The night was still young though, everyone still had their clothes on, everyone was still standing. The drunken partying hadn’t begun yet, by the looks of things.
The sun was just setting in the sky, casting a mellow, purple light over everything. The clubhouse looked good. The pool was finished, full of water, lit up and looking classy. The outdoor eating area looked good, too, railway sleepers made long benches and tables, banquet style. There were slate tiles on the floor, and landscaped gardens, little pebbled flower beds with young, newly planted saplings taking root. Sun loungers scattered around the pool. The empty jacuzzi bubbling invitingly. Carmelo knew things would get rowdy later on. He’d been looking forward to it, partying here as a guest this time and not as the local police liaison. He’d gotten into trouble before when he’d worn his uniform to the clubhouse. Ash hadn’t taken it well, he’d taken it as a personal insult in fact, and duly punished him. By inviting a bunch of the strippers to take him to bed for the rest of the afternoon and the evening. Carmelo paused and caught the eyes of some of the exact strippers he’d shared that day with. Fuuuuck. He felt his face flush and his balls grip when Jessie winked at him. Greta smiled and waved. He grinned sheepishly and nodded back to them both. He hadn’t spotted the other two yet. Yes, four of them had taken him to bed and it had been the craziest, most intense sex of his life. And he’d loved it. And on occasion, he’d snuck in for more of the same. So he didn’t criticize the MC guys at all for their choice in women and love and life. Carmelo was sorely tempted by it all. The freedom, the debauchery. His gaze lingered on one of the girls walking past him, her boobs practically overspilling from the top of her tight dress.
He tore his eyes from her and continued searching the crowd. He had heard that they’d taken in a few of the younger Demonios members from Texas. They had been young, just disadvantaged, disillusioned kids basically. Colt had offered them an olive branch and a hand of friendship. One of them had been unwilling to join up, but the others had stayed, Carmelo had heard. The MC was growing in numbers, the sea of black leather jackets in front of him was proof of that. He had to find Colt. His sense of duty ran deeper than his physical desire. He gulped. For now.
He spotted Phantom and Sophie. She looked real good in that white, slinky dress. It shimmered and sparkled in the soft evening light, hugging her lithe frame perfectly.Carmelo felt a shot of pride at how well Phantom was doing. Colt and the MC had done most of the heavy lifting, most of the domesticating him. He’d been wild when Carmelo had handed him over to the MC, after coming off his bike. Phantom had been dehydrated, malnourished and depressed as fuck. He still didn’t really speak, never in Carmelo’s presence anyway, but he’d made lots of progress. He’d landed the prettiest girl in town, and had successfully coaxed her down the aisle somehow. No mean feat for a traumatized mute assassin. He said a few words to his brothers in the MC, Carmelo knew that much. He had heard that Phantom spoke to Sophie, only at night, only in the middle of sex, when he was about to come and was teetering on the edge of oblivion, right before he lost all control. That was a rumor, one he didn’t fancy checking out with them both. Carmelo looked on as Phantom smiled, a gentle, loving smile, and had his arm around Sophie’s shoulders as they talked to another couple. He had a bandage over his hand. Carmelo looked, and Sophie had one, too, from the blood bond ceremony. He’d suspected it wasn't going to be just a regular exchanging of rings. Phantom was a former cartel assassin after all, with a penchant for knives. It was still funny that Phantom had wooed the town’s ice cream cafe owner, a real-life beauty and the beast tale.
There was an acoustic guitar and singer getting ready to play, by the looks of things. The rest of the band edged out of the bar, through the big bi-fold doors that were fully open, to a drum kit and microphone stand, set up by the wall. Carmelo ran a hand down his five o’clock shadow. Yeah, this news was going to blow. He hadn’t been planning on ruining anyone’s evening. He’d wanted to have a good evening himself. He sighed.
He turned and spotted a new edition to the garden of the MC clubhouse. An ice cream van. A vintage food truck, all metal, parked up on the grass. Carmelo loped over.
“Ice cream! Vegan ice cream!” Max was now behind the truck shouting, grinning eagerly, drumming up trade. A gaggle of people sat and stood around the truck, cones in hand.
Carmelo got closer and peered at the offering. There were two flavors, ‘Biker Girl’ and ‘Biker Boy’. You could get one or the other, or a scoop of both. Carmelo bit his lip. Could he ask for two scoops of Biker Girl? Or three, even? He felt his cock stirring. He needed to get a grip.
Finally, he realized Colt and April were among the group of people who stood by the truck. Ash was beside them, of course, Carmelo sighed, he should have known. There was another biker he didn’t recognize sitting on one of the sun loungers nearby. He had tattoos covering his neck, and snaking up into his hairline. A pierced nose, too. Was this the infamous Nix? The guy Ash had shared a cell with and had a relationship with? The Nix who Ash had persuaded to join the MC after they’d wrangled him out of prison much earlier than expected? Ash and Nix were frostily ignoring each other to the point where it was very obvious they’d fallen out, but still had feelings for one another.
Carmelo set off in their direction, and got there just in time to watch Ash take a large lick of a loaded ice cream cone. Too loaded, in fact, and one of the scoops plopped right out of the cone. And onto Nix. Sat down in the sun lounger to the side of Ash, the ice cream ball rolled right off the cone, down Ash’s forearm and onto Nix's chest.The group watched with silent horror, Carmelo cringed inside. They all watched on as it continued to roll all the way down, onto Nix’s crotch, down his inner thigh and finally plopped on the floor.
Nix looked up, murderous. Everyone froze.
"You better fucking clean that up," Nix ground out.
