Short of Mel and Raymond—neither of which knew any fancy magic tricks—I hadn’t really hung out with many women. So far, I really liked all the women in the group. Getting to know them better would come with time. It excited me to think about it.
“How often does everyone get together like this?” I asked.
“I suppose from here on out, it’ll be our once a week meeting.”
“Like this?” I asked excitedly. “Food, music, all the women? Once a week?”
She closed the garage door and turned toward the stairs. “We’re close-knit,” she said with a smile. “We do things like this as a family. It’s something you’ll have to get used to. You’re part of it, now.”
I followed Ally to the roof. The air pulsed with the sound of techno music. The women—and Raymond—were all dancing. At the far edge of the roof, my father had his hand on Tito’s shoulder, telling him a story.
Goose was leaning over the stove, cooking something in a large pot.
Cash was talking to detective Watson. Hap and Baker were sitting on a wooden bench beside the dancefloor, sipping beers. Reno was at the corner of the roof with Braxton, having a talk.
One week earlier, I hoped to never meet the men of the motorcycle club. Now, I couldn’t imagine a life without them and their wives in it.
I took a step toward the dancefloor. The smell of fresh flowers lingered. I paused. Soon, it was replaced with the aroma of the meat that was smoking on the grille. I took another step. A hint of honeysuckle brought with it a smile. I closed my eyes and relished in the fragrance.
The music stopped. I opened my eyes.
Beyoncé’s Single Ladies began to play. Andy screeched and waved for me to join in the fun. Midway through the song, the dancefloor was filled with everyone except for Goose.
In watching him put the finishing touches on the food, it was obvious he was doing something he loved. Each over the shoulder glance toward the dancefloor revealed an ear to ear grin.
When the song ended, Goose raised his hands high in the air. His eyes glistened with delight. “Time to eat!” he announced.
I stood at the edge of the dancefloor, watching the people meander toward the rooftop kitchen in small groups.
Tito draped his arm over my shoulder. “That was fun.”
“I’m having a blast,” I admitted, counting the people as I spoke. “I can’t wait to do this again.”
He kissed my neck. “What are you doing?”
“Counting,” I said. “There’s sixeen people here.”
He chuckled. “Slow night.”
I may not have had much of a family growing up, but I was sure going to make up for it now. Over the course of the summer, I allowed fifteen new people into my life.
Fifteen people I was sure would remain with me until the end.
Epilogue
Reggie
Twenty miles off the shore of the San Diego Bay, the water was unbelievably calm. So far, our morning on the forty-two-foot boat—which my father had dubbed Reel Therapy—was gorgeous.
My father cut the engines to an idle. He glanced over his shoulder, making eye contact with Cash. He gestured to the left side of the boat. “Did you see the Blue Fin break the surface on the port side?”
Gazing toward the watery horizon, Cash nodded excitedly. “Two of ‘em.”
“Probably an entire school over there,” my father said. “Let’s give it a try.”
He stepped from beneath the canopy of the massive boat and flipped open the live well. “Get ‘em baited, boys!”
The boat’s deck was bigger than my living room. The $750,000 Freeman 42LR was much more boat than my father ever expected to own, that was for sure. After a Twitter post about his GoFundMe miraculously went viral, his account peaked at well over a million dollars.
According to my father, the participation of the primarily anonymous contributors was driven by his selfless service to the community. I couldn’t help but wonder if Tito played a part in the Twitter post going viral, but I didn’t embarrass him by asking. Either way, my father now had his dream boat.
I was pleased that all the former Devil’s Disciples and their female counterparts agreed to attend the massive vessel’s maiden voyage. Dressed in our swimsuits and covered in sunscreen, the five women watched from a seated position while the men baited their hooks and cast their lines.
I nudged Kimberly and gestured toward Cash. “Cash is having a blast.”
“You should hear the stories he tells about fishing,” she said, letting out a sigh. “He tells the same stories over and over, and they’re all about when he was a kid in Montana.”
“Maybe he’ll have some new ones to tell before long.”
She laughed. “I sure hope so.”
The men, situated on both sides of the boat, exchanges curious glances with one another, each apparently worried that one was going to catch a fish before the other. Tales of remember when began, most of which ended with a story of Cash being the luckiest fisherman of them all.
Although Tito seemed to often butt heads with Cash while in the motorcycle club, they were nothing but friendly with one another now. Personally, I liked Cash. He was polite, had a fantastic sense of humor, and was very protective of those he loved.
“If you catch the first fish,” I’m going to whip your ass,” Tito said, directing his comment toward Cash.
“There’ll be no fighting on this boat,” my father declared. He glanced at each of the men. “Anyone breaks that rule they’ll be cast overboard.”
Reno secured his pole in one of the many holders positioned along the side of the boat and faced my father. “Aye aye, Sir!” he said with a salute of his right hand.
My father chuckled. “I can’t decide whether to make you guys call me captain, or not.”
“Holy shit,” Cash bellowed, arching his back. “I’ve got one.”
“You better not,” Baker seethed. “I swear. If you do—”
“Ted!” Cash shouted. “I need some help. It’s—”
Cash’s pole was bent at a ninety-degree angle. Every muscle in his body was tensed as he attempted to crank the reel.
My father scrambled to his side. “Keep the tip up, Son. Reduce the drag and let him take what he wants. When he’s tired, get back what you can. You’re not fishing in a Montana creek. This is the Pacific Ocean.”
The level of excitement heightened amongst us all. The other five men continued their efforts to catch a fish, but it seemed they were more concerned with Cash’s status than their own.
Inch by inch, Cash fought against whatever he had hooked, taking what little line he could when the fish became too exhausted to fight.
Fifteen exhausting minutes later, Cash was obviously worn out. Drenched in sweat and visibly shaking, he continued the fight against the aggressive fish.
Seeing the exhaustion on Cash’s face, my father reached for the pole. “Let me help you.”
Cash resisted. “I’ve got it. It’s…he’s…” He cranked the reel a few turns. “He’s a fighter.”
My father slapped his hand against Cash’s shoulder. “He doesn’t know who he’s up against, does he?”
Wincing in agony, Cash managed to offer a crooked smile. “He sure doesn’t.”
“Ted!” Tito hollered. “I’ve got one!”
My father spun to face him. The tip of Tito’s pole swayed to the left and then to the right. In the distance, out a hundred and fifty feet or so, a massive silver-blue fish cleared the top of the water. Its long nose came to a point, like a spear.
“That’s a Marlin,” my father shouted. “Tip up. Keep it up. It’s a game of give and take, Son. Don’t let that one get away. You’ve got a trophy, for sure. That’s a hundred and fifty pounds if it’s an ounce.”
The fish submerged, nearly pulling Tito the edge of the boat in the process. A few seconds later, it shot through the water’s surface again. The taught fishing line hooked in its mouth glistened in the sunlight.
“Te
d!” Goose shouted. “I need some fucking help, here!”
The six of us shifted our attention to the other side of the boat. Reeling his line the entire while, Goose ran the length of the deck, toward the front of the boat. “This son-of-a-bitch about took my arm off.”
My father rushed to his side, counseled him, and then faced us. The smile on his face was one I rarely saw. Reserved for Christmas mornings, my college graduation, and the night he retired, it was his most natural expression of pleasure.
With the creases on the sides of his eyes slightly more pronounced and a slight dimple on each cheek, he made eye contact with me.
I mouthed to the words I love you.
His smile morphed to a toothy grin at the same time Baker hooked something.
“Ted!” Baker wailed. “Ted!”
Still facing me, my father mouthed the phrase in return. Then, he winked. He pressed his hands against his hips. “Alright, fellas,” he shouted. “I’m going to say this one time and one time only, listen up. Stop screaming Ted. If you need me, the name’s Tank!”
My heart rose into my throat.
“Tank” was the name reserved for my father’s closest friends and the few people at work he truly trusted. Requesting the men address him by that name etched their presence in his life in stone. They may have considered him part of their family, but without a doubt, each of them was now a part of his.
Witnessing his complete acceptance of them was a sight to behold. Filled with joy at what my life had become, I closed my eyes and listened to the waves lap against the hull of the boat.
A simple search for a hat started a sequence of events that changed my life for the better. Although there were no assurances, I felt that Tito and I could spend our lives together, quite happily.
I’d never met anyone who I could be my natural self around and feel completely comfortable. With Tito, I couldn’t imagine being any other way.
My father’s acceptance of him and his friends was the icing on our relationship’s cake.
Each of the men caught their fish—and many more—on the day that would become the first of many. As fate would have it, Cash’s was the largest, weighing in at 193 pounds. Tito’s Marlin was second, at 174 pounds, but he claimed he had Cash beat because his had a cool spear for a nose, and Cash’s didn’t.
Two miles off the shoreline, my father cut the engines. Exhausted from a twelve-hour day of educating the men on how to properly fish the deep sea, he lifted the bill of his cap with his thumb and let out a long sigh.
“Quite a day,” he said, taking off his sunglasses. “Just as well end it here while we watch the sunset.”
Everyone seemed to agree.
While the men wandering about the deck sharing stories of their days’ catch, the women sat on a large bench in the center of the boat talking about their perfect tans.
My father turned the radio on some soft music.
As it had many times in the past few months, my life, once again, felt like it simply couldn’t get any better.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father and Baker pouring glasses full of champagne. I turned in that direction. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to celebrate the maiden voyage,” he replied, wearing a prideful smile. “Quite a success, if you ask me.”
I couldn’t agree more. I smiled in return. After a loving stare, I turned to face the horizon. Tito was standing between me and the edge of the boat.
“If you don’t move,” I said. “I won’t be able to see the sunset.”
“If I do move,” he replied, kneeling in front of me. “I won’t be able to do this.”
It couldn’t be.
My heart rose into my throat.
“This adventure began on June 6th.” He reached into the pocket of his shorts and produced a ring. “I love to have your assurance it’ll continue for no less than forever. Regina Anne Gottschalk, will you agree to marry me?”
With eyes that were welled with tears, I glanced at my father.
He, too, had eyes swollen with tears. Flanked by the remaining four men, he gave a nod.
“I’ve already asked his permission,” Tito said. “All I need it yours.”
I faced Tito. “Yes,” I said. “I certainly will.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger. Congratulations followed, with each person admitting that they knew in advance what was happening. Personally, I had no earthly idea. I’d merely dreamed that one day it might happen.
After passing out glasses of champagne, my father started the boat.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “I thought we were going to watch the sunset?”
“Hap and Braxton are on shore, waiting,” he said, checking his watch. “We’ve got dinner reservations at Porter’s Port, to celebrate.”
“Never heard of it,” I said.
“It’s a new place along the shore that faces the bay,” he replied. “They specialize in grilled octopus, the most tender steaks, and fresh seafood.”
“If it’s any kind of a place to celebrate our engagement, they’re not going to let us in,” I complained. “We’re not dressed for it.”
“Don’t worry about how you’re dressed.” He looked at Goose, winked, and then met my gaze. “I’m friends with the owner.”
Also by Scott Hildreth
Devil's Disciples Series
Baker - Book One
Cash - Book Two
Ghost - Book Three
Goose - Book Four
Reno - Book Five
To learn more about the Filthy Fuckers MC and the men in their club, follow these links:
Hard - Crip’s Book: http://amzn.to/2jNSCpZ
Rough - PeeBee’s Book: http://amzn.to/2iAYjcJ
Dirty - Cholo’s Book: http://amzn.to/2jUWqpd
Rigid - Smokey’s Book: http://amzn.to/2n3js02
Nuts - P-Nut’s Book: http://amzn.to/2rI1IMw
Thick- Meathead’s Book: http://amzn.to/2AZeLxa
His Rules - Detective Watson’s Book: https://amzn.to/2NNcJaW
Can’t get enough of Scott’s biker books?
Check out the Selected Sinner’s series below.
Making the Cut: http://amzn.to/2v2D5fS
Taking the Heat: http://amzn.to/2vVAcwo
Otis: http://amzn.to/2vUJ9G4
Hung: http://amzn.to/2wuUvC9
Ex-Con: http://amzn.to/2wkgVWf
Money Shot: http://amzn.to/2x9nwQK
Hard Corps: http://amzn.to/2wuJpNH
Other Series & Standalones
Baby Girl Series
Baby Girl - Ruined: http://amzn.to/2FAxe6G
Baby Girl - Owned: http://amzn.to/2FCVxku
Baby Girl - Loved: http://amzn.to/2peR1yw
The UN Series - Boxing Romance
Undefeated - Book One: http://amzn.to/2pbBsHW
Unstoppable - Book Two: http://amzn.to/2pjrsv8
Unleashed - Book Three: http://amzn.to/2pfgIPh
Unbroken - Book Four: http://amzn.to/2FCnbOs
Bodies, Ink and Steel Series
Blurred Lines: http://amzn.to/2pexYEo
Pretty in Ink: http://amzn.to/2peziad
Stand Alone Books
Lover Come Back: https://amzn.to/2QHq8iQ
Broken People: http://amzn.to/2FO1189
Threefold: http://amzn.to/2pe7Aub
Karter: http://amzn.to/2HBvxTc
Snatch: http://amzn.to/2FTq2Cb
Fuck Buddy: http://amzn.to/2pffofr
Dick: http://amzn.to/2phAXMn
Brawler: http://amzn.to/2FDaOld
The Alpha-Bet: http://amzn.to/2FKnUJx
Finding Parker: http://amzn.to/2pbyzXx
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Tito Page 27
