Heavy Hogs MC

by Elias Taylor

  “We’re here to see Judge Ross?” Natalie offered when the woman hit her with the standard ‘How can I help you?’.

  “What about?” The receptionist raised her eyebrows behind her glasses, her bright red nails poised over the keyboard.

  “Uh... an annulment? Or a divorce? Our marriage was... a mistake.”

  “Okay. You can sit in those chairs over there and wait for someone to come out of the courtroom and tell you the judge is ready to see you.” The woman pointed with a pen, not her finger, and Natalie felt a surge of relief that she had gone with her heart and avoided desk jobs like this.

  Brent glanced at the well-dressed people already occupying a few chairs as they sat down. “I wonder how late this place is open?”

  Natalie shrugged. “I don’t know, but we can come back tomorrow if we have to.”

  Luckily, they didn’t have to do that. The line dwindled quickly, and soon the same man who had ushered all the other waiting people into the courtroom motioned to Natalie and Brent. “The judge will see you now.”

  The courtroom was a lot smaller than the ones Natalie had seen in movies and television shows. Despite the rows of seats where numerous hearts had undoubtedly been broken and lives had been ruined by the proceedings here, the place had an almost homey feel—warm, rich woods and bright blue upholstery and window frames for pops of color.

  The judge himself didn’t match that feel at all. He had white hair, a wrinkled, sour face and the eyes of a man who took shit from no one. He definitely wasn’t the kind of man you would impress by wearing jean shorts.

  “Please, have a seat.” The judge gestured to the seats closest to his bench. Aside from a suited woman who sat scribbling away in the corner, no one else was in the room.

  “Thank you, Judge.” Natalie couldn’t remember the last time she had referred to someone by their title, but this seemed like a good time to start.

  “‘Marriage was a mistake’,” Judge Ross read aloud from an out-of-sight source in front of him. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”

  Natalie and Brent glanced at each other, then launched into their story. With bated breath, Natalie waited for Brent to say something stupid or say too much, but he never did. Easily, the two played off each other’s words, skipping details like Gideon and the Road Warriors, who had nothing to do with the issue at hand, and their sordid encounter in the hotel room after the ceremony, which would be the definition of oversharing.

  At the same time, through some mutual but unsaid agreement, they left in some other things that would make their story believable. Their unplanned attendance of the festival, for instance, and the amount of alcohol they consumed.

  They danced, had a great time, saw a cool festival and did a spiritual ceremonial thing with dancing and pretty colors, then they signed something without looking because they were drunk and in a hurry.

  “Receiving the marriage certificate in the mail was a complete surprise,” Natalie ended, holding up the certificate. “Is it genuine?” she asked, handing it to the judge when he beckoned.

  “Quite genuine. You’re definitely married.”

  Natalie’s face fell. She had hoped this was just some sick prank. “Can we get an annulment?”

  Judge Ross was shaking his head before she finished the word. “It’s been too long for an annulment.”

  A sick feeling sprouted in the depths of Natalie’s stomach. It’s fine, she encouraged herself. We’ll just have to do it the hard way. “Then divorce?” she asked quickly.

  The judge leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “Ms. Cooke, I’m not in the business of handing out divorces every time someone makes a stupid mistake in my city.”

  Natalie had been so ready to hear the word yes that she couldn’t understand what the judge just said. Did that mean the judge wouldn’t help them? Could he even legally refuse to let a married couple get a divorce?

  Was she stuck married to Brent?

  Chapter Ten: Brent

  Next to Brent, Natalie was gearing herself up to explode. Her shoulders went rigid, her lips pressed tightly together and Brent could practically watch her formulating the words that would give the judge a piece of her mind.

  Cussing out the judge was not going to help their case, and Brent needed a moment to think. Thinking quickly, he snaked his right arm around the back of her chair and rested his hand on the side of her sleek black dress.

  “Yes, it was a mistake, but we’ve learned from it,” Brent said quickly before Natalie could go off, either at him or the judge. “We really do need a divorce. It’s fine if it has associated costs.”

  The judge stared at a seething Natalie and a hopeful Brent. “Here’s what I’ll do. You can file for divorce if you want, but you’re going to have to wait until at least sixty days after the paperwork is turned in. Yes, Mrs. Cooke,” the judge said abruptly, cutting Natalie off before she could get more than a word out, “there is paperwork. I suggest you look at what you’re signing this time. As I was saying, you can come see me sixty days after the paperwork comes in, and I’ll grant you a divorce.”

  Brent could hardly rein in his laughter. Hearing the judge refer to her as Mrs. Cooke had completely deflated Natalie and she just sat in her seat, silent.

  When he got himself under control, Brent asked, “What paperwork and where do we turn it in?”

  “You’ll get an email. The office is closed, but you can print it out and mail it.”

  Brent waited while the judge shuffled papers on his bench. That couldn’t be it. Wasn’t this guy supposed to help them?

  Finally, the judge looked up and raised an eyebrow. “What do you want? For me to bang my gavel?” He picked up the gavel and brought it down with a crash that sent Brent and Natalie flying to their feet. “Dismissed.”

  “He was... interesting,” Natalie said after they braved the rain and made it back to the car.

  “Grouchy is more like it,” Brent corrected. “I doubt that sixty-day thing is even real.”

  “Do you want to go back in there and argue with him about it?”

  “Do you?”

  “Not really.” Natalie hesitated. “You know, this means that we’re going to be married for at least two more months.”

  “Yeah. I guess we might as well tell Gideon. He’ll just think it’s hilarious,” Brent pointed out when Natalie looked doubtful. “This is too crazy to keep to ourselves. We don’t have to tell the whole story, obviously.”

  “Better not,” Natalie warned him, but she looked at ease with the idea of bringing Gideon up to speed on their accidental marriage.

  Brent grinned. “Never. But since we’re still married and there’s nothing we can do about it for a while, how about letting your husband take you out to dinner?”

  “I am pretty hungry,” Natalie admitted, crossing her lace-covered arms over her stomach. “I kind of forgot about lunch, I was in such a hurry to get out here.”

  “Then it’s settled. Prepare yourself for a fantastic husband-wife bonding experience.”

  “At a taco joint? Sounds good.”

  Brent shook his head. “First the hotel, now here? What’s with you and tacos?”

  “I didn’t ask for tacos in the hotel! You suggested them when I said I wanted something crunchy.”

  “And then you didn’t even order anything crunchy.”

  “I did too. I ordered... uh...”

  “Cheesecake. And then you got it on my favorite shirt.”

  Natalie gave Brent a suspicious side-eye. “You must have drunk way more than me if you remember things that way.”

  “My memory is impeccable. But we aren’t getting tacos today. You’re dressed up. I’m dressed up. Buckle up, dear wifey. We’re going somewhere fancy.”

  Chapter Eleven: Natalie

  Natalie had been to Vegas many times, but she had never eaten at a fine-dining establishment while visiting. In her eyes, spending this much money on food was a waste when she could get Chinese takeout and enjoy it just as much.r />
  When she shared her sentiments with Brent, he shook his head. “I won’t tell you how wrong you are. I’ll let the food do it for me.”

  For the second time in two weeks, Natalie and Brent checked into a hotel—the same hotel they had stayed in last time, in fact. This time, they didn’t have to wait for anyone before heading out into the streets of Las Vegas.

  Brent led the way, walking with a purpose that told Natalie he knew exactly where he was going. She was too focused on not catching her heels on anything or stepping in puddles from the recent rain, so when he stopped in front of the restaurant, she walked straight into his back.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “I should have done this.” Brent’s suit jacket creased neatly as he lifted his arm and offered it to her.

  Natalie took it, flattered even though this date felt like a joke. Whenever Brent dropped his teasing ways and did something genuine and polite, Natalie melted like chocolate and lost her own typical attitude.

  They walked through the doors of the restaurant arm in arm. Natalie looked around, expecting tables and food. Instead, a man in a tailcoat greeted them from behind an enormous reception desk set between two elegant split staircases.

  “Reservation?” he asked.

  Natalie felt a smirk stretching her lips. This was where she proved her point about fine dining and the pointlessness of it.

  “Cooke.”

  “Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Cooke.” The man ushered them into the largest glass elevator Natalie had ever seen in her life, but the elevator wasn’t what surprised her.

  “You made a reservation? When?” She had been with Brent for almost five hours. When had he found time to make a reservation?

  “Saturday.”

  Natalie blinked, the wind taken out of her sails. “You’ve been planning to take me to dinner since Saturday?”

  “Right. I figured if I bought you dinner, you might not shove me into any more walls.”

  “I gave you a little push on the chest because you were being a dick.”

  “And this is my apology for being a dick.”

  Natalie didn’t answer, being too occupied with the glorious view, but she knew Brent would know he was forgiven.

  The ground fell away as the elevator rose into the heights of one of Las Vegas’ skyscrapers. It stopped without a sound or a jolt and opened to the sight Natalie had expected before—tables and food.

  Very, very fancy tables, and extremely fancy food. Natalie couldn’t name a single dish. At the back of the restaurant, the largest and most complex chandelier Natalie had ever seen illuminated the tables in a soft, warm light.

  Natalie nudged Brent and nodded toward the light fixture. “That probably costs more than my entire house.”

  “Don’t break it then,” he offered.

  They were seated promptly and poured champagne. Despite the formal setting, Natalie had no trouble enjoying the delicious meal with Brent to keep her company. She didn’t know what she was sinking her fork into, but it tasted absolutely incredible, coating her palate with a perfect blend of flavors.

  It was nice—it was really nice—but it wasn’t what Natalie pictured when she thought of a trip to Vegas. When Brent suggested they go somewhere else for dessert, Natalie agreed willingly. The sun had set completely, and the ride back down the glass elevator highlighted the brilliant lights of the Strip. The two followed those lights like a beacon, stopping at a small, cozy Italian joint just to dig into some tiramisu.

  “Let’s stop by the hotel,” Brent suggested. “This suit isn’t exactly bar clothes.”

  “Not at all.” Here was Natalie’s chance—the one she had missed earlier. “You look good in it, though.”

  “Really?” Brent smoothed down the blazer. “That’s what the rental company said.”

  Natalie’s mouth made a tiny popping sound as she opened and closed it again.

  “Kidding.” Brent tugged her into a jog to make a flashing walk signal.

  Natalie quickly discovered that Brent also looked good in jeans and a button-up shirt. In fact, she was beginning to suspect that Brent might be the one making the clothes look good, not the other way around. But—

  “Oh my God.” Natalie stopped stock-still in the hotel hallway. “Oh. My. God.”

  “What?” A note of real concern jumped into Brent’s voice.

  “You—” Natalie’s brown eyes widened and she reached up to feel Brent’s head over his hair like she was checking for a temperature. “You aren’t wearing a baseball cap.”

  This time, it was Brent’s turn to roll his eyes. “Because they go so well with suits. Quit messing around. I want a drink.”

  Natalie giggled, taking a couple steps at a careful jog to catch up to Brent as he walked off to lead the search for a bar.

  Despite her hesitation during the outfit selection process, Natalie had decided not to change clothes herself. Sitting with one leg crossed over the other on a stool in the first bar they chose, her fingers daintily wrapped around the stem of her glass full of some fruity cocktail, Natalie decided she didn’t mind switching up her style and shooting for feminine and sexy every once in a while. Her nails and hair weren’t exactly done to match, but Natalie thought that she looked nice and Brent thought she looked nice. No one else’s opinion mattered.

  Since when does Brent’s opinion matter? Impressing people had never been high on Natalie’s list of priorities.

  That thought made her vaguely uncomfortable, but the feeling soon passed. Tonight was trivia night at this bar, and the prize was a round of free drinks for the party that got the most questions right. Natalie didn’t like gambling, but she loved trivia and was pleased to find out Brent did too.

  She was also pleased to find out telling stories wasn’t the only thing she and Brent did well together. Easily and cheerfully, they combined their knowledge, tossing ideas back and forth to use the process of elimination to answer the trivia questions.

  They didn’t win—Natalie was fairly sure she had never actually won at bar trivia in her life—but she had a great time and stepped back into the streets of the Strip with high spirits and a pleasant buzz.

  “Next!” Brent proclaimed.

  The next bar didn’t have trivia, but that gave them time to talk. A woman, introducing herself as Chase and wearing a vibrant blue dress and matching gold jewelry, fastened her gaze on them when they brought up the subject of motorcycles, and shortly she jumped in with a comment that her cousin rode with the Road Warriors.

  “No way!” Natalie exclaimed. “What’s his name? Or her,” she corrected herself with a chuckle, thinking of all the tough, down-to-earth women who biked with the group.

  As it turned out, her cousin was a man and Natalie did know him. They laughed and joked about the coincidence, introduced themselves and chatted until a man interrupted and offered to buy Chase a drink. She winked at them as she abandoned her empty glass and followed him.

  “He’s cute,” Natalie observed.

  “Oh I’m sorry, do you need someone to buy you a drink?” Brent caught the eye of the bartender and signalled her for two drinks. “And here I was thinking dinner was enough.”

  “Aw, thanks! You’re cute too. Adorable, even.”

  “Not sure that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it because I’m not likely to get anything better from you.”

  “I said you looked good in a suit.”

  “Everyone looks good in a suit.”

  “Fine. Your hair looks nice.” Natalie hadn’t forgotten what it felt like under her frantic fingers two weeks ago.

  “Just nice?”

  “Nice enough to pull.” Natalie hopped primly out of her seat. “Be right back. Ladies’ room.”

  When she got back, Brent insisted that they finish their drinks and find a karaoke bar. Natalie agreed on the condition that she didn’t have to take the mic. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously when Brent accepted her condition without comment.

  Sure enough, he spent the next half an hour try
ing to convince her to do a duet with him. When she refused, he ordered her another drink.

  “You can stop buying me things,” Natalie said, beginning to feel a little guilty. “I’m not singing and you spent enough money on me today already.”

  “You know how you could pay me back?”

  Natalie groaned. “If you say singing—”

  “Just one song. Then I will stop spending money on you.”

  The logic there baffled Natalie, but somehow it worked and she let Brent lead her up to the microphones.

  It wasn’t that bad, honestly. She could at least guarantee the two girls before them were considerably worse. Natalie could hold a note, and Brent actually didn’t sound half-bad—to her drunken mind, of course, which probably meant they sounded awful. Still, it was fun, and Brent did this thing where he kept glancing away from the words scrolling across the screen to give her deep, soulful looks and sing directly to her. It wasn’t adorable, but it was definitely very cute bordering on other words that weren’t appropriate for a friends’ night out.

  The evening couldn’t go on forever, though. Natalie’s heels began to chafe her ankles, and she started noticing the clocks in the bar and the time on her phone. She didn’t have to work tomorrow, but Brent had a client at three in the afternoon. They couldn’t get shitfaced and wake up anytime they wanted tomorrow.

  One more bar and they agreed to call it a night. In front of their adjacent hotel rooms, Natalie stopped in the process of unlocking her door and glanced at Brent to find that he was already looking at her.

  A second later, though, he gave her a smile and a friendly goodnight hug and disappeared into his own room. It almost felt weird not to go with him, but she followed suit, stripping out of her dress and jumping into a lukewarm shower in search of mental clarity.

  It must be the word marriage, she decided, massaging shampoo into her hair. It makes people crazy.

  Still, Natalie couldn’t help but feel surprised with herself. The feeling increased when she and Brent made the drive home together the next day and she felt the same way, except this time she could put a name to the feeling—disappointment. Just like last weekend, she didn’t want their time together to end so soon.