by K. L. Savage
“I promise, Thomas,” Mason has the courage to pipe in.
Knives lose his patience, and his anger engulfs him instead. “You don’t fucking know that! You. Don’t. Know!” Spittle flies from his mouth as he yells. He points at Mason and sneers, “You have no right to promise me fucking anything. You’re nothing but a fucking liar. Her dad, he can wait a day. He’s waited nearly a year; he can wait one more day, can’t he?”
“Fuck yea! Let’s get ye fucking married, brother!” Skirt lifts his fist in the air and cheers.
“Let’s do it!”
“I’m in. Oh, hey, can I be the best man? You know I’m your favorite,” Slingshot says, taking a swig from his water bottle.
“Can Happy come?” Tongue drawls from the corner. “It would be his first wedding. He can be the flower boy.” There is so much excitement in his words that I know Knives will say yes. I’m not sure if they allow alligators wherever we are going, but I’m sure they will figure it out.
“Did someone say they’re getting married?” Sarah squeals from the kitchen. She rushes into the main room and pushes Reaper out of the way. “You’re getting married?” she asks me and stops right in front of me and takes my hands in hers. “Really?”
“I… think so? Yes? As long as it is okay with everyone.”
“Fuck everyone. If they don’t want to see me get married, they aren’t the family I thought they were,” Knives says, staring down at his boots.
I squeeze his hand, and he returns it, but I think they are more surprised than they are against us.
“Hey, you’re going to get married,” Reaper says, and once his affirmation is heard, the energy changes in the room, and the buzz that I wanted when we walked in is there. I can sense the buzz of anticipation. There is a round of applause, and Knives lets out such a big breath and curses. He doesn’t care about anyone else’s opinion; he just wants his Prez’s approval. “Well, that means all of our ugly asses need to go get cleaned up.”
“And we need to get you a dress. Oh my god! You’re getting married,” Sarah screeches again and starts to prance in place.
“Doll, no bouncing,” Reaper suggests, kindly.
If I didn’t know why he told her that, I would think he was controlling, but I know he’s worried.
“Let’s go shopping. There is a little boutique by Daphne’s bookstore that is so cute,” Sarah says, looping her arm through mine as she guides me to the couch.
“Can I go?” Tongue asks as he sits down next to me. In his arms, he is holding Happy, petting the top of his head, and even though Happy is still somewhat small, his teeth are big.
Big, sharp, pointy teeth.
That can tear into my flesh without a second thought.
“You want to?” Sarah asks him, sitting up straighter and hopeful.
“I’d like to.”
I know their relationship has been a bit rocky since they got into an argument and Tongue accidentally stabbed her, but they are slowly coming back together as best friends.
“I’d like that,” Sarah whispers, playing with a piece of her hair. “You have great advice. I remember when you helped with my prom dress. I couldn’t have done that without you.”
“I couldn’t have done a lot of things without you. Like live,” he says, stroking Happy down his spine while he wears his ‘emotional support animal’ vest.
Apparently, Happy is a docile, soothing alligator that Tongue can take into shops; who knew?
“Well, we don’t have much time,” Sarah sniffles, slapping her thighs as she gets up. “I’m going to go get changed, and we should go shopping. Pick a place to get married and we will meet you there, Knives!” Sarah wipes her cheek as she walks away. Reaper places his hand on her shoulder as they disappear down the hallway to get to the bedroom they are staying in.
“I say we get married in Maximo’s hotel. That’s the biggest ‘fuck you’ I can think of,” I say with bite, digging my nails into my forearms as I think about him partnering up with my father.
“Damn, you are a Hellraiser,” Patrick says, throwing a peanut in the air and catching it in his mouth.
Knives’ hand lands on the back of my neck, warm and calloused, sending arousal down my spine. It’s how I respond every time he touches me. “Damn straight she is.” He holds me tight and brings his lips down on mine.
“I’m going to marry the fuck out of you, Hellraiser.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, and you’re going to fucking like it.”
Like it? I’m going to love it.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Sarah chirps. She struts in much happier than she was before. Her neck is flushed, and her hair is in a messier bun now, resembling a nest of some sort. The front of her shirt is tucked in while the back isn’t, and she has a hickey on her neck. Reaper comes out next, and his shirt is on backward, but no one is going to say anything to him. “Are you ready?” Sarah asks me.
“Are you? You’re the one wearing two different shoes.” I point down to her feet, one boot, one slipper.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say she meant to put on the other boot.
“Oh. I’ll… let me… just…” She twirls around and heads toward her room again.
At this rate, I won’t be getting married until I’m dead.
Knives’ phone rings, and when he pulls it out of his pocket, he bangs it against his forehead. “It’s Seer.”
“No!” Everyone in the room yells at the same time, not wanting him to answer it.
“Yeah, fuck you all. The last time I didn’t answer, my bike exploded, and we nearly died in a freak tornado.” His finger swipes across the screen, and he brings the smartphone to his ear. “Hey, Seer.” He does not sound enthusiastic at all to talk to Seer. “What? Of course, I am happy to hear from you. I’m just a little nervous, is all.” He doesn’t say anything as he stops to listen. “Sure, yeah. Hold on.” Knives brings the phone down and presses a button. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”
Seer’s Cajun accent comes through the phone immediately. “I just wanted to call and say congratulations. You guys are taking me by surprise. You like to keep me on my toes.”
“Thank you, Seer,” I say. It’s hard to be nice to a man that knows I’m going to die, but it isn’t his fault he knows. I’m sure if he had it his way, he wouldn’t want to know half of the information in his head because of what he sees.
“And go with the dress that makes you think of the future, Mary.”
I almost ask why, but he hangs up the phone, leaving us wondering what that call was about.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Now, I’m ready,” announces Sarah.
“I want Bullseye to go with you,” Reaper says.
“Tongue is coming with us.”
“Tongue is going as a friend, not a guard. I want someone there who will be focused on their surroundings, not tulle.”
“I want to go. I want to go! Can I get a princess dress?” Maizey says, already wearing a princess dress. She wears it every day. Sarah is lucky to wash it, and when she does, Maizey throws a damn fit.
“You can get anything you fuc—fudging want, Maze,” Reaper says, catching himself before he drops a curse word.
“Yay!” Maizey squeals. “I can walk with Happy down the aisle.” Showing how fearless she is, she reaches up to pat Happy on the head, and the damn gator closes its eyes.
I swear, he is smiling, showing me all those teeth.
“Okay, let’s go if we don’t want to hurry. I might get a little something from Trixie’s shop,” Sarah says off-handedly, and Reaper’s growl can be heard from across the room.
“Doll…” he warns.
“Okay, we are leaving, or we are never going to get out of here.” Sarah takes my hand and drags me away from the couch.
“Bye,” I say to Knives, blowing him a kiss.
“I’ll see you down the aisle, Hellraiser.”
This is really happening.
I give him my biggest, cheesiest grin I can befo
re Sarah is opening the door. Tongue and Bullseye are right behind us, a low hiss coming from Happy.
“You just ate,” Tongue tsks.
Happy snaps his jaws, and his teeth clank together, which has me flinching back and almost falling down the steps. I’m not sure if I’ll ever warm up to the idea of a gator as a pet. I’m trying. I really, really am.
“One more,” Tongue reaches into his pocket, and I almost throw up when I see a large tongue. “There you go,” he says, dropping it from above his head. Happy catches it and gobbles it down until there is nothing left but a piece of flesh between his teeth.
“What was that?” I ask in horror, wondering how Tongue has tongues on such short notice.
“A bull’s tongue. It’s not all the time I can use human, so I order from the nearby butcher shop.”
“Right,” I say, almost in a daze.
Happy stops hissing though, so that’s a plus.
“I love my new car,” Sarah says as she digs into her purse for the keys.
Reaper bought her a brand new Range Rover. It’s top of the line and safe. It’s black, like all the other SUVs. The license plate on the front says ‘DOLL’ in gold block letters, and the windows are tinted black. They are bulletproof too, and I’m pretty sure the metal he had the car customize with is fireproof to a certain degree.
After what happened over Christmas, Reaper took no chances with protecting her when it came to cars.
“Listen, listen,” Sarah giggles as she clicks the button that locks.
“Doll, get your ass in the car before I spank it.”
“Why would Daddy spank you, Mommy? Are you in trouble?” Maizey says, tugging on her shirt.
Bullseye, Tongue, and I stifle a laugh. Sarah was all too excited to show us the Range Rover.
“I’m always in trouble, sweetie. Always,” Sarah says, opening the back door. She holds Maizey’s hand and helps her climb into her booster seat.
“I’m gonna have to talk to Daddy about that. That isn’t nice.”
“Oh my god, kids are the fucking best,” Bullseye chuckles from the backseat.
“You said a bad word! Give me five bucks.” Maizey holds out her hand and waits, kicking her short legs over the seat.
Bullseye looks astonished by her words, placing his hand on his chest in a dainty position. “Excuse me, what?”
“Daddy said to ask for five bucks from everyone who curses around me. I have fifty dollars. Fifty-five now, cause you cursed.”
“Orders from Prez? That’s some shit,” Bullseye reaches into his pocket, then pauses when he realized what he did. “Damn it!”
“You owe me fifteen. Keep it coming, buddy,” Maizey chirps and wiggles her pink painted fingers. Bullseye narrows his eyes at her, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill.
He slaps it in her hand as Sarah gets in the driver’s seat. “You have change?”
“Let’s call it good. We know you’ll slip,” Maizey states, and everyone in the car is laughing until they can’t breathe.
“Kid, you know your business,” Bullseye says.
“Everyone buckled up?” Sarah asks as she adjusts the review mirror.
“Yep,” I say, turning around in the passenger seat to check on Bullseye and Maizey, then look toward the back to see Tongue buckled up too.
Happy has his own car seat.
How is this my life?
Sarah drops her sunglasses on her face from the top of her head and puts the car in drive. When we get to the gate, Braveheart is there and presses the button to open it. When the accident happened over Christmas and Reaper and the men tried to get out of the compound, the Groundskeeper snipped the wires on the electricity box, and the gate wouldn’t move, so Reaper installed backup electrical boxes so that wouldn’t happen again.
We wave and get on our way, driving down Route 50. When we pass the tree Sarah and Patrick crashed into, Sarah speeds up, and Bullseye reaches up to pat her shoulder. The tree is broken, the bark is missing, and the body of the trunk is burnt.
It’s like it happened yesterday, but it’s been weeks.
“I can’t wait to see Daphne,” Tongue says out of nowhere. “She’s meeting with the painters today to paint the bookstore. She doesn’t have a name for the store yet.”
Tongue was never much of a talker before, but he could go on and on about Daphne. He’s happy, which is why I’m assuming he named his gator—wait—his swamp kitty, Happy.
“We will have to help her think of a name,” Sarah says.
“She’s there with the painters? By herself?” Bullseye asks, and Sarah and I groan because we know what that will do to Tongue.
“She’s okay. I installed cameras in every corner. I can see her.” He lifts up his phone and shows us. “She’s reading a book right now, but…I’m not liking how that guy keeps looking at her. Sarah, hurry up.”
“I’m going the speed limit.” Sarah scoffs and gives Bullseye the stink eye in her review mirror.
The rest of the ride is silent. I’m stuck looking out the window, wondering how I went from being a Preacher’s daughter to a biker’s wife.
The only thing I’d change is that I wish it’d happened sooner.
We pull up to the town next to Vegas, where Daphne works. It isn’t a long drive, only about fifteen minutes. The town is one of those that you stop at to use the restroom before coming to Vegas. It’s quaint, and there is a candy store named Paula’s. It’s painted different shades of pink, like bubblegum and hot pink. There is a cotton candy machine in the window, and my mouth waters. It’s been forever since I’ve had cotton candy.
Next to the candy shop is a hardware store; there is a cranky man standing outside, mumbling nonsense to himself as he smokes a cigarette. He has on a tan apron, and when he sees me staring, he sneers at me before heading inside.
Nice guy.
There is one road cutting through the town, and on either side are brick buildings. The place is almost historical. Like it came out of the Wild West a hundred years ago. It’s hard to find buildings that look like this anymore in Vegas. Everything is modern and sleek; there is no charm.
Maizey holds Sarah’s hand, and Tongue holds Happy in his sling strapped to his chest. Happy’s tail sways from side to side, and the people that walk by us give us a wide berth when they see an alligator.
Bullseye leans against a parking meter and sways. I reach out to steady him. His skin is clammy, and his face has lost all color. “Bullseye? Are you okay?”
“I think my sugar is low.”
“Have you been checking it?” Sarah asks. “You know you have to check it.”
“If it’s low, this happens; if not, I feel great. Why bother checking it?”
“So this doesn’t happen, or something worse, Bullseye,” I say.
“I’ll go run across the street and see if the candy shop has a coke or something. I’ll be right back,” Sarah tells me.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask for cotton candy, but right now isn’t a good time, considering Bullseye looks like he is about to pass out. He’s sweating, and he loses his strength, his knees buckling as he falls to the ground. “I’m not feeling that well,” he says. “I’m really dizzy.”
“I know, I know,” I start to panic. What if Sarah doesn’t get back in time? What if he goes into shock? “She’ll be back soon, Bullseye.”
“Uncle Bullseye? You okay?” Maizey asks, waving her wand in the air. “You’re going to be all better.”
“You bet I am,” he says, trying to sound happy and believable, but he doesn’t.
A ding sounds in the distance, and I lift my head to see Sarah crossing the street, a bottle of orange juice in her hand along with cotton candy
I bet it’s for Bullseye.
Lucky dog.
“Here.” Sarah opens the bottle and hands it to Bullseye, who chugs it down; orange juice flows down either side of his mouth. Sarah grabs a chunk of cotton candy and shoves it between his lips. “There, maybe you’ll see how import
ant it is to take care of yourself.”
Bullseye mumbles around the cotton candy. It’s gone in a few seconds after it melts, and he takes another swig of orange juice. We sit there for a few minutes, Bullseye laying down on his back with his eyes shut as he waits for the sugar to kick in. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better,” he says, finishing off the orange juice.
“We just want you to be safe,” Sarah says, pushing his dark brown hair back and off his forehead.
He nods, but I can tell he feels weak. Not physically, but mentally. He lifts his hand, and Tongue helps him to his feet. “Let’s get you a wedding dress. Gosh, I can’t believe Knives, that crazy fu—fudger is getting married.”
“Good job, Uncle Bullseye,” Maizey compliments him.
Tongue walks inside the bookstore first. The door is open, and the aroma of paint smacks me in the face.
“Hey, I’m going to go inside the boutique. You guys go and talk to Daphne. I want a minute to look alone. Say hi to her for me,” I say.
“Yeah, we’ll be there soon,” Sarah replies.
I step over a piece of gum on the sidewalk, thankful I saw it just in time, so I didn’t ruin my shoe. I stop outside the boutique, loving how cute it is. There are two mannequins in the display window. One is wearing a leather skirt with a red crop top, but the one next to it has my attention. It looks like a vintage dress, a soft peach color. The sleeves hang off the shoulders, wrapping around the biceps, and there is a silk slip underneath the beautiful lace detailing. It seems tight at the bust, but fans out on the hips.
I glance up at the name of the boutique, wanting nothing more than to try this dress on.
Ruby’s Rarities.
That’s adorable.
I skip one of the steps, since there are only three, and when I get to the top, I open the door. The bell jingles, and there is still a mistletoe hanging over the door from Christmas. With one look around the shop, I just know that this is the place where I’m going to get my dress.
“Hi, welcome to Ruby’s! I’ll be with you in just one minute.” A short woman with a pixie cut says from a wobbly ladder as she changes a lightbulb.
