by Meg Jackson
“You don’t ask questions,” Ginger said calmly. “We do. Unlock the door, and let’s get this show on the road. You’re still on our side, ain’t ya?”
Jenner gulped and stole a glance out the passenger side window. The man was so tall that the window only came up to his crotch. Looking back at Ginger, he realized he wasn’t going to have much of a choice in the matter. He could roll up the window and speed backwards down the road, but that construction site would block his way back. He could drive forward, but where would it take him? He could turn the opposite direction, back towards Baltimore, but he doubted he’d be safe there, either. Best thing to do was play nice and prove that, yes, he was still on their side.
He unlocked the passenger side door and winced as it swung open, the man’s strength threatening its hinges. The car squeaked and leaned as his bulk squeezed into the seat. The door slammed closed. The man at the window disappeared. Jenner was not sure he’d made the right decision after all. Cold metal pressed against his temple.
“We don’t take kindly to being set up,” the bald man said, his voice low.
“I didn’t set you up,” Jenner said, trying to keep calm even with a gun to his head. It was a valiant effort, but it was rapidly proving to be vain. “I swear, I didn’t. I want those assholes dead as much as you do.”
A click.
“We’ll see about that, bud. Now follow the bikes. Until this all gets cleared up, you can consider your sorry ass property of the Steel Dragons.”
Jenner didn’t dare turn his head to face the man as his meaty hand fell on Jenner’s thigh and patted, too hard. Sweat trickled down Jenner’s neck even though cold air still blew through the open window.
“We don’t play nice with our toys, either, just so you know,” the man said, a smile in his words that made Jenner wish he’d stopped to use the restroom before leaving. The sound of engines revving filled the night, and Jenner had no choice but to drive off into the darkness.
43
“You look beautiful, Kim,” Ricky said, adjusting the train of Kim’s massive dress for the umpteenth time, mostly to have something to do with her hands. “And happy. Really happy.”
“I am,” Kim said, turning away from the mirror. “I just hope I don’t cry all my make-up off.”
“Then you better start now,” Ricky said, noting the wetness pooling at the sides of Kim’s eyes. Kim chuckled and wiped gently.
“I just wish…oh, I can’t say it, I know, I’m not supposed to talk about all that today,” Kim said, straightening herself up. Cordelia, sitting cross-legged in one of the chairs in the sacristy, nodded firmly.
“A wedding is no time for wishing anything but good things for the future,” she said tightly. Cordelia was still upset over the particulars of the wedding, and the pairing itself, but seeing her daughter in wedding white had softened her considerably.
“I know she wishes she was here, too,” Ricky said sympathetically, knowing just what Kim was talking about. Tricia should have stood beside Ricky and Mina as Kim’s bride’s maid, but after everything that had happened, she’d gone into protective custody until the trial would finally decide the Steel Dragon’s fate and she was safe to come back into the open.
In truth, it was something of a miracle that the wedding was happening at all. Between the police investigation of the gypsy’s now-defunct marijuana trade, the unending questions about Damon and his brother’s actions at the crime scene, and the general mayhem of life in Kingdom and in the trailer park after all had been said and done, it seemed like there had been no time for wedding planning, never mind wedding bells. The fact that everything had come together was due in large part to Ricky, who was desperate for something other than booze to fill her time as she sought sobriety, and Mina, who “just loved weddings”.
It hadn’t been easy for anyone after the police finally arrived at the Hutchins’ farm. The Volanis brothers had been taken in for questioning; Kim, hearing of the trouble, had immediately hired a local lawyer to represent them if things got nasty. And they did.
There were questions about why the Volanis were at the farmhouse in the first place, what the Steel Dragons hoped to get out of the gypsies in exchange for Tricia, and, of course, how one of the bikers had wound up dead and the other with a bullet in his thigh. The third man was nowhere in sight when the cops arrived, but an APB based on his description was set out in time to catch him trying to cross the Maryland border. He was 18. Unlike his fallen comrade, who refused to talk in return for a lightened sentence, the kid sang like a canary.
Unfortunately, one of the things he sang about was their business with the gypsies; namely, their stronghold on Kingdom’s weed business. Fortunately, by then, there wasn’t a trace of their business remaining on the trailer park’s ground, and the police investigation into it was, admittedly, a bit lackluster. Whether or not Kim’s good relationship with the Chief of Police had anything to do with the fervor of their investigation was a question better left unanswered.
The biggest saving grace for the brothers was that the bad guys were very clearly the bad guys. Tricia’s statement saved Damon from homicide charges, and when it came to light that Rig was one of the head honchos of the Steel Dragon’s Dover chapter, there was almost a sense of gratitude that he was gone. The Dover PD and the state police had a list of warrants and charges on the man that could line an interrogation room twice.
The brothers were released but told not to go far. As Cristov, Kennick, and Damon were leaving, Cristov saw something that gave the bleak day some brightness: Paul Tiding was being escorted into the station in handcuffs, the scowl on his face turning uglier when he saw Cristov watching.
Eventually, everyone could breathe a sigh of relief; the DA chose not to press charges against the Volanis brothers for their actions. Though their vigilante justice wasn't necessarily endorsed, the overwhelming evidence against the Steel Dragons MC outweighed the lingering doubts about how the gypsies had gotten themselves involved in the first place. The Dover chapter of the Steel Dragons was decimated by their young member's confessions, and while no one believed the danger was entirely over, things had been quiet, and a sort of careful optimism had taken residence in the kumpania.
This careful optimism was aided by the fact that Jenner Surry had, ostensibly, flown the coop. The note he left behind said that he was off “to do what gypsies do best”.
Kennick and his brothers conjectured over whether or not his abrupt flight had anything to do with the fact that a second attempt to take down the existing hierarchy of the kumpania had failed, but when he failed to reappear within the following months, they didn't waste their breath worrying. No one did, not even his mother. Gypsies took off sometimes, that was all. For the Volanis brothers, it was good riddance to bad rubbish. It would surprise no one if he never returned.
Now, at last, there was something to be truly celebrated. And, in true Romani fashion, it was set to be one hell of a celebration. Mina had insisted that Kim be dressed in a gigantic, elaborate, flouncy monster of a dress; if she wanted to be taken seriously, she had to play the part, even if it meant wearing a dress so big Kim could barely fit through the sacristy doors. Kim wore a necklace of gold coins, bestowed upon her a few days prior at the pliashka.
Cordelia had refused to attend this traditional Romani ceremony, but Ricky had been there – and Cristov. The two had danced, elaborately, around each other, neither wanting to spoil the occasion with their own baggage. Ricky hadn't allowed herself to ruminate on whether or not their purposeful avoidance would continue on the day of the wedding, when they would stand across from each other at the altar, Cristov at Kennick's side and Ricky at Kim's.
The pliashka was amazing to watch, from an outsider's perspective. Traditionally, the father of the groom would bring a bottle of brandy, ringed with the necklace of gold coins. The coins would be draped around the bride's neck as a symbol of her acceptance into the family and her status as “taken”.
Since Kennick's fat
her had passed already, Damon took his place, and embraced Kim warmly as he welcomed her into the Volanis family. Then, the bottle was opened and drunk by all in attendance (except for Ricky); that same bottle, emptied at the pliashka, had been refilled and would be drunk at the reception following the ceremony.
The ceremony itself was taking place at Kingdom's Unitarian Church, the only church in town that would allow for a slight alteration of the traditional marriage ceremony. The bride and groom would still say their vows and exchange “I do”s, but they would also share in eating salted bread at the altar. This was the preferable variation of an old Romani custom of eating bread topped with a drop of their blood; salt was a much less messy seasoning.
The sound of the wedding march filtered in from the nave. Kim's eyes widened, a blush coming over her cheeks. Ana Volanis appeared in the doorway, smiling warmly at the woman who would soon become her niece.
“Zhan le Devlesa tai sastimasa,” Ana said. “Go with God and in good health. It's time.”
Ricky took her sister's hand.
“I'm so happy for you, Kim,” she said. “I love you so much, and I'm so happy for you.”
When Kim leapt forward, collecting Ricky in an embrace, hiccuping back a sob, Ricky could barely breathe, swallowed by the elaborate dress. She chuckled a bit, patting her sister on the back.
“Hurry up,” she managed to say through the layers of tulle and crinoline. “Your man is waiting.”
Kim hiccuped one more time, then nodded and released Ricky. Ricky and Mina lined up, side by side, to lead Kim down the aisle, Cordelia taking the role of the father of the bride. Ricky was so focused on the sound of the music and not falling in her high heels, she barely noticed when Mina nudged her. Right before they stepped forward into the aisle, Mina leaned in, an enigmatic look in her eyes.
“So is yours,” Mina said. Ricky stumbled on her first step, her attention divided. But Mina had already looked away, and was walking determinedly down the aisle, a gentle smile on her face.
God, I hate her gypsy riddles, Ricky thought, caught between amusement and frustration as she teetered forward to catch up with Mina. Her mind was torn into a million pieces: don't fall, walk in time, what the hell did Mina mean, don't look at Cristov, don't look at Cristov, don't look at Cristov....
44
The reception was as elaborate as Kim's dress. It was held at an orchard just outside of Kingdom, in a rustic barn, the winter snow outside painting the world in pristine white. Inside, huge banquet tables adorned with bouquets hosted more food than Ricky had ever seen before. Outside, an open fire roasted a whole pig (much to Cordelia's disgust), and the smell of herbs and succulent vegetables filled the room. Platters of fried potatoes, stuffed cabbage, roasted winter squash and delicacies from around the world – courtesy of Ana's market – teased the eye and nose alike with their colors and aromas.
The ceremony itself had left few of the attendees with dry eyes. While Kim had prepared four-pages of vows (whittled down to one page by Ricky's expert editing), Kennick had said it all with a few words:
“Devlesa avilan,” he said, holding her small hands in his. “It is God who brought you.”
A full band occupied the stage of the barn, an amazing variety of instruments, both modern and traditional, being passed from musician to musician as they played old Romani songs and new wedding classics in turn.
For Kim and Kennick's first dance, Damon had taken the stage with his guitar, crooning in Romani. Ricky couldn't understand the words, but the melody was luxuriously beautiful and romantic, and she found herself teary-eyed by the finish, watching Kim lay her head against Kennick's chest while he whispered to her.
Ricky had done a fair job of avoiding Cristov's gaze throughout the ceremony, and during the reception it was easy enough to keep on the opposite side of the room, having plenty of relatives – including her new gypsy relatives – to greet and welcome. But, now, a few hours into the party, which was growing raucous as the open bar was plundered, she was content to just stand and watch the dancefloor, where girls in golden-fringed skirts and elaborate jewelry twirled to a high-stepping fiddle song.
But the time alone left her turning Mina's words over in her mind. Obviously, she had meant Cristov. But there was no way they still had a future. They'd fallen too far from themselves to try and scale that wall again. Hadn't they?
If anyone knew what Cristov's heart held, though, it would be Mina. She tried to stop thinking about it. She tried not to scan the room looking for him, dreading the possibility that he was cozied up with some other girl – someone who could make him truly happy, someone he belonged with. She looked anyway. She found him. He was looking straight back at her.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, Ricky thought. He was walking towards her. Of course he was. She was stupid to think that, now that they were basically family, they would spend the rest of their lives pretending the other didn't exist. Her heart started pounding double time. He was clean shaven again, his eyes bright, his tailored suit fitting his muscled body like a glove. And then he was there. Next to her. The smell of his cologne tickling her nostrils, his height intimidating, as always. She remembered how small she'd always felt, curled up against him.
“I don't like the way we've been acting,” he said, clearly wanting to lay everything on the table. Leave it to a Volanis not to mince words.
“I...how would you like to act?” Ricky asked, peering up at him, willing herself to match his calm, cool demeanor. “Wait. Don't answer that yet. Let's try to act like humans. I'll start. Hello.”
He smiled, forcing her to smile in response.
“Hello,” he said. “It's good to see you, Ricky.”
“Same,” she said, letting her breath escape in one huge exhale. That wasn't so bad, was it?
”I don't want to act like we're oil and water,” he said. “We're not. We never were.”
Ricky blinked. Swallowed. Sipped her drink. “Okay.”
They stood in silence for a long moment. Ricky wondered if that was all that needed to be said. She hoped not. Now that she'd heard his voice again, now that he was standing so close...
I miss him, she realized. She'd already known that, but now it hit home in a new and terrible way. She could pretend it wasn't so bad when they were ignoring each other. She could pretend lots of things. She'd always been good at pretending. She was trying to stop being so good at it.
“How's the bubbly?” Cristov asked, gesturing to her glass.
“It's sparkling cider, actually,” Ricky said, looking down to avoid his eyes. Her resilience didn't last long, and when she glanced back up at him, he looked surprised.
“I only drink things that make it easier to get up in the morning,” she said, smiling out of the side of her mouth as she spoke.
“You look good for it,” Cristov said, eying her up and down. “Real good.”
She blushed. Even after everything that happened, when he looked at her like that, she had no choice but to blush. It was so damn…hot. Like he wanted to bury himself inside her and never come up for air.
“It’s been…hard. But it’s been good. Things have seemed better,” she said. “Some things, anyway.”
“Hey,” Cristov said, reaching out and lightly touching her arm. The contact was electric, immediately calling to mind all those nights they’d laid sweaty in each other’s embrace, limbs entwined and hearts beating in time. Ricky looked into her glass, ashamed of the roaring emotion in her heart. He was just being nice. They’d put it all behind them. It was still over. Wasn’t it? “Wait here a minute.”
She watched him cross the lacquered wooden dance floor and approach Damon, who was sitting with a drink in his hand watching the dancers sway around. Cristov leaned forward to whisper into his brother’s ear; a moment later, they both glanced at Ricky. Damon nodded, took a sip of his drink, and rose, clapping his brother on the back. Ricky tried to pretend she hadn’t been watching as Cristov returned to her side.
“C’mere,” he
said, a smile on his face. Slipping one arm around her waist, he took the glass from her hand and set it on the table.
“What are you doing?” Ricky asked, her nose scrunching slightly as she tried not to smile in return; it was a hard task, one she ultimately proved incapable of. Cristov led her to the dance floor.
“It’s a wedding,” he said, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. Was he totally oblivious of the effect he had on her? His words seemed to tickle the tiny hairs in her ear and she had to grab the back of his neck to stop herself from shaking. “People dance at weddings, if you hadn’t heard.”
“Is that so? Wow. Breaking news. Are you available for an interview after?” Ricky teased as Cristov took her free hand, the arm around her waist pulling her in tighter. As they turned, the song faded, and Ricky’s eyes caught the sight of Damon taking the stage with a guitar.
“By request,” Damon spoke into the microphone before strumming a few cords. When the cords began to come together, Ricky nearly stopped moving. She looked up at Cristov.
“Really?” she said, one eyebrow raised, her mouth turned up in a barely-there smile.
“Of course,” Cristov said.
“'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
when blackness was a virtue the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form
come in, she said, I'll give ya
shelter from the storm…”
Damon’s voice was strong and smooth as he sang out the opening verse. Cristov’s body felt tight and warm leading Ricky in the steps.
“Why,” she murmured, pressing her face against his chest, wondering if she’d cry. She felt like it, but she also felt like laughing. And, mostly, teasing the downy hair on the back of his neck, she felt like letting him dance with her forever.
“Because I never forgot this,” he said, his lips moving against her hair. “I never forgot the way you felt that night, every night. I never will, Ricky.”
