Blaze does. More than one click show others are doing likewise. Laughing, I glance around and see Kristen giving me a thumbs up.
“Throw your bouquet!” It’s Patsy’s voice.
With a laugh, I do, blindly throwing it over my shoulder and hearing a scuffle behind me.
“What the fuck? Asshole. One of the girls was supposed to catch that.”
“That was mine!” I hear Kristen complaining. “Mary, throw it again.”
Twisting my head, I see Dusty gripping my wedding bouquet tightly, holding it triumphantly high, up and out of Kristen’s reach. She places her hands on her hips and glares at him.
“She can’t throw them again. It would be bad luck,” Grumbler says, holding his stomach as he’s laughing so hard. “Seems you’re jinxed now, Dusty.”
“What?” Dusty, who’d probably leapt for the flowers as a prank, seems flummoxed. “That’s just superstition, isn’t it?”
“No,” I call out. “You caught the flowers, you’re next.”
Then I’m clutching my man’s back, laughing just as hard as he is, while the handsome long-haired biker stands, looking bemused.
Chapter Forty-Two
Grumbler
I told Mary she’d made me the happiest man alive, and that was only the truth. I’d laughed at Dusty’s confusion and knew we were all going to get mileage yanking his chain about him catching that bunch of flowers. Yeah, fun times to come.
But my amusement pales into insignificance as I lead my wife, my old lady, into the clubhouse, suddenly choked up.
No more will my big two-wheeler be the only female in my life, though she’ll still have a place in my life. I’ve two flesh and blood ones to care for now, and who knows, in the future, maybe one more.
The club girls, who today are fully clothed in quite passable dresses, together with Patsy and Alex have spent time getting the clubhouse ready. There are banners and balloons, as well as a large table overflowing with food. And fuck me, I didn’t expect that, a cake decorated with a bride and groom on a Harley.
As everyone comes up to us in turn, my attention is on making sure my old lady is greeted respectfully, which she is.
I take a moment to nod at Fagan, Jon Boy and Kurt, who start carrying in equipment, then busy themselves setting it up, for once obscuring Alex’s pole which she uses for dancing. I have to jump back as Tyler comes running past.
“Hey, Tyke,” His dad stops him with a hand to his shoulder. “Take it slow, okay?”
Mary’s eyes follow him, and then her hand goes to her face. “Oh my, he’s so damn cute. He’s got his own cut.”
I eye the kid knowing well his leather bears Junior Prospect on the back. I think he’s up to the fifth or sixth version now. “Long story,” I speak into her ear. “But a good one. I’ll share it one day.”
When we’ve greeted all the brothers, I lose sight of my woman, seeing her after a moment with her friends, Kristen and Terra. I grin again. I may not be close enough to hear the conversation, but Kristen is glaring, and miming trying to catch the bouquet. Switching my gaze to the other side of the room, I see Dusty, who’s still carrying said flowers as though he doesn’t know what to do with them.
Then I’m caught up, accepting more congratulations.
“Nervous?” Mary asks when she returns to my side and we get a moment to fill our plates with some of the amazing spread.
“Fuckin’ terrified,” I admit.
“You used to be used to this,” she says, with a smile.
I did. But that was many years back. “Never faced an audience like this, babe.” Not one I know could make my life a living hell if I make a fool of myself. A club full of strangers is different. If you fuck up, you can forget it once you walk out.
Jon Boy waves his hand, indicating the guitars on their stands. I raise my chin back and watch as he carefully tunes them.
The jukebox is playing. After looking around, making sure most people have had their fill at the tables. I know it’s time.
The drum kit is set up ready to go, I note, checking with expert eyes. Kurt’s picking up his bass, and Jon Boy has the strap of his own guitar already slung around his neck.
I kiss Mary, hard, as though taking strength from her.
“Good luck,” she tells me, holding onto me for a moment.
“The things I fuckin’ do for you, woman.” But in truth, I’d probably do anything if it puts a smile on her face.
Moving closer to the stage, I give my old friends the prearranged signal. Jon Boy steps to the front of the stage.
He taps the mic. “Good evening. First, congrats to the lovely couple and thanks for letting us join in the celebrations today.” He raises a beer bottle in a toast, then places it on one of the speakers. “I’m pleased to introduce for your entertainment tonight, Spitting Gravel.”
I snort. They’ve used our old band name. The name that came from my gravelly voice and our even then love of motorcycles.
Then, as Fagan hits the drums commencing with a drum roll then setting up a basic rhythm, and Kurt joins in on the bass while Jon Boy starts strumming chords, I, unnoticed make my way to the stage and take the two steps in one with my good leg leading.
Then, before anyone can exclaim, I select one of the guitars and place the strap over my shoulder. Fagan pauses his drumming, silencing the hi-hat with his hand, then clicks his sticks together above his head in a four-beat countdown. While my brothers are staring up at me mouthing what the fuck? we launch into our own blasting version of Born to be Wild, me belting out the vocals.
Ignoring everyone else, I focus on my old lady, my wife, seeing the love beam from her eyes. Alicia pulls her mom closer to the stage, gives me two thumbs up and starts moving energetically to the beat.
When I look away, I notice Salem and Pennywise standing with their arms folded, and I know they’re thinking I’ve been holding out on them. Right now, I don’t give a damn. All I’m focused on is doing the favour I promised to do for my wife.
We give Highway to Hell a good shot, then I slow it down, swapping out my Strat for my Les Paul and making that guitar sing as I launch into the haunting MainStreet which I know Mary loves.
The club girls are standing together with linked arms, swaying to the beat. Lost and Patsy are slow dancing in each other’s arms, and, following their lead, Dart and Alex do likewise. Then Dart steps away to allow Tyler to dance with his mom. Alex is short, and while the kid’s only nine, the height difference isn’t very remarked. I don’t miss Dart taking Isla from Eva, and is now dancing with her. From the way her head’s thrown back, the toddler thinks it’s great fun.
I glance behind me, catching Fagan’s eyes—they’re alight and gleaming. He’s enjoying this as much as I am. Kurt plays that bass like a master, and Jon Boy makes the rhythm guitar come alive. Suddenly I realise how much I’ve missed playing to an audience.
Not that I’d parade myself on stage in front of strangers, but this? Well, if the brothers want us back, then I’d be happy to oblige.
It’s only then I wonder whether I’m making a fool of myself, and any seeming enjoyment is pretend. Let the old man have his moment.
Suddenly something lands at my feet. Half expecting a rotten egg, I glance down to see it’s a pair of panties. Looking up, I catch Mary’s mischievous eyes. One’s she’s been wearing?
Not to be outdone, suddenly the sweet butts are reaching under their dresses and skirts and several more pairs fall at my feet.
I grin wide. Guess the old man’s still got it.
Doubling down, I give everything I’ve got, feeling my voice strain, belting out the songs as we go down our playlist. When I’m almost at the end, I step up to the microphone.
“Folks, only a few more songs to go.” I pause to allow the welcoming groans and protests sound. “As today is my wedding day, I’m going to play a song for my wife.”
Another guitar exchange, this one for my acoustic. Somehow someone dims the stage lights so I’m in the spotli
ght, my band members in shadow. Then I launch into If I Were a Carpenter. When I sing the line, Would you marry me anyway, would you have my baby? my eyes fall on my beautiful wife, and my voice cracks a little as I think for not the first time, how the fuck did I get so lucky at this stage in my life?
Alicia puts her arms around her mom whose eyes are glistening.
Then I signal to Connor who seems to have taken over the lighting tonight. He illuminates the whole stage as we launch into Born to Run, my voice augmented by everyone in the clubhouse. When the final chord rings out, I start to take off my guitar.
“More! More! More!”
Voices are chanting, boots are stomping, and Fagan starts to play a beat I recognise instantly. Again, we get the whole club, members, prospects, sweet butts, old ladies and visiting guests singing along to Born in the USA.
When it ends, they continue clamouring, so I move toward Fagan. Jon Boy and Kurt draw close. I whisper to them. They grin widely and nod. It seems a fitting end to play This Life, the theme song from the popular MC series.
“Amen, Brother!”
“Right fuckin’ on!”
As cries of approval ring out, whistles come from mouths and fists are raised in the air, I call out loudly in response, “Ride Satan’s Devils. Satan’s Devils Ride together!”
They pick up the call I’ve started as fists now slam against hearts. The chorus echoes around the walls of the clubhouse, and I feel a wave of emotion. That’s my wife right there, and these are my brothers.
I’m living the life, and will until I die.
I wait for a moment, then replace my guitar on its stand. The bass and rhythm guitars are likewise put away safely, and Fagan puts down his sticks.
A slow hand clap starts, and feet stomp again.
I step back to the microphone. “That’s all for tonight, ladies, Brothers.” I pause for a beat letting the cries for more wash over me. “I need a fuckin’ drink, and then I’m gonna fuck my wife.”
Mary’s hand covers her face, Alicia’s mouth falls open, but then she’s doubled up laughing.
As I descend from the stage, I’m subjected to back slaps which almost have me stumbling. Glancing behind, I’m pleased to see my bandmates are being subjected to similar treatment, though perhaps more lightly.
There’s only one place I’m heading for, my old lady, needing her more than that drink, more than air probably. As soon as I get close enough, I pull her to me.
“You were amazing.” Her shining eyes, her whole expression shows that she’s being truthful.
“Not bad for an old man, huh?” I ask, winking. Then voice the question that’s been burning inside me. “Were they a spare pair,” I jerk my head toward the stage still littered with panties, “or the ones you were wearing?”
She bats my arm. “That’s for you to find out.”
Smirking, I put my arm around her, moving my hand down to fondle her ass.
“Not cool!” Alicia objects loudly, rolling her eyes. “Kids present.” She points at herself.
Her fake objection makes me chuckle, but I move my hand up again, unfortunately before having obtained my answer. Never mind, I’ll soon find out.
“Grumbler.”
I turn around, only to receive Salem’s fist in my stomach. I’m lucky, he pulled it.
Even so, slightly breathless, I ask, “What the fuck?”
“That’s for you holding out on us,” Salem explains. “Why the fuck did we not know about this? Is this what you do when you disappear ‘for a ride?’”
He’s got me there. But hey, that excuse had worked.
“Yeah, Grumbler. Your fuckin’ voice, man. Never knew you had it in you.” Pennywise is shaking his head. “And how you make that guitar sing? Fuckin’ ace.”
I do owe them an explanation. “I thought it was time I let my past and future come together. I didn’t set out to keep it a secret. Thanks, babe.” The last is to Mary who’s miming drinking and pointing to the bar. “Bird knew, but it’s tied up with some shit from before I joined the Army. Just never wanted to make it a part of who I am in the club.”
“Looked fuckin’ good up there, Brother. We going to see more of that? You going to be gigging here regularly?”
“Prez.” I raise my chin. “Maybe. But nowhere else. Jon Boy, Fagan and Kurt, well, we’re quite happy jamming alone.” I turn back to Salem, speaking to the three of them. “Lost touch with the band for decades. Bumped into Fagan when I had gone for a ride. He invited me back to his place. It was just after Snake betrayed the club. I needed an outlet, I suppose. Music calms me.”
“Fuckin’ Snake.” Pennywise spits on the ground.
Salem nudges him. “But it seems we’ve one thing to thank him for. If it hadn’t been for him, Grumbler would never have shown that talent he has.”
I’ve played on stage, had panties thrown at me before. Had even thought I was going places before all that was taken from me. But no crowd’s adulation has ever pleased me more than the enforcer’s endorsement of my skills.
“Anything else you’re hiding?” The VP had been standing behind me.
Turning I wink at him. “Only those talents I share with my ol’ lady.”
“Eww.”
I chuckle, having forgotten Alicia is still standing next to me.
As I put my arm around my stepdaughter and pull her to me, she states drily, “And we all know where those talents have gotten you.”
Salem snorts, and Pennywise cracks up. Dart’s grinning widely, while I just shake my head at her audacity. Fuckin’ kids. Got to love ‘em.
When Mary returns with my much-needed beer, one by one, brothers come up to me, the main theme being they hope this isn’t the last fucking time the Spitting Gravels will be playing here. I keep an eye on my bandmates, but they seem to be getting along fine, having equally impressed my brothers. Catching Fagan’s eye, I raise my beer bottle in his direction. Grinning broadly, he lifts his back at me.
It’s not long before Alicia starts yawning.
“Right kid,” a female voice sounds. “You’re coming home with me.”
“Do you mind?” Mary asks Terra.
“Of course not.” She leans in and says in a stage whisper, “Your old man is fuckin’ hot.”
Mary giggles. “Saw you getting up close with the drummer.”
Terra smirks. “I’ve got his number.”
It takes a few minutes for the hugging and goodbyes between Mary and her friends and Alicia. When they leave the clubhouse, it seems to be a signal. The jukebox is turned up, and the sweet butts look like they’re about to go hunting. I notice Dart, Alex, Tyler and Isla have disappeared.
“Come on,” I say to my old lady. “Need you upstairs now.”
“Yeah?”
I only hesitate for a moment, assessing her weight and whether my leg can take it, then I put a shoulder in her stomach and hoist her over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift, slapping her ass for good measure. I carry her across the room to hoots and catcalls, but knowing the stairs will be too much for me, put her down on the first step.
Raunchy suggestions which are both practical and impractical follow us as we walk side by side up the staircase.
Once in my room, I close the door, then just hold her at arm’s length. “What the fuck do you see in me? Whatever it is, Mary, I fuckin’ love you. You make me so damn happy.”
“I could ask you the same. As for me, I’ve got my very own Rockstar biker. You looked amazing up there tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“Very sexy,” she purrs.
“Still want to know, babe.” As I speak, I bend slightly, taking hold of the hem of her dress and pulling it up. I chuckle softly. “Knew it. You were a coward.” I can see she’s still wearing panties.
“The sweet butts weren’t so shy.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s laughter in them. “And I can rectify that now.”
She helps me take her dress off her, and then, she rolls her panties down her legs, kicking them
off along with her shoes. Next goes her bra, and she’s standing naked in front of me. I love that I’ve reassured her she has no need to be shy.
“Your tits are bigger,” I observe.
Glancing down, she shrugs. “Sensitive,” she warns me.
“Yeah?” I bow my head, gently sucking a nipple into my mouth.
“Grumbler,” she exclaims.
My hands start wandering. “You’re fuckin’ wet for me.”
“Of course I am, you should have seen yourself on that stage.”
When I was a teenager, I’d been only too well aware of how to make the best use of what had been given me—the ability to play guitar and a gravelly voice which would make hearts throb. I’d taken advantage, of course, I had. But now there’s only one woman I want to have that effect on, and fuck me, if it works, I’ll play every weekend if necessary, and serenade her in private every day of our lives.
I’m overdressed. I rectify that immediately, not immune to the way she devours my newly revealed body with her eyes. Naked, I lead her to the bed, pushing her down gently.
There, in my room, in the clubhouse, while the music’s thumping beat shows downstairs the party is continuing, I ease into her gently and make love to her, my wife.
We come together, it’s perfect, just the way I knew it would be. She’s been made for me.
Smoker would have cheered for me, I think, as I’m on the edge of sleep. He wouldn’t have wanted me to be lonely.
I never looked for a woman of my own, never thought I needed one to be happy, but I’m glad I took my time waiting. Mary is exactly what I needed.
While the path ahead looks rocky, nothing for certain, nothing guaranteed, we’ll handle whatever life throws at us.
Together. The perfect team.
Coming Soon
How can one body take so much punishment and not die? If I hurt, does that mean I’m still alive? If I’m already in Hell, it’s worse than I expected.
Grumbler's Ride: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #2 Page 36
