Big Daddy

by Alexis Abbott

  All of us bear our kuttes proudly, and I have a banner mounted on the back of my ride that displays the colors proudly. I’m not the only one in a tux, either. That was one of Juliette’s requirements for going along with this stunt. That and one other thing.

  The town isn’t a place anyone would call fancy, but I’ve come to love it, and the modest but charming community garden in the center of town is the fanciest venue there is next to the clubhouse itself. It was tempting to hold it there, but we want this to be a community thing, not just a club one.

  If we want the town on our side in this war, we need to be a part of them.

  Our bikes reach town square as the orange grows a deeper hue, casting a glow over our gleaming black motorcycles as we come to a halt in formation two by two. A formation of motorcycles soon takes up most of the space around the square, except for an entryway to the town hall across the street.

  There are decorations around the garden, mostly ribbons and bouquets of flowers from the local shops, all arranged tidily around the place to make it look like it was made for hosting something like this. It’s autumn, and by god, it feels like it. The golden and orange trees lining the square sway gently in the breeze, leaves adorn the ground everywhere, and pumpkins and other gourds are piled outside a lot of the businesses and homes we can see from here. A trellis arch in the middle of the garden near a small pond stands waiting, and I have to admit, my heart is thumping hard at the sight.

  “Ready for this, big guy?” Breaker says as we dismount and start making our way into position.

  “Oh yeah,” I growl, smiling up at the sight. “Hell of a lot more than I expected. Feels pretty damn good.”

  “Careful talking like that,” he says, chuckling. “She might actually fall for you.”

  The club members all take their seats quickly, and we get into our positions around the altar. As planned, Mayor Hartley himself meets me under the trellis, giving me a nod as he stands ready in a fine, tailored suit.

  There’s no person better suited to the occasion to marry us.

  With my groomsmen lined up at my side, I feel like I’m standing on top of a mountain, looking out on all the faces of the rest of the MC I’ve grown to love and fight alongside. They’re all men who’ve taken up arms for a good cause, and as long as we ride, we’ll keep pushing that cause.

  It’s wild that as much as I love all the bastards, they’re not even half the real reason my heart is racing.

  When the music starts, I get a lump in my throat, and I watch the doors of city hall open. Juliette’s one other condition was specifically because her mother doesn’t know anything about this wedding (and wouldn’t, since our names won’t be published), so there’s no chance she’ll see her.

  Kate, Lauren, and Justine, the three women Breaker, Bones, and Ironside has met up with and fallen hard for over the past few months, come out first as the bridesmaids for the wedding. I don’t know how much they’ve gotten to know the bride, but I’ve been worrying constantly about her comfort while she’s away from me, so I hope they get along at the least. They seem happy enough that they must, anyway.

  They take their positions at the other side of the lineup, and I give them grateful smiles as they pass and my attention snaps to the doors as the music changes.

  Juliette steps out in a raven-black wedding dress that hugs her figure beautifully, and I feel my rugged face split into an ear-to-ear smile as we make eye contact across the path to me. Music guides her as she walks in long, proud strides that I memorize every moment of in her eyes.

  It’s fake, I have to remind myself. This is just for the act. It’s a PR stunt. It’s to help her family, and to help her by extension. I can’t let my mind wander to all the dark places it wants to in the even darker folds of that dress.

  But damn, she must be a good actress.

  Her eyes hold me locked to them almost the entire walk up the makeshift aisle. Her perfectly styled hair frames them beautifully, and her makeup is nothing short of flawless. There’s desire in her eyes, and her cheeks are blushing. Her face almost looks surprised at herself. If she’s taken aback by how good this evening feels, then that’s one more thing we have in common.

  She reaches me at last, and the way she smiles up at me through her veil is trembling, trying to stay calm. I wink down at her, and she gives a laugh that is definitely just a cover-up for a half-sob. Her shaky smile grows broader, and after she sniffs and takes a breath, she gets a hold of herself, and we laugh softly. It ripples through the audience, infectious.

  “Thank you all for gathering here on yet another one of our beautiful sunsets,” the mayor says with a broad smile. “It does my heart good to see the community get together under such a wonderful occasion, and at a time of year known for the start of winter, let’s embrace the spirit of new life and new beginnings.”

  Considering more than one of the bridesmaids is expecting, it’s a fitting message. The crowd, now mixed with townspeople joining in, applauds briefly.

  “We’re gathered here to join Juliette Rideau and Jason...ahem, ‘Big Daddy’ Porter in matrimony,” he says, legally obligated to use my real name, to my chagrin. “The two have written their own vows, and will exchange them now.”

  I clear my throat, and Juliette looks on, genuinely curious about what a couple of people who’ve known each other for so little time can say to each other for something that should be as meaningful as this. Acting or no, this feels meaningful.

  I feel every nerve in my body not calm exactly, but I feel focused, settled, and more ready than ever before.

  “Juliette,” I say in my deep but clear voice that carries surprisingly well. “We met a lifetime ago. At least, it feels that way. Now it feels like the start of a new one. I’m glad I kept you in my heart all that time we were apart. I love you, baby girl.”

  Juliette’s face is steady, but her eyes are wide and sincere. I might have let a little too much of the heart slip into that fake wedding vow. For a few moments, she’s lost for words, but she recovers with a deep breath as she swallows and speaks.

  “Jason,” she says, making the goosebumps on the back of my neck prick up. “I’ve had you on my mind a lot more than either of us knew. You took me into the shadows, and you made me want to stay there. I love you, Daddy.”

  My heart melts. I don’t know whether to be overjoyed that I get to have this moment with my Juliette, or bitter at the irony of the universe that’s bringing this beautiful day to my life as part of one big sham. I don’t know if I care right at this second. I’m going to live in the moment, and the moment has me lifting the veil off Juliette’s face and bringing those smiling lips to mine.

  There’s a warm rush that swells in me as we kiss, and butterflies swell up in my stomach. Neither of us can stop grinning at each other as the audience cheers around us, and I lead Juliette down to my own motorcycle, which has been decked out hurriedly in black decor and flowers with the subtle JUST MARRIED tags on the back of it.

  I kiss Juliette one more time before getting us both on, and with a fierce rev of my engine, I lead the pack that files out behind me all the way to the clubhouse.

  “Okay, that was actually pretty nice,” she says as we ride, still laughing delightedly. “Pretty really nice. Thanks for the best fake wedding ever, honey.”

  “Best fake bride ever,” I growl back at her with a chuckle. “And you keep that dress on, baby girl. I want to take it off of you tonight.”

  I feel her shiver at that, and it makes me all the more excited for when we get to the clubhouse.

  As soon as we’ve all pulled up, all bets are off. The bikers flood the place with any of the more adventurous townsfolk who want to see if they can party with bikers for one hell of a reception.

  “Oh my god,” she says as we step downstairs, eyes widening at the lavish decor that Kate worked hard on all around the bar. It looks more like a real-ass reception venue than a biker bar. “She really went all out!”

  “The wedding migh
t be fake, but the party sure isn’t,” I say with a wink.

  As people bustle in and we get our first drinks of the night, the spirits can’t be higher. I see Breaker coming in with a smiling and chattering Mayor Hartley, telling me that our worries about the town are going to be well taken care of by the time the night’s over.

  Drinks are on us tonight, so as the booze starts flowing, the spirits get higher--and the spirits do plenty of flowing, too. Juliette and I share our first bite of wedding cake together, and instead of smashing it in her face, I swipe a little on her neck and lean in to kiss it off--to her delight and the wolf whistles of the crowd.

  Music plays, friends get made, and people get drunk. It’s more than I ever could have wanted at my own wedding. And my bride is more woman than I’d ever dream for. We barely get a chance to talk the whole time, unsurprisingly. Tonight is about the people.

  Except for one.

  “My man!” Bones says, staggering toward me as I hold Juliette away, chuckling. “I got somethin’ here for you,” he slurs, taking an envelope out of his kutte and grinning, waggling his eyebrows. “I know this wedding is, y’know, but fuck man, I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate you.”

  “Ah, shut up, Bones,” I chuckle.

  “No I mean it!” he blurts, sticking the envelope toward me. “Take it! Weddin’ present.”

  I open it, and I’m genuinely stunned by what I see.

  “This is money,” I say.

  “The money I owe you for pool,” he says, smiling more sincerely at me.

  I stare at him for a moment, then embrace him tight, feeling him sniff, and I pat him on the back.

  “Brother,” I say, nodding to him.

  “Brother,” he says back, dabbing his eyes as he heads back to the crowd as I beam.

  “What was that?” Juliette asks.

  “Long story,” I say as the music changes, and I nod to the dance floor. “Sounds like we have a first dance to take care of.

  She grins, and I lead her out to the center of the floor, where we sway softly together in the warm lights of the bar, and it’s hard to tear each other’s eyes off one another.

  The whole night is such a storm that feels so deeply, acutely real that I don’t know which way is up by the time I decide I’ve had my fill of it. But that moment comes exactly after I take the garter off, and as soon as we have a moment to escape, I whisper into Juliette’s ear as I tug her toward the private rooms.

  “Let’s get a little privacy.”

  Juliette

  My heart is pounding like crazy as I feel my new husband’s hand smooth down the slope of my waist. I shiver and shake under his touch, the adrenaline already beginning to pump through my veins. He knows just how to move me, how to teach my body lessons and show me the light with the simplest brush of a hand. It feels so right, having him near me. Having him whisper to me and caress my soft skin like I’m his secret lover. Only there’s no secret now. Not from the townspeople and our new shared “found” family of the Heartbreakers and their assorted friends, loves, and allies, at least. There’s still my mother who is being intentionally kept out of the loop, but other than that, it’s all out in the open now. We have a literal crowd of witnesses to back us up. There is a small but significant amount of photographic evidence to prove what happened. Proof of what we just pledged to one another. I may have been wearing a black dress and the circumstances are anything but normal, but it was a wedding nonetheless.

  I can still hardly wrap my mind around the fact that I just promised my heart and soul to this man I barely know. I’ve always been so independent. Not to mention extremely protective of that independence. It’s why I ran away to Denver to begin with. So I could finally live for myself and do as I pleased. Follow my heart, as my brother so coldly explained it. And I can’t pretend like he’s wrong about that. I did follow my heart. Or rather, the deep pangs of desire for freedom and separation from my difficult memories that I felt in my heart when I made that decision. I still feel flutters of that desire now. It’s like a feral creature returning hopelessly to the wild. The road calls me. Adventure calls me. But so does stability and comfort. I just want to travel the world and find out where is best to build a nest.

  Of course, it will have to be different now that I’ve given myself up to a handsome, powerful man. It’s no longer only about what I want, what I need. It’s about both of us and striking a balance. It’s about compromise. That’s what I’ve always heard, anyway. I may not have all the usual jaded relatives and hopeless romantic friends to tell me that I’m entering a fairytale or leaving one. Like in all those wedding movies. Rom coms packed with eclectic family members and outrageous wedding guests. Humor and depth. The emotional roller coaster. But our relationship hasn’t been like that. We haven’t had time to embark on a magical, epic-length love story. Ours is shortened. Abbreviated to a sharp, gleaming point. It’s a barbed wire fence rather than a trellis of creeping flowers to arch over our ceremony and bathe us in wholesome light. There are wholesome moments to our dynamic, to be sure. Daddy is a shockingly affectionate person. There is more softness between us than most people might expect just by looking at us.

  And since I’m just now getting to know him, there’s no telling whether we will click into place and suddenly want the same things or just fall apart. We barely had time to get to know each other. What can we possibly expect?

  Except that it doesn’t feel that way. Big Daddy doesn’t feel like a stranger to me. Our relationship— our marriage, I remind myself with a jolt— doesn’t feel fake or forced. Maybe our wedding is just a tactical move on the club’s part. Maybe it is all just for show and I’m being a hopeless romantic by reading too much into it all. But I can’t help it. I feel how I feel, whether it’s advisable or not. Whether I’ll end up getting burned or not I’m in it to win it, and I’m overjoyed to find myself on the same team as Daddy. I know that no matter how severe things get, I can be certain that everything will end up working out as long as he’s with me.

  It’s strange, actually, coming to the slow realization that I don’t have to be one-hundred-percent in control at all times. I’ve gotten so used to being the fixer for other people, I forget to step back and just let things happen sometimes. It’s hard for me to relinquish control. I just want to do things right, and for much of my life, that has meant doing it myself. Building my own means of making money. Finding myself a whole brand new city to start over in. Being my own champion, my own cheerleader. And then, of course, there’s all the hours of determination and perseverance I’ve put in on behalf of my family. Keeping the peace. Defusing the fights. Cleaning the house. Paying bills, washing clothes, cooking every meal. Trying to keep my mom happy and healthy. Trying not to let my brother come blowing into our neat little lives like the tornado he has always been and destroy what little stability I molded for us to live on. It’s not that I feel used or anything. In fact, I view taking care of my mom as just an expectation of being her daughter. Our lives haven’t always been easy, especially after my father passed, but she’s done her best for me, and it’s only right for me to return that favor.

  But now that I have met Big Daddy, I’m learning how good it can feel to just give it up for a while. Let someone else take the reins. And for the first time in my life, I find myself in the care of someone actually truly capable to do the job right. It takes a little convincing, but he’s definitely proven himself a worthy caretaker. It’s just hard to unlearn the instinct to take charge. For so long I’ve lived on the very precarious fine line between “doing okay” and “falling to pieces.” It’s an exhausting line to walk. The weight of everything presses down on me so hard, but it’s a burden I’m used to. You never know how heavy a weight you’re carrying until someone lifts it off your shoulders.

  Daddy is that person for me. Even though I fought him hard for it at the start, I’m beginning to see now the benefits of letting him help me. Even this wedding, however false or sudden it might be, somehow we
nt off without a hitch. And in such a tight turnaround, too! I still don’t understand how he managed to pull it off. Most men wouldn’t have a clue how to stage a wedding, even when it’s a real marriage and not a spontaneous truce decision. But then, Big Daddy isn’t like most men. He’s thoughtful but decisive. Powerful but gentle. Totally wild, of course, like all apex predators. But he can still bring himself down to the nitty gritty of a faux-domestic life to complete the picture. He’s more calculating than he looks, and I find it incredibly comforting. I know he can take care of me. And even more amazingly, I know he wants to take care of me. I can feel it in every buzzing, thrumming touch of his hands on my body. In the way he looks at me with such fire and passion. Hell, even just the way he says the three syllables of my name. He lingers over them like they taste like honey on his tongue. I always thought my name was kind of clunky. Unusual. But when Daddy says it, I hear the ringing bell of beauty. It’s like a song. And there is no more beautiful music to me than the low growl of his voice against my ear.

  I’m a lucky girl. That’s for sure. Real or fake, I could not have designed a better husband for myself in a lab. He may not be perfect, but he’s perfect for me. It’s odd to realize how long we have technically been aware of each other. I was so young when I first set eyes on him. I smile to think about it, how I had no idea what the future was going to bring. How important— even vital— this man would become for me in less than a decade. It’s like he’s been there all along, a seed quietly and casually planted but with a delayed bloom. Now, though, that plant has sprouted and is growing like a weed, resplendent foliage reaching high and proud into the wide blue sky of Wyoming. Flowers blossoming against the bright sun. Leaves trembling in the dew. We are strong and getting stronger every day. I draw so much strength from Daddy without even realizing it. It’s like having a second backbone even tougher than my own, a safety net I know for a fact will cushion me if I fall. He’s always looking out for me, and if I have to rush into this marriage to keep him watching over me, then so be it. I can’t deny that it’s addicting, intoxicating in a way.