“Yes, I have,” Peyton said.
Dressed in a black tuxedo, Crip was cleanly shaven. He looked handsome, and younger than I’d ever seen him. A handful of tattoos peeked out from underneath his collar.
He gave a nod. “I have.”
“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?”
“I am,” Peyton said.
“Yes, Sir,” Crip said.
“Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and His Church?”
“I am,” Peyton said.
Crip grinned. “Yes.”
“Since it is your intention to enter into the covenant of holy matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and His Church.”
Crip and Peyton joined hands.
Crip cleared his throat. “I, Peyton, take you, Nicholas, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”
“I, Nicholas, take you, Peyton, to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life.”
“Have you chosen rings to express your commitment in marriage to one another?”
They each nodded.
Smokey’s daughter Eddie handed them the rings.
With a nod of the preacher’s head, they placed the rings on each other’s fingers.
The preacher glanced at the audience that was gathered. Although I assumed everyone would be dressed in blue jeans, boots, and their kuttes, Crip insisted that everyone dress accordingly. He said he only planned on doing this once, and he expected everyone in attendance to be respectful of that fact.
Beards, goatees, and ponytails were commonplace with the two hundred or so bikers that had gathered, but everyone was dressed as if attending a church service.
“They are no longer two, but one flesh,” he said. “What God has joined, let no one put asunder.”
He exchanged looks between Crip and Peyton. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Crip lifted her veil, and they embraced in a kiss.
“Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Navarro!”
The crowd erupted in catcalls and shrill whistles. They were the first of the remaining original six to be married, and I hoped they wouldn’t be the last.
As they walked up the red carpet toward Cholo’s house, I wiped a tear from my cheek. Two by two, the groomsmen and bridesmaids joined arms and walked behind them.
Pee Bee and Tegan.
Cholo and Lex.
Smokey and Sandy.
P-Nut and Joey.
And, last, but by no means any least, me and Tate.
After a series of photos, we shared a glass of celebratory champagne. A few deep sighs later, and Crip agreed that he was ready for the crowd. Wearing a proud smile and a new wedding ring, he took Peyton’s hand in his. “C’mon, Reporter.”
Everyone shared a laugh except me.
It must have been an inside joke.
We mingled amongst the many members of various MC’s, all gathered to pay their respects to the new bride and groom. I met Crip’s adorable mother, and his handsome but extremely stern father.
Cholo’s mother insisted on making tamales, and had prepared enough to feed the nation. Pee Bee’s mother couldn’t have been happier, while P-Nut’s mother nagged him and Joey to set a date. My father attended without hesitation, eager to meet the rest of the fellas and have a plate of homemade tamales.
After Crip and Peyton cut the cake, we gathered to share in their celebration. I hadn’t been at too many weddings, actually none that I could recall, but it seemed odd that Crip demanded that we all eat cake together.
Seated together at a long table, the twelve of us were served a plate filled with cake and ice cream. I’d already decided my diet was out the window. It allowed me to have fun without a guilty conscious during the wedding.
I savored each bite of the buttercream frosted cake. Despite standard wedding tradition, Crip insisted that his cake not be decorated with fondant. He said it tasted like shit.
As I spooned the last bite of my ice cream and cake into my watering mouth, I had to agree with him.
There was no substitute for buttercream.
I pushed my plate to the side. “That’s it, I’m done.”
Crip nudged me with his elbow. “Good shit, huh?”
“It was.”
Tate finished his and then looked at me. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“It was sooo good.”
“Seriously, I feel awful.”
Cholo’s house backed up to its own private beach. The back yard, where the wedding was taking place, wasn’t walking distance from the beach, it was the beach. Steeping out of Cholo’s yard was stepping onto the sand.
“Are you going to barf?” I asked.
“I think I need to go for a walk.”
Crip pushed his chair away from the table. “Let’s all go.”
Pee Bee pushed himself away from the table. “Let’s do it.”
Smokey stood. “Too sweet for me. I could use a walk, too.”
Cholo, now dressed in his tuxedo and a ball cap, stood without speaking.
P-Nut reached for Joey’s hand and nodded toward the beach.
Together, the twelve of us walked toward to the beach.
“Where are you headed?” my father asked as we walked through the crowd.
“Down to the beach,” Tate said. “We overate.”
“Hell, if it’s alright, I’ll join you.”
“C’mon,” Crip said with a wave of his arm and a laugh. “This ain’t a club function.”
My father hurried to my side. We stepped over the wooden barrier that separated the lawn from the sand, and everyone paused, taking time to remove their heels and shoes. Then, barefoot, we walked toward the ocean, which was a hundred feet away.
The warm sand between my toes reminded me of my childhood. The beach was Tate’s place to unwind, his place to think, and his place of serenity. He said he did all his best thinking at the beach, because he was closer to God when he was there.
I, on the other hand, didn’t spend as much time there as most Southern Californian’s.
When we reached the water, the group paused. Standing side by side, the thirteen of us faced the ocean. Tate released my hand and continued walking until he was ankle deep in the water. As the tide washed in, covering him to his knees, he turned to face me and smiled.
“Feel better?” I asked.
“Much better,” he said.
I gazed beyond him, and toward the sea. The early evening sun was several hours from setting, but had already came to rest behind a patch of clouds, leaving the sky plastered with rays of sun that peeked out from behind the obstruction.
The display was magnificent.
Upon seeing it, I realized why Tate spent so much time staring at the ocean.
With my eyes still fixed on the horizon, he walked toward me. As he reached me, he glanced at each of the couples and grinned. “This is what it’s all about,” he said. “Family.”
“Amen, Brother,” Crip said.
Standing a few feet in front of me, he lowered himself to his knees and smiled a cheesy smile.
“I thought you felt better?” I asked.
“I do.”
I shook my head. “Then what are you doing?”
He cleared his throat. “Until I met you, there’s been only one place where I could find peace. Right here, on the beach. It was my proof of God’s existence. When I met you, everything changed. Now, all I’ve got to do is see you to know he exists. Your beauty stands as proof.”
It was an eloquent little speech, but it wasn’t surprising. Tate was good with words when he took time to think about it. In his presence, I wasn’t anything but beautiful, and he m
ade sure I knew it.
I bit against my quivering lip and smiled. “Thank you.”
Still on his knees in the sand, he shoved his hands into his pockets. After scanning the group, he met my wondrous gaze.
“Are you going to get up?” I asked. “You look silly down there.”
“In a minute,” he said.
Standing at my side, my father reached around my shoulder and gave me a hug. I glanced at him and grinned, and then looked at Tate.
He’d been in the sand long enough.
I reached toward him with my left hand. “Come on. Get up.”
“Bobbi.” He inhaled a shallow breath and looked up. “In front of my family, your father, and God’s greatest creation, I want to ask if you’d bless me with a lifetime of your presence.”
He pulled his hand from his pocket. A very eloquent diamond ring was pinched between his fingers.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
My entire body began to shake. The man of my dreams was on his knees in the sand, in front of his MC brothers and my father, asking for my hand in marriage.
I was afraid if I spoke, I’d burst into tears. I glanced at my father.
He smiled and gave a nod of approval.
I looked at Tate and nodded eagerly. “I will,” I murmured. “I’d be honored.”
He slipped the ring on the finger of my shaking hand and then stood.
After kissing me, we turned to face the house. Crip slapped his hand against my shoulder and congratulated me. I quickly admired my ring and then looked up.
The entire party was lined up along the barrier that separated the lawn from the sand. Side by side, they stood, watching us. With long beards, goatees, shaved heads, and tattooed hands, they faced us, each wearing a smile.
Someone started clapping. Then, another. Soon, they all joined in. Elated, slightly embarrassed, and madly in love, I walked in their direction.
Halfway there, I took a long look at the ring. The round center diamond was surrounded by a large group of smaller ones. The stones crept down along each edge of the ring, causing it to sparkle regardless of where I looked.
In short, it was a work of art.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “I can’t stop staring at it.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It took me a long time to make it.”
“You made this?” I gasped. “By hand?”
He smiled and nodded. “I sure did.”
I should have known.
In my time with TD Reynolds, I’d learned there was always a little more truth to his books than anyone would ever realize.
Or that he’d ever admit.
Epilogue
Tate
Side by side, sitting three rows back from the screen, we waited with baited breath for the movie to start. The red velvet curtains parted. The crowd, which had been whispering while we waited, fell silent.
The opening scene was exactly what I’d hoped for, but not at all what I’d come to expect from the film adaptation of a book. A little boy sat on the beach, twisting a piece of wire as he gazed out at the vast ocean.
The camera slowly zoomed in on his hands. With precision, he worked the wire into the shape of a tiny – but very detailed – rose. Then, another piece of wire was twisted into shape. And another. With a delicate touch, the boy threaded the wire rope through the back side of the rose, and formed the ends into a perfect round shape. As the camera panned to a wide angle, taking in the entire horizon into view, the boy slipped the ring he’d fashioned into the pocket of his shorts.
Slightly out of focus, a man and a woman stood behind him, holding hands.
“C’mon, Becker,” the woman shouted. “It’s time to go.”
The boy stood and turned to face the couple. After brushing the sand from his legs, he walked to their side.
The camera zoomed in on the family as they walked through the sand.
“Here,” the boy said. “I made this for you.”
He handed the woman the ring. She raised her hand and slipped it onto the one finger that was bare. After admiring his handiwork, she lowered her hand and smiled at the boy.
“Thank you, Becker. It’s beautiful.”
The boy took her hand in his as they walked up the beach.
The camera switched views. The scene was now viewed from behind them as they walked up the beach, toward a palm tree lined street in the distance. The cloudless sky was the bluest of blue, just like I remembered it being when I gave my mother the ring that day on the beach.
From the speakers on the left side of the theater, a low rumble began. As the sound swept from left to right, a group of motorcycles, riding two abreast, rode across the screen. The filming went into slow motion as they passed.
The boy pointed toward the horizon. “What was that?”
“Hells Angels,” the father said. “It’s a gang. A biker gang.”
“A gang? Are they bad?”
The father chuckled. “Only when they need to be.”
The boy glanced at the last bike as it passed by. A tattooed man with a long gray beard lowered his right hand and gave a slight wave.
The little boy raised his hand in return. The camera panned to his face. A gleam in his eye and a smile on his face said what words could not.
One day, he would own one of those glorious machines.
Silently, we watched the movie. In all respects, it depicted the book with an accuracy that made me proud to have played a part in its development. The two hours and ten minutes passed quickly, with not a dull moment in the entire film.
As the final scene began, I squeezed Bobbi’s hand tightly. My only hope was that the crowd enjoyed the ending as much as I enjoyed writing it.
On the back porch of their home, an 89-year-old Becker and an 87-year-old Allison sat side by side in a loveseat and gazed out at the ocean. The camera zoomed out, showing that that were hand in hand, and then zoomed in on their weathered faces.
In her eighty fifth year, Allison had developed cancer. Despite Becker having sought the best doctors in the country, there was nothing else that could be done. Her time had come. Becker, on the other hand, remained healthy as a horse, walking two miles daily through their beachfront neighborhood.
Allison gazed at the ocean. Her gaunt face gave hint to her physical condition, but her brown eyes smiled nonetheless. They seemed as young as the day she met Becker.
She turned to face him and winced in pain.
Becker squeezed her hand lightly.
Her dry lips parted. As she started to speak, she tensed, closed her eyes, and then opened them.
“It hurts,” she muttered.
Becker, with his eyes fixed on the horizon, nodded once. He then turned to face her. His lower lip quivered. “How much longer?”
Her eyes fell closed.
When they opened, he knew exactly what she was afraid to say.
He cupped her left hand with his, taking one last look at the ring he’d fashioned for her so many years before. Wearing a smile that represented a lifetime of memories, he leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek, and then relaxed into the back of the chair.
“The only life I can imagine is a life with you,” he murmured.
Using every ounce of energy that remained, she grinned and then mouthed the words, I love you, Becker.
A lone tear rolled from the corner of his eye and then fell along his cheek.
She winced one last time, tensing from head to toe. He held her hand in his, knowing full well the pain she had endured. Her agony quickly ended, her body falling limp as proof.
Becker leaned over, kissed her forehead, and then rested his head on her shoulder. He fixed his gaze on the horizon and closed his eyes.
His grip on her hand loosened.
In front of the ocean that he so loved, with his head resting gently on Allison’s shoulder, Becker Wallace knew he couldn’t live a single moment without her in it. So, he let go, joining her as she floated out over the ocean and into
the heavens above.
The camera zoomed out for a moment. Sitting on the loveseat side by side, with his head resting on Allison’s shoulder, it seemed Becker Wallace had simply fallen asleep with his wife. Slowly, the camera zoomed in, coming into focus on their hands.
The ring he’d fashioned for her so many years before glistened in the evening sun, still every bit as beautiful as the day he presented it to her as a gesture of his love.
Fade to black.
The theatre went from dark to light. Blubbering could be heard from the entire crowd. Nervous as to what the reviews would say, I glanced to the left. Peyton, Tegan, Joey, and Sandy were all wiping their cheeks.
Pee Bee was in tears, but that could be expected, considering the loss of his father.
I looked at Crip, who was seated on my left. “Well?”
He raised his hand between us “Give me… give me a minute.”
Clapping began. Whistling followed. I turned to face Bobbi. “Well?”
“I’ve read that damned thing fifty times, and I cry every time. It was great, honey. It really was.” She waved her hand toward the rear of the theatre. “I mean, really? Listen to them.”
I glanced behind me. The entire crowd was on their feet, cheering.
“I want ice cream,” Bobbi said. “With caramel. And some fried chicken.”
“Fried chicken sounds good as fuck,” Crip said. “Is there anywhere to get good fried chicken in New York?”
“We can ride those rented bikes around and find out,” I said.
I stood, turned to face the crowd, and tugged against the bottom of my kutte. Seeing the level of emotion in the crowd was all the reward I needed. The money I received had gone toward a modest beach house, new tires for my motorcycle, and our children’s college fund.
I reached for Bobbi’s hand. “C’mon, baby. It’s going to take us a while to get out of here.”
She stood, stretched, and then let out a sigh.
“You sure you’re up for the ride?”
“I’m pregnant,” she said. “Not crippled.”
I glanced at her stomach and smiled. In three more months, our little Allison would be here. Sitting on our back porch and staring out at the ocean was high on my list of things to do with her once she was old enough.
F*CKERS (Biker MC Romance Book 7) Page 119