“Guess it could be worse,” I say as one of the elderly park goers whips out their phone to shoot video.
“Yeah, I hope no one gets knifed.”
He has a point.
“Bout time to get this show on the road,” he announces and my forehead starts to shoot sweat-bullets.
“Is it?” I ask, more breathless than I should be. This goddamned tie just got really tight.
A freaking neck tie. Of all things.
Truth is, I don’t need to ask what time it is. There’s a clock inside my head that’s been counting down for a month. In less than two minutes Katie will arrive with a dozen club guards.
The girls insisted my woman get the royal treatment—a Hummer limo with champagne.
Said it was for her nerves. Kinda like the bowl they’ve been trying to get me to smoke all day.
That’s the last thing I want. This is the most important day of my life.
Right on time, there’s a flash of light from the park entrance as the big, black Hummer beast lumbers into the parking lot.
A dozen bikes surround it. Half in front, half behind. The meanest, deadliest men I know are guarding my woman.
“Excuse me,” a frumpy-looking woman asks, startling me. “Is this a motorcycle gang?”
“A club, ma’am. It’s a wedding.”
“A strange wedding,” she replies, scrunching her nose.
“We do things different. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go meet my bride.”
“You’re the groom?” she exclaims.
“Yep. You’re welcome to stay for cake. There’s also a cut ceremony, which is the part where everyone yells. You’ll want to cover your ears.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Then, in a completely different voice: “Is that the Hot Date Pics photographer? From the viral biker shoot?”
“Why don’t you go find out.”
As I stride across the park with my heart doing weird loops in my chest, I’m intercepted by Officer Winford. He’s out of uniform, with a gift bag in one hand and a sweating beer in the other.
“We’re getting calls,” he says. “A lot of calls.”
“You’re off duty, Winford.”
He grins. “Yep, and I’ve got a date.”
I practically shove him in the direction of the gathering crowd so I can get to Katie.
It’s been hours since I’ve seen her. I’m frothing to get my hands on her.
And more importantly to make her my WIFE, my old lady.
The doors to the Hummer open, and I almost trip over my own boots. Beatrice and Jessica pile out of the limo first, in matching black dresses, already pointing at me.
“WE DID THIS,” Beatrice yells across the entire park. “THIS IS US. WE TAKE FULL CREDIT.”
We know. Now the whole world knows.
