Page 16 of Patch's Bride
“This is Larry,” Patch says, nodding to the taller one. “And Rick, you’ve already met.”
Larry tips his chin at me. “Good to meet you, ma’am.” His voice is polite, even as his eyes jump to Patch.
Rick stops pinching his nose and begins twirling pieces of paper napkins and stuffing them up his nostrils. “Heads up. Do not flirt with his fuckin’ wife.”
Patch’s head snaps towards him, and he shoots the poor man a death stare. “You talk too much and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Larry can’t seem to keep the smirk off his face for anything. “So that’s what got your nose rearranged, is it? I told you a million fuckin’ times that mouth of yours was gonna get you into trouble one day and now look at you.”
Rick holds his hands up, in a gesture of defeat. Glancing at me, he says with a wink, “I apologize and humbly beg your forgiveness. Beautiful women shouldn’t have to suffer being hit on by hot young prospects with too much testosterone and too few brain cells.”
His attempt at humor didn’t quite land the way he probably wanted. It just sounds outlandish and kinda like flirting.
Patch looks coiled tight, like a viper about to strike again. When he begins to move towards Rick, I grab his arm and loop it through mine. ”It’s okay,” I say.
The minute Patch backs down, he asks, “So, are you really going to fix my nose?”
Staring at him, Patch says, “No.”
Rick frowns and uses two fingers to stuff the napkins further up his nose.
“You’re a fuckin’ doctor, dude. Aren’t you ethically obligated to heal people?”
An older man walks up. He’s got a scowl on his face. There’s something almost menacing about him, from his dark hair to his all black ensemble. But then my eyes drop further and see the large crucifix he’s wearing. The man’s eyes go from the prospect to Patch and he asks, “What’s going on here, brother? You shouldn’t be fighting, especially tonight of all nights.”
Larry volunteers, “Rick was flirting with his old lady.”
“In that case, I’ll leave you gentlemen to it,” Rigs says with a grin before turning to leave.
Patch reaches out to touch his arm. “Actually, I need to talk to you if you have a minute.”
Rigs seems delighted to be of service. “What can I do for you tonight?”
“This is my soon-to-be wife, Beth. We filed for our marriage license a few days ago and now we need someone to officiate our wedding. I was thinking that we could do something here at the clubhouse when you get a minute. We just want something with the two of us and a witness. What do you think? Would you be interested in doing a quick ceremony for us?”
“Of course, Patch,” he says, beaming at the two of us. “You just let me know when and I’ll be here.”
“It needs to be soon,” Patch responds. “Maybe even this coming weekend.”
“I’ll let the other club officers know. Or maybe you could announce it tonight after the vote on your patch.”
Shock ripples through me because I don’t know that tonight is the night he is getting patched into the Savage Legion. I can tell by his response that Patch knows. He extends a hand and asthey shake he says, “Thank you, Rigs. As the very first member of the Savage Legion, it’s a real honor to have you officiate our wedding.”
When the older man glances at me, I extend my hand as well. “You don’t look old enough to be the very first member, but I would really appreciate you marrying us.”
He shoots me a proud smile. “It’s true, I was the very first member that Claw recruited. This club was my lifeline for many years and now, I’m giving back in ways that weren’t possible for me back then. It would be my honor to conduct your wedding ceremony.”
Patch and Rigs talk a little more about the meeting and whether Patch has his speech prepared because all the prospects give a speech about why they should be voted into the club. I just keep my arm linked through Patch’s and listen as they jump from one conversation to another. Regardless of what’s going on with the one totally reckless prospect, all the others seem really grounded and nice.
As we move through the crowd of brothers, Patch keeps me close to his side as he makes introductions. I just roll with it, shaking hands, smiling and greeting each of them in turn. Eventually, all their names blur in my head. There are just too many of them. Fortunately, I realize at some point that they all wear their club names on their cuts.
After seeing the club girls fluttering about, I realize I don’t fit here. They are all wearing leather miniskirts and booty shorts with sequined or satin belly shirts. I don’t even know how they walk around in six-inch spike heels. By way of comparison, my jeans are plain and cover way too much skin. My top is a simple button-up dress shirt. The women here laugh loudly, confident in their flirting skills. They belong. I am clearly the outsider, and I feel it all the way down to my bones.
Sharon finds me just as the brothers begin moving towards their meeting room. She walks through the front door with two little boys running in circles around her, roughhousing with each other. They’re dressed up like little bikers in black jeans, black T-shirts and tiny leather vests with stickers, probably meant to be patches, stuck all over them. They just might be the cutest boys I’ve ever set eyes on.
“Beth,” Sharon says as she approaches. “I’m glad I found you. Come and sit with me while the brothers have church.”
Patch asks, “Are you gonna be okay with Sharon, Chase, and Scout?”
