Page 13 of The Vow

Then Blue turned to Carmelo. “Pig.” Blue shot Carmelo’s way as a farewell. Carmelo knew he had to accept the insult that had slowly become his nickname around the MC. He pursed his lips and flicked an eyebrow up in acknowledgement as Blue turned and stalked off.

The Mayor took a deep breath in. “Okay, best behavior now, boys-”

“Fuck’s sake, we aren’t fucking high schoolers-” Colt grumbled, pulling away as the Mayor attempted to flatten out a messy bit of Colt’s hair.

The Mayor was unperturbed. “They are all sitting around the table, we go in, you smile, we sit down, you say yes, okay?”

Colt glared at the Mayor. “I’ve got the fucking message, whatever they ask for, I make happen. Call me fucking Santa Claus ‘cause it’s about to be their Christmas-”

The Mayor cut Colt off. “Alright, let’s go.”

Carmelo kept his head down and followed them in.

Carmelo

“Now,” Mayor Harris began, licking her lips slowly. “Jovan is willing to join us in establishing this base of the Zakarian Syndicate in Northern California. He has been pleased with your work so far, Colt, the Black Coyotes MC has made many deliveries now for the Zakarian Syndicate, all on time, no trouble, untouched goods… he is happy to extend further business your way and further reach out into the state. The Zakarian’s presence would be good in many ways, it would keep down the threat of any other gang takeover, I’m thinking about the Demonios and that white hate group that started trying to press for power, and any others spilling over from Southern California.”

They were all sitting around the table now, in the conference room. It looked like a boardroom, and it felt like they were warring countries finally sitting around a table to broker a peace deal. Carmelo kept quiet, watching the imposing, older man in his expensive suit at the head of the table, and his wife, who looked on, glamorous, proud, with ‘high maintenance’ dripping off her.

“He has a request though,” the mayor continued. “And that is why we are all here today. He wants his family’s success to be intrinsically linked to the town’s success, to cement our loyalty to him. For us all to be connected, more than just through shared goals and like-minded philosophy-”

“Money,” Colt muttered under his breath.

Mayor Harris carried on, ignoring Colt. “So this is his offer. He will move his operation to our town, expand, and go into business with us, with the MC, on one condition.”

Colt crossed his arms. “Let’s hear it then.”

“One, very simple-”

Colt snorted.

“I want my daughter to marry you, the President of the Black Coyotes, the King of Northern California,” Jovan said, finally.

Colt and Carmelo both stared. Colt let his jaw drop. Carmelo tilted his head back. The air conditioner in the room made a stuttering sound in the heavy silence.

Major Harris picked things back up. “He wants his eldest daughter, who will be inheriting the family business and hence will be leading up the family, the princess of the West Coast Zakarian Syndicate group, to marry this town’s golden boy. Our… prince, if you like.”

Colt recovered quickest and cleared his throat. Colt spluttered, “I’m married already.”

“Your VP then?” Jovan shrugged, unperturbed.

“Er,” Colt rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and winced. “He’s taken, too.”

Jovan pursed his lips. “Fine, Sergeant at Arms?”

Colt’s eyes widened. “He’s kinda… taken by the VP-”

“What could you mean by that?” Jovan asked, incomprehension marring his face.

Colt sat forward in his chair and tried to smile charmingly and ignoring Jovan’s question. “Well, this is a… a very special request, we are honored that you would have thought of such a commitment.” He flashed the Mayor a look that could kill. “I’m just thinking through the practicalities of it… our members in the MC don’t really fit into the golden boy, prodigal prince bracket-”

“No, I know that, I’ve already warned him of that,” Mayor Harris said under her breath to Colt, wrinkling her nose. She cleared her throat and spoke to Jovan. “There are plenty of eligible, single, young men in the MC-”

“How old is your daughter?” Colt asked.

“She has just turned twenty-one.”

Colt hung his head. “Fuck me.”

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