“I don’t want you to get away,” he said and squeezed her against his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere without you at my side.”
“Promise?”
“Pinkie swear.” She extended her little finger, and he set her on her feet so he could save his back and loop her little finger with his to give it a congenial shake.
Their fingers were broken apart as Rebekah was instantly surrounded by chattering women. Her mother was determined to remove thirty years’ worth of wrinkles from her borrowed wedding gown by tugging and smoothing the skirt with her palms. Everyone else had just discovered the bride had arrived and required a piece of her attention.
Sed’s gorgeous fiancée looped an arm through Rebekah’s and started towing her toward the church.
“We did the best we could with the decorations previous brides left behind,” Jessica said. “It’s a bit of a hodgepodge of styles, but it doesn’t look bad considering Eric demanded we fix it up less than two hours ago. Come see if there’s anything you want changed.”
Rebekah glanced helplessly over her shoulder at Eric. She just pinkie swore that she’d never leave his side and there were already several feet and a couple of extraneous bodies between them. He grinned at her over the crowd and waved her toward the church as the members of his band descended upon him with a bevy of fist bumps, bro hugs, and huge smiles.
“I’ll meet you at the altar,” he yelled.
“I’ll be there,” she hollered back.
Chapter Five
Eric watched Myrna, Jessica, and Mrs. B usher Rebekah toward the church entrance until they were out of sight. Everyone around him was talking at once, and he was too distracted to make sense of any of it.
A crumpled mass of black fabric was shoved into his arms. “You better wear this damned thing,” Trey said. “Besides a lucky tuxedo, you have some really weird shit in your closet, dude. I believe I’m scarred for life.”
Eric snorted. “Yeah, right. I don’t even want to know what’s in your closet.”
Eric and Rebekah did have a lot of kinky implements in their stash of carnal delights, but there was no way their sexy costumes and sex toys rivaled Trey Mills’s stockpile of apparatuses. Now, if Trey had been going through Jace’s closet, Eric might have understood the affront to Trey’s feigned propriety.
“I guess I’m supposed to act like a girl today,” Aggie said, staring after where the rest of the women had vanished, anything but longing in her blue-eyed gaze. “You know I’d rather stay out here with you guys, right?”
“Is that because women are less likely to be intimidated by you?” Eric asked. He’d never known a woman to wear black leather pants and an off-the shoulder red sweater to a wedding. Until now.
“Aggie has a couple of female slaves,” Jace said, slipping an arm around Aggie’s waist and kissing her. “I guarantee they are plenty intimidated.”
Eric’s brows rose in interest. “I didn’t know you swung that way, Mistress V.”
Aggie grinned deviously. “There’s a lot you don’t know about the way I swing, Sticks. There’s my overhand swing,” she said, demonstrating. “My underhand swing, and my all-time favorite, the backhand swing.”
Jace chuckled. “She doesn’t do anything but spank them. And I’d much rather watch her spank a submissive woman than whip a man.”
“Aggie lets you watch?” Eric said, his jaw attempting to get acquainted with the ground. “Seriously? Damn… How do I get in on that?”
“It’s more like make him watch. For disobeying,” Aggie said.
She whispered something in Jace’s ear that made him blush to the dark roots of his bleached-blond spikes. That thick, brown beard stubble of his didn’t hide his embarrassment one bit. Aggie gave Jace’s ass one hard smack and a punishing squeeze before turning away and striding off after the rest of the women.
“Okay, what did she say to you to make you blush like that?” Eric asked.
“If I tell you, she’ll punish me,” Jace said with a grin.
“And that would be a negative for you why?” Trey said around the sucker in his mouth. “We know you get off on that shit. And if she punishes you by making you watch her spank chicks, sign me up for some of that.” His words were further garbled by the barbell in his tongue.
Eric wondered what he’d interrupted when he’d called Trey earlier. Eric knew the guy only wore the barbell for special occasions. And Eric was pretty sure that weddings didn’t count as special occasions to Trey.
Jace stared at his boots as he said, “Mistress V has a group of six coeds coming over tonight. They think they want to try out some BDSM after their book club read some kinky novel.”
“Ooo,” Trey said. “Maybe I should lend you a hand. Six women at once. Not sure if even Sed’s gone to that extreme.”
“Maybe a few times,” Sed said with a deep laugh.
“So what did you do to deserve this hellish punishment, Tripod?” Eric asked with a snort.
“Not a thing. She needs my assistance is all. Aggie thinks she can turn at least half of them into dommes when they use me as their plaything for the night. And watching a bunch of young women spank each other after I’ve been worked over for a couple of hours is bound to make my alone time with Aggie extra hot.”
“I totally understand the appeal of hitting you, Tripod. I just don’t get why Aggie lets other people abuse her sub.”
“I’m not her sub, Eric,” Jace said, pinning him with an annoyed stare. “I just get off on the pain.”
Eric lifted both hands in surrender. “My mistake.” He knew how hard Jace could hit when he was ticked off. And the only stars Eric wanted to see for the rest of the day were the ones in Rebekah’s eyes when she looked at him.
“Okay, Eric,” Sed said, scratching his neck and finding the cloudless sky a bit too interesting. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready or something? I thought you were getting married today.”
He was. Every other concern fled his mind in an instant. He shook out his tuxedo to find Trey had brought the pants and jacket, but no shirt or vest or tie or shoes.
“Trey?” Eric questioned. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“The rest of it?”
“The shirt and shoes and stuff.”
“You said to bring your lucky tuxedo. You didn’t say anything about a shirt or shoes.”
“You don’t expect me to wear this with a T-shirt and my Cons, do you?”
After a moment of reflection, all four members of his band nodded in unison.
“Yep,” said Brian. “I’d totally expect that.”
“Reb won’t mind. She gets you,” Jace said. “Like the way Aggie gets me.”
“And Myrna gets me,” Brian added.
“And Jess gets me,” Sed said.
“Psh, no one gets you,” Eric said. “Jess just puts up with you.”
That earned him a teeth-jarring smack in the back of the head, which he probably deserved.
Eric slipped the tuxedo jacket on over his white T-shirt. He stared down at his belly, but couldn’t really tell how ridiculous the well-cut jacket looked without a proper shirt and tie.
“She won’t care,” Jace assured him and patted him on the back.
“I’m sure her mother will.”
“And that bothers you why?” Trey asked.
Eric shrugged. Maybe because his only memory of his real mother was her saying goodbye when she’d left him with child protective services. To tell the truth, he didn’t really remember her at all. Not what she looked like. Not the sound of her voice. He didn’t remember any of it. He just remembered what it felt like to wait for her. And wait. And wait. Only to finally realize that she wasn’t coming back because he wasn’t worth her time. The stupid bitch wasn’t worth his time either.
Eric and Mrs. B hadn’t started off on the best of terms, but he legitimately hoped that one day she’d let him call her Mom. Not that he would say any of that to the guys. Well, maybe Jace. Jace could understand wh
ere he was coming from, but the other guys wouldn’t really get it. Trey’s mother was eccentric but unabashedly loving, Sed had the poster mom for woman of the year, and Brian’s mother was a hottie who could not be ignored. Claire Sinclair wasn’t very affectionate, Eric supposed, but what the woman lacked in nurturing, she more than made up for with a fine body and supermodel face. Brian obviously wouldn’t care that his mom looked hot in a bikini, but all of their mothers were better than Eric’s. Even Jace’s mother wasn’t all bad. At least she’d taught him to play the piano before she’d died. It was something. Eric had nothing to cling to. Not even memories or photographs.
Eric wasn’t sure why he was even thinking about his junkie whore of a mother today. He’d abandoned her memory the way she’d abandoned him long ago and was better for it. He hadn’t really thought about her for over a decade. Not since he’d changed his last name from Anderson to Sticks. The name he would give his new wife. The one he’d chosen for himself. Now that he was no longer an eighteen-year-old punk with a chip on his shoulder, he realized Sticks was a pretty silly name for a drummer. Regardless, he was proud that Rebekah had chosen Sticks to be her name as well.
“Are you still with us, Sticks?” Brian asked.
“Yeah,” he said, surprised by how raw his voice sounded around the tightness in his throat.
It rattled him that even after all this time his mother could still get to him. She’d probably died long ago, and he was sure the world was a better place without her. He refused to give her another thought today. At least he’d try not to think of her. Or wonder if she’d be happy for him.
“Let’s get you married off then,” Brian said. He placed a hand between Eric’s shoulder blades and gave him a shove toward the church. It was the only prodding Eric needed. “You were slated to get married next.”
“I was? Since when?” Eric said.
“You caught Myrna’s garter, remember?”
Eric chuckled. He’d completely forgotten about that. “I still have it,” he said. “I saved it for luck. It’s in the glovebox of the Corvette. I was going to hang it from the rearview mirror when I got it fixed, but I forgot.”
“Maybe Rebekah should wear it today,” Brian suggested. “It could become a Sinners tradition.”
“One lucky garter coming up,” Jace said and trotted back toward Eric’s car.
Inside the church, Eric was shown to a small room behind the altar so he could change from his jeans into his tuxedo pants. He kind of liked that he was stuck wearing his Converse. He still wasn’t sure about wearing Hanes under Armani, but he had little choice. Unless he went bare-chested under his tux. He scratched that idea as soon as it occurred to him.
He hadn’t seen any sign of Rebekah as he’d walked through the welcoming church, but he had noticed that the bouquets of artificial flowers on the ends of the pews were bright pink and didn’t match the golden yellow roses on the big candelabras near the altar. Considering that the lady Sinners had had less than two hours to pull it together, they’d done an amazing job of giving Rebekah a real wedding. He figured Jess owed him one after he’d gone to jail for her proposal to Sed, but he’d have to think of something nice to repay Myrna and Aggie for helping out.
The door opened, and Rebekah’s father poked his head into the room. He was dressed in full ceremonial garb, which made Eric even more nervous, but the pudgy balding man smiled a welcome and walked in, closing the door behind him. He sat beside Eric on the bench and clasped his hands between his knees.
“I figured I’d have more time to prepare my talk,” Father Blake said.
Eric glanced at him, his stomach churning with nerves. He wanted this man’s respect, but wasn’t sure how to earn it.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Eric said.
“But I do. That’s my little girl you’re marrying.”
Eric steeled himself for the barrage of criticism that was sure to follow.
“For most fathers, letting go of a daughter so she can offer her love to a man is probably one of the hardest things he’ll ever do, but after watching my little girl get so sick and lose all her hair and almost die, this is easy.”
“If she gets sick again, I’ll be there for her,” Eric promised.
Father Blake smiled warmly. “I know that, son.”
Son… All the air evacuated the little overwarm room.
Father Blake patted Eric’s back and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “A lot of people will be there for her if she gets sick again. What I ask of you is that you’re there for her when the sink gets clogged or she burns the eggs or her car won’t start.”
Eric chuckled. “She’d be better at getting the car started than I would, but I’ve got the eggs covered.”
“That’s not what I mean. You don’t need to be there to fix everything for her. Just be there for her. And love her. Even when she doesn’t seem to need a reminder of how you feel, she does. Don’t forget to tell her. Show her. Not only when her world comes crashing down, but when it really matters most. Every day.”
“That will be absolutely no problem at all,” Eric said without pausing between words.
“Good. If you forget, I’ll be sure to remind you none too gently.”
“I won’t forget. Your daughter—Rebekah—she’s my everything. My everything.”
Smiling, Father Blake searched Eric’s eyes and then after a long moment, he cleared his throat. “Uh, we don’t need to have a sex talk, do we?”
Eric’s face went numb as the blood drained from his head. “Uh, no, sir.” He shook his head emphatically.
“Good. Because that would be awkward.” Father Blake laughed.
Awkward? Uh, yeah. Just a little.
“I also wanted to ask if you were overly attached to the wedding bands you bought for the ceremony.”
“Wedding bands?” Eric shot to his feet. “Crap! We forgot to get wedding bands.”
“Good.” Father Blake said. He fumbled in a pocket in his robe.
“Good?” Would they have to call off the wedding? Was that what Rebekah’s father thought was good about forgetting something so important? Had he changed his mind? Did he not really want to marry them? Rebekah would be crushed. So crushed she’d probably call the whole thing off.
“Sit down, Eric.”
Eric sat. Partially because his knees were weak, partially because he was slightly terrified to do anything that would make this man dislike him. Father Blake pulled his hand out of his pocket and opened it to show Eric two silver rings resting on his palm.
“These have been in my family for five generations. It would mean a lot to me if you would use them for the ceremony today.”
Eric was so stunned—so touched—that he couldn’t find any words. His family didn’t have heirlooms. Hell, he didn’t have a family, so the idea that Rebekah’s father would offer something so precious to him completely threw Eric for a loop.
“I…” He couldn’t talk through the sudden tightness in his chest.
“If you don’t want them, I understand. They are a bit tarnished, even though I tried to clean them up this afternoon. A rich guy like you would probably rather have platinum.”
Father Blake pressed his lips together and closed his hand, moving to return the rings to his pocket.
“Don’t,” Eric whispered. Having something so meaningful snatched away before he could even adjust to the idea was like a knife to his heart. “I want…”
Father Blake didn’t say a word. He simply took Eric by the wrist, dropped the two silver bands into his palm, and folded his hand closed over the two bits of aged metal. They sat side by side for a long moment. Eric wanted to thank him for entrusting him with the rings and more importantly, with his beloved daughter, but his emotions were high and he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his soon-to-be father-in-law by sobbing like a little girl.
“I still say you’re too tall for her,” Father Blake said, “but I know you have a good heart and that’s what really counts,
isn’t it? The love between you.”
Eric gave a curt nod. “I’ll treasure these,” he said opening his hand to stare at the bands nestled there. The smaller of the two rings had settled inside the larger, partially filling the gaping space in its center. “And I’ll treasure her.”
“You know they say women tend to marry men who are a lot like their fathers,” Father Blake said.
Eric blinked at him in surprise. A Baptist minister and a degenerate rock drummer couldn’t possibly have anything in common. But the man’s eyes were a bit misty, and Eric recognized that same sentimental quality in himself. At least when it came to Rebekah. So at minimum they shared some syrupy feelings about one tiny yet strong purple-haired woman.