“You could invite your brother. It is your day after all,” Marcella said when we went over the guest list one last time.
I shook my head. I existed in two worlds. One was rooted in the past, by memories. The other was my present and future. If Marcella had made me choose, I would have chosen her, my future, but she didn’t.
Still, allowing those two worlds to cross was bound to end in tragedy, and I had enough tragedy to last me a lifetime. “And your mom, she won’t come either?”
I had told Mom she was invited but she had said no, which wasn’t really a surprise. Mom was already dating another biker from Tartarus again and had moved back to Texas where the club’s following was still the strongest. I had a feeling Gray had gone with her to rebuild Tartarus to old strength and hopefully stay out of any Italian mob family’s business.
“Maybe we could visit her. I never met her.”
I linked our fingers. “Listen, Marcella, my mom lives for the biker lifestyle. She won’t ever want anything to do with this world. And I sure as hell won’t take you into enemy territory.”
“The Camorra isn’t our enemy. The peace is still holding up.”
I shook my head. “That’s going to burst eventually but what I mean is Tartarus. They might not be strong right now and they officially don’t have any interest in you or your family, but most members, unlike me, haven’t made peace with your father. I won’t tempt them to give revenge another try. You know I’d kill them to protect you, but I fear Gray is in the new main chapter in Texas.”
She searched my eyes. “Won’t it be hard if you don’t have anyone from your family at the wedding?”
Mom had missed many important points in my life. And Gray? It would be selfish of me to have him attend considering the danger that could bring him in. Him in a room with hundreds of Famiglia and Camorra soldiers would only end in a catastrophe. I sure as fuck didn’t want a bloody wedding. “The only person I need at my wedding is you. Trust me,” I said firmly.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “But what about a stag night. Matteo suggested he could organize one. Are you sure you won’t regret it if you don’t have a huge stag night?”
I grinned. “Snow White, I’ve spent most of my teenage years and even the start of my twenties either drunk or recovering from a hangover. I’ve partied more than most people do their entire life. I don’t need one last hurrah to feel better about marriage. Marrying you is the fucking best thing that’s happened to me so far.”
Not to mention that the idea of Matteo organizing a stag night set my alarm bells off. I’d probably end up with my balls waxed, my dick tattooed with a cartoon figure, and half of my bones broken.
“But you’re going on that trip with Matteo and Amo?” she asked. I could tell she wanted this. She wanted me to get along with the men in her family, become part of the Vitiello clan, and I had to admit, Matteo asking me to ride our bikes together had made me feel one step closer to fitting in. I was still wary of his plans for the trip because of how eager he had been to have a stag night for me, but I had made it clear that wouldn’t happen, and Marcella had him swear it too.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked, chuckling. “Won’t your family be mortally offended if I say no?”
“You’re impossible. You’ll have fun, believe me. Matteo is one of the funniest people I know, and Amo has his moments too.”
“I guess I’m lucky your old man didn’t decide to join in on the fun as well.”
“He doesn’t ride bikes, but you should consider doing something with him.”
“What? I don’t think we have anything in common.”
“You both like to beat people up.”
“Usually each other,” I said. “And your old man and I having a fight against each other probably wouldn’t be clever before the wedding.”
Marcella rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you go to a big cage fight together? There’s one happening in Vegas next week, three days before our wedding. That would be a great opportunity to bond.”
“Bonding with your dad in Vegas, alone, sounds like a splendid idea,” I said sarcastically.
“Do it for me,” Marcella said quietly.
“Killing my uncle, working with the Famiglia, being civil to your dad and brother isn’t enough?”
She simply smiled.
I shook my head. “You’ll be the death of me.”
I pulled up in front of the Vitiello mansion where I was picking up Matteo and Amo. They were already waiting for me. Amo on his orange and black motocross bike, which really wasn’t the best choice for a road trip like we had planned but it wasn’t my butt and balls being shaken like a good Martini. Matteo’s super fast Kawasaki Ninja wasn’t really as comfortable as my Harley either but it was a whole lot of fun on the road.
Matteo held up a small backpack to me. “Can you put that into your trunk?”
I gave him an incredulous look. “My Harley might have more storage room than your dick compensation but it doesn’t have a trunk.”
Matteo’s grin widened. “My dick’s fine, ask my wife. Now what about my backpack. I need my beauty products. This face doesn’t stay as pretty as it is without some work.”
I shook my head and ripped the backpack from his grasp. “If you wear a facemask at any point in our trip, I’ll cut your fuel supply and take off to go looking for some real men to go camping with.”
Amo snorted. “Good luck finding someone who doesn’t want to kill you for bounty.”
“No reason to feel threatened in your manliness only because I take care of my beauty,” Matteo said with a smirk. “You aren’t my type, so even if I was gay you wouldn’t become my bottom.”
“Geez, my heart’s broken.”
Amo straddled his bike. “You’re both old gossips. If anyone cuts your fuel supplies and takes off, then it’s me.”
“What about your beauty product? Do you have a bag for my trunk as well?”
Amo motioned at a sleek black backpack strapped to his back. “I’m all set. I don’t need beauty products. I’m a natural.”
Matteo patted his shoulder. “Says the chick who just got his pubic hair. Wait twenty years then we’ll talk again.”
I rammed my foot down on the gas, letting my engine roar, drowning out Amo’s comeback. When silence settled once more, I muttered, “How about we get going? This weekend will be a long one anyway.”
Matteo raced ahead on occasion, only to allow us to catch up again. Amo too did the occasional detour off the road to fly across some dips. I didn’t let their stunts distract me from the feeling of my bike gliding over the road. This was the first time I wasn’t riding alone and even though it wasn’t the same as flying across the street in a group of Harleys, it felt good being with others for once.
Of course, neither Matteo nor Amo were real bikers.