Axe noticed Derek’s mother sitting in the front row of the church, her eyes watery and her face leathered and wrinkled from years of too much sun and booze. Her favorite thing to do most mornings, after she’d woken up hungover, was to stretch out on a cheap, plastic chaise lounge in a tiny bikini, which left little to the imagination, and take in the rays as she sipped her first of many glasses of bourbon.
The first time Axe had seen Mrs. Keary in her skimpy bikini, he’d been around thirteen years old. Watching her breasts swing under a pink top which barely held them in had mesmerized the young boy, and he’d felt something funny grab him in his crotch. The side view of Mrs. Keary had shown white, round flesh spilling out. He’d known he shouldn’t have stared, but the sight of it had made him feel weird and excited. Then she’d caught him, and her throaty laugh mocked him.
She’d looked at him, a cigarette dangling from her mouth. “Like what you’re seeing?”
He didn’t answer, too embarrassed at being caught checking out his best friend’s mother’s breasts.
“Come on over and touch them, if you like. I’m not gonna tell.”
Shaking his head, he’d run away, her raspy laughter following him.
From that day on, Axe had made sure he wasn’t around when Mrs. Keary sunbathed.
There, in the church, she looked like a used up, old hag. He hadn’t seen her since they all moved from the trailer park many years back.
Derek and his mom moved to Denver during high school, and Axe had joined up with the Insurgents MC when he was seventeen. Even though their paths went in different directions, they’d stayed in touch, seeing each other whenever Derek came to Pinewood Springs. When he’d told Axe he was tying the knot, Axe was happy for him. For such a long time, his buddy had seemed lost. Why he wanted to tie himself down to one pussy was hard for Axe to understand, but it seemed like Derek was happy with the chick who donned his ring, so Axe was cool with that.
As Derek and his new wife walked down the aisle, past Axe, he high-fived Derek, who grinned back. Turning his head around, he searched for the hot woman in the green dress, but she was gone. What the fuck? Where the hell did she go? He wanted to see her face, because if she looked anything like the back of her, he was going to have to fuck her before the night was over. Wasn’t that supposed to happen at weddings—random sex? If he had to drag his ass to Denver to suffer through a wedding ceremony, he was determined to have some action before he headed back home. He’d definitely be looking for the green-dressed babe at the reception.
* * *
The reception was in one of the large ballrooms at the Excelsior Hotel on 15th Street. Through the large windows, the skyscrapers looked as if they could touch the clouds. The lights of the surrounding buildings winked and sparkled as night descended.
Large, round tables dotted the ballroom, and silver and blue crepe paper streamed down from the chandeliers. Large, tissue wedding bells dangled from the ceiling, and a large paper-flower backdrop covered the wall behind the wedding party table.
“May I help you, sir?” a woman dressed in black pants and a starched white shirt asked him.
“Trying to find my table,” Axe replied.
The waitperson searched the guest list and directed Axe to table number eight. Looking around, he spotted the bar on the other side of the room and made his way over to grab a beer. A group of three women in their early twenties giggled and raked their gazes over his muscular body. His normal attire of blue jeans, black t-shirt, and his Insurgents’ leather cut had been replaced by dress clothes: white dress shirt molded over his ripped chest and sculpted biceps, and black pants fitting snug across his firm ass and bulge.
Axe checked out the women openly; they were dressed in silk and satin cocktail dresses. They all had the same hairstyle, were blondes, and teetered on very high heels. One of the women, the one with the cherry-red strapless dress, had nice tits, but he wasn’t interested. He was looking for a woman in a celery-green dress.
Knowing the women were going to approach him, he threw them a charming smile, winked at them, and headed back toward his table. The high-pitched giggling from the group grated on his nerves.
As he walked, he saw Mrs. Keary scrambling toward him. Pretending not to see her, he changed his direction, but his friend’s mother caught up to him, clutching his arm with her bony hand.
“Hello, Michael. It’s been a long time.” She moved her eyes up and down his body, lingering a little too long on his crotch. “You’re looking good. You’re all grown up now, aren’t you?”
“Hey.”
“When was the last time I saw you?”