Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Once the slideshow was over, the lights went on—dimmed white, with purple accents, which Nao and Knight had set up in the past week. The decorations were far too formal for Jake’s taste and unlike any he’d seen at past biker weddings, but he couldn’t deny that everything was in surprisingly good taste, like something Jake’s own mother could have come up with. He was baffled that Nao, who usually wore neon colors and clothes that showed off more skin than was reasonable in winter, had helped Laurent choose a setting so classy and modern.
All the rectangular tables had a narrow piece of cloth running through the middle, which housed candles, small flower pieces, and platefuls of finger food. The white plates were in pleasant contrast to the color of the naked wood underneath, though Jake was surprised to discover that instead of porcelain, they were made of thick plastic. Laurent had long mourned the fact that plastic was considered tacky, but Beast must have convinced him that it was okay that he loved plastic, even if other people found it silly. It must have worked, considering the sound the plate was making whenever Jake tapped it with his fork. Either that or Beast was afraid real plates would end up broken by the end of the night.
Thankfully Beast wouldn’t budge on the choice of music, so instead of classical, they had good old rock and metal discreetly flowing from the speakers. There was also a promise of the party becoming less formal after midnight when the tables were scheduled to be moved against the walls to create space for your typical dancing, drinking, and socializing with booze, of which there was plenty.
An empty table at the end of the room creeped Jake out every time he looked its way to see if any of the cutlery moved, or if a candle had been blown out, but the “ghost table” was eerily (or appropriately) dead. For reasons Jake couldn’t comprehend, Elliot and Laurent had decided to put the kids’ table right next to it, because apparently some of the ghosts really liked children, or some other crap like that.
Jake tried very hard to keep to his conviction that there was absolutely nothing weird going on. Well, apart from the collar he wore under his shirt. His mood instantly shifted when loud, celebratory music turned his attention back to the newlyweds’ table and the cake that one of the hangarounds was rolling in. It was magnificent—four tiers decorated with cascading fruit. It was the kind of cake that seemed awfully fashionable nowadays—with no fondant and layers clearly distinguishable from outside.
Knight got up from his place next to Beast and ran over to the service table with his long hair flowing and in less of a mess than usual. He was in a black button-up that Jake had only seen him wear for funerals. Without the black suit jacket he’d dropped the moment the reception started and with his sleeves rolled-up, he managed to look both stylish and relaxed. He snatched the microphone from Nao’s hands (who today wore a little pink dress that wouldn’t have been out of place at a cocktail party at Jake’s parents’) and grinned, looking around the room.
“This is a great cake, I admit. Very genteel, very contemporary. I’m sure it’s gonna be tasty too, since it’s from Martin’s and we all know they make the best cakes in the county. But I thought that this isn’t really the style of our prez, is it?” he asked and looked back at Beast, who sank deeper into the seat, staring at Knight with a look that asked where this unplanned speech was going. The previous one, which Knight had given at the start of the reception, had been full of embarrassing stories and poking fun at how different Beast and Laurent were, so Beast’s concern was warranted. Beast was not a fan of surprises.
Knight leaned down and picked up a box from a lower shelf of the serving table. Judging by the slight tremble in his arms, it was damn heavy too.
“So I thought I’d give our groom senior something special. And all the club members contributed, so don’t just congratulate me,” he said, placing the box in front of Beast. He then lifted the top, revealing what looked like a huge tyre, with pronounced ridges, but when Knight handed Beast a knife, it became clear that it was yet another cake. “It’s chocolate, the cream’s 90 percent rum, and plenty of preserved cherries in there too. Don’t give Laurent too much of it, or he’ll end up drunk.”
“My capacity to ingest drink has increased substantially in the past few months,” Laurent said quickly, as if he needed to prove something, but hardly anyone expected anyone of Laurent’s size to drink as much as a bunch of bikers. He smiled at the cake the size of a motorcycle tire and urged Beast to start slicing.