Sinners at the Altar (Sinners on Tour 6)

“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 where 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.