Alex braced himself, expecting if not a full-blown thunderstorm, then at least a small squall. The blonde, meanwhile, lifted the visor of her helmet—adorned with intricate, rune-like patterns—and looked at Max with a mix of surprise and amusement.
“Oh, you absolute goof!” Alex muttered under his breath, but like a man under a spell, he couldn’t stop watching the bizarre scene unfold.
“You oughta wear a hat!” came her reply, as quirky as the designs on her helmet. Her voice matched her vibe—slightly husky, yet oddly pleasant.
“A hat?” Max echoed, puzzled.
“So the sun doesn’t fry your brain!” she shot back with a smirk.
“I’m serious! I know how this looks, but I really am looking for a wife,” Max pressed on. After years of failed attempts to carve out some semblance of a personal life, if there was one thing he’d mastered, it was striking up conversations.
“Looking, huh? Hmm!” The blonde adjusted her tank top on her shoulder, glanced down at her feet, then behind her at the bike, and finally up at the sky. “Well, not here!” she quipped, turning back to her GPS, unintentionally giving Alex a rather enticing view of her figure, snug in dark jeans with flirty little pockets.
“She’s no pushover!” Alex thought, watching as his brother shuffled awkwardly near her, his earlier confidence waning. He couldn’t help but recall all the girls who, after one glance at the brothers’ luxury cars, would practically jump out of their designer jeans to get noticed. But this one? She didn’t even bat an eyelash.
“Anything else?” she asked after a moment, her patience wearing thin.
“Same thing,” Max replied stubbornly. “I’m looking for a wife, and you’re the perfect candidate. The best I could hope for.”
“I’m a feminist. I don’t need a man,” she responded coolly.
“Man, she’s sharp!” Alex thought to himself.
“Perfect! I, on the other hand, do need a wife, and I’m asking for your help!” Max kept up his relentless charm offensive.
“Also, I’m a lesbian,” she countered smoothly, parrying his advance with ease.
“That’s even better! Jackpot! After we’re married, you can bring your girlfriend along. We’ll live as a happy trio!”
“Alright, when’s the wedding?” She turned to face Max, now looking at him with a flicker of curiosity.
“Friday!” Max beamed, practically glowing.
“Deal! Don’t forget the flowers!” For the first time, something resembling a smile crept across her face. With a small stud piercing just below her plump lower lip, the smile softened her otherwise sharp features—high cheekbones and a defined jawline—adding a touch of warmth.
“I’ll buy out an entire florist!” Max exclaimed, thrilled. As he fumbled in his bag for what was likely a business card, the blonde swung her leg over the saddle of her bike. The roar of the engine nearly made him drop the bag altogether.
“Hey, wait—” he called out, flustered, but the exotic blonde tore past him with a roar, leaving him in a cloud of dust and exhaust.
“Damn it!” Max growled through gritted teeth, frustration boiling over. Then, he noticed something glinting where the bike had been—a metal, perhaps silver, bracelet. He picked it up, examined it briefly, and slipped it into his pocket.
***
Three Days Later
“You absolute idiot! What a fool!” Alex nudged his brother in the shoulder, trying to pull him away from the window he seemed glued to.
Did he really think she’d show up? No way he could be that naive! Alex thought, sneaking a glance himself at the stretch of road and the entrance to the registry office. They’d both shown up at the agreed time—because, well, he couldn’t just leave his brother to face this alone.
“You know, even if she did show up…” Alex started gently, as if speaking to a child hoping to find a coin from the tooth fairy under their pillow, only to discover their own bloody tooth because their parents forgot to swap it out. “Even if she came, it’d be too much. I get that you want to finally get our overbearing mom off your case, but this? Even for you, it’s a bit over the top.”
“She’s not here,” Max said flatly, as if he hadn’t heard a word of his brother’s speech, finally turning to face him.
“Of course she’s not! Would you show up if you were her?”
“Let’s go home.”
Under the disapproving glare of the secretary—a woman with an improbably colored nest of hair atop her head—the brothers, who looked almost like clones from behind, both tall and imposing in tailored suits that seemed made just for them, headed for the exit.
Outside, the air smelled of rain, the summer heat giving way to the cool breath of early fall. Max shrugged his shoulders as if shaking off a bad dream and reached for the car door handle. But he never opened it. The narrow alley leading to the drab, Soviet-style registry office building was suddenly filled with a deep, rumbling roar, as if a plane were about to land right there.
It wasn’t a plane. From around the corner, a heavy, massive black bike burst into view, kicking up dust as it took the turn sharply. It startled a flock of crows perched on a nearby tree (fitting birds for a marriage registry, right?) before coming to a stop beside the brothers. The white, tousled strands peeking out from under a black, rune-decorated helmet, and the bracelets on a slender wrist visible beneath a heavy leather jacket, left no doubt about who was riding this devilish machine.