4
Mason
Istood with my mouth wide open. I’d grown up watching her father play football for Australia and then transition into TV stardom. Here I was worried about being famous for a couple of years, and I was standing with the daughter of Dougie Drake. Aussie icon, well at least in the states that watch rugby league.
Raking my eyes over this gorgeous woman, I couldn’t see any resemblance to her father, from her bronzed caramel skin and deep, chocolate brown eyes to her deliciously thick, curvy body. Nope, this voluptuous beauty looked nothing like her lanky, blue-eyed, bleached blonde, TV host, dad.
“Are YOU okay with this?” she smirked at me and I laughed.
“I’d marry you if your dad was the King of England,” I replied and meant it. I craved her for real, not just this farce of a ceremony, but a small, intimate one on the sand at Valentine Cove.
I shook the image from my mind and focused on the present moment. I wanted to enjoy every moment with this woman.“So Destiny Drake, daughter of Dougie Drake, you mentioned a sister. Are there only the two of you?”
“Just one sister,” she replied. “But five, almost six brothers.”
“Almost six? How does that happen?” I tilted my head to the side as I listened for her answer.
“Oh, Dad’s latest fiancé is six months pregnant,” she dismissed my question. It wasn’t hard to tell that she wasn’t a fan of her father’s turnstile of lovers. I remembered seeing pics of him in the trashy gossip magazines my mum used to devour.
“Wouldn’t that make him a half-brother?” The logic of a man who grew up in a nuclear family.
“Technically, yes, but I was always raised that math doesn’t belong in family or culture.” She explained. “Scientifically, we get half our genes from one parent and half from the other, but family and culture are more than biology. My sister is my sister because we treat each other as sisters, yes we have different mothers, but I don’t see her as any less family than my older brother Jye who shares both parents with me.”
I nodded at her explanation. It made sense in a way I’d never thought about.
“It’s like culture,” she continued. “I’m a proud Blak woman, but some people ask me what half because my skin isn’t that dark. What am I supposed to say? My left side? I am Aboriginal AND I am Anglo-Aussie. One doesn’t exclude me from the other.”
“I’ve never thought of it like that,” I admitted.
“So what about you, Mason King, Mr Rock Star? Do you have any siblings?” She asked, a smirk on those brightly painted lips.
“One sister and one brother, both younger.” I answered with a smile. I missed my siblings, and I was happy that I would see them both again soon.
“Are you close?” Her dark eyes examined me, like the question was a test.
“We used to be, but then I moved to the US, my brother moved to the UK, then Thailand. I think he’s in Perth right now?” I shook my head, unsure where Hayden had landed lately. “But my sister still lives in the town we grew up in, works in the family business. Now that I’m older, I don’t blame her. I miss the place. I miss my family.”
“Mr King and Ms Drake?” our names were called, and the receptionist escorted us through a door painted with a mural of intertwined wedding rings. Inside, the chapel was decked out with walls draped in blue suede. There were white chairs lined up on either side and I guessed they would be used by some people who actually planned to get married there, not just a couple of people indulging in a Vegas cliché.
At the end of the aisle, wearing a lemon yellow suit jacket with a black shirt and pants, stood an Elvis impersonator. Destiny and I walked up, hand in hand. I silently thanked my friends for insisting I wear a suit because Destiny looked like a goddess in her sparkly gold dress.
We faced the celebrant, still hand in hand as he welcomed us to The Little Blue Chapel of Love, his Elvis voice fluctuating but filled with grunts. To his side stood a woman with ginger red hair, wearing a 1960s style shift dress in the same shade of yellow as the celebrants jacket. I’d sat through enough Elvis movies as a kid to recognise that she was dressed as the actress Ann Margaret from Viva Las Vegas.
“This is Rusty. She’ll be your witness tonight,” Elvis introduced his assistant. “Now, can I ask you lovebirds to face each other, both hands holding each other.”
The man with the terrible Tennessee accent uttered some more words, which faded into white noise. I pictured us on the beach at Valentine Cove, the place where my parents were married over 30 years ago, surrounded by our loved ones. Myeyes roved over this woman in front of me. She was radiant, every inch more beautiful than the last.
Destiny was looking up at me, her eyes full of amusement, her face glowing. The idea of committing to this woman just felt right. We spoke our vows, exchanged our rings and when we were announced man and wife, I didn’t hesitate to kiss my bride.
I kissed her with a passion that I’d never felt before. It was pulsing in my veins, taking on a life of its own.
I kissed her until she pulled away from me, putting only enough space between us for her to say, “Let’s go consummate this union.”
I let her lead me out of the chapel, past the other couples waiting to say their vows and toward the kerb where our car was waiting. I had a feeling I would let this woman lead me anywhere and I would, without hesitation, follow her. This woman was my Destiny.
5
Destiny
