“Mort, why I’m buying a tuxedo?” Digger asked.
“Fool, how the fuck should I know?” Mortician responded. “Your ass must need one.”
“I’m perfectly happy renting, thank you very much,” Digger answered. “All this fucking money for clothes I’m not wearing too often. After Bailey get the big wedding she want and Roxanne and Knox marry, who the fuck else going to expect us to wear a fucking tux?”
“All the bitches,” Val answered from where he sat on the floor next to his sons as they played with miniature motorcycles, ramming them into one another, between ‘vroom-vrooms’. “You know Meggie always coming up with some kind of bullshit.”
Outlaw turned and pinned Val with a stare.
“’Law!” CJ said. “Uncle Val call MegAnn a bitch.”
“I didn’t, CJ.” Jumping to his feet, Val raised his gaze to Outlaw. “I didn’t call your woman a bitch.”
“You say MegAnn name and not no nother girl,” CJ pointed out.
“Boy,” Outlaw said with amusement, “lemme handle your Uncle Val. Okay?”
“By the way, CJ, it’s no other girl,” Johnnie corrected before CJ responded to Outlaw.
The little boy grinned, but didn’t say anything.
“I ain’t pointin’ out what the fuck obvious, Val,” Outlaw said, capturing their attention, not bothering to applaud Johnnie for promoting decent speech. “Even my fuckin’ boy know what the fuck you did.”
“Make the mudna fucka bleed, ‘Law,” CJ yelled.
“You still a blood-thirsty lil motherfucker, huh, CJ?” Digger asked, shaking his head. “Never got my ass kicked by a two-year-old before you.”
“Assfuck Dig!” CJ said
“I prefer Ashfuck, lil’ dude,” Digger told him. “You said it cuter. Call me assfuck make you sound too much like your old man. Just with a fucking miniature voice. Shit like that give me nightmares. If you a scary lil’ motherfucker now, how the fuck you going to be when you older?”
Knox couldn’t hold back any longer. “He’s only scary because he’s Outlaw’s son. Any other child would’ve been spanked a long time ago. Except CJ gets to say and do what he wants to with absolutely no discipline. He’s going to be kicking your ass before long, Outlaw.”
“Uncle Mudna Fucka, you mean,” CJ stated.
Grant’s eyes widened. “You call my dad Uncle Motherfucker?”
As the other men snickered, Knox stiffened and scowled at his son. “If you don’t want to be punished the rest of the weekend, young man, you’ll not use those words. You’re a child. I expect you to act like one. This is your only warning.”
Embarrassment crept onto Grant’s face and he put his head done, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I not ever hitting ‘Law, Uncle Mudna Fucka,” CJ went on. “I love ‘Law.”
“And I love you, boy. What Uncle Motherfucker don’t understand is the day you lay your fuckin’ hands on me is the day I knock you the fuck out. We can argue and fuss and cuss and disa-fuckin-gree. But hittin’? Ain’t happenin’. Got me?”
“Uh-huh,” CJ answered, annoying Knox with the way he always nodded when he responded with those words.
“Now, Val,” Outlaw started.
“Val,” Johnnie interrupted. “I need you to meet me at Kendall’s house one day this week to do a sweep of it. She thinks it’s bugged.”
He hadn’t received a response the first time, so he must’ve thought it necessary to repeat the request. The words made Knox as uneasy this time as they had the first time.
Outlaw, on the other hand, still looked unfazed.
“Your turn, Mort,” Digger said, stepping away from Mr. Whittlestone. “Whittie, you left enough room in the crotch to accommodate the size of my cock, right?”
Mortician shoved Digger out of the way, while the other men laughed like children and the little boys smiled. Except Grant, who looked at his feet. Diesel grinned like the horny teenager he was. Mr. Whittlestone smiled from his perch atop the stepping stool, unoffended, although Knox’s exasperation made him snort.
One thing he could always count on with these men were dick jokes.
“It’s loose here.” Mortician tugged at the collar of his tuxedo shirt.
Mr. Whittlestone gathered the extra material and pinned it.
“Digger,” Mortician said, between comments to the old man. “You got to give everybody a nickname? Whittie?”
“It’s fine, Mortician,” Mr. Whittlestone answered.
Adjusting his shirt, Mortician glanced from Knox to Johnnie. “Why Red think her crib bugged?”
“She has it in her head Christopher is watching her,” Johnnie answered.
“Why the fuck my ass would do that shit?” Outlaw asked, finally reacting. “Oh, yeah, psycho cunts think that fuckin’ way. I ain’t got time to fuckin’ watch that bitch.”
Well, at least, that was the truth. Resentment filtered into Knox and he folded his arms.
“I told Kendall the same thing,” Johnnie admitted.
“John Boy, I don’t have the fucking time to deal with Kendall bullshit,” Val said. “You know she’s doing that to make you feel sorry for her.”
Skepticism crossed Johnnie’s face. “She seemed truly frightened.”
Mortician looked at Outlaw. When the man’s face remained inscrutable, the enforcer addressed Johnnie again. “Give it two or three weeks, Johnnie. If Kendall still feel that way, then I’ll drag Val to her place myself.”
Ignoring Mortician’s words, Johnnie stared at Outlaw, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. Then, Outlaw narrowed his, and Johnnie flushed, and looked away.
“You still not divorcing Kendall?” Val grouched.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Johnnie admitted. “I did promise her that I’d bring Val over.”
“Unpromise her,” Val ordered. “I’m not in the mood to do that bitch no favors.”
“She’s still my wife!” Johnnie bit out. “She’s still family. You’re required to do for her what you’d do for the others.”
“I’m not required to do a fucking thing for Kendall,” Val said, switching places with Mortician. “She don’t like me. She don’t like Zoann. And she never been nice to either of us. She don’t consider me family and I return the fucking favor.”
“Can you blame her for the way she feels? Zoann has always been a bitch to her.”
Val glared at Johnnie. “It takes a bitch to know one, Mr. Bitch.”
“Fuck you,” Johnnie snapped.
“Fuck all you motherfuckers,” Outlaw broke in, then knocked Val on the side of his head. “That’s for callin’ Megan a bitch.” He hit him again. “That’s for bein’ too fuckin’ stupid to fuckin’ realize your fuckin’ ass singled my woman the fuck out.” Another hit.
Val clutched his head. “What was that for?”
“Lagniappe,” Outlaw answered.
“That’s Roxanne’s word,” Val complained. “You can’t steal it from her.”
“Prez, Val right,” Mortician said. “Keep throwing licks on his head and what brains he have left will be knocked the fuck out.”
“Do you all spend your entire lives insulting each other?” Knox demanded.
“That’s how we show our love,” Mortician said with a grin.
“Johnnie,” Outlaw started, “what about this Emily-chick? How you still so torn over Kendall if you runnin’ after another bitch?”
“You all up my ass and you sniffing after new pussy, motherfucker?” Val asked, outraged.
Johnnie snatched Rory closer to him and covered his ears with his hands. “I’m not! And I’ll thank you not to talk about another woman in front of my son.”
Outlaw’s wince surprised Knox.
“Sorry, John Boy,” Val said, duly chastened. “We just got carried away.”
“Yeah, motherfucker,” Outlaw added. “I apolo-fuckin-gize. Don’t wanna upset your boy.”
“I’ve been thinking about going nomad,” Johnnie announced into the ensuing
silence. “Take Kendall and our kids and move away. She wants me to come to a session with her. After that, I’ll make my decision.”
Shock settled into Outlaw’s features, and he swallowed. “You love her that fuckin’ much?”
“Yes, goddamn it, Christopher!” Johnnie roared. “What the fuck don’t you understand about that? Why is it so fucking hard for you to believe that a couple other than you and Megan can share a deep, abiding love?”
“That ain’t hard for me to be-fuckin-lieve with other fuckin’ motherfuckers. You and Kendall, though? If you two motherfuckers got a deep, abidin’ fuckin’ love than it would be a blood-fuckin-bath if there was fuckin’ hate there. You don’t know the fuckin’ meanin’ of bein’ in love and she ain’t believin’ she can be loved. So how the fuck that equal you leavin’ the fuckin’ club to make that bitch happy?”
“You tried that before,” Mortician reminded Johnnie. “You was miserable.”
“Were,” Knox heard himself saying. “You were miserable.”
Mortician glared at Knox, but didn’t comment.
“I left for Kendall to be happy. This time, I’ll leave for both of us to be happy.”
“Think hard before you do this,” Val advised. “You’ve been so carefree since she moved away. Almost back to your old self. Kendall don’t bring out the best in you.”
“Excuse me,” Knox cut in. “Rory is still present. How can this conversation be any better for him than the other one that was off-limits?”
“You’re right, Knox,” Johnnie said. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Knox responded.
He looked at Outlaw again, but the man seemed unaffected by it all, turning a blind eye to Johnnie’s weary sadness.
Attempting to hold herself stiff, Roxy sat on Knox’s lap, later that night, wishing death on Mortician.
She’d gone through the torture of the fitting, knowing it was an exercise in futility and opening another wound in her already broken heart. She’d also been on edge, worried about how the girls would act toward Kendall and, more importantly, how she’d act toward them.
Her concern had been for nothing. Though Kendall arrived late, it had all gone smoothly. Everyone had been polite to her and she’d been on her best behavior. The fittings had turned into a party-like atmosphere where one of the girls used her phone to play music. They’d laughed and talked and danced, having nothing else to do once they were finished with their fittings. Roxy, Bailey, Harley, Bunny, Kendall, Matilda, Meggie, and Rebel had been a far cry from the eighteen men on the other side. If Jordan and her daughter had been in town, and Roxy’s mother and two daughters had flown in from New Orleans, the playing field would’ve been a little more level, even if Cam would’ve also been with the men.
Roxy had kept up the pretense of happy bride-to-be, but she’d been so relieved when the day was coming to a close. As they were all heading to their cars, Mortician had announced they needed to meet at his house for dinner and to make sure all the plans were moving forward.
That had been simple enough.
Kendall had declined, although neither Outlaw nor Meggie demanded she do so. Johnnie, too, decided to cry off and returned to the club, sending his children with Meggie.
After dinner and discussion, Knox had gotten his mother on the phone to ask about the rehearsal dinner. Everything was full-speed ahead.
Except, of course, the sham of Roxy and Knox.
Eventually, Roxy had stood up to leave, tired of the pretense. At that point, Mortician, motherfucker number one, had invited everyone to watch a movie. Motherfucker number two, Knox, seized upon the opportunity. Everyone knew Mortician’s home theater was notoriously small. The huge screen made it seem even more cramped.
Feeling cornered, Roxy grudgingly agreed. In the room, Mortician, Digger, Val, and Outlaw pulled their wives onto their laps. At one time, Roxy enjoyed these movie nights. Not now, when Knox felt so strong and hard underneath her. His five o-clock shadow gave him a rakish air, and the whisky he was drinking reminded her of all the times they’d kissed after a night out.
She was on his lap. It would’ve been so easy to fall back into his arms, and pretend their argument had never happened.
Knox’s fingers played at her nape and she shivered. He leaned forward. “You know, sweetheart, if you’re trying to save my life, you’re not acting too convincing. You’re sitting as far away from me as possible.”
He was right. It surprised her that Mortician or Outlaw hadn’t commented on how she leaned away.
Scooting backward, her ass brushed against his semi-hard cock. She regretted that they both wore pants.
Uh, no. She was happy they both wore pants. No chance of dick-to-pussy contact.
She settled her back against his chest, her muscles stretched taut.
He brushed his lips behind her ear, thrusting up, taking advantage of everyone’s attention being focused on the movie.
“Can we meet later?”
The husky tone of his voice lulled her to say yes. She elbowed him. “Fuck you,” she whispered.
“Would you?” he shot back.
“Not a goddamn chance.”
“I want you, Roxanne. Can’t you feel how hard my cock is for you?”
“My pussy is wet for you, Knox. I miss you, but this is the way things are and will continue to be.”
“Suppose I change? Suppose I learn to ride? Get a tattoo.”
For a moment, she stilled, knowing if he’d go that far to win her back, she’d be powerless to deny him the second chance he so desperately wanted. “Don’t,” she warned. “You’ll come to regret it and resent me.”
“No, sweetheart, I wouldn’t. I’ve scheduled sessions with Gabe, Bunny’s brother. I’m getting a tattoo. I love you. If I want to be a part of your world, I have to fit in.”
“Don’t do that,” she said, her voice, her feelings, wavering. “It isn’t about aesthetics. It’s about attitude. It’s about your perception and your refusal to understand that these boys aren’t bad people. I’m not a bad person. Crass? Rough-around-edges? Y-yes.” Her voice wavered. She stood. “I’m exhausted,” she said, not lying. “This has been a long day.”
“For me, too,” Knox admitted, sliding to the edge of the theater-style seat. “I’m not getting a tattoo solely to impress you. I swear.”
“Why are you getting it then?”
“Uh…” His voice trailed off.
When he said nothing more, Roxy sighed. “Exactly, sugar. Don’t get ink, Knox. It’s just a temporary fix to a much deeper problem.” She started off, then decided to turn and kiss Knox’s cheek.
The gesture wasn’t for show. Purely selfish reasons guided her. Caressing his jaw, she turned on her heel and walked out, noting no one tried to stop her.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Surprised at the dilapidation before her, Emily looked at the ratty exterior of a biker bar in dire need of repairs. In her wildest dreams, she wouldn’t have ever expected Johnnie to take her to such a rundown place. They could’ve stayed in her neighborhood. Just last night, she’d seen two low-level dealers get into an argument, with one shooting the other one in the head, right out in the open. That type of lawlessness abounded in areas plagued with dereliction.
Like this neighborhood.
The Johnnie Outlaw had described would offer Emily a taste of her old lifestyle. This Johnnie would keep her mired right where she was.
She turned to him, snuggling close. As usual, he went rigid. Undeterred, she laid her head against his chest. “I’m all dressed up,” she pouted.
“And?” He wasn’t stepping away from her, but he wasn’t returning her affection either.
“My clothes will be wasted in a place like this.”
He gave her a disapproving look. “This is one of my favorite bars.”
Suspicion crept into her. “Really?” she asked, determined to get the upper hand. Perhaps, she’d just found the key. Her face falling, she cleared her throat and then made her lip
s tremble. “Oh,” she said in a small voice. “This is a favorite for you and Kendall.”
He scowled at her. “No. It’s a favorite of mine. Kendall never liked this place.”
Damn it! She’d miscalculated. Thinking fast, she pasted a bright smile on her face. “Oh my goodness!” she gushed. “You’re sharing a special spot with me.”
More like testing her, but she didn’t think that would be good to point out.
If the exterior was so rough, what was it like inside?
Dressed as she was, she would stand out. She wore a tight red designer bandage dress with Louboutins on her feet, both gifts from Outlaw by using his money to make the purchases.
For makeup, she did a smoky eye and red lips, her dramatic look tools of seduction. Her blonde hair was styled in a slick ponytail. That way, Johnnie could see her face.
Since the scene in her apartment, he’d been quite the gentleman toward her. He hadn’t tried to steal a kiss or cop a feel. She’d pretended to listen while he droned on about his life and his woes and his brats. Honestly, if she’d been offered a million dollars, she wouldn’t be able to repeat a single thing he said. She just knew where to insert her ‘awws’, ‘sorrys’, and ‘it’ll be okays’, so he’d believe she hung onto his every word.
Now, they were on a date at his favorite place. She’d managed to rope him in, a new luxurious life within reach. It had to happen.
It would happen.
Emily grabbed Johnnie’s hand. “Shall we go in, Mr. Donovan?” she flirted, cooing the words.
He smiled, though his eyes were red-rimmed and tired. “Of course.”
Pulling his hand away, he placed it at the small of Emily’s back, then guided her past a row of bikes and into the establishment. The place smelled of stale smoke and spilled alcohol. It was small and crowded with tables, chairs, and an oversized bar.
“John Boy,” a gravelly voice called.
Emily didn’t see the owner of the voice, lost in a sea of faces and sounds.
Johnnie waved, receiving several in return.
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