Unforeseen Riot

by Karen McKeown

  I smirked at him, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  I plugged my phone into my car’s hands-free jack, then as I pulled out of my driveway I told my phone to call my mother. Our conversations were typically brief. We spoke nearly every day, so it was rare that we needed to do a ton of catching up.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hello, Mallory. How are you?”

  “Okay. Considering.”

  “Considering what?”

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “Yes. Were you in an accident? Does your father need to get on the other phone?”

  “No, Mom, really-”

  My father’s voice piped up from another line, “Mal, what’s wrong, honey?”

  Just what I needed. Everyone thinks only children have it so great, but sometimes the attention of both parents on one child can be a little stifling. To say they were over-protective was an understatement, but better to explain things once and be done with it.

  “My home was broken into yesterday evening.”

  My parents spoke at the same time, my mother gasping, “What?” and my father saying, “Oh no.”

  My mother, “Are you okay, honey? You didn’t walk in on it? Oh, God, tell me you didn’t—”

  I waded in fast. “I’m fine, Mother. I arrived well after the fact. I had been at Natasha’s house for dinner with her and Leon. The cops came and they think it was teenage vandalism, possibly low-level gang-initiation or something like that.”

  My father gave a knowing, “Mmmm.” It was the prelude to the inevitable lecture. Having Landon, and trying to make it through the pre-school years without spanking him too much, I had honed my own lecture skills. At thirty-one, I truly did not need to be lectured about safety, but I could feel it coming.

  “Did you get that security system I told you about? Voice response and all that?”

  My eyes went heavenward, “No, Dad. I didn’t. I live in a decent hard-working neighborhood. I didn’t think-”

  He clipped, “No. We never do think we need something like that. You’re living on your own now.” Then, gently he added, “You got to be prepared for bad things, honey. Where are you staying until your door is fixed?”

  I suddenly realized this call was a bad idea. “My door is being fixed right now.”

  My mother’s voice rose in pitch, “You mean there are strange men working at your house right now, and you’re what? Are you driving? It sounds like you’re driving.”

  I blew out a sigh, “I am driving, mom. A new friend of mine is there now, and I’m picking up pizza for lunch.”

  “Who is this new friend?” my mother asked.

  “His name is Cal. Gavin introduced me to him.” It might have been a stretch of the truth, but it was through Gavin’s cell phone that I had my first contact with Cal. My mother loved Gavin, and lately she had been hinting at me to think of him as something more than a friend.

  My father piped up, “Are you going to be able to afford this, Mallory? New door and now the cost of getting the security system.”

  “It’s fine, Dad. I’ve got it under control. Besides, my lawyer said the insurance settlement should come through in the next ten days. It’s probably just the malice of inanimate objects, you know? I’m coming into some money, and a big expense comes along to spend the money. I just wanted to let you guys know about things.”

  My father sighed, “Okay, honey. But if you need any help, just let us know.”

  Chapter 5

  I returned to my home twenty minutes later with an all-meats pizza, a pepperoni pizza, a cheese pizza and two-point-five bags of Crazy Bread. I bought three bags of the scrumptious breadsticks, however, they are similar to having McDonald’s fries in the car; one could not drive down the road without eating some straight from the bag. It simply was not done.

  I carried the food inside, and found all five biker badasses sitting around my kitchen table drinking Yuengling. Cal grinned at me, stood up and started moving in my direction.

  “You bring more beer, baby?” This came from the brown-haired prospect who was tipping his half-full bottle my way.

  I put the boxes on the counter. Cal was right next to me and he grabbed the bread bags off the top. I looked around him to the prospect, “Uh, no, can’t say as I did. It’s lunch time, I didn’t think y’all would be imbibing at lunch time.”

  I got a sideways glance from Vamp, “‘Imbibing’. Who the hell talks like that?”

  I decided to let that slide. I didn’t want to go toe to toe with Vamp, verbally or otherwise. His overt stares at me made me nervous in the extreme.

  Cal gently waved the half-eaten bag of Crazy Bread in front of me, “You get jipped at the pizza joint, woman? You told me you’re a business analyst. Shouldn’t take any analysis to know this bag is half empty.”

  I was reluctant to share my vice with Cal, but I had no choice, “I ate a couple pieces of Crazy Bread. I didn’t get jipped.”

  Cal’s eyes narrowed at me and there was fondness in his gaze. “You like Crazy Bread?”

  I furrowed my brows. “Like? No. I love Crazy Bread. And any sane person would not drive down the road with the succulent aroma of Crazy Bread in the car and not eat some. Why do you think I bought extra, duh?”

  Any comment Cal might have had was cut off by the red-haired prospect, “What are we supposed to drink with our pizza if you’re out of beer, Miss Mallory?”

  Miss Mallory! I resisted telling him only boys under the age of ten called me Miss Mallory, and said instead, “Uh, water, tea, coffee, soda, milk, as if, and if you’re really hard up for alcohol I suppose wine, but I’d rather not open a bottle of my McManus for pizza.”

  Vamp held up a hand with his pinky extended, “Well, lah-dee-dah. She talks funny and she drinks fancy wine. What the hell have you got us into here, Sarge? A fuckin’ tea party?”

  Cal growled, “Shut it, asshole. There’s enough beer in there for all of us to have one with our pizza. We need more, one of the prospects can go get it.”

  Vamp’s eyes had a mischievous glint to them, “I just want to know why I’m not good enough for her fancy-ass wine.”

  After the last twenty-four hours plus having this bozo in my kitchen, I could get behind having a glass of wine with my pizza. I lifted my chin at Vamp defiantly. “Fuck it. I’ll get you some wine for your pizza. I’m just surprised you’re not too macho to drink red wine.”

  Patch and Cal chuckled at my attempted dig at Vamp. I grabbed paper plates and put them next to the pizza boxes which Cal had moved to the table. I went to my newly-organized and, since the vandals had broken or smashed many items I had on hand, downsized pantry. I grabbed a can of jumbo black olives and set it on the counter. I went into the laundry room and pulled a bottle of wine from the case. I opened both items, and since I liked my wine to breathe I left it open and pulled a cutting board from the cupboard. I drained the olives, then grabbed a wine glass and filled it two-thirds of the way full. I set this in front of Vamp, and went back to the counter to slice olives. Edging around the table, I grabbed a paper plate, a slice of pepperoni and then returned to the cutting board. I scattered black olives on my slice, and pulled another wine glass from the hanging rack under my cabinet. I poured a slightly-larger glass than I had for Vamp.

  Cal had pulled my step-stool/chair combo to the table and was sitting there eating pizza and watching me. Turning to the table, my thought about where I was going to sit must have been transparent on my face because he lowered his chin toward his lap and gave me a suggestive incline of his eyebrow. With the smallest head shake, I set my plate and glass down on the counter, then put my back to the counter and hauled my ass up to sit on the countertop.

  “Sweet cheeks, you know that wasn’t necessary.”

  “You think that wasn’t necessary, but it was.”

  Our eyes held in a silent standoff. I didn’t realize how long our gazes held until one of the prospects cleared his throat. Cal broke the gaze first in order to glare at the pro
spect. I grabbed my glass of wine and took a healthy slug. It wasn’t right to drink my favorite wine in such a way, but I couldn’t help it. Stress did things to me. I chased my wine with an even healthier bite of pepperoni and black olive pizza, and all seemed right with the world for a moment. I had another bite of pizza and decided to broach a topic that had been on my mind since I left.

  “So, apparently my new door is free, but what do I owe the two prospects, who shall not be named, for their work on my fence? A pizza-and-beer lunch is not nearly enough, I know that for sure.”

  The two prospects glanced at one another. Vamp gave me a questioning look, and Patch slammed his palm on my glass kitchen table and said to Cal, “No way in hell can she pay for the work of a prospect. What the fuck, man! Haven’t you clued her in to our ways at all?”

  I sat up straighter at Patch’s outburst and thought I was going to fall off the countertop. This man was quiet, and compared to the other men he seemed normal. The palm-slap to the glass had dispelled that notion right away. Before I knew it, I heard myself whisper, “What did I do wrong?”

  Patch gave me an apologetic look, “Sorry, lady, but in our world a prospect has to earn his cut. And I mean earn it. The hard way. Puttin’ in a fuckin’ residential fence is nothin’, and I mean nothin’, compared to the other shit they have to do. Those two sharin’ a damn look of greed at your mention of possibly payin’ them makes my blood boil. Cal said you don’t pay for the door, and that’s that. But when our President said the prospects had fence detail, that meant you got a fence for free too. I’m sorry Cal didn’t clue you in, but now you know. Got it?”

  I didn’t quite have it, but decided to fake it until I did. “Yeah. I got it now. Thanks.” My sick sense of keeping the peace forced me to ask, “Do you need anything else? More beer? Dessert? My options are limited to Greek yogurt and Oreo cookies, but sweets are sweets, am I right?”

  Patch gifted me with a sympathetic smile, “You are right about that, sweets are sweets, babe. But I don’t need anything more.”

  Cal shot Patch a look, but stood up. He sauntered over to me with his empty paper plate in his hand. He put the plate on the stove top to my left, placed his hand on the nape of my neck and pulled my ear close to his lips. I thought he was going to kiss or nibble my ear in some way, but he whispered, “Go sit in the chair I just left. I’m done and my brothers won’t bite you. I don’t like seein’ you eatin’ your food on top of a hard-ass counter. Okay?”

  My heart warmed at his concern. Nodding at Cal, I slid off the counter top, picked up my plate and glass. I sat down opposite Vamp and in between Patch and the brown-haired prospect. I took a sip of my wine and looked up to see Vamp’s blue eyes boring into me. I wasn’t sure what made me uneasy about Vamp. It wasn’t his piercings. For one thing, I wasn’t biased toward physical appearances, plus my college roommate, Linley, married her college boyfriend, Mikah, who had just as many piercings, though no gages. In our junior year of college, Mikah’s extroverted habits had him announcing to me that his member was pierced, though I never did find out from Linley whether that made sex more enjoyable with him. I didn’t judge people with tattoos and piercings, but I could not figure out why Vamp made me uneasy.

  Pushing my thoughts aside, I said to Vamp, “So, the wine’s good, right? Pairs decently with the pizza, I’d say.”

  Vamp looked down at his glass of wine and then looked at me, “If you say so. Mallory.”

  I bit my tongue to prevent verbally laying into him. My tongue biting turned into a slight pout, and I said, “Your loss.”

  The guys decimated the pizza and downed all of my beer. They went back to my back yard to finish up with the fence. I took the beer bottles to the recycling bin in the garage, and crushed the pizza boxes and took out my trash to the garage. I vacuumed the living room. I knew it was an exercise in futility since five pairs of motorcycle boots were going to bring in more dirt, but I liked feeling at least semi-productive. I peeked out my new French doors to the back yard. I was kind of hoping the guys would be out back with their shirts off since installing a fence was pretty sweaty business. No such luck, they were all still wearing their cuts, as I had been informed the vests were called. Cal caught me peeking and gave me a wink and a smile. I wasn’t sure what to do with that. Having not dated in nearly a decade, I was feeling a little rusty with my flirting skills.

  I sat down at the kitchen table and started a list. Lists made me feel more secure, and I loved being able to cross items off in an orderly fashion. I had to call my insurance agent. I should have done it earlier while Natasha was here, but it would just have to keep until Monday. I needed to research security systems. I needed a new television, or maybe I didn’t. I could bring the flat screen from the master bedroom out to the living room and be done with it. One thing was certain, I needed to get the battered forty-eight inch screen out of my living room; it was another glaring reminder of the invasion. I needed to hit the grocery store, but I figured that could wait until tomorrow morning.

  I was tapping my pen against the tabletop as I searched my brain for other items to go on my list. I didn’t hear the guys come through until Cal piped up, “Yo! Mallory, you still with us?”

  I looked up to see the prospects carrying heavy tool boxes toward my front door. “Yeah, I’m still here. Just having an internal debate.”

  Cal leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, “About?”

  I shrugged, “Petty stuff. Television sets, groceries. Nothing big. I take it the fence is done?”

  Patch walked up at that moment, “Bet your sweet ass it is. And not a moment too soon. Thanks for lunch, lady.” He gave me a chin lift and strode to the front door.

  I stood up to walk the men out of the house. I caught a glimpse of my stove top clock and saw it was two o’clock. Vamp came up and took my hand in his. He put it to his mouth and I felt his lip ring before I felt his lips place a kiss on the top of my hand. I extricated my hand from his as gracefully as I could without freaking out, much. His eyes held mine the entire time, “You ever want to have some real fun, baby, let me know.”

  I was going to point out that would be difficult since I didn’t have any contact info for him, but one look at Cal’s furious gaze on Vamp stopped me dead in my tracks. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks. And thanks again for helping out with the door and the fence. Sorry you didn’t like your wine.”

  Vamp ignored Cal’s glare. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it, hon. You wanna share another glass sometime, just let me know.” He dodged a slug from Cal. “Hey, you ain’t claimed her. She ain’t your sister. She’s my acquaintance too, now. Sounds like we’re on even turf, brother.”

  I was not some thing to be fought over, so I said, “Okay, first of all, not to sound ungrateful, but I’m not going to be claimed by anybody. I’m a widow, and I’m not getting back out there just yet. Plus, whatever happened to bros before hos?” I did a slight shooing gesture at Vamp, “Thanks again, but don’t hold your breath on that glass of wine with me, 'kay?”

  Cal closed his eyes and shook his head at me. Vamp tilted his head and gave me an assessing gaze. Then another eyebrow lift, which communicated what, I did not know. The two prospects came back in, “Anything else you need, Sarge?”

  Cal looked from them to me, and he saw my focus on the battered flat screen. “You want that moved, sweet cheeks?”

  I shot daggers at Cal with my eyes. “I want you to stop calling me ‘sweet cheeks’. And yes, I’m going to need to move that thing to the curb.” I moved to go into the living room, but Cal stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

  He looked at the prospects. “You heard her. Get that thing to the curb. Then you’re done here.”

  My jaw dropped a little at that, “Okay, look. I know I don’t get y’all’s world, but seriously. They’ve done all this manual labor for me. I should know their first names.”

  Vamp saw Cal wasn’t going to give me any information, and to my surprise he filled me in. “The red hea
d is Jim, and the other one is Tim.”

  I laughed out loud and threw my head back. When my laughter subsided, I looked back to find Vamp, Cal and the two prospects staring at me, “You’re joking right? You’re Jim and Tim. A rhyming MC duo. Really? You aren’t pulling my leg? It’s like the Bobbsie twins or something.”

  Jim and Tim looked at each other like this had not occurred to them even once. I couldn’t believe two fellow prospects would not or could not cotton on to the fact that they have rhyming names. Ah, well.

  Vamp shot me a sly grin and then pointed at the two prospects, “Twins. I like it. Twin one and twin two…..oh, this has potential as your future road names…assuming you both make the cut.” Then Vamp licked his lips like he could practically taste something. His eyes slid back to me, “Really, Mal, you should think about joining our life. I think you have potential. You’re too tightly-wound. You come party with us; we’ll get you to let your hair down.”

  Suddenly Cal was standing in front of me, almost shielding me from Vamp, “Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth. She isn’t gonna party with you. Leave it.”

  Jim and Tim had disconnected the various cables and wires attached to my TV. As they struggled to move it down the hallway, Vamp moved to the front door to open it for them. Tension still seemed to be radiating from Cal’s backside. I was moving to the sink to get my dusting supplies from the cabinet, but Cal grabbed my arm before I could move more than one step.

  “You got eyes in the back of your head or something? What gives? I need to dust. I have allergies every spring as it is, I don’t need to exacerbate the issue by letting dust bunnies linger around.”

  Cal turned around and stepped into my space. He grabbed my face on both sides and tilted my head to look up at him. “We’re having dinner. Tonight. I got some shit to handle, but I’m gonna be back here at quarter to five. Don’t dress to impress, dress to be on the back of my bike. That means jeans, and steel-toed boots if you got ‘em, not those spike-heeled pleather shoes you had on a week ago. Newsflash, woman: we’re more than just acquaintances.”