After a few minutes, I left with my arms piled high with a bunch of fancy clothes that I hoped like hell impressed Libby.
CHAPTER FORTY
LIBBY
When Bullet called me and told me to get dressed up for our date, I didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t exactly seem like the dressing up type.
I was well aware that ‘dressing up’ consisted of many different levels. He refused to tell me where we were going, so I played it safe and put on a little black dress, black heels and some nice jewelry, sweeping my hair up in a loose twist and taking a little extra care with my make-up.
My stomach was doing flips while I waited.
When I opened the door to find him decked out in a fancy tailored black suit, shiny black shoes, and a deep blue tie that matched his eyes, his hair slicked back away from his handsome face, I almost fainted.
“I’m sorry, do I know you? I was waiting for my date?” I asked, heat rushing to my cheeks.
“I take it you approve?” he asked, flashing me a smile that threatened to do me in completely.
“You look incredible,” I said. The suit was tight. So tight it hugged his broad shoulders, and left absolutely no room for imagination when my eyes trailed down and landed on the bulge between his legs. “I love it,” I purred. “Although, I didn’t mind the old you, either.”
“Don’t worry, that guy will be back tomorrow,” he winked, before growing serious. “You look so beautiful, Libby.”
“Thank you,” I blushed. “Sure you don’t want to tell me where we’re going? Seeing you like that is making me second guess this outfit.”
“Don’t you dare change! You’re perfect,” he said, pulling me into his arms and kissing me. I melted into him, his touch warm and familiar and so needed. I moaned into his mouth, pressing my body into his, our kiss deepening for just a moment, before he pulled back.
“I missed you,” he said, smiling down at me.
“I missed you, too,” I said, pressing my hips into his growing erection.
“I have plans to re-introduce myself to your gorgeous body,” he growled, “but first, we have some places to go.”
“Trust me, my body remembers yours very well,” I laughed. “No re-familiarization necessary. I don’t think it’ll ever forget, in fact.”
“Excellent,” he said. “My job is done.”
“I hope not,” I teased.
He kissed me again, firm and hard, before pulling back.
“I’ll never be done with you,” he said.
I took a deep breath, my stomach full of butterflies.
“You sure know how to say hello,” I said. “Let me get my purse.”
I turned away from him, walking to the couch and picking up my handbag. He whistled as I leaned down and I turned, throwing him a smile over my shoulder.
“Catcalling?” I asked.
He nodded, raising an eyebrow.
“Your rough biker side is showing,” I teased.
“You can take a biker out of his cut, but you can’t keep him from appreciating a spectacular ass.”
I burst out laughing.
“Let’s go,” I said, locking up. “I can’t wait to see where we’re going.”
We strolled down my sidewalk towards his bike.
“Shit,” I said, stopping. “I forgot about the bike. My skirt is really short.”
“That was my plan all along,” he laughed, handing me a helmet.
“Oh, the perils of dating a biker,” I said, trying not to ruin my twist as I gently placed the helmet over my head. Bullet jumped on the bike and started it up with a roar, shooting me an expectant look.
“Oh, fine,” I said, hitching up my skirt and throwing a leg over the seat behind him. I wrapped my arms around him and couldn’t help but smile. The vibrations of the bike were intense, with nothing but a small wisp of the cotton thong I was wearing between the seat and my vulva.
Bullet nodded approvingly, reached back and firmly squeezed my exposed thigh before driving away.
We roared off into the night, my life entirely in his hands.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
MONA
So, there’s Bullet.
Libby hadn’t seen him since I’d started following her again. I was wondering if she’d rejected him, but by the size of that grin on her face as she climbed onto his bike, she was doing just the opposite.
I didn’t like it.
She deserved someone better than that.
I mean, sure, I wanted her to be happy and she definitely looked happy. But as my Ma always told me, it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man.
Or, no man at all.
That’s basically what I’d chosen, and I was fine with it.
But I did want love for Libby, not just money. I just wanted to see her end up with someone different than that gruffy biker.
I’d love to see her with someone like a pediatrician, or an immigration lawyer, someone with a kind heart like hers. Someone a little more refined than Bullet, you know?
Although, he was obviously into her. My God, I could tell that by his behavior back at my cabin. I felt a little guilty about that now. I mean, at the time, I didn’t know Libby was my daughter. Fuck, it’s all creepy now, honestly.
Maybe that’s another reason I don’t want her to be with him.
He’s just a reminder of what I did to her.
And besides, when she and I make up and start being in each other’s lives, I don’t want to have to face him, considering what I did to him and Slade.
It’s a little embarrassing.
Just a little, though, and only because of Libby’s involvement. If that weren’t the case, I’d just give him a big middle finger and move on with my life.
But I can’t. Too much is still left unresolved.
So, here I am, following them through the dreadful Portland traffic and watching Bullet’s hand reach back and rub Libby’s thigh at every single stop light. It’s excruciating.
I comfort myself by sipping on my water bottle — full of Maker’s Mark whiskey tonight — and imagine running Bullet over with my car.
I mean, how easy it is to get rid of problems sometimes, you know? The solutions are extreme, sure, but it sure would be easy. Just a bit of gentle pressure on a gas pedal and voilá! No more Bullet!
Of course, I’d never do that with Libby on the back.
I’m not a monster.
I laugh out loud when Bullet pulls his bike up in front of Le Pigeon, one of the most bougie places in Portland to dine. I grab a parking spot across Burnside to get a good view, and settle in for what I know will be a long dinner. Luckily for me, they’re seated at a table by the window so I have a clear shot of Libby’s face.
She’s so beautiful. Smiling, happy, relaxed.
Maybe I didn’t fuck her up too badly, I think, as I sip my whiskey.
As they peruse the menu, I see them whispering to each other and giggling. Bullet, surprisingly, looks half-way comfortable in his monkey suit, seemingly unfazed by his fancy surroundings. Libby looks excited. I wonder if she’s ever been there before and if so, when and with whom.
I’ve missed so much of her life.
There’s so much I don’t know.
We have a lot of catching up to do. I can’t wait to get started. In fact, I’m getting a bit anxious about it all. I was never a patient person, not at all. My original plan was to give her plenty of time, to give her time for her feelings to settle, for her to recover from everything, before I tried to contact her again.
But each day that passes is harder and harder.
I yearn to see her smile at me. To see those big hazel eyes, so much like my own, reflecting love and kindness back to me. She’s never looked at me like that, not once.
I need that.
I need her.
I take a deep breath, then another sip, reminding myself that I should wait as long as possible. That’s the thing, though. We don’t have much time.
; The world is falling apart.
Civilization is crumbling around us.
As if I needed more proof, I watch as a disheveled woman walks down the sidewalk, twitching and jerking from the effects of meth, her hair wildly tangled around her sunken face, her eyes vacant and lost. She could be nineteen or sixty-nine, it’s impossible to tell. She walks by the window where Bullet and Libby are sitting, and the proof of everything I’ve come to believe is illuminated in the contrast of humanity.
Bullet and Libby sit there eating their hundred dollar dinners and this woman is dirt poor and homeless and can’t afford a glass of water in that establishment.
The juxtaposition is clear.
It’s always been rich versus poor in this country.
The rich are winning. They don’t care about climate change, they don’t care about the homelessness problem, they don’t care about the influx of deadly drugs on our streets.
As long as they get to buy that third yacht and their summer mansion in the Hamptons, they don’t care about the poor people, they don’t care about the Earth.
And the funny thing about it all is that the Earth doesn’t care about them, either. When there’s no habitable place left to live on this planet, the rich will suffer just as much as the poor do.
We’ll all die together.
Unless, of course, we do something. There’s still hope for saving us all, but will anyone do it? That’s the million dollar question I sit there asking myself as I watch my daughter smile and laugh.
God, I want her to have a bright future.
I want to fucking believe in that.
But it’s hard. That’s why I feel rushed. That’s why it’s more difficult to be away from her with every day that passes. That’s why whatever I do next, however harsh, however cruel, however painful it may be — that’s why it’s necessary.
I’m not a monster.
This is all borne of love.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
LIBBY
I was thankful the menu included more than actual pigeon for dinner.
Le Pigeon had been one of the trendiest restaurants in town for quite a few years now, and it was difficult to hide my shock that Bullet had chosen it when we pulled up.
Luckily, Bullet had a sense of humor about it, even though our stuffy surroundings were a little intimidating.
“Sure you don’t want the pigeon?” he asked. “It’s apricot glazed! Mmmm!”
I laughed and shook my head.
“No, thank you,” I said. “Will you be ordering the rabbit fried in buttermilk?”
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I only picked this place because I saw they had a burger on the menu.”
“That burger is twenty dollars!” I protested.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “It’s on me!”
“You didn’t have to bring me here, you know,” I said. “I would have been fine with someplace a little more casual.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked, mockingly. “And give up the chance of seeing you eat grilled octopus with raspberry sofrito?”
“I don’t even know what that is!”
“Neither do I,” he shrugged. “Maybe we should get the tasting menu?”
“That’s a seven course meal!”
“So?”
“Well, if it includes pigeon, I’m really not interested. I mean, do they just collect them from the streets of downtown, or what? I mean, have you seen the number of pigeons down there?”
We laughed like teenagers, finally settling on the lamb shoulder for me and the beef bourguignon for him, and a bottle of Pinot Noir to share.
I stared across the table at him, in awe that he would go to so much trouble to impress me. Of course, he didn’t have to do it, but it was nice to see that he was trying so very hard.
“This is really nice, Bullet, thank you.”
“I just want to make you happy, Libby,” he said.
“And you do,” I smiled. He grinned back at me and it was all I could do not to jump across the table at him. He looked so handsome and distinguished in his suit, his blonde hair slicked back, his chiseled cheek bones on full display, his eyes shining back at me with such unbridled love.
Breathless, I sipped my wine, taking in the gorgeous view.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
MONA
Three hours later, Bullet and Libby emerged from the restaurant, smiling like a couple of loons. I waited till they pulled into traffic and put my car in gear, sliding into traffic behind them as they headed downtown.
Minutes later, we were on the southwest side of downtown near the South Park Blocks, and as it always did when I came to this part of town, my stomach churned.
There were too many bad memories in this park, mainly the museum where Grace arrested me. Bullet parked in a nearby parking lot and I pulled over, waiting to see where they were going.
My heart sank when I realized where they were headed — the scene of the crime itself — the Portland Art Museum. A banner stretched across the side of the building told me they were having a nighttime viewing of the Parisian exhibit that I’d seen advertised all over the internet lately. Arm in arm, they strolled in and I found a parking spot nearby to wait, the ghosts of my past now firmly sitting on my shoulder.
I’d just found out I was pregnant that week. I wasn’t sure how the hell I was going to get myself off the streets, but finding out I had a baby coming had me extremely motivated.
I knew the first thing I needed to do was get far away from my abusive, addicted boyfriend. I didn’t tell him I was pregnant, and I’d spent the last week pretending to get fucked up with him. I’d pretend I was drinking and when he wasn’t looking, I’d pour out the booze. If he handed me a joint, I’d pretend to take a hit and not inhale. If he laid out a line of coke for me, I’d wait till he wasn’t looking and wipe it away while I pretended to snort it.
I was determined not to do anything to hurt the baby. Hell, I’d probably already done a little harm, considering I’d been using for the last few weeks before I even knew. Once I realized I hadn’t gotten my period in a while, I stole a pregnancy test from Walgreen’s and waited with trembling hands in the bathroom for the little blue plus sign to show up.
And then I cried. Because I knew I had a huge job ahead of me if I was going to make things right for this kid.
I spent the rest of the day walking around with a secret smile. I ditched Jacob for a little while and took a walk in Laurelhurst Park. It was early in the morning and the park was mostly deserted. I strolled around the pond, stopping for a moment to watch the ducks duck under the water, diving for food. I made a promise to myself that I’d bring my son or daughter here often, and then I kept walking, winding through the little trails that lined the top of the dog park and wound around the park.
A rustle in the bushes caught my eye and a tiny little dog burst out barking at me furiously. I froze and he ran over to me, his tail wagging a mile a minute as he continued yapping. He was tiny, a little black and white, miniature Australian Shepherd, and I was pretty sure he was still a puppy.
I checked for a collar and tags, but didn’t see one. I knelt down in front of him, and he got close enough for me to grab onto him.
“Hey buddy,” I whispered. “You’re okay, it’s okay.” He calmed down a little and let me pet his head, his tail still wagging furiously. “Do you live around here? Are you lost?”
He stared up at me and I picked him up gently and walked out through the tree line and up to the street with him in my arms. The park is lined with gorgeous mansions, the Laurelhurst neighborhood being one of the nicest in the city. I scanned the street for any sign of someone who might be looking for him, but outside of a few cars parked along the edge, it was quiet.
“Maybe someone in the park is looking for you,” I said. I kept him in my arms, petting him gently as I walked back into the park. I murmured reassuring words to him as I walked down the trails, asking the few people I came into contact with
if they knew him, but nobody had seen him before.
After making a complete loop through the park, I stopped to catch my breath, wondering what I was going to do with him. By now, he was snuggling in my arms and licking my face.
“You sure are friendly,” I said. I contemplated keeping him. Plenty of people who lived on the streets had dogs. Jacob was not a dog person, however, so I knew he’d try to sell the dog if he knew I’d found him.
“Well, that’s not going to happen,” I said.
I fantasized about keeping him for a minute, imagining myself with a steady job and a little apartment where I could raise my child and listen to this little guy yap every day. I’d put flowers on the windowsill and grow sage and rosemary in little pots outside the front door. If I closed my eyes, I could see the white lace eyelet curtains I’d sew billowing in the wind on a cool Autumn night, the moonlight streaming through my bedroom window, my daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib, the dog curled up at the foot of her bed protectively.
It could happen.
God, it sounded so foreign, though. A little too picturesque for my current reality. But a girl could dream.
And I did dream.
A little voice in my head told me that I was being a fool and I pushed that voice away. But I knew I had to be reasonable and there was no way I could take care of this dog right now, when I couldn’t even take care of myself.
I had nine months to get ready for this baby. A dog would only be an obstacle right now. I’d have to get rid of him and maybe I could get another dog later, once I had a little stability.
“It’s just a bad time, buddy,” I said, leaning down and kissing his soft little forehead. With a heavy sigh, I walked to the bus stop and caught a bus to the humane society in North Portland. The dog fell asleep in my lap on the way there, and it was with tears in my eyes that I handed him over to the clerk there, explaining where I’d found him so they could try to find his owner.
I hooked back up with Jacob an hour later downtown and resumed our usual routine of trying to score and walking the streets looking for entertaining ways to pass the long hours of the night, which usually ended up in a myriad of unpleasant situations that always ended up with us fighting.
Gods of Chaos MC Box Set 4 Page 25