by Nicole James
I take a sip of my drink and stare out the window at the passing traffic. “I was such a fool. I never should have done what he asked. I should have listened to you.”
She smiles over her salt-rimmed glass. “That’s always a given.”
I give her half a smile in return.
“Cheer up, Tess. So you told when the MC is leaving for Sturgis and who was staying behind. I mean, so what? What can these people do with that information anyway?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know. Maybe a lot.”
“Well, it’s done now. Nothing you can do about it.”
I chop at the ice in my glass with my straw, mulling her words over in my head. “Maybe there is something I can do.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I can tell Gypsy what I did.”
“Have you lost your friggin’ mind?”
I roll my eyes at her.
“No, seriously, Tess. Why the hell would you do that?”
“At least then they can be prepared.”
“Prepared for what? Huh? You don’t even know.”
“I need to tell him.”
“I get you want to ease your conscience, but you know that’s going to ruin things between the two of you. And what about the baby? Maybe you two have a shot together. Maybe that child deserves a family with both parents together.”
“Was there really ever any chance of that?” I quip.
“Babe, come on, you don’t know that.”
“Don’t I? Even if I wanted a life with him, you really think he suddenly wants a wife and baby? Get real.”
“Oh, now you know what he wants?”
I shrug. “Not hard to figure out. He lives his life the way he does by choice. There’s no chick living with him. You think he couldn’t have one like that”—I snap my fingers—“if he wanted one?”
“But those other women aren’t you, Tess. You told me you had an off-the-charts connection. You think that happens to him every day? I call bullshit. And another thing, I get he did Belle a favor, says he owed her or whatever, so he gave you a ride down to Rutledge, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he had to keep taking you back down there. Didn’t mean he had to come check on you when he thought you were out at a bar drinking and worried you might drive home, then bust some guy’s nose because he dared to lay a hand on you. Didn’t mean he had to drop everything to come running when Belle OD’d, call in favors with the club doc, and then talk her into going to rehab. You really think he did all that, and he doesn’t have feelings for you? Babe, wake the fuck up.”
My eyes sting with my unshed tears. How stupid could I be? I probably just destroyed any chance we had. How will I ever look him in the face again? Hayley’s right; he’s done so much for me, and this is how I repay him? I know what I have to do. No matter what Hayley says, there’s only one option I can live with.
My phone goes off. I pick it up off the table and look at the screen. Gypsy.
“Hi,” I squeak out. “You back?”
“Yeah, babe. Where are you?”
“Um, out shopping with Hayley, why?”
“Want to see you. You gonna be free in a couple hours?”
“Sure. I’ll text you.”
“All right. You doin’ okay, sweetheart?”
“Yes, I’m great. How’d your trip go?”
“Uneventful, but it was a pretty ride. Missed seein’ you, though.”
“Me too. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay, I gotta run. Text me later.”
“I will. Bye.”
I wave over the waitress and ask for the bill.
“We haven’t even eaten yet,” Hayley complains.
“I need you to drive me back while you’ve had only half that margarita.”
Two hours later, Hayley pulls up to my house.
“You sure you want to do this?” she asks.
“It’s the only way. I can’t go on hiding a secret like that from him. I made a mistake. Maybe it’s not too late to get his trust back if I just come clean.”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Call me later.”
“I will, and thanks for everything.” I climb out of the car and head inside. I texted Gypsy on the way back to Atlanta and asked if he could meet me at my mother’s place. He said he could be by at two. It’s almost that now.
I dash upstairs, brush my hair, and dab on some lip-gloss. My eyes still look red from my earlier crying. Seems like everything has me so emotional now. I guess it’s the pregnancy; my hormones must be running wild. Maybe that’s why I’m making such rash decisions. I shake my head. I can’t even sell that lame excuse to myself.
I hear the roar of a motorcycle. It gets closer, and I move to my bedroom window to peer out.
Gypsy rolls to the curb and drops his kickstand, shuts the engine off, and climbs from the sleek Harley.
My gaze sweeps over him. God, he looks good. I dash downstairs and swing the door open as he steps up on the porch. I smile brightly, my heart fluttering just at the sight of him. “Hey.”
He steps in, cups the back of my neck, and hauls me to him for a kiss. He takes his time, drawing a response from me, and I slip my hands up his chest.
He finally lifts his mouth an inch from mine and smiles down at me. “How’s my baby?”
I go still at his word choice. “Um, fine.”
He frowns. “You okay?”
“Sure. Great. Come on inside.” I shut the door and gesture toward the kitchen. “Let’s go in here.”
His booted steps follow me as I lead the way. The kitchen isn’t big, and his broad-shouldered body fills the room with his presence. The smell of leather and motor oil and just his unique manly scent make all my carefully chosen words fly out of my head.
He wraps a lock of my hair around his finger and tugs me to him for another kiss. When his lips release mine, his gaze moves over my face, and he brushes a piece of hair back from my face. “You wanted to talk about something?”
Nerves clutch at my throat, and all I can do is nod. How do I even start?
He frowns. “Babe, you okay?”
I move to the table and sit. “Yes, fine.”
“Sorry I couldn’t drive you down to Columbus this weekend. Club’s been keepin’ me busy.” He sits in the chair next to me and turns me to face him, his hands on my knees. “And anyway, I’ve been thinking, maybe we can find a way you don’t have to go down there anymore. I know you hate it and—”
“It’s okay. I understand. Besides, Hayley took me.”
He pulls his chin back slightly. “You went anyway?”
“Yes.”
“How’d it go?” His voice deepens.
“Not so well.”
“What happened?” His palm strokes up my thigh then returns to my knee and gives it a squeeze.
I get lost in his touch, wondering if it’s the last time he’ll touch me like this. I take in a breath, and the words tumble out of my mouth. “Growler wanted to know about the club’s trip to Sturgis.”
He pulls back and stays eerily quiet.
I can’t stand the look on his face, so I blurt the rest out. “He wanted me to find out and tell him in exchange for telling me where the key is.”
“You did it, I take it?” His jaw has become as hard as granite and his eyes cold.
I nod.
He stands and paces a few steps, running his hand through his hair. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place and he whirls on me. “That night at my house, when the boys came over, you heard us talk.”
“Yes.”
He huffs out a nasty sounding laugh. “You get what you wanted, I hope?”
“No.”
“Why am I not shocked he wouldn’t keep his end of the bargain? Growler would stab his own mother in the back.”
“I’m so sorry, Gypsy. I was wrong to do it.”
“Ya think?”
“I made a mistake.”
“Thought I could trust you.”
“Please, I’m
admitting I should never have done it. I’m telling you; I’m not hiding it from you.”
“Sure, now that it backfired you tell me. When you should have told me was back when Growler first asked you to do that shit.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Was it all a lie? You and me… was that just an act to get close to me and find out what you needed?”
“No, I swear.” I shake my head violently.
“Guess I had you figured all wrong. Thought you were something special. Smart. Strong. Loyal. You’re none of those things, Tess.” He heads down the hall, and I trail behind him.
“Please, baby, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I made a mistake. Please, you have to forgive me.”
“I don’t have to do shit. You know I fought my club over you, argued with Rusty to give this a chance. Guess he was right after all; you’re nothing but trouble.” With those cutting words, he slams out of the house.
I could chase him down the walk to the curb, make a scene of begging him, but I know it would be no use. So, I press my forehead against the door and let the tears come, my shoulders shaking with my sobs.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tess—
“Quit pacing,” Hayley snaps, licking ice cream off a spoon. For the last two weeks she’s been my rock. Tonight, when I had a crying jag, she rushed right over, carting in several pints of ice cream—the good stuff. God, love her.
“I’ve got to figure a way to fix this.” I sit down, and she shoves a pint at me with a pink plastic spoon jammed in it.
“Ain’t no way to fix it. What’s done is done. Trust is hard to repair.”
“Quit spewing platitudes at me and help me come up with something.”
“Babe, like what? You’ve called him and texted him. He won’t respond. You gonna stand outside the clubhouse and serenade him?” She jabs her spoon toward me. “Oh! You could stand outside and hold up a boombox, blasting your song.” She frowns. “Do you have a song?”
I give her a death glare.
“Sorry.”
“I thought you were so sure he had feelings for me.”
“Yeah, but that was before you stabbed him in the back. Guys don’t like betrayal. It ranks right up there with cock teases and nose piercings.”
“Would you be serious?”
“I’m bein’ serious. And by the way, when are you planning to tell him about the baby?”
I stare at the table, and she knows the answer.
“Never?”
“I will eventually.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell him when you talked?”
“It didn’t seem like a great time. ‘Hey, babe, I’m sorry I just betrayed your club for my father, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.’”
“Tess, you have to tell him. He has a right to know. The sooner the better or it’s just one more thing you’re hiding from him.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want him coming around just because of that. Once I tell him, I’ll never know if he forgives me and takes me back because he has feelings for me or if it's just because of the baby. I won’t use the pregnancy to hold him or win him back.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I have to find out what Growler’s plans are. Then I can warn him.”
“Nuh-uh. I’m not taking you back down there to see that asshole.”
I tap the tabletop with a fingernail, thinking. “Maybe we don’t have to see Growler.”
“Then how the hell are you going to get that information?”
I give her a sideways glance. “I still have that phone number.”
“For that guy? What was his name, Rebar?”
“No, Reload.”
“I mean, I feel like I already know the answer but… are you crazy?” Hayley spits out.
“I need to know exactly what my father’s planning. Even if it doesn’t win Gypsy back, at least I’ll know I tried to make amends.”
“And you think this dude your father is plotting with is just gonna tell you?”
“No, but I bet I can get him to tell me something, especially if he thinks my father sent me.”
“You really have lost your mind. I didn’t know pregnancy made women loony.”
“I’m serious, Hayley. What choice do I have?”
“Um, I can think of several things, especially since you’ve always been the one who wanted nothing to do with the MC. Now you’re plunging knee-deep in their shit. You find out too much, it could put you in danger, and these guys don’t fool around, Tess. Your dad’s MC probably won’t lay a hand on you just out of some shred of respect… probably. But these guys your dad’s dealing with behind their back? Who the fuck knows what they’ll do.”
“I’m texting him. Now hush.”
Hayley rolls her eyes as I pull out my phone, stand, and pace, too nervous to sit still. A few back and forth messages later, I set my phone down on the counter and turn to face her.
Hayley arcs a brow. “Well?”
“He’s agreed to meet me at eleven tonight.”
“Where?”
“Just a place.”
“What place, Tess?”
“All right, fine. Oakland Cemetery.”
She shakes her head. “You arrange a dangerous meeting with God knows who this guy is—could be a mobster, could be an ex-con, could be a psychopath for all you know—and you agree to meet him in a cemetery?”
“He picked the place, not me.”
“And that doesn’t clue you in to the kind of weirdo this guy might be?”
“No one said you had to go with me, you know.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s in the BFF rulebook. Accompany your friend when she’s about to do stupid, dangerous shit. It’s right after Don’t let her date a biker.”
I try to fight the smile, and my eyes end up flooding. Damn hormones. She takes me in her arms, and I cling to her.
“Of course I’m going with you, silly.”
“Thank you,” I blubber.
“Dry your eyes and go put some running-from-a-deranged-lunatic shoes on. Does your mom have any guns in the house?”
I pull back. “You think we need a gun?”
“You think we don’t?”
“You’re right.”
“Come on, partner in crime. Let’s go scope out the meeting place ahead of time.”
We roll up to the cemetery from a side street off the main highway. A stone wall surrounds the place, and the main entrance is a big brick archway with elaborate black wrought iron gates.
Hayley points up at the year engraved in stone above the arch. “Check it out. 1896. This place is old.”
“I pulled it up on my phone before we left. It’s the oldest one in the city.”
“Where are you supposed to meet him?”
“He said there’s a fountain with a statue of two children huddled under an umbrella.”
Hayley parks in a gravel, tree-lined lot across from the entrance.
“I don’t think this neighborhood is the greatest,” she says as we climb from the car.
“Come on.” I head toward the entrance. The gates are still open, but it closes at dusk, and it’s almost that now.
The entrance lane is paved but narrow. On either side are low-walled, terraced sections of graves. Some have small markers, some have mausoleums, some have elegant carved statues ten feet high, and some just a simple obelisk. Old brick paths lead off into the sections here and there.
This place is beautifully landscaped like a park with giant oaks, dogwoods, laurel trees, and magnolias, and I have to remind myself Oakland has been here for well over a hundred years.
“Wow, this place is huge,” Hayley murmurs.
“Almost fifty acres. Website said there are over seventy thousand graves.”
“Holy crap, that’s a lot of dead people.” She shivers. “This place gives me the creeps even in daylight. Imagine the field day the Long Island Medium would have in here.”
We finally reach a sign marked Visi
tor Center that points to a lane on the left.
“Let’s go that way,” Hayley says, and we walk until we see a white castle-like building rising above the trees and head toward it.
It’s air-conditioned inside, and there’s a man standing behind a counter.
“May I help you ladies?” he asks, smiling.
“Do you have like a map of this place?” Hayley asks.
“Of course.” He pulls one from a display and hands it to her. “Are you looking for anything or anyone in particular? Usually girls like you want to know where Margaret Mitchell is buried.”
“Who?” Hayley asks.
I jab her with my elbow. “She wrote Gone with the Wind, dummy.” I smile at the man. “Actually, I was told there’s an interesting fountain with a sculpture of children under an umbrella.”
“Ah, yes, it’s called Out of the Rain. It’s just down the way. Continue on the road past this building. You can’t miss it. It’s at the corner where several lanes converge.”
“Is the main entrance on the west side the only way in here?” Hayley asks, thinking way ahead of me.
“Well no, there’s the south pedestrian entrance, and a smaller pedestrian gate on the south side near the Jewish section, but that’s not used anymore.”
“What about on the east side and the north side?”
“The east side is just a stone wall, and the north side butts up against the railyard so there’s no access there.”
“You ever have people come in here after the place is closed?” Hayley asks.
The man frowns. “Well, there’s a caretaker at night and—”
“Okay, thank you so much. You’ve been very helpful.” I pull Hayley outside.
She yanks her arm free. “Hey, what gives?”
“You were asking too many questions. He was starting to get suspicious. Come on. This way.”
We head down the lane and find the fountain around a bend. It is indeed at the corner of five converging paths.
“Man, you could get lost in this place,” Hayley muses, and I have to agree.
“Good thing we’ve got the map,” I say.
She points at a bench across the lane. “Who comes to a cemetery and hangs out?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. The fountain is nice. It’s kind of peaceful here.”