by Shyla Colt
“I don’t know what I think. I’m desperate for an explanation of how we got here, and it’s a logical conclusion.”
“Don’t even put that into the universe. Todd loves you. You’re a strong, thoughtful, smoking hot wife. He’d be a fool to throw that away.”
“And yet how many people who have everything do just that?” Jolene asked.
“I think you’re playing a guessing game. You need to sit down and talk with him. I know you’re afraid, but the things you’re imagining right now are probably a million times worse than the truth. You’ve been through a lot, too, in the past couple of years. Give yourself a break. Your mom took Ev’s death hard. You were going back and forth between the two of us. Your father had that stroke last year. In a lot of ways, you’re just getting back to a place of normalcy. I think that’s why it’s hitting you so hard.”
“You think?” she asked, wiping away her tears. “When did you get so wise, little sister?”
“When you gaze into the face of hell, you either go insane or get your shit together. I did the crazy thing, so I guess I’m on the upswing.”
Jolene laughed, and Estelle cherished the ability to brighten her day.
“Let’s talk about how we’re going to make this better, Jole.”
“Yeah, I’m down for that,” Jolene said, taking a deep breath as she tucked her brown strands behind her ears and put on her game face.
They spent the better part of an hour going back and forth with ideas on how to spice things up.
“You know what I think?” Estelle asked.
“What?”
“Enough talking. It’s time for action.”
“What do you mean?”
“Two words, Jole. Naughty and store,” Estelle said.
Jolene laughed. “What?”
“Come on, the good kind, not one in a department store.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start,” Jolene replied.
“All the more reason for us to go.”
“I’m not going to be the only one who buys something.”
“Oh no, today is not about me.”
“I’m not going it alone. You get something, too, or it’s a no-go,” Jolene said.
“Crafty wench. Fine, I’ll pick up a few things, too.”
“Awesome, let’s get rid of our garbage and go.”
Played like a fiddle.
§
The two-story red brick building had a row of dildos in the front window, a scantily clad blonde on a poster, and a sea of shelves stocked with who knew what. Well, this is something I don’t do every day. They linked arms and walked inside.
“I feel like I’m in college again,” Jolene said with a light-hearted giggle.
“Me too.” They entered the store, and she took in the neatly sectioned areas.
“Where do we start?” Jolene asked.
“An outfit. Nothing says ‘fuck me like you mean it’ like the right outfit.”
“Estelle,” Jolene gasped.
“What? I know you’re leery of talking to him, so you need to be expressive in a different way.”
“What if he shuts me down?” Jolene whispered, hesitating as they approached a rack of lingerie.
“Girl, you’re hot as hell. I know twenty-year-olds who don’t have bodies like yours. Put that Pilates, running, and weight lifting bod to good use. He must love the ways you can bend your body.”
Jolene smiled. “Hmmm.”
“You keep your secrets, you wily fox. Come on, we need to get your mojo back.”
“What about your groove, Stella?” Jolene said.
“Hardy, har, har. I might get some things to help with self-entertaining, but I have no man to entice.”
“What about your support?”
“Never said support was a male.”
“But you didn’t say it was a female either,” Jolene said giddily.
Estelle sighed. “It’s not like that. It’s purely a friend thing. If you can even call it that.”
Jolene began to sift through the pieces. “So why are you being so secretive?”
Because I know he’d scare you to death. “He’s just not what you’d expect.”
“Hah, so it is a he! I knew it. And what do you mean?”
“He’s not a clean-cut, nine-to-five type,” Estelle replied.
“Why would I judge him on that?”
She shrugged. Because he belongs to a freaking motorcycle club and doesn’t give a fuck about the norms of society.
“I know I’ve been overprotective recently, but I’m still your best friend. I want you to feel like you can come to me with anything.”
“I do. I mean, look at where we are,” Estelle said.
“True. This is it!” Jolene held up a red teddy with a bustier top and black lace overlay.
“That’s going to look fabulous on you,” Estelle said.
“Okay, I’ve got my outfit. What about you?”
“Me?” Estelle browsed the section. Her eyes caught sight of a pair of black boy shorts with handprints on the back. “Done.” Her thoughts drifted back to her support. He seemed the type to like things a little kinky. His big hands would probably be calloused and slightly rough. Her cheeks grew hot. What the hell am I doing thinking about him like this? They’d formed a kinship the night before, and she didn’t need to ruin it by catching a school girl crush. Still, she grabbed the panties and the set that said ‘it’s not gonna spank itself’. The thought of wearing the flirty underwear under her plain clothes gave her a thrill. She might not be having sex, but she could wear a ‘just in case’ set of undies. It was a small, silly thing, but it felt huge.
§
Snake
He smiled down at the little girl wrapped around his arms. You know you got your Uncle Snake wrapped around your chubby little finger, don’t you, baby girl? Dressed in her brightly colored tutu complete with loud pink leggings and a bright pink sweater over a white T-shirt she was every inch the birthday girl. She blinked up at him, and he kept her smaller body close to his own as they headed into his version of hell for the day. The bounce house extravaganza was a toddler’s dream, but a bachelor’s nightmare.
Of course, you only turned one once. Plus, his goddaughter, Aoife Jordan deserved it. She had a rough start in life. Found in the woods abandoned, malnourished, and helpless, she’d stolen her father Enzo’s heart. The man had come to the Wild Ones to doctor paperwork and officially make the blue-eyed baby his. Now, Snake couldn’t imagine life without his tiny sweetheart. She helped ease the ache that came from losing Jocelyn.
It ate him up, not being able to bury his baby girl because they’d never found a body. What little was left of his wife had told them the assailants used an accelerant to destroy the evidence. The Sheriff had told him as small as his daughter was, there would be nothing left to find. It never sat right with him. They wanted to make him hurt. Nothing would do that more than having his daughter’s body show up at a later date. For months after, he’d expected to step out and find her remains in his car, or on his temporary property. Every phone call made him hold his breath. Years later, he was still waiting for that call. There was a lack of closure available. He needed to know what had happened to her and where her remains lie. It was past time he brought his baby girl home and laid her to rest.
“Nake,” Aoife babbled. Her sweet voice helped him push the darkness away. Today of all days, he wouldn’t live in the past.
“Brother, I can’t even begin to express how out of place you look in this joint,” Enzo remarked, coming up behind him with his arm wrapped around his wife.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep it up and I won’t help you set up for these little monster,” Snake said playfully.
“Thank you for coming early,” Enzo’s wife, Aibhlinn, said.
“Anything for my bes
t girls,” Snake remarked.
She grinned, and he was nearly blinded by her glowing skin and brilliant white teeth. They stepped inside the toddler room they’d rented out for the next hour, and shrugged out of their coats.
“Holy shit, Aib, you popped,” he exclaimed, taking in her small belly.
“I know! I went to sleep last night, woke up, and there he was proud and prominent.”
“Like his Da,” Enzo teased, impersonating her Irish brogue.
“Aye, like his Da. I’m in trouble for sure.” Shaking her head ruefully, she released a light moan.
Snake snickered. “Should’ve thought about that beforehand, Irish.”
She shrugged. Her blue-green eyes sparkled with joy, and if Enzo smiled any bigger, his face would split. It was sickening and nice to see at the same time. The couple had battled a lot to get to this place.
“Five more months until the family expands and Aoife becomes a big sister. Are you ready for that, baby girl?” Aib cooed, holding out her hands as she took the baby powder scented bundle away.
“Where’s the cake?”
“Colleen’s going to bring it any minute now. They do pretty much almost everything for you here, but Aib made little goodie bags for us to set out and some gluten free muffins for kids who might have allergies.”
“How PC,” Snake said.
Enzo rolled his eyes. “Parent politics, man. It’s the worst part of being a dad.”
Snake smirked. He remembered that well. “I can imagine.”
“I’d kill to see you as a dad, man. You wouldn’t put up with the bullshit.”
“It’s a lot of give and take, raising a baby. Even the hardest motherfucker makes nice to keep their kid from being ostracized. Now I didn’t say he’d take shit. Just that he would take care with his words and actions around those who’d hold it against the innocent. I see the struggle a lot with my brothers in the club who have kids. People think you’re trash just because your old man rides a bike and belongs to a club. We set them straight. I feel bad for the girls. They seem to get it worse as they grow older.”
Enzo’s brow furrowed. “Damn. Kids are crueler than they used to be.”
“Won’t argue you with you there,” he said. He peered around the room, taking in all of the activities full of levers, knobs, locks, and interlocking gears that turned. The bright colors, and overly friendly animals gave him the willies. He and Jade had been minimalists when it came to Jocelyn as an infant. There were plenty of solids, neutral colors, and prints for clothing and baby gear. They’d planned on stair-stepping them, so they didn’t start buying all the pink and bows until she was older and began to show an affinity for certain things. His heart ached, and he glanced away from the sight of Aoife and Aibhlinn playing on a mat in the corner. Get a grip, man. You just got here. It’ll be an hour before you can slip away.
Colleen stepped inside the building. He hurried from the room, using the excuse of helping her to cover for his abrupt departure.
“Let me take that for you, Colleen.”
“Ach, thank you, sweetheart. You ready to face these rambunctious tykes?”
“I have a flask in my jacket, just in case,” he replied with a wink.
She laughed, and he relieved her off the sheet cake featuring a pink puppet with ponytails on either side of her head. A plastic bag was tapped to the box with a wand and a crown for accessories. He shook his head. Girls get all the cool shit. Little boys never had swords and motorcycles.
A few minute later, parents began to arrive, and the chaos began.
§
I’m suffocating. He felt like a drunk stumbling onto his bike. He was a fish too long out of the water. His brain screamed for silence and numbness. The sounds of baby laughter had ripped his wounds open like a razor blade. He revved his engine, acknowledging to himself he was running scared. He hadn’t been prepared for the all-consuming grief that had sucked him into a tar pit of depression. He pulled out of the parking lot relishing the wind and the feeling of being weightless. On his bike, he was one with everything. He could smell the night air, taste the dampness that came with impending rain on his tongue, and feel the cool wind blowing against him. Usually, the experience put him in a zone next to nothing could touch. Today, the ride wasn’t enough. Visions of his curly-haired angel haunted him. Her broad smile, still chubby face, and sassy attitude were front and center in his brain. He pulled into a gas station and let his bike idle off to the side. Mike was prickly at best, and no one else knew his real story other than Data. Support. He pulled the telephone out of his cut and paused. Fuck it.
His fingers made the decision before his mind could talk him out of it. He placed the ringing phone to his ear and held his breath.
“Hello?”
“Hey, support, you busy?” he asked, careful to keep his tone light.
“Snake,” she whispered. He closed his eyes, taking comfort in her kind voice. “Everything okay?”
“Not really. I could use some support myself tonight.”
“Do you want me to come to you?” she asked.
“No, I’m at a gas station, and the club house is just too much to deal with right now.”
“Y-you could come here.”
“To your place, Sprite? You sure you want to risk scandalizing your neighbors like that?”
She snorted. “If anything, it’ll get them to keep their opinions to themselves.”
“Oh, you got a little rebel in you. I thought I saw it back at the clubhouse.”
“Hah, I’ve never been called anything close to rebellious. I was a good little girl who wanted to please everyone, and followed every rule to a T.”
“Sure ain’t that now,” he said, intrigued by the self-portrait she’d drawn with her words.
“No, I don’t think I am. My place isn’t much, but you’re welcome here. I don’t have any alcohol, but I can whip up a meal if you’re interested.”
“That’s perfect, Sprite. This time, you feed me and I’ll ply the bartender with alcohol.”
She laughed and rattled off her address, telling him she’d see him when he got there.
As he parked his bike, he frowned at her apartment complex. He pictured her in something more upscale. She drove a BMW for Pete’s sake. Survivor’s guilt. You did just enough to get by. He’d lived a year in and out of hotel rooms for the same reason. At least she had the sense to wallow in one place. Climbing off his bike, he took the stairs two at a time to climb the two stories to her door. Part of him was damn near excited to see her. She sounded good on the phone, like her time at the club had worked wonders. That was normally the case with people coming onto the scene from clean cut backgrounds. She was a strange creature indeed.
He knocked on the door and rocked back on his heels. The sight that greeted him a few seconds later had his jaw ready to drop. She was dressed in a pair of body-hugging black jeans, fierce heels, and a fitted black vest that highlighted her full breasts.
“Are we going out to eat?” he asked, confused. No one walked around their house like this.
She laughed. “Nope, the sister-in-law, came over and played dress up with me.” She stepped back. “Come on in.” He watched her walk away and imagined her body lush and ripe for the picking. I wouldn’t mind playing dress up sometime.
“It smells amazing in here,” he said, handing her a bottle of Scotch.
“Thank you. Steak and homemade garlic potatoes sound okay?”
“Damn, I haven’t eaten that good in a while.”
“Steaks are finishing in the oven and potatoes are boiling. Please have a seat.” She gestured toward the lone grey couch against the wall, and he took in the threadbare apartment. There were no pictures or décor. It felt cold and barely lived in.
He sank onto the cushion, and she sat on the opposite end.
“What happened tonight
?”
“I went to my goddaughter’s first birthday party, and it brought back a lot of my memories of Joce. I think about her every day, but I rarely dwell. It only causes pain and anger I can’t resolve.” Yet.
“I’m sorry, Xavier.” Reaching out, she placed a hand on his arm. His mouth went dry. He swallowed.
“I thought I’d be good. I spend a lot of time with Aoife. But seeing all the parents with their kids…” He shook his head. “It was all I could do to make it through the hour.”
She squeezed and retreated to her side of the couch. “You never get over losing a child. It’s okay to be upset.”
“No, you don’t. I can still hear her laugh so fucking crystal clear. My girl loved to laugh and be silly. She was a ham, always putting on a show and cheesing for the camera.” He smiled with sweet remembrance. She lit up his life.
“I know she must’ve been an amazing little girl.”
“Total spitfire, like her mother,” he said.
Beeps came from the kitchen.
“Sorry. I think the potatoes might be done, and I need to marinate the steak.”
“Take your time. I can entertain myself,” he said.
“I have Netflix and Hulu.” After handing him the remote from the table, she hurried into the kitchen.
He turned on the television and began to surf through the movies. “Sprite, don’t take this the wrong way. You know I think you’re gorgeous, but we have to put some meat on your bones.”
Her head popped between the bars on the divider which separated the living room from the kitchen.
“I thought thin was in,” she said.
“Not for you. As your support I got to keep it real, right?” he asked.
She laughed. “Is that why you kept plying me with all those damn wings?”
“Yep. I been where you are. I was fifty pounds lighter after everything that happened.”
“Jesus, I can’t even picture that,” she said, disappearing back into her cubby hole.
I can picture you with full hips and a fat ass damn easy. He shifted his weight on the couch, cursing his libido. Usually he’d screw and drink the emotions away. Tonight he knew trying to sleep with someone he cared nothing about would make his skin crawl. What would my girls think of me now?