by Ker Dukey
He sighs and lifts one side of his mouth in a grimace. “Gotta admit, it ain’t good knowing your ass is gonna be six feet under within a few weeks—a couple months tops.”
“Shit. That bad?”
He nods sadly. “Taking over all my body like a fucking hungry parasite.”
“Surely the docs can do something?”
“Too far gone, kid.”
My stomach rumbles with grief, nausea lying heavy in my gut. I had thought when my father had said Bullseye was stepping down, it was so he could concentrate on treatment, but it’s because the poor cunt is going to die.
“Where is it?”
He frowns, puzzled at my question.
“You know, what type of cancer is it?”
“All over, kid.”
He picks up his tumbler of whisky, his large gulp noisy when he swallows.
A loud noise from the back of the room alerts me to Brenner’s company, and I groan inwardly. It’s been a fucker of a day and I’m not sure I can cope with him right now.
Ordering another few Patrons, I pick them up and retreat to a dark corner, out of sight. I’m not ready to go home yet; my bloodstream isn’t diluted enough with alcohol yet.
Boomer flips a box at me and throws himself into the chair opposite.
“My sister said it’s the one to have.” He winks, knocking his knuckles on the table.
I slip the velvet box into my pocket and tip my glass in thanks.
I adore fifties’ and sixties’ black and white movies. It’s always embarrassed me how nerdy I am sometimes, and I never allow anyone to know this about me. So, when I didn’t hear Slade come in and tears were rolling down my face with laughter at the movie I had chosen, I jumped a mile when he slurred from behind me. “You have a great laugh, princess.”
I shoot a mile in the air, the throw covering my legs slipping to puddle on the floor as I land back on the couch with a plop.
“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me!” I blow out a breath and place my hand on my chest like it will placate my sprinting heartbeat.
His smile is wide, but not mocking, just kind of warm. Although he is evidently drunk, his eyelids drooping slightly, he looks down at me with a softness in his eyes. His gaze finally lifts to the TV and a rush of heat travels up my face.
“Great movie!” He grins as he vaults over the back of the couch and lands beside me.
My jaw falls open in shock and I stare at him in confusion. “What?”
“Gotta love Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
My eyes shoot from his face to the TV and then back to him again. “You do?”
“Sure. Most Audrey Hepburn movies actually.” He shifts, pulling something from his pocket. “Speaking of Tiffany’s.” He grabs my hand and wiggles off my big fake ring and throws it across the room.
My mouth drops open. “What the hell?”
He opens a small black box and pulls out a diamond ring. My heart is stampeding in my chest. He slips the stunning ring up my finger and grins. “Perfect, just like it’s owner.”
“Slade,” I breathe, inspecting it. It’s huge and so clear it looks like a water droplet.
“It’s real, princess. Stop inspecting it.” He nudges me.
“I’m going to call it Frost,” I announce, and he throws his head back and hoots.
“You don’t name jewelry. It’s not a pet.”
I shrug. “I’m going to adore it like it’s a pet. Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
I can’t stop staring at it. I sense his eyes on me and my body hums with awareness. “Yes, princess. It sure is.”
I’m unsure what to say next when Slade picks up the fallen throw and tosses it over our legs. After a few minutes, he turns to me. “You want some popcorn?”
I nod, trying in vain to hide the grin forming on my lips. “Yeah.”
Reaching for the controller, he pauses the movie and shoots up, returning within a few minutes with a huge bowl of still steaming popcorn and two beers. Settling the bowl between us on the couch, he maneuvers the blanket back around his legs and we fall into an easy silence as we watch the movie.
It’s after around a half hour that I feel the comfortable atmosphere shift faintly, and I take a side glance at Slade. His eyes are on the floor, his attention on the movie gone, and a deep crease of worry crumples his forehead.
“You okay?” I ask softly. It’s obvious that he’s not, and it’s even more obvious he won’t talk to me about his problems. Therefore, I’m stunned a little when he sighs heavily and turns his body toward me.
“VP has cancer.”
My heart lurches and I grab his hand, giving him a comforting squeeze. “I’m so sorry. Nasty fucking disease. Not only destroys its victim, but every damn person within the circle of mercilessness it creates.”
He blinks at me, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Who did you lose?”
“My mother.”
He returns the squeeze I gave him. “I’m sorry.”
Shrugging, I give him an appreciative smile. “Dad was never the same after. I was to blame, of course.”
“For your mother’s cancer? How can it be your fault?”
“It can’t be. Didn’t stop him condemning me for it though.”
He peers at me and I’m not sure if he’s angry or full of pity, so diverting, I ask, “Is your VP’s treatable?”
“Nah. Only got a little time left.”
“Oh no.” Sadness eclipses my heart with the sorrow pouring from Slade. “You think a lot of him.”
He nods. “Yeah, I do. Been there from the beginning. He’s a tough one. Give him his due, the fucker can still neck the booze, and he’s still built like a linebacker.”
I rear back, a little staggered. “What? He’s only got a few weeks left and he still looks healthy?”
“Damn straight. He’s in his fifties and still looks forty.”
“My mom looked eighty in the end.”
Slade, catching onto my bewilderment, shrugs. Everyone’s different I suppose.
Quickly shaking my head, I place my hand on his wrist to placate him. “Oh, I’m not saying anything bad, like I want him to be suffering. I’m just amazed how he still looks so well. Cancer ravaged my mother’s body until she was unrecognizable. And it just took from her so quickly. Within a few weeks she was gaunt and thin, then over a period of twenty days, she couldn’t even take herself to the bathroom. Cancer is a vicious disease and it doesn’t allow for dignity. It takes over your body and it destroys it until all you pray for is death. It will be hard on any man, but one like you? It’s not surprising that he’s hiding it well.”
The beat of my heart slows to a dull thud as memories assault my mind and drive agony through my veins. I stare at the TV but I don’t see the images that dance across the screen.
“You know,” I whisper as tears of grief puddle in my eyes. “She begged to die, Slade. She practically screamed at me to kill her. And the poor woman still had six agonizing weeks of life to torment her. It kills me little by little every day. The thought that I could have saved her from that much pain…”
He pulls me to his chest and envelopes me in his strong embrace when sobs surge from me. It feels good to let it go, and to know that the person listening and soaking up my grief is genuine. My father had held me for a quick second when misery had become too much to contain, and it had spilled from me in heartbreaking heaves of anger and sorrow. But he hadn’t wanted to comfort me. He had been stiff, almost as though my need for comfort was shameful.
Slade, however, held on to me so tightly I knew I wouldn’t ever fall into the pit of despair that forever haunted me when I allowed these feelings about my mom free.
“It would have destroyed you, doing that for her,” Slade whispers in my ear as one of his thumbs tenderly grazes my cheek to wipe away a few of the tears. “God knows it would have. Your momma loved you, Avery. Although she begged it of you, in her right mind she wouldn’t ever have put that on you.”
“I know. I know that,” I admit. “Still doesn’t stop me thinking those thoughts on a bad day though.”
“Today is a bad day?” He gently moves me back and playfully narrows his eyes on me. “How can today be a bad day? You’re hitched to the hottest guy in town. Your new environment suits you, and you have a glow to your cheeks.” He winks. “And you got to watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s with my special popcorn and beer.”
I chuckle and wipe my tears away. “I hardly think they were homemade by you, Slade.”
He gasps dramatically and slaps his hand on his chest as if I’ve offended him. “Hey! I’ll have you know, I, all by myself I might add, removed the popcorn from its plastic pocket and placed the brown bag in the microwave. I did that, princess. Give me some credit here. Oh, and I managed to pop the lids from the beer.” He nods proudly. “You hurt me, woman!”
I’m laughing so hard at his infectious humor that he can’t keep his face straight and he’s laughing hard with me.
“Don’t ever say your old man is a useless piece of shit. At least the times when you’re ill and can’t cook, you know I will sustain myself with popcorn and beer!”
“And Audrey Hepburn,” I add between giggles.
“Yes! Maybe we should invite her over for your Bolognese, and a threesome for desert.”
The abrupt heat between my legs makes my belly throb, equally surprising and mortifying me, and trying to hide my arousal from Slade, I cough and hastily attempt to change the subject when the credits roll on the screen. “So, another movie or bed?”
His lips pull up and he raises his eyebrow up in question.
“A movie it is.” I hit him in the gut and he pretends to keel over.
Around an hour later, I’m woken by the strength of two arms lifting me from my bed and carrying me into another.
“You’re too upset to sleep alone, Avery. You sleep with me,” he whispers into my ear, the warmth of his beer-scented breath easing me.
I’m too groggy to speak, but when he pulls me into his chest and snuggles me into him, I can’t help but relax.
“Stay strong, princess,” he whispers as my eyes slide closed.
“Stay safe, Slade,” I mumble before the safety of being in his arms lulls me into a deep and trouble-free sleep. The first in weeks.
“Wakey wakey, princess.”
I’m sure that’s all he’s capable of saying every morning.
For the hundredth time in the last few weeks, I grumble and turn over in bed, shutting him out. We’ve been married for exactly six weeks and five days now, and he’s getting on my nerves already. Why he insists on getting me up at the crack of dawn, I have no idea.
From the night I confided in him about my mother’s death, he insists I sleep in his bed with him. Although, I don’t mind that so much. He sleeps naked and I’ve examined every tattoo, every ripple and rivet of his muscles. He is toned and colorful, his face too flawless, and the few scars he has only add to that perfection. He looks more like a rock star than a biker. But the bruises on his knuckles, one night out of every two that he comes home, tells me otherwise.
“Princess, your muesli is gonna get soggy.”
I curl my lip and burrow further into the duvet. “Fuck your muesli. Fuck your early mornings. And fuck you!”
“Well, who’s a cuntasaurus this morning, hmm?”
I frown. “A cuntasaurus?” I can’t keep the crack of a smile from tilting my lips, so I conceal it under the bedding.
“Yep. Look in the dictionary under ‘Avery’ and it’ll be listed there.”
“Go away!”
He chuckles and I screech when he yanks the duvet from me, the chilly air shocking my warm body.
“Get your sorry ass up.”
“My stomach aches, Slade.” I groan. I’m on the no-period contraceptive pill, but I still get the stomach cramps when I should have a period.
“Oh right.” He steps back and rubs a hand over the back of his neck.
I look at him in confusion then down to the sheet where his gaze is stuck. Heat flames my cheeks and I’m mortified when a red circle of blood decorates the once white sheet. Crap, I nicked my thigh shaving last night because I used his razor, and I’m used to getting waxed not shaved. Plus, it doesn’t help that I’m a bleeder.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”
I hop out of bed and start to pull at the sheet. Slade grabs my wrist and shakes his head at me. “What are you sorry for?”
“Well…” I point at the mess, unable to say much more.
“Don’t be silly.” He looks pissed for a moment then his expression softens. “I’ll run you a warm bath while you put the sheet into the washer. Have a nice long soak then I’ll make you some bacon and waffles.
My mouth drops open, stunned by his care. He ignores it and disappears into the bathroom. I’m still stunned immobile for a few moments before I blink back my shock and tug the sheet from the bed.
“I’ll let you use the bathroom for what you need to do while the bath is running and I’ll put the bedding in to wash,” Slade says, emerging in a cloud of steam from the bathroom. Taking the sheet from me, he grumbles when I shake my head and pull it close to me. “Jesus, Avery. I’ve seen a bit of blood before. Not period blood, but…”
“What?” I frown.
“You got your period, right?”
“You think this is warm, vaginal blood and still want to touch it?”
“Warm vaginal blood?”
Taking offence at his teasing, I roll my eyes, huff, and disappear into the seclusion of the bathroom before shouting out. “I cut my leg shaving, dipshit.”
As promised, there’s bacon, waffles, and syrup waiting for me when I walk into the kitchen after my bath. The smell is divine and I clamber onto one of the chairs and delve in greedily.
“This is sooo good,” I mutter around a mouthful, before something dawns on me. “I thought you said you couldn’t cook!” My brow furrows. He smirks and I glower at him. “You big fat liar! I’ve cooked for you all these freaking weeks!” Unlike most brothers I know, Slade likes to come home to eat instead of at the clubhouse, and, admittedly, it’s nice to have company.
Jenna never answers when I call her, and being told not to leave the house without Slade leaves me incredibly bored so I began to long for Slade’s company. He is nothing like I expected. We talk, laugh, and watch movies together like any normal couple, and it’s not weird. I thought it would never work and we’d get under each other’s feet, but we don’t. We kinda fit well together.
“I hate shopping, princess. So, if there’s nothing in to cook, then I don’t cook.”
“So that was your plan? Leave the cooking to me so I’ll do the grocery shopping too?”
I’m not sure if I’m impressed with his shrewdness, or angry he tricked me into cooking supper all week.
“Well you may as well kill two birds with one stone.”
My cell rings, and pulling it from my pocket, I read the screen and tense.
“Everything okay?” Slade asks when he reads my worried expression.
“Daddy.”
“You better answer it or he’ll be knocking on the door within fifteen minutes with his pistol,” he jokes, holding his arm. It has healed nicely and doesn’t even bother him, but the next one might not be the arm.
I shudder at that thought and quickly answer his call. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Avery.” His tone is sharp and I release a silent sigh. “When the fuck are you gonna get your fat backside here and explain to Axe that you’ve dumped him?”
“I haven’t dumped him, Dad. I was never in a relationship with him.”
“But you were supposed to be marrying him. You didn’t even have the gall to tell him before you got hitched to another.”
“I know you’re angry, Dad…”
“Oh, I’m not angry, Avery. I’m disappointed. Not like that’s anything new.”
Slade stiffens beside me, obviously catching what my father just said, an
d I turn away from him slightly. “Okay. I’ll come see Axe this afternoon.”
“Yeah, you will, although it shouldn’t have taken me to call you for you to do it!”
Is the man ever fucking satisfied?
I flinch when, abruptly, he ends the call and my cell beeps at me.
“No fucking way in hell are you going to see this Axe dude!”
I stare blankly at Slade, shocked frozen by the vehemence in his tone.
“I’m sorry?”
He shakes his head angrily. “I don’t like him.”
He’s never even met him.
“Well, I don’t either. But my dad is right. I have to tell him I’ve married someone else.”
“Nope. Not a chance, princess.”
“What the hell is your problem? Our marriage is a farce anyway. Why should it matter to you who I see?”
His jaw clenches and he glares at me. “You’re my fucking old lady. Who you see is my concern. Whether you like it or not, I own you now!”
“What. The. Hell?” I say slowly, his words slapping me in the face with every venomous syllable.
His eyes are narrow and full of a heat that sends icy shivers down my spine. Breathing hard, I glower back at him. “What the fuck I do is my choice, not yours, Slade. I am me. I am not what you expect me to be, nor am I your fucking slave! I will continue to be me, whether I’m married to you, Axe, or the fucking pope!”
He steps forward, pushing me back against the wall. “You. ARE. Mine, Avery Walker!” he states, emphasizing ‘Walker’.
“It will be fine. I can pick up some clothes.”
“You have clothes. I bought you clothes.”
“I need my books if I want to start college in the fall.”
His face pinches. “I forgot about college,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, well my father won’t, and if I want him to pay for it, I need to try and bring him around.”
“You don’t need him to pay for it. I’ll pay.”
“Slade, school is expensive, really expensive. I can’t let you pay for that.” My stomach warms at his generous offer.