MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 2: (Motorcycle Club Romance Novel)

by Bink Cummings

  “Shit, does Prez know?”

  My face drops, guilt flooding in. No, he doesn’t, and that’s the problem.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Mickey snorts, amused.

  “We’ll take care of it,” Gunz seizes control. “Now carry those fucking bags into Bink’s room. It’s unlocked. And be a nice guy, shake the boyfriend’s hand,” he inclines his head in Marshall’s direction.

  Mickey turns his attention back to Marshall and glowers. “This her man?” he thumb points to Marshall, who’s suddenly become crestfallen with worry. His body is twitchy as he sways on his feet. I knew this day was going to be difficult.

  “Yes, that’s Marshall. Be nice,” I fiercely demand, highly emphasizing the niceness I expect him to show.

  Mickey meets his eyes and extends a firm hand, to shake Marshall’s. They shake hands. Then Mickey adheres to Gunz’s orders, retrieves our suitcases from the trunk, and lugs them inside with an undertone of obscene murmured curses.

  I hold in my laugh at his sullen attitude. It’s kind of cute. Gotta love Mick.

  “Where’s he at now?” I ask Gunz, knowing that he knows who I am talking about.

  “With his girlfriend, in town, picking out her dress for tomorrow.”

  I hold my breath and clench my fists, digging my nails into my palm to center myself, and force my face to remain neutral. Fuck, this shit hurts though. A dress for his girlfriend for the wedding tomorrow, and here I was just going to wear a black wrap dress that I bought at Motherhood in Chicago. Maybe I should have been smarter and bought myself something even nicer. I know it’s not a competition, per say, but it is for me. I have to hold up my end of the Bink pedestal that everybody seems to put me on, for whatever stupid reason.

  “What’s her name by the way?” Nobody has informed me of this yet. I can’t figure out why; maybe they don’t even use it.

  “Mary, her name is Marylou.”

  Now why does that gut me even more?

  I tug out from under Gunz’s hold. “I got to pee, and we need to rest until tonight,” I explain, hoping that it comes across honest and emotionless. I really need it to come out that way right now. Marylou’s name is batting around in my head like Pong. I am on the verge of a serious crying spell. Damn hormones. I mustn’t cry.

  Gunz reaches into his cut, with his eyes assessing my face. “Here,” he pulls out a sucker and hands it to me. My lip twitches and finally cracks, bringing a smile to my face and lightening the heavy load on my heart. How does he know just the right thing to make it all better?

  Tearing off the wrapper, I tuck the trash into my jeans pocket and lean in to kiss his cheek before I pop it into my mouth, and turn on my heel to head into the clubhouse, waving to Marshall to follow me.

  My fingers are crossed that nobody stops us as we make our way to my bedroom. I need a sliver of silence and a way to gain my bearings back before the massive party. The bubbling emotions that are boiling in my system can’t be a good sign. I’ve got a few hours to gain control of them, or I’ll be spending half the night either pissed the fuck off or bawling like a two year old, utterly inconsolable. The former being the lesser of two evils.

  “Marshall, this is Pixie,” I point to the blue haired tattoo queen with a smile. She raises her hand in a shy hello.

  “That is Jezebel,” I point to the lively curvaceous big-breasted sassy ass. She is clad in fire engine red jeans and a black off the shoulder top that says, “It ain’t going to eat itself.” Poor bitch; her breasts have only gotten larger thanks to her breast-feeding Gabe. I know the feeling; mine have grown a bit since I got knocked up. Not that my boobs need to get any bigger, I’m already one big tit, like my mother always used to say.

  Jezebel strides toward him and wraps him into an unrelenting hug. That’s just her way about things - a pushy pain in the behind. Marshall awkwardly returns her hug, patting her back with the tips of his fingers, like he can’t wait for her to let him go.

  I run down the line of the rest of the ladies who are standing in my bedroom here at the clubhouse. They came by a few hours after we arrived to introduce themselves before the festivities jump off.

  Debbie and Candy Cane shake Marshall’s hand. Dixie has officially joined the sisterhood, so she’s also in tow, but standing to the wayside like she doesn’t know if she belongs or not. I wave her forward, “This is Dixie, the bride to be.” I tug her into a sisterly side hug. I’m glad she’s going to be my sister-in-law; it beats some other bitch taking her spot.

  “Hello, Dixie.” Her name rolls around in Marshall’s mouth like a foreign object. I know it’s hard for him to adjust to using different names. It’s a way of our world, and I’ve assured him that he is welcome to call me Eva, even though nobody else will. Using someone’s road name around here is a sign of respect. If you don’t show it, you might as well dig your own grave. Although I don’t mind him calling me Eva, even if I hate the name, only because my mother gave it to me.

  “Hi,” she says, and casts her gaze to my face, then down to my belly. “I didn’t know you were with child.”

  I shrug indifferently, “Yeah, well, I am.”

  “Does Big know?” she inquires.

  Why does everyone keep asking that? If he knew, everybody would know.

  I firmly shake my head, refusing to allow the guilt to swallow me whole and drown me in misery. Not this time.

  Big Dick has a girlfriend, a potential old lady. I am with Marshall now. Nobody knows the baby is Big’s. I repeat on a reel in my head. When we got back to my room a few hours ago, I paced until I wore a permanent mark in the tile. Okay, so that’s a bit of an exaggeration. I paced until I wore my ass out, and I laid down in my bed with Marshall to catch a quick cat nap. It worked, I feel refreshed, but the dread that is floating under the surface is still there. I know my arrival has been announced. I also know from a text I received from Gunz that he has forbidden anyone from interrupting me. Maybe it was a mistake to come.

  Excessive biker hollering echoes in the hall, and Marshall widens his eyes with uncertainty, staring at the closed bedroom door.

  “They’re already drinking in the common room,” Debbie gently explains.

  Thank you, Debbie! I already feel like I have to hold his hand through this entire experience. He is the one who wanted to attend the wedding and come a day early, not my problem. To me, it’s the sounds of home. To him, it probably sounds like a bunch of feral lions on the prowl. He wouldn’t be wrong there. However, I will not baby him. He’s a grown ass man.

  “When’s dinner?” I ask Dixie, whose shoulder I still have my arm draped over.

  Candy Cane glances down at her phone, as she tugs it from her pocket. “My guess is the men are already scarfing it down. It’s seven. The whores are already showing up.”

  Marshall flinches at the word whores again. “Doesn’t that word sicken you ladies?” he asks.

  All of us glance at each other, smirking, and Dixie is the one who breaks the seal, barking out a laugh. That turns into a hysterical laughing fest. I double over holding my stomach, tears streaming down my cheeks from laughing so hard. Dixie’s holding her chest, projecting her amusement.

  “God no, Marshall,” Jezebel is the first to wind down her amusement, left to a giggle or two.

  “I was a club whore,” Dixie singsongs and clears her throat, swiping tears from her eyes. “Wooo, that was funny. You’re a funny guy,” Dixie smacks Marshall on the shoulder, showing him friendly affection. It’s a thing we do.

  “Ummmm, okay,” he mutters, flashing us a deer in headlights expression. This is really going to be a long night.

  My stomach audibly grumbles.

  “Sounds like the pregnant lady needs to eat,” Debbie says.

  I nod, rubbing my stomach. “I think my daughter needs to eat, but I’ve got to change first. I’ll see y’all in a bit.”

  I wave to them, heading to the bathroom. Marshall is quick on my tail, shutting the door behind me and slamming his back agains
t door. I didn’t realize, but he’s actually sweating and panting to catch his breath.

  “You okay?” I ask, walking over to the sink and pulling out my makeup.

  “That was intense.”

  I swallow the ball of laughter wanting to bubble to the surface. He thinks that was bad. Ha! That was the easy part. I don’t tell him that. I just nod, applying my makeup. Red lipstick, eyeliner, volumizing mascara, blush—the whole gambit. I can’t walk into the common room where my family will be without looking like a knockout. They haven’t seen me since the end of September, and half of them it’s been even longer. Stripping out of my clothes, I let Marshall calm his nerves that are just going to get worse as the night progresses. Shuffling through my luggage on the floor, I dig to the bottom of the bag and find what I am looking for. My secret weapon, so to speak. A pair of tight leather maternity leggings, and a white, low cut, scoop neck tank that fits over my body like a second skin. It’s sexy in every sense of the word and pairs nicely with my black studded flats. I am going to look hot.

  Dressing in my new outfit, I give myself a once over in the mirror. Looks good. Combing my fingers through my hair to flatten out any strays, and I’m ready to rock ‘n roll. I turn to face Marshall, and his eyes are closed, head tilted back, resting on the door.

  “You ready?” I lazily point to the doorknob. “You can stay in the room. I can go at it alone.” It doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

  Running his hands down the sides of his shirt and pants, Marshall takes a deep breath and straightens his back. “Let’s get this over with,” he opens the door, sweeping his hand for me to lead the way.

  By the door, I slip on my flats, and out we go into the hallway. I lock my room to be on the safe side and tuck the key into my lacy bra.

  It’s loud as fuck out here. Music is blasting from the common room, and there’s already a half-naked straggler giggling as her boob’s bounce, hands clasped in a biker’s as he escorts her with a grunt down the hallway to an open bedroom. Big has two rooms he clears out and stocks with condoms and lube on major party days like this. It gives the guys and women some privacy when things get a little hot. If not, it could turn into a group orgy, and then Marshall would for sure have a coronary.

  “You ready?” I start walking toward the common room and kitchen, more people line the halls, and Marshall is so close to me he’s bumping my backside.

  “Hey Bink,” a brother I don’t recognize briefly two finger waves, leaning against the hall wall engrossed in some conversation with a topless whore, his finger tweaking her nipple. She doesn’t even seem fazed by it.

  I nod at him in acknowledgment and turn to the side to pass a couple making out by the common room door.

  “Hey, you fuckers, get a damn room and out of Bink’s way,” Blimp orders, walking through the door and shoving the hot and heavy couple to the side, leaving me plenty of room to pass without bumping my belly.

  “Thanks, Blimp,” I raise to my tippy toes and peck him on the cheek in thanks. He smiles behind that scraggly, pot scented beard, and I smile right back.

  “Missed ya, pretty lady,” he glances down, taking a hit from his blunt. “Looks like we got a new biker in the making,” he says, patting the top of my belly. Some women might be offended when a person openly touches your stomach without permission, and I probably would be pissed if it wasn’t someone I’ve known most of my life.

  Blimp blows his smoke to the side to keep it from hitting my face, and then looks at his blunt and back at me. “Fuck, okay, I’m gonna go put this out,” he raises the fatty into the air. Kissing my cheek, he shuffles around me and up the hallway to snuff his blunt out.

  “Who was that? And was he smoking marijuana?” Marshall yells in my ear because of the volume in here. His chest is against my back, chin on my shoulder. Bumping my butt into his crotch, I nod and turn my head to the side to reply, “That was Blimp, one of the brothers. And yes, he was smoking pot.”

  Fishing through the sea of bodies that leave us with nothing but standing room in the main part of the clubhouse, I navigate to try to find the girls. Runner waves as we pass him, as does Gypsy, still sporting those thick dreads. I wave back with a genuine smile. I see Gunz up ahead talking to Tripper and…. Oooh motherfucker! Big and Mary. I come to an abrupt halt, and Marshall plows into me from behind, not paying attention. I stumble forward, trying not to fall. Hands like vice grips grab my biceps keeping me steady, and I glance up into the handsome face of Viper. Without thinking, I instantly wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He reciprocates, stuffing his nose into my hair.

  “Thank you.” I’m out of breath, and my heart is hammering in my chest. I was scared for a minute.

  “No problem. And you look amazing,” he releases me and steps back. Just like everybody else, his eyes drill a hole into my belly. Raising a brow with a shit-eating grin, he doesn’t say a word to me about my daughter. He darts his eyes over my shoulder to Marshall, and two finger points at him in an aggressive manner. “You watch your fuckin’ self, pretty boy,” he growls.

  Marshall places a shaky hand on my shoulder, his silent way of apologizing. Or maybe he’s peeing his pants and wants to use me as a shield. Viper is kind of scary. If he has to bear the wrath of Big Dick, that’s when he should be pissing his pants. The man is pure, raw malevolence when he wants to be.

  Viper’s handsome face softens, and he winks at me. “You be good. I’ll catch you later.” He pecks my cheek and off he goes into the crowd of drunken bodies, who are busy shootin’ the shit and half-assed dancing.

  Just as I am about to turn around to talk with Marshall, Gunz spots me with a grin, and I flick my eyes to Big and back to Gunz. My way of communicating that I don’t want the epic Big and Bink showdown right now. It’ll happen. My heart can’t handle it right now. I am happy to be home. However, just the sight of Big has my body doing all kind of fucked up things. It can’t decide how to react. My pussy is somehow wet, my clit throbs, my belly has these stupid butterflies making me want to puke because they are working overtime, my heart can’t stop pounding, and my body is tense. Not to mention my mental state…it’s far worse.

  Gunz singularly nods. Yep, he gets it, so I turn around to face Marshall.

  “There you are.” Jezebel and the girls find us. My body loosens. Thank God they are here. I wrap my arm over Pixie’s shoulder and tilt my head, connecting with hers. She wraps her arm around my lower back.

  “I thought I was going to have a heart attack,” I admit to my friends. Debbie, playing the mother hen, locks her arm with Marshall’s and bumps his hip.

  “I’ll show ya around. Bink’s got a lot to handle already,” she explains to him, making eye contact with me. It’s like she knows how I am about to explode with emotions. I faintly bow my head and mouth ‘thanks.’ She smiles, mouthing ‘my pleasure.’

  A hand comes down hard on my shoulder, and I look over it to see my brother Jizz. “I thought that was you,” he grins.

  I release Pixie and spin around.

  “Hey bro.” I punch him in the shoulder, and he fakes pain, whining that I hurt him. I shake my head and laugh, “You’re an idiot.”

  My daddy is right on Jizz’s tail, and he too joins us. All of my siblings have blonde hair and blue eyes, like mine. My father’s hair has turned white over the past five years, same as his beard. Even though he’s just a few years over fifty, he looks older. Deep age lines crease his tanned skin, and his arms are sleeved, muddled and dark from thirty-year-old tats. Glancing around them, I try to spot my sisters or my mom. I don’t want to see them. I am only bracing myself for the moment that I have to. Thankfully, today doesn’t seem like the day.

  “Hello there, young lady,” my daddy says.

  “Hi, daddy,” I give him a quick one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek. He grins, cuffing his hand around my hip and holding me to his side.

  Debbie, with her arm in Marshall’s, brings him to the forefront, and I introduce my brother and my
daddy to Marshall. They aren’t impressed; I can tell when they shake his hand. Oh well… didn’t think many of the brothers would like him, even if he was a biker.

  “Hey! You’re here!” a messy blonde haired man shuffles through the crowd, like he was waiting for me or something.

  “Hi, Deke,” I greet, grinning as he joins our growing group. “When’d you get in?”

  “Last night.” He raises his chin in greeting to my brother and dad, “VP, Jizz.”

  They do the same in return. Bikers and their macho mannerisms. Sometimes I wonder why they don’t beat on their chests like cavemen. ‘Me Deke, You Steel, We Brothers.’ That’s how their actions feel sometimes. Bikers occasionally do that half hug back pounding thing with their palm or fist. The sound of it slapping on their cuts is a memorable one. Although, the two finger wave, stiff singular nod, and jerked chin raise are customary. Kissing of women’s cheeks and hugs are normal with the females. Anything goes with the females really. You can let your softness show as long as it has a pussy, not a cock. Damn men!

  “How are you liking it here? The girls glad to see their dad?” I’ve been worried about him and his daughters. Vivian is gone for good. Deke is still in transition, trying to turn the shop from being his to a club-owned business. That way he has less to handle. But he’s making sure they keep all the current employees on the payroll. It’s commendable.

  “They’re good. They are at Candy Cane’s right now with the rest of the kids and the babysitters.” By babysitters, he means a few old ladies who refuse to party and would rather spend their evening corralling a butt load of rowdy children. No thank you. I’d rather be here.

  Bulk, Axel, and Dallas soon join their old ladies, bringing them fresh drinks, and extending their greetings by way of hugs to me and handshakes with Marshall. Debbie sees to it that Dallas retrieves poor Marshall a bottle of Bud. He hates beer, but he accepts it out of courtesy and sips on it, trying not to pucker in disgust. The weirdest part of this is none of them are surprised by my belly, neither is Jizz or my daddy. They are acting so cool. Too cool. It’s very weird.