MC Chronicles Shorts #4
Bink Cummings
MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings Shorts #4
Bink Cummings
Copyright © 2019 by: Bink Cummings
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Editor/proofreader: Heather Hendrickson
Beta Readers: Sheri Klotzer & Kali McQuillen
Cover Artist: Bink Cummings
Image Provided by: BigStock
Ebook Edition, License Notes
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(Note: This book/series is a work of fiction with aspects based in truth.)
Contact the author: Email: [email protected]
Contents
1. Friday, May 8, 2015
2. Saturday, May 9, 2015
AUTHOR NOTE
Also by Bink Cummings
SOCIAL MEDIA
1
Friday, May 8, 2015
Seated in the common room of the clubhouse, hands folded in my lap and legs crossed, I do my best to keep my mouth locked down tight. We’re having a talk, a.k.a. Big asked the brothers to the common room to discuss up-and-coming changes. By changes, he means my father is stepping down as VP. As if, Dad hasn't already done so. As if, Kai isn’t already his replacement. They make it sound like it’s no biggie. Considering we haven’t had a serious change in the club hierarchy since I was a kid, it’s a huge fucking deal. My dad is giving up the patch. One he’s had since before I was born.
Doing what he does best, Big paces the center of the room, commanding everyone’s attention. Per his request, I’m the only female present to witness whatever’s about to go down. Honestly, I didn’t wanna come. It took about a dozen orgasms and a day’s worth of groveling to get me here. Can ya blame me? Kai isn’t my favorite person. Sure, he’s hot as sin, but I’m a loyal bitch to the core. And my father, even if he wasn’t the greatest dad, is still flesh and blood.
After the hickey fiasco at our house, I’ve kept my distance from Mr. Blond and Buff. Not that he’s tried to mend fences. He stays on his side of the road, I stay on mine, and our paths try not to cross. Which is hard when your old man’s the prez and Kai’s supposed to be his right hand.
Brew and Jizz eye me with concern as they perch their asses on a pair of stools against the wall, sipping bottles of Bud. Out of us kids, I’m the one taking this change the hardest. It’s like they don’t even care.
Dad pulls up a stool next to Brew as I rest on the couch by myself, doing all I can to keep my expression blank when I wanna have a hissy fit like some six-year-old who doesn’t get her way.
Knowing me too well, Big winks my way, flashing his trademark grin. I return the gesture, but the delivery reads constipated, not sexy. Though he doesn't seem to notice.
The rest of the brothers filter in and take up seats around the place. Gunz is the last to enter from the hallway and claims the empty spot beside me. Wanting to be anywhere but here, I prop my head on his shoulder as he pats my thigh in support.
“This’ll be over soon enough,” he whispers, turning in to peck my cheek.
“I should’ve stayed home.”
Tati, Harley, and my Sacred Sisters are waiting on me to wrap up this shit show. We’re having a girl’s night after, so the guys can give my father the proper send off—SS style.
“No. You’re supposed to be here. We want you here.”
Uh huh. I know my old man wants me here. The bastard refused to let me miss it. Even threatened to throw me over his shoulder and tie me to the chair if I didn’t concede to his wishes — an ordinary day in the Cummings-Darcy household.
Big pauses his pacing in the middle of the room, turns on a boot heel and points to Dad. Without hesitation, the old biker stands, pulling a pocket knife from his front jeans pocket. With practiced ease Dad flips it open with his thumb and hands off his beer to my eldest brother. They share a look that reads loud and clear of respect as I smother a cringe.
This is it.
Nothing like ripping off a lifelong Band-Aid. Couldn’t they have said a few words before diving right into this?
Head held high, Dad places the tip of the blade to his patch and slashes through years of history, tearing the very fabric of his being off his chest a single thread at a time. The room is silent, watching on as Rodney ‘Steel’ Cummings cements his new place in the world. Sure, Dad’s still a Sacred Sinner, but he’s no longer Big’s second. No longer the man behind my man.
A single tear treks down my cheek as I watch on, refusing to look elsewhere. Once it reaches my chin, I dispose of the offender with my thumb to hide my weakness. Not that anyone here would care if I cried. They love me.
The instant the final thread’s severed on my father’s cut, patch freed from the aged leather, the common room erupts in manly cheers. Brothers launch off their seats and surround him to pay homage to the man they’ve counted on for decades. And here I remain, seated beside Gunz, watching a new life unfold.
This isn’t the same club I grew up in. Things seemed simpler then. Maybe that’s age and experience talking. Maturity has a way of presenting a different perspective.
A surfer boy from Florida is taking Dad’s spot. I’m with the prez now, a mother to a beautiful little girl, and a confidant to a broken teenager.
If you asked me if this is where I’d end up in my thirties, I’d call ya crazy. Yet, here I am.
Once the brotherly love dies down, Big saunters over and offers me a hand. “Come on, babe. Let’s do this right.” Those baby blues lock on mine as I slip my palm into his warm one, feeling a thousand times better with a single touch. “I’ve got ya.”
I nod, allowing him to draw me to my feet. “I know.”
Hand folded tight in Big’s, in case I try to bolt, I follow along as he leads us to my father, who offers me the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “Bink.” He waves me closer, a childlike excitement exudes from every pore.
This is something I’ve never seen from him before.
Not like this.
A smile here or there, sure.
Pure happiness? I didn't think that was possible.
Not sure what to do, I look up at Big, who, like the jerk he is, delivers a telling smirk before tossing me to the wolves without a care. A round of laughter beats against my eardrums as I collide with my dad’s chest. Two familiar arms wrap around me like a bear.
“My girl,” Dad coos into my hair.
Cheek mashing to his chest, the muscles in my back protest as his strength makes it tough to breathe.
Blink.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Blink.
Inhale.
The same cologne he’s worn since I was a child curls up my nostrils, setting off a barrage of memories once forgotten.
There I sat on his Harley in my favorite pair of striped pajama pants eating a popsicle as he and mom argued on the lawn. Big was there plying me with the sugary ice, trying to get me to come with him. Even then, he was always shielding me from family drama. Always my protector.
Closing my eyes, I sink deeper into my father’s embrace,
relishing in it for the first time since forever.
The essence of motor oil blends with his spice. I sigh to myself, remembering a simpler life.
We had a water balloon fight once. It was magical. A true once in a lifetime treasure. My sisters and brothers were there, too. The evil incarnate that is my mother had gone somewhere. There were smiles, laughter and these brightly colored balls of ammunition that broke before we threw half of them. The sun was hot as it shone down. Dad forgot to slather my pale skin in sunscreen, so I turned into a ripe tomato. But I didn’t care one bit. It was a beautiful day. One of the few I had with all my siblings when my sisters could stand the sight of me.
“Thank you for being here,” Daddy mumbles to my scalp.
I exhale again as reality tears me from my musings, setting its wicked claws in deep — an ache of loss blossoms in my chest.
“Is this really what you want?” I whisper so only he can hear. Around us the rest of the brothers are busy discussing tonight’s wild party—club whores and booze.
“Sweetheart, Kai was my choice. I waited ‘til we were both ready for this. I wanna be with my old lady, spend time with my grandkids, my daughters, and my sons… Not carry the weight of the club no more. These old shoulders aren't built like they once were. They're not like Big’s. Not like Kai’s. I’m too fuckin’ old for this shit.”
“But what if I don’t like him?” It’s a fair question.
Daddy chuckles soft and warm, like melted chocolate. “You will. He might be green, but he’ll be better for Big and this club than I ever was. He and your brothers are the legacies we leave behind when us old fucks step down. Fresh blood ain’t gotta be bad. Do me a favor and gave the kid a chance.” A kiss presses to my hair in a peace offering of sorts.
I heave a sigh.
Fine.
If this is what’s best.
If that’s his wish.
“If I gotta do that, then you gotta come to dinner soon.” If he doesn’t have to handle club biz anymore, then he should have plenty of time for family. It’d do Harley some good to get to know her Grandpa Steel better, even if we know Gunz will always be her favorite.
“Done.” A second peck joins the first.
Holding onto my father longer, I soak up what I can like a sponge in the desert, ‘cause you never know if I’ll ever get another chance. He lets me take my time, and the brothers give us space. When I finally gather enough courage to draw back, his smile is easy as our eyes meet. The same blue I see in the mirror day after day reflects in mine.
Dad squeezes my bicep with affection and chucks my chin softly with his knuckles. “Don’t be a stranger, kid.”
Not letting emotions get the best of me, I thump his shoulder in playful retribution. “Same, old man.”
A pause descends. No more than ten seconds, we stand in a crowded room, at arm’s length and look at the other. Truly look. The lines around dad’s eyes crinkle even when he doesn’t smile. His once blond hair is now a grayish-white. He looks like the man from my childhood, only different. Years have tarnished his skin with the burn of wind, and the mountain of burden he carried to stay unfaithfully married to my mother. As I roam his features, I catch Dad doing the same.
The eleventh second passes.
I smile.
He returns the sentiment.
In parting, we exchange final chin lifts that speak of lifelong respect and love, then I turnabout and crash into a towering wall of muscle with a croaked, “Goddammit, Big.”
My man’s laughter fills the space as he swoops in for a full-body hug. The world rights itself, pieces align.
Everything’s gonna be okay.
We’ve got this.
2
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Throwing a kernel of popcorn at Tati, it bounces off her chest and lands on the floor for Pretzel to inhale. Laughter varnishes the basement as she holds her stomach, rocking in genuine merriment.
“Don’t! Stop!” Eyes bulging in faux horror, Tati squeals. Big dips his giant mitt into the popcorn bag that rests in my lap and repeats the offense with half a handful. “Guys!” Tears stream down her reddened face as she swats the flying bits away.
“Take it back!” Big demands on a chuckle.
“Never!” Tati’s knees pull to her chest, protecting her from the next assault.
She doesn’t have to wait long.
Big grabs an even bigger handful and chucks it at her. Like an avalanche, it covers Tati’s small frame. Pieces get stuck in her hair. Another rolls into the gap of her oversized hoodie, one of the many she stole from Big. Our dog goes nuts, not wanting to miss a single morsel that falls.
"Take it back!" Big flicks a popcorn kernel that landed on his thigh onto the floor as I cuddle closer to him, loving this more than I should. We’re in Tati’s domain. She’s in her spot on the new chair she picked out, while we hang on the couch. They’re having a mild disagreement over what to watch on TV. Big’s pretending to be offended by her teenage choices when I know he loves the banter. It’s the perfect evening after a long day of club talks. The party last night had Big rolling in at four this morning. But I’m happy to announce he was hickey, lipstick-stain, and perfume-smell free. Someone was a good boy. Thank you, Baby Jesus.
Shrugging, Tati’s hands flail in the air with attitude. “What? I don't like those movies."
“Everyone fuckin’ likes the Matrix movies.”
“They suck.” Our teen sticks her tongue out at Big, making a dorky face.
He grumbles something under his breath about loving her too much to fight anymore. I pretend not to hear. Instead, I lean up to peck his cheek as sticky, marshmallowy happiness invades my middle.
A single day with this girl is all it took for them to form a bond. I knew once Big gave in he'd adore her. That very night, when we were in bed after having dinner as a family, he said something I didn’t think I'd ever hear. “You did good, babe. She’s meant to be ours.” And she is. Tati is ours. She fits, just as Janie and Dom fit.
Yesterday, after I left the clubhouse, we had a laid back Sacred Sister pajama party here. We were too exhausted from the endless lockdown duties that we were content to stuff our faces with snacks and chill. With the constant tension and turmoil surrounding the compound, it was nice to have an official night off. Even Jez was tamer than usual. Wish I could report we had this giant party with big-dicked male strippers, but that’s not the case. We can, believe it or not, do subtle… sometimes.
In control of the remote, Tati flicks through numerous choices on Netflix before settling on a romantic comedy Big will hate. As if she can read my mind, she throws a devious smirk at my man, who groans in defeat.
Big’s arm curls tightly around me, locking me against his hip. My legs tuck to the side as I rest my head on his shoulder, ready to have movie night. “Fine. But I get to pick next time,” he remarks.
Tati winks.
Again, he groans, then whispers into my hair. “She’s gonna be the death of us.”
In mock sympathy, I pat Big's thigh before resting my hand there. "You'll survive. You had guys night last night."
“Yeah. But I’m a man. Men don’t watch this shit.”
“They do when they have three girls living under their roof,” I singsong, loving his discomfort too much. It’s about damn time he got a taste of his own medicine. Do you know how much testosterone I grew up with? There wasn’t even a quarter of the old ladies on the compound that there is now. It was a sausage fest. Watching a chick flick then, when you had to rent VHS tapes from the store, was never gonna happen. Not that I watched much TV anyhow.
“Teenagers are the worst,” he huffs.
“You dealt with me as a teen just fine.” I turn and kiss Big’s pec. He dressed down for the evening. Ugly pajama pants encase his legs as a tight black t-shirt fits his upper body like a glove, showing off his muscles. Fuck milk, those silly protein bars the brothers are obsessed with do a body good, even if the glass pan in my fridge is annoyin
g.
The tips of Big’s fingers draw circles across my upper arm. “Uh huh. Right… ‘Cause lusting after you was better. That’s way more fucked up, babe. I swear to God, if any of these brothers lust after Tati or Leech, when she’s older, I will end them.”
Mashing my lips together for a beat, I suppress a smile. “Dad didn’t end you.”
“’Cause he didn’t know.”
That’s what Big thinks. Maybe Dad knew but didn’t want Big to know he knew. Not that I’m about to ask. It doesn’t matter anyhow.
“How do you know you’ll know?” I elbow him in the stomach, teasing.
“Oh, I’ll know. Then I’ll kill them, if Gunz doesn’t kill ‘em first.”
This time I let a grin sneak past as a ball of warmth settles in my heart. Eyes closing, I sigh wistfully, pretending to swoon. “You say the sweetest things sometimes.”
Big lays a long, wet kiss on my forehead. “You think that’s sweet? Christ, woman, you’re as fucked up as I am.”
“Maybe I am,” I quip.
“Maybe I like it.”
Tati makes a choking sound. “You guys are starting to sound like the couples I watch in these romcoms.”
I roll my eyes.
As usual Big doesn’t let shit slide. “Watch your stupid show and mind your own business, teenager,” the inner neanderthal growls, trying hard to sound gruff and badass when he sounds anything but.
She returns her attention to the screen. “Whatever, old giant.”
“That’s all you got? Old giant. Come on, Tati, you gotta do better than that. You’re livin’ with my queen. Gotta keep up with her. Do this family proud,” Big quips.
This is true. Old giant isn’t offensive. You gotta hit Big harder than that. Make it sting, even if he knows you’re joking.
“Just tell Big what I do… Fuck off,” I offer.
From the side view of her face, Tati looks mortified, eyes rounding to the size of peaches. “I can’t do that.”
MC Chronicles Shorts #4 Page 1