At the mention Elizabeth, I go still. Talk about a blast from the fucking past. I haven’t heard my mother mention Bess’ name in years. Probably not since she revealed she had moved to Miami and got some job in a fancy law firm out there. I’m about to ask why the leading girl of all my childhood memories is suddenly back in our hometown and apparently my mother’s savior, when my mother speaks again.
“Ryan,” she starts, choking on a sob. “He’s gone.”
Her use of my legal name catches me off guard but the two words that follow force me to focus on what she’s trying to tell me.
“Did you hear what I said? Your father passed away.”
Processing the news, I blink and wait to feel some sort of emotion, but to no surprise of my own, nothing happens. For one to grieve, they must have a willing heart.
“I’m sorry,” I say robotically. “Was it another stroke?”
“No, an aneurysm,” she replies. “As sick as he’s been, I didn’t expect this. I don’t know how to live without your father, Ryan. He’s been my whole life since I first laid eyes on him.”
I don’t say anything in response to her declaration of love for my old man and I don’t know if that’s because I can’t relate or if I’m stunned my father is gone. While we may have lost touch over the years because they didn’t agree with the life, I chose for myself, Barbara and Kenneth Perry were good parents. They were just plain good people and fuck, did they love one another. It’s crazy if you think about it…how two people could love like they did and yet somehow manage to produce a heartless prick like myself.
“Bess and her folks have offered to handle all the arrangements for me since I don’t have the head nor the heart to do it myself.”
“That’s good of them,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face as I toss my legs over the edge of the bed. “If you need anything—”
“Don’t you dare,” she hisses. “Don’t you dare try to offer me that blood money of yours to bury your father.”
And there it is…her fucking disdain for what I do. Grieving and all, she never misses a beat to throw my lifestyle in my face.
“I wasn’t going to offer you a fucking dime,” I bite back.
“Good, because your father would roll in his grave the moment they dropped him in it.”
I wonder if he’d roll as much as my eyes are rolling right now.
“You never even visited him after the stroke and you know what, he was okay with it. He understood you had your hands full with Ashlynn—we both did. But now he’s gone, and he took your chance to make amends, with him.”
She makes it sound like I’m a fucking alcoholic or something. The truth is one only makes amends when there is something to salvage and my father was dead to me long before he took his final breath. So I didn’t say goodbye to the man. There’s a lot of things he never said to me either…things I probably needed to hear. Things that might’ve made me a better father. Things like I’m proud of you, son, or I love you.
Things I don’t say to Ashlynn nearly enough.
“Are you done?” I growl.
“No, I’m not. I expect you to be here for your father’s funeral.”
Even if she didn’t just piss me the fuck off there wouldn’t be a chance of me returning to Texas to throw some dirt on my old man’s coffin. Not only do I have clients scheduled, Ashlynn has school. On top of that, things with the club are up in the air since the transition of power. Our new president, Wolf, is just finding his groove and we’re on high alert after we made the mistake of getting into bed with the Sinaloa Cartel.
“Bess has offered to help secure a flight for you and Ashlynn.”
The fact that she assumes I’ll drop everything angers me and only reminds me my mother is and has always been about appearances.
“Hold the fuck up,” I shout. “I can’t just pick up and leave New York.”
“Your father is dead.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” I sneer. “But the rest of us got lives we can’t stop.”
“When did you become such a heartless animal?”
Oh, about the time you stopped giving a shit about me.
“You’ll need a suit too,” she continues. “I won’t have you wearing that vest with the devil on it, in church. We can get you fitted once you’re here. I’ll call you back with your flight information. If Ashlynn needs anything, just send me a list and I’ll make sure to have it waiting for her.”
“I’m not fucking wearing a suit and Ashlynn has everything she needs.”
“Oh, she has a dress that fits her?”
The kid doesn’t own a dress, but that’s beside the point. We’re not fucking going.
“Listen to me and listen to me good, Barbara. I’m sorry for your loss and all that, but I can’t just pick up and leave. I don’t have some cushy nine to five job where I get bereavement pay. If I’m not here to work, I don’t get any of that green shit I need to support my kid.”
“You’ve got a filthy mouth.”
“The women love it,” I deadpan.
“Well, when you’re talking to your mother, maybe you can refrain from using your vulgar tongue.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
“The funeral is in three days. Bess will forward you the electronic tickets. As for the loss of wages, I will compensate your time.”
“Now, you’re just making me sound like an asshole,” I growl.
“If the shoe fits who says it doesn’t. Pack your bags, Ryan, and leave the leather where it belongs… in the trash.”
She disconnects the call before I can say another word.
“Fucking hell,” I sneer, tossing the phone onto the bed.
Is it wrong to question if God took the wrong parent?
“There’s no more cereal,” Ashlynn says, pulling me away from my thoughts. I divert my eyes towards her, taking in her outfit. Wearing a pink shirt, green leggings and red Converse sneakers that have seen better days, I wonder if she’s color blind. Maybe taking her to Texas and getting her a dress isn’t the worst idea.
“You’re not going to school today.”
“I’m not?”
“No,” I reply, scratching furiously at the scruff covering my chin. “How do you feel about planes?”
Her eyes widen at the question and I let out another exasperated sigh. Personally, I fucking hate planes. I’d rather be on two wheels and a winding road, but I reckon attaching a sidecar to my Harley and strapping Ashlynn inside of it, isn’t a smart move.
Fuck my fucking life.
Chapter Three
“J ust sit here and eat your bagel, okay? I’ll be right back,” I tell Ashlynn as my eyes dart around Big Nose Kate’s. I don’t know what is more preposterous; a six-year-old having breakfast in a bar or expecting to find one of my brothers up and about this early in the morning. Leaving Ashlynn to her breakfast, I walk into the kitchen and find the bartender, Lydia Gallo, signing off on a delivery.
“Yo,” I call out to her.
Startled by the sound of my voice, she spins around and nearly drops the box of bourbon in her hands.
“You scared the shit out of me, Needles,” she hisses. “What are you doing back here?”
Ignoring her question, I close the distance between us and take the box out of her hands. Placing it on the butcher block counter, I watch her blow the bangs away from her eyes and cross her arms against her chest. Judging by the scowl on her face she’s not pleased to see me but then again, she never is. For a bartender, Lydia isn’t very friendly. Part of me thinks she needs to get laid, the other thinks she needs a fucking cheeseburger and a night off.
“Wolf around?” I question, shoving my hands in my pockets as she moves around the kitchen area.
“Is he ever around?” she retorts, sliding the box in front of her. Pulling one bottle out at a time, she takes inventory of the delivery as I reach into my kutte for my phone. My mother didn’t waste any time booking a flight for me and Ashlynn. I barely made it to the ba
gel store before I got a text from what I’m assuming is Bess’ number, with my digital tickets. As soon as it came through, I called Wolf asking him to meet me at the bar. I couldn’t just fucking disappear without telling him and I needed someone to look after my bike, not to mention a fucking ride to the airport.
Bringing up my recent call list, I tap my finger against his contact. Feeling Lydia’s eyes on me, I peer at her from the corner of my eye.
“What?”
“If you’re calling Wolf, tell him his asshole of a son didn’t show up for work again last night,” she mutters. “And while you’re at it, tell him I want a raise too.”
Quirking an eyebrow at her tantrum, I study her for a beat.
“Are you always this chipper in the morning?” I volley.
“Oh, please, if any of you paid any attention to anything other than your bikes or your dicks, you’d know Nico hasn’t been himself. Ever since he started helping the Parrish family, he’s totally neglected the bar. I’m working sixty-hour weeks and taking in deliveries after a twelve-hour shift. Before you know it will be eleven and the lunch crowd will be strolling in and guess what, I’m the only one here!”
Nico didn’t step up to lend the Parrish family a hand. He specifically made himself accessible to Jack’s daughter, who also happens to be our former vice-president, Blackie’s, wife. His very pregnant wife. If you ask me, the fucking prospect is flirting with danger by falling for the most unattainable women. When he does show up to the bar, he drinks more than he pours. But I don’t mention any of that to Lydia. Mainly because it’s none of her business, also because I don’t want to hear her anymore.
Lucky for me, Wolf answers before she can utter another word and I step out of the kitchen. He reveals he’s five minutes away before ending the call abruptly. Not wanting to deal with Lydia anymore, I glance across the bar and look at my daughter. Sitting where I left her, she pushes away the last bit of her bagel and brushes her strawberry blonde hair out of her eyes as she peers at me. My feet feel like lead as I make my way towards her. I don’t know if she senses my discomfort or if she doesn’t want to be bothered with me, but she quickly pulls her iPad out of her Hello Kitty backpack and diverts her attention to the screen. A frown ticks the corner of my lips as I pull the chair across from hers out and take a seat. Leaning over the table I take the iPad away from her and force her to look at me. The second she lifts her freckled face and her blue eyes meet my gaze I regret the decision because I have no idea what to say to her. If that’s not a fucking shame I don’t know what is.
“So,” I start, pausing as my gaze drifts towards the open door and lands on Wolf. Pulling his aviators from his face, he glances at me and Ashlynn. She eyes him curiously as he makes his way towards us. Standing over the table, he winks at my daughter with ease.
“Hi kid,” he says, ruffling her messy locks. “Ally tells me you’re our star gymnast.” Her eyes light up at the compliment and a pang of guilt hits me hard as I watch their exchange. She goes on to tell him all the tricks she’s learned and is about to invite him to her next meet when a frown works her face.
“Why the sour puss?” Wolf asks.
“Well, I just realized I’m going to miss my meet because we’re going to Texas,” she reveals, turning towards me. “Isn’t that right, daddy?”
Wolf narrows his eyes on me, and I instantly hand Ashlynn back her iPad before jutting my chin towards the bar.
“I need a word,” I tell him as he lifts an eyebrow. He doesn’t move right away. Instead I watch as he reaches into his kutte and produces a handful of Dum Dum lollipops. Offering them to Ashlynn, he gives her head another pat before finally starting for the bar.
“Dum Dums?” I question, following close behind.
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Shut up,” he mutters. “I keep them handy for when Maria’s grandkids come around,” he explains, pulling out a stool. He takes a seat and eyes me thoughtfully before continuing. “You know, when Jack first took the gavel his calling card was an ice cream truck. The fucking badass bulldog had a connection with Lickety Split and every time our kids came to the clubhouse, he’d have the truck parked out front. Nico and Lacey used to love to raid that thing.”
“So, lollipops are your thing?”
He laughs, but the humor doesn’t meet his eyes.
“I don’t have a thing, man,” he replies. “I’m just taking this shit one day at a time.”
Like I didn’t plan on being a single dad, Wolf never planned on being the president of the Satan’s Knights. Maybe it’s the mantra of every man with a reaper on his back or maybe that’s just how life works. We’d all be a lot better off if we started to expect the unexpected.
“Anyway, enough about me and my Dum Dum’s, what’s this shit about Ashlynn missing her recital or whatever the fuck it's called. You sending her to Texas? Is that where her mother disappeared to?”
His questions make me realize how little these men know about my life. It’s no fault of theirs though. I’m sure if they weren’t saddled with a shit ton of problems, they would’ve dug deeper into my past…maybe even made me property of Parrish. That’s just how this chapter rolls. You don’t just gain a bottom rocker with them, but you gain a family too. Whether you’re in the market for one or not.
“Nah,” I answer as I make my way behind the bar. Pulling a bottle of Jack off the shelf, I grab two glasses and fill them with ice before pouring us each a drink. When I slide the glass towards Wolf, he eyes the clock over the bar.
“Fuck it,” he grunts. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
Grabbing the glass, he knocks back the liquor without even flinching and waits for me to do the same. I ignore the burn as the liquid slides down my throat and set my glass down on the bar.
“My old man kicked the bucket,” I reveal, meeting his gaze.
“Judging by your tone, I take it you weren’t close,” he says observantly. I think about that for a moment. My father and I were never thick as thieves. I remember him spending time with me as a kid but after I hit puberty that shit changed. It was as if I became a chore to my old man. Maybe he was disappointed in my choices. After all, I never did become the pastor he hoped I’d become.
Picture that shit.
Shrugging my shoulders, I shake my head and draw my attention back towards Wolf.
“Nah, that ship sailed long ago and neither of us made it on board.”
“Shame,” he comments, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “My biggest regret in this life is not giving more of myself to my sons.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone is cut like you, Wolf. You’re a rare breed.” I pause to sigh and pour myself another shot. “Anyway, I let my mother rope me into attending the funeral. I should be back in a couple of days.”
“When do you leave?”
“I gotta be at the airport in a couple of hours. I know this doesn’t come at a good time and trust me, I’d rather fucking tie my balls in a knot than drag my ass back to Texas—”
“Tie your balls in a knot…that bad, huh?” he questions, wincing as he reaches to cup his junk.
“You have no fucking idea, man.”
“What do you need from me?”
“A place to park my bike and a lift to the airport would be great,” I reply.
“What about a place to land? What part of Texas are you heading to?”
“Rocky Gully,” I tell him. “It’s a small blip on the map, about fifteen minutes out from Bridgewater.”
“Man, that’s fucking Chinese to me, but if you like I can put in a call to Scout. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you and Ashlynn crashing at the Charon clubhouse.”
If I didn’t have Ashlynn, I’d jump all over the offer. Fuck, I’d make a vacation out of this shit. But I think it might be good for Ashlynn to spend some time with my mother. As much as she’s a thorn in my side, she’s the only blood relative my daughter has and while that might not be worth piss to me, it may be to my daughter.
&nb
sp; “Appreciate the offer, but I’ll just crash at my folks. If anything changes though, and I find myself climbing the walls, I’ll call you.”
He nods.
“Whatever you want,” he replies. I’ll call Linc, have him put your bike on a hitch and we’ll store it at Pipe’s garage. Nico will take you to the airport.”
“Speaking of Nico, have you heard from him lately?”
His eyes narrow and flicker with concern.
“Yesterday.”
“Lydia was complaining about him not showing up here for his shift. The girl looks like she’s running on empty. Before she collapses from exhaustion or quits, you might want to have Riggs have a talk with him.”
“Will do,” he says, slapping a hand on top of the bar. I watch as he pushes off the stool. “You need anything else?”
“No, I appreciate it, man.”
“We got you, Needles. Anything you and that girl need, all you gotta do is ask. If it can be done, it will be.” He pauses for a beat and I watch as his gaze drifts across the room to Ashlynn before settling back on me. “You know it’s funny,” he begins, thoughtfully. “If Jack was still the president, this would probably be the time and place where he made sure you knew you were property of Parrish. Things change, control shifts, but the core of who we are and what this club stands for should not be altered in any way. Jack did a lot of things and only God can be the judge on whether they were wrong or right but making sure we all knew we were family is something beautiful and I’d like to continue that. You got a place here, man. You got brothers that would do anything for you and your daughter. I don’t know what you got down in Texas but up here, you are property of Parrish and that shit is forever.”
I waited a long time to hear those words and while they may not have come from the man I expected they would, they’re just as fucking meaningful.
Just as powerful.
Chapter Four
Rite Of Passage Page 2