by Debra Kayn
She rolled her eyes and went inside with the others. Jumping right into filling plates for some of the bikers who would starve if not for a woman filling a plate for them, she worked her way around the pool table laden with food and fed the men.
Keeffe grabbed her arm, stopping her. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She raised her brows. "It's a good day with Jett coming home."
"Right." Keeffe let her go.
She smiled, assuring him she was fine. Looking around, it seemed everyone who was interested in eating had been fed. She headed to the bar, found a paper cup, and poured herself some coffee. Standing off to the side, she watched Olin and Thorn talking to a group of members. The two brothers were more talkative than usual.
They always seemed confident and unaffected with their older brother and Chief in prison. She'd tried to talk with them a few times to find out what they'd heard to see if it matched the information she'd received, but they preferred not to talk. But, they were obviously relieved to have Jett back, and she was happy for them.
Halfway finished with her coffee, she caught sight of Jett walking into the room, tucking his T-shirt in, wearing his vest. She sucked in her breath at the broad shoulders and stoic expression reminding her of Chief. Then, it was gone as he grinned at someone in the room and relaxed, looking more like Karla.
The men of Brikken cheered for him. Warmth filled her as a pang of understanding hit her. Upstairs, for how few minutes it took him, he'd received what he lacked in prison. The need to touch another human being, to seek comfort, and release the pent-up tension was an emotional need, more so than normal people realized.
She snorted. Normal people.
When had she classified herself?
"Do we have any more paper plates?" yelled Freddy standing beside the pool table.
She set her cup down and walked into the kitchen, letting everyone stay around Jett, and went to retrieve more plates. The quietness away from the others let her have a few seconds to herself.
Picking up the needed items, her hand shook. She stared down at the tremor inside of her. At twenty years old, she was too young to handle the absence of the most important person in her life or maybe all the loss over the years of people leaving made her stronger so that she could handle the long gap of living without Chief.
She squared her shoulders, believing in the later. Because she'd been born to love Chief. That everything up to today prepared her for what she must face. She inhaled a shaky breath, almost feeling Chief standing behind her, laying his hands on her shoulder and kissing her temple, his beard caressing the side of her neck.
She could do this because not doing it wasn't an option.
Carrying the plates across the kitchen, she stepped out into the hallway and almost ran into Jett.
"Hey." She held up the stack. "Can I get you some food?"
"Yeah." He put his hand on her arm. "In a second. Can I talk to you?"
"Sure." She motioned her head toward the kitchen, and he followed her back into the room. "What's up?"
Jett leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "Thought you'd like to know Chief is doing well, counting his days."
Her body tensed. "What's he look like?"
Jett came back hardened. His unblemished face, heavily whiskered, his skin scarred.
He shrugged. "Never seen him."
"Seriously?" She gulped, not imagining them separated. "You were in the same prison though. How could they do that?"
"They separated most of the Brikken members into different blocks to keep riots from developing. Graham and Leech are with Chief though." His eye twitched. "I talked to him twice during my stay, and he's fine. It's not his first time wearing a jumper."
"How did you talk to him?"
His mouth softened. "I got word through the inmates that he wanted to talk and to meet him in the nurse's room." He touched his forehead. "I head-butted a wall to get there."
Her gaze lowered to his cheek. She touched her finger under her eye. "Is that one from the second time you met Chief?"
"No." His voice deepened. "That's from a fight."
She looked away. "What did Chief do to get himself to the nurse?"
"Split his elbow open, and the last time he had his cellmate pop him in the nose." He paused, and she turned to him, then he continued. "He'd busted his nose before, so you won't see any difference."
The amount of discomfort must've been miserable. She had no idea if they gave inmates pain medication. She highly doubted it.
"He wanted you to keep taking care of the women in Brikken. To remember what he's told you," said Jett.
She nodded. She always remembered.
"H-he's treated well?" she asked.
"He's surviving. There's no question that he will walk out of the prison when he's served his sentence." Jett stepped forward. "He's too full of pride for Brikken, for Rollo, for you, not to make it back to you. Doing anything less than succeeding isn't acceptable in his world. You know that."
She nodded. "I'm glad you're back, Jett. I really am. You've been missed."
"After I eat, talk to Keeffe, take a fucking shower, I'm going to sleep." The corner of his mouth tipped. "Do you care if I crash at the house?"
She tilted her head. All his stuff was upstairs in his room at the clubhouse.
His eyes hardened. "I'll just crash on the floor in my old room. You won't see or hear—"
"No, of course, you're welcome anytime. It's no problem. Do you still have a key?" She shifted the plates in her hand. "My purse is out in the car, but I can get you mine if you need them."
"I've got one in the safe in the meeting room. I'll have Keeffe open it up for me." He stepped backward. "Better get those plates out there before they start eating off the table."
"Right," she whispered. "I'll get you some food, too."
They walked into the main room of the clubhouse together. She filled and delivered a plate full of Jett's favorite foods.
Already caught up in conversation with the others, she stepped away to give him space. The picture he'd painted telling her the conditions of the prison and the lack of contact with the others was much different than she'd imagined.
Jett came home changed from his time behind bars. If she looked closely, she could still see the boy she'd grown up with and the bullheaded man he'd become, but his eyes were haunted and distant. The familiarity of a shared time in their life no longer present. Only a hardship he carried alone.
Chapter Twenty
"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Johanna. Happy birthday to you," sang the members of Brikken.
The off-key tune and exuberate good cheer filled the clubhouse. Johanna waved them all to stop and then covered her face with her hands, which hid her smile. She wouldn't have wanted to spend her twenty-first birthday anywhere else.
Surrounded by her chosen family inside the clubhouse, protected from the outside world, she let her happiness shine. Twenty-one. A legit age.
Lowering her hands, she shouted, "Thank you, everyone."
"Party time." Keeffe lifted a bottle of tequila in the air, and the members of Brikken passed the untouched alcohol through the crowd.
Thorn thrust the bottle into her hands. "Drink. Drink. Drink."
The others joined in and chanted. She eyed the tequila, never having been someone who consumed different kinds of alcohol. Maybe a beer once in a while at one of the club parties but she never got drunk.
Lindsay and Ashley flanked her sides, encouraging her to tip the bottle. She leaned toward Lindsay. "Isn't there supposed to be salt and a lemon or lime with this?"
Overhearing her, Olin said, "Only on cheap tequila. That's bona-fucking Mexican tequila."
"Oh, shit." She cast a glance at Lindsay and shrugged. "Take care of me if I fall flat on my face."
She tipped the bottle, forcing herself to swallow. The taste different than what she'd expected, she licked her lips at the almost sweet funky taste, unsure if she liked it or was turned off.
The chants continued. Ashley nudged her with her elbow and laughed. "Again, or they'll never stop."
Knowing what to expect, she put her lips to the bottle and took another drink. She laughed at the exuberant cheers and held the bottle out to Olin.
He shook his head and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. Trying to hand the bottle off to everyone around her — they all refused, she ended up carrying it with her as she made the rounds to hand out hugs.
Music started, blaring inside the room. D-Con's new girlfriend Bethany hugged her.
"Are you having a good time?" Bethany pushed her long hair back.
"Great time." She reached out and tugged on D-Con's vest. "Better keep an eye on this one."
"I plan on it." Bethany smiled and leaned into D-Con. "Thanks for inviting me."
"Thanks so much for coming." She pointed, her hand still clutching the bottle. "I'm going to make the rounds."
For the next half hour, she mingled and hugged most everyone who came to wish her a happy birthday. Feeling lighter than she had in a long time, she rejoined Lindsay and Ashley. She hip bumped each one, putting her hands in the air, dancing to the music.
Liquid splashed into her hair from someone's upraised cup. She laughed, raising the tequila bottle and taking a long drink to quench her thirst. Lindsay took the alcohol away from her, and she laughed harder. Warm, exhilarated, and extremely giddy, she whipped her hair as she danced with her friends.
Alive and older, she celebrated being twenty-one years old. Women her age looked forward to the world opening up for them, going to bars, taking on more responsibilities, making plans to settle down and find their path in life. Men of all ages caught notice of someone of legal age enjoying their newfound freedom of living life to the fullest. The world was at her fingertips, nothing was impossible.
"Shake it, girl." Ashley jumped in front of her, arms spread, shimmying her upper body to the music.
Johanna leaned forward, shaking her breasts, loving the night. Every movement felt as if she floated. She felt good. Felt right. Felt wonderful.
Wanting to share her mood, she danced outside their circle into the crowd and swayed around the closest Brikken member. She grabbed Anvil's hands, putting them on her hips, then raised her arms in the air.
The sexy atmosphere with a lean biker in front of her, looking her over, she let her happiness out. She grooved the air, bringing her pelvis forward, watching Anvil's lower body—that remained still for her.
"This is so fun." She squeezed Anvil's biceps. "I love dancing."
Angelina, Chano's woman, danced between her and Anvil, facing her. "Keep moving, Jo. Have fun with everyone."
She laughed and moved over to Keeffe. Continuing to dance, she shouted, "Is Angelina sleeping with Anvil, too?"
"Don't know what shit you're talking about." Keeffe lifted his beer bottle, refusing to dance.
She took the drink from him and brought the bottle to her lips, satisfying her thirst. "I don't know. She didn't want me dancing with him."
"Who?" said Keeffe.
She pointed at Anvil. "Him."
Keeffe frowned, pushing her hands away from him. "Take a breather, Johanna, and cool off."
She laughed, moving closer to Keeffe. "Being hot is wonderful."
Arms wrapped around her waist from behind. She squealed as her feet left the floor. Plopped down away from Keeffe, she turned and found Olin as her manhandler.
"Olin!" She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Dance with me."
"I don't dance." Olin planted his hands on her hips and set her away from him.
She pouted. "You're no fun. What is it with bikers not wanting to dance?"
"Best not to be fun." Olin grimaced. "How much alcohol have you consumed?"
"Not enough." She danced back to him and grabbed his face. "I'm twenty-one today. Twenty-one. Do you know what that means?"
Keeffe leaned in and spoke low to Olin, who nodded. She twirled, looking for another partner when Olin and Keeffe took her arms and led her to the far side of the room. She whined in disappointment. It was her birthday, and she came to have a good time.
They pulled her through the door to the outside, letting her go. She turned to go back in, and Olin told her to stop.
"It's my party." She sagged. "Why are you trying to ruin it?"
"We need a moment, Johanna," said Olin.
Keeffe held out his hand. A red gift-wrapped present sat on his palm with a silky ribbon tied on top. She smiled and clasped her hands. "For me?"
"From Chief," said Keeffe.
For a fleeting moment, she believed Chief would walk around the corner of the building and surprise her for her birthday. He had never missed one and always showed up with a present. Her jaw opened, and she looked between the two men. They were here, and Chief was gone.
He'd been gone for two years.
Their faces blurred in front of her and the hollowness always present inside of her ached. Her knees weakened, and she rolled into herself.
"No, don't do that." Olin hauled her up before she sat on the ground.
"I want Chief." Her body convulsed, and she looked up at Keeffe. "I'm not going to cry. I won't. I can't, or I won't stop, and it's my birthday. Who cries on their birthday? God, this is so fucked up."
"Chief wouldn't want you to cry." Keeffe put the present in her hand.
Olin swore. "She's drunk, bro. Give her the other thing."
She sniffed, leaning on Keeffe hugging the present to her chest. "Other thing? He gave me more? How did he do this? Did he tell you what to buy? I love him so much. Do you know that? I've never loved someone before him. I feel like I'm dying. I can't take being away from him. It kills me. Each day is harder and harder."
"Shut up, Johanna." Olin ran his hand over his jaw.
She snapped her gaze to Olin and gasped for air. He almost sounded like Chief.
"Hey, hey, stop that now." Keeffe held up a cell phone. "He's calling, right? No reason to cry."
"I'm not crying." She grabbed the cell. "When...when is he calling?"
Only twice in the last year had Chief called to talk with her on the phone the club smuggled into prison for him. The rest of the time, she talked to him weekly over the prison line where she couldn't ask him questions. Those calls only frustrated and left her more despondent when the call ended without any warning.
"Any minute." Olin lowered his head and looked her in the eyes. "Pull yourself together. You're looped."
"I'm not looped." She held up her hands, filled with Chief's gifts. "Just fuzzy and sad, and it's my birthday which is totally stupid to be feeling this way. I don't—"
"Jo..." Olin's mouth tightened. "You're acting like a baby."
Am not. She swallowed the childish comeback. Too many years of Jett, Olin, and Thorn picking on her made it impossible to handle any lecture from them.
"He's really going to call me?" she whispered.
"Yeah." Olin's attention left her, and he walked across the yard of the clubhouse.
She gazed after him and squinted at the person heading toward him. The familiar high-heeled walk of Karla wiped away the mind-fog the alcohol had given her.
"I didn't invite her. I don't want her here," she mumbled, looking to Keeffe.
"She's got the freedom to come to the clubhouse as the mom to Chief's sons." Keeffe looked out into the yard. "I think Olin's taking care of her. Maybe Karla came to talk to him."
Olin's and Karla's silhouette in the darkness grew smaller. She turned her back, hurt that Karla hadn't texted her a happy birthday wish today. At one time, Karla planned parties around her day and made her feel special.
"Cold?" asked Keeffe.
She startled and realized she trembled. "No, I'm fine."
Everything seemed overwhelming. Her party—which she loved. Chief—who she loved. The gifts—what she loved. Brikken property—where she loved. She wanted nothing negative to happen tonight. No one to tell her how to dance or not dance. No one to
tell her she couldn't drink. Having Karla show up only put guilt on her for something that was out of her control.
The phone rang.
"It's him." She connected the call and put the phone to her ear. "Chief?"
"Yeah, bug. Happy birthday."
"Thanks." She glanced at Keeffe and found him stepping away. "How are you?"
"Taking care of business."
She smiled. Nothing ever beat him down. One of the qualities she loved and wished she had herself. Maybe then, she'd be more resilient. She shouldn't worry about Karla and everyone else. Karla's opinion about her and Chief didn't matter.
"I hear everyone's there giving you a party. Can't believe you're twenty-one."
"Yep, I'm legal to drink now. When you get home, we'll have to get drunk." She laughed when she drew a chuckle out of him. "I drank tequila tonight."
"Yeah?"
"The first couple drinks reminded me of dirty socks, but after a while, it tasted okay." She yawned. "I wish you were here."
"Me, too."
"Two more years to go." She stared at the ground. "When you get back are you going to sleep at home every night?"
"I—"
"Cause that's what I want." Her stomach fluttered. "Every night, I sleep in the middle of the mattress and close my eyes, pretending you're beside me and we can pick up from the last time we were together. Do you remember having sex with me?"
"Burns in my head, bug. Got my hand, think of you, and all I want is to be with you. Nothing compares. Nothing. Once I'm back, I'm not letting you get out of bed for a fucking month. I'm gonna eat that body, fuck that pussy, and listen to your sweet tongue talk my ear off."
She blinked her eyes at the raw need in his voice. "You know what I miss?"
"My beard." He groaned. "Fucking love that, bug. Love how you're not scared of me and how from day one, you've whined when I peeled your fingers out of my beard."
"When you come back, I'm going to sit on your lap and snuggle with your beard. Don't push me away because you have to see to business, 'kay? Let me have you, all of you."
"You've got me, bug. Always have." He cleared his throat. "The guard will be walking through in a minute. I'm going to have to hang up and hide the phone. You go back and enjoy your party. Be careful drinking, so you don't get sick."