by Zoey Parker
“He already got me into trouble, or don’t you remember?” I glared at Spike. Sometimes I thought he forgot what I did for him. I knew all about how dangerous Gareth could be.
Spike held up his hands and nodded. “You’re right, you’re right. Just don’t forget, okay? Don’t lose sight of what’s important.”
“Where did the fight happen? Not at the clubhouse, I guess, right? They wouldn’t be that stupid.”
“No, Slash and all them went to another bar, just outside of town. A strip club, actually. They were having a good time until Gareth’s guys showed up. Even then, Slash was ready to let it go. He didn’t wanna start a fight. He decided to leave, and told the other guys to pull out. But Gareth’s crew caught up to them in the parking lot. They didn’t even talk, they just started hitting. They planned it out in advance. They went in there knowing there was gonna be a fight.”
“What the fuck is wrong with that guy?” I asked. “Why is he deliberately coming at me like this? Is he really that crazy?”
“Crazy and obsessed,” Spike muttered. “He always wanted to be part of the Lightning Bolts, and he didn’t make the cut. So he joined the Reign of Chaos instead. Those sad sons of bitches were never particular about who joined their club.”
“Yeah, I know all about them.” I stared into my coffee cup. “I don’t know, it feels personal against me.”
“He’s pissed that you’re better than him, that’s all. That’s all he needs. He’s a sick fucker.”
“Obviously.” I clenched my fists as another wave of anger hit me. “I want him dead. I want to kill him.”
“Cool off. That’s what he wants you to feel. You think it was an accident that he went after your best friend? Come on. Think about it. He’s ready for you to come at him.”
He was right about that, too. I sighed and sat back in my chair. “Maybe I don’t have what it takes to be president,” I said. “You have all the answers, and I don’t have any.”
“I wasn’t born knowing the answers.” He smiled under his white mustache. “So don’t sweat it. I’m just glad I can be here for you, to help you figure things out. I didn’t have that luxury. My prez got himself blown the hell up. I didn’t have anybody to ask advice.”
“What do you think the next move should be?”
He shook his head. “That, I can’t tell you—not because I don’t want to, but because I honestly don’t know. We have to lay low, though. That much I do know. And we can’t get him with fists or weapons, because he’s got more of both. And his men are fucking insane. They won’t stop until the guy they’re fighting is dead. They wouldn’t have let up on Slash if somebody didn’t call the police in time for them to break it up.”
“Shit.” I thought about them killing Slash, or trying to, and it didn’t do much for my temper. I wanted to tear Gareth apart, slowly, bit by bit. I wanted him to hurt a lot before he died. And I wanted him to know I was the one doing it to him.
“So we have to be smarter than him,” I said, thinking. “There has to be a way to get something on him, something big. I mean, he’s not a secretive guy. He has to make mistakes somehow. We just have to find it.”
“What about the auction? Did you find anything?”
I shook my head. “On the surface, it all looks totally legit. He even decked out the warehouse he uses—I guess it belongs to the club or something. It’s nicer than I thought it would be. He wasn’t there. His old lady was. She made sure to get her ten percent before I left.”
“What about the money for the girl?”
“That’s up to the man and woman, the payment terms. It’s shitty all the way around. He doesn’t care that the girls get their money, only that he does.”
“Sounds like him,” Spike said with disgust in his voice. “Did you give your girl her money?”
“It’s complicated.” I left it at that. “But I plan to. I wonder how many girls lost their virginity last night and have nothing to show for it today.”
“He’s a sick son of a bitch,” Spike said.
“That’s being nice.”
“So you plan to?” Spike grinned.
“I said it’s complicated. I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll leave your twisted sex life alone.” He grinned again.
My twisted sex life. Yeah, that was pretty much the long and short of it. I was fucked up more than ever over Michelle. Talk about twisted. Being away from her and thinking it over, I realized how stupid it was to keep her with me. I owed her the money. It wasn’t fair for me to dangle it like a carrot in front of her.
But then she would leave me. I didn’t want that. Now that I knew how it felt to be with her, to have her in my house and be around somebody I actually wanted to spend time with, I couldn’t imagine being without her. It was like I never lived before that, stupid as it sounded even as I thought it. it was unfair, showing me the way life could have been, then taking it away.
“Why don’t you have an old lady?” I asked.
“But I’m not allowed to ask you why you didn’t pay your girl yet.”
“I mean it. I always wondered why you never stayed hooked up to any woman.”
He shrugged. “It never seemed worth it. Old ladies are a good thing to have—if you have the right old lady. The kind of woman who will stand by you and help you when shit hits the fan. A faithful woman. It’s not easy to find one of those, especially with the kinds of women we know. The sort of woman who hangs around a clubhouse isn’t always the sort of woman you trust to help you in life, if you know what I mean.”
“Some of the other guys have old ladies, though.”
“Yeah, and do you know how many of them run around behind their guy’s back? Or steal their money, or threaten to go to the cops with information? Believe it, it happens a lot more than you know.”
“So you gave up.”
“I wouldn’t say I ever tried. You have to try first, before you can give up.” One corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. “Why do you ask? Did you find true love last night in some virgin pussy?”
I smirked and shook my head. It was better to leave it alone, I decided. Too many more questions and everybody would hear about it and start making fun of me for being weak over a woman. I didn’t need that. There was too much going on aside from Michelle.
“Come on,” Spike said. “Visiting hours are starting.”
Chapter Fourteen
Michelle
I waited all of three minutes before I left Eric’s. He was insane if he thought I was going to sit around and wait for him. Why? He didn’t even have food.
I had to get out and see my mother. I had to give Mac a break. I figured I could be back by the time he returned, maybe with some food. None would be the wiser.
I called a cab, and minutes later I was on my way to my house. My mom’s house, really. I couldn’t imagine it ever not being her house, but the day would come. It would come soon, too. And then I would have to decide whether I wanted to live in it or sell it, along with a lot of other really uncomfortable things I didn’t want to think about.
I ran up the stairs the second I got through the door. It already felt like I had been away forever, though it had only been a day and a half. A very surprised Mac met me in the hall. “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying out all day. And where did you get that atrocious outfit?” She stepped back to take in the sight of my gray sweats.
“Sorry, they don’t exactly sell haute couture at Walmart.” I gave her a quick squeeze, then brushed past her to Mom’s room. Whether or not she thought I smothered her didn’t matter to me at the moment. What mattered was being with her.
She looked terrible. How was it possible that she appeared even thinner than she had the day before? But she did. She was a skeleton. She was also sleeping. I stared at her chest, willing it to rise and fall. Only when I saw it happen did I turn to Mac.
“How’s she been?” She waved me out of the room, and we went to my bedroom.
“Well, what? Don’t bother trying to break it gently.”
Mackenzie sat me down on the bed, then knelt in front of me. “She thought I was your Aunt Lorraine. That we were kids together, and we were going to go out and play.”
I closed my eyes, and Mac’s forehead touched mine. Lorraine was Mom’s sister, who died when they were very young. The doctors warned me that once she got to a certain point, she might start hallucinating or showing signs of dementia.
“It’s all happening so fast,” I whispered, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“I know, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”
“Did she eat anything?”
“Barely.”
“I’m not surprised.” I wanted to hold onto her, to beg her to stay with me. What was I supposed to do without her? At the same time, I knew she was in excruciating pain. It would be better for her to be out of it. What was the sense in lingering on the way she was? Why was God so cruel?
“Are you staying home now?”
I shook my head, still crying.
“Why not?” Mac asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.” She sat on the bed. “Talk. What happened last night?”
I took a deep, shaky breath and poured the whole story out for her. I told her about the auction, reminding her about the high price I fetched. She still couldn’t believe it.
“Neither can I, especially since I haven’t seen the money yet,” I muttered.
“What do you mean?” We were both on our backs by that time, side-by-side on the bed, looking up at the canopy above our heads.
“That’s why I need to go back. He doesn’t know I left.”
“Hang on.” Mac sat up, turning to me. “You mean you’re some sort of sex slave?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not like that. Well…maybe it is like that, sorta. But not really.” I did my best to explain it to her, the way he wanted me to stay until he was fully satisfied.
“But then he didn’t touch you all day yesterday or last night?”
“Right. That’s the weird part. I mean, we slept on opposite sides of the bed and everything. I even stood there, in front of him, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around me.” I frowned. “He made me feel really confident in that moment, let me tell you.”
“He’s being a jackass,” Mac summed up.
“He said I hurt his feelings when I bolted from his place,” I muttered.
“You hurt his feelings? What is he, a toddler?”
“I know, it’s ridiculous. But he’s not such a bad person.”
“Not such a bad person? Michelle, I know you haven’t had a lot of experience with men, so let me clue you in. Nice guys don’t hold women hostage. They give them what they promised and let them move along.”
“You want to hear something crazy? I think he’s very lonely.”
“I think you like him.”
“I think you need to mind your own business.”
Mac laughed. “Okay, fine. So you’re going back to make sure you get the money?”
“What other choice do I have?”
“And it’s not because you like him the least little bit?
“Watch yourself,” I warned, and I wasn’t kidding anymore. “Look at that woman in the next room and tell me I need another reason other than the money. She needs care we can’t give her. She needs a hospice. I need that damned money, and I need it fast.”
“So tell him that. If he’s lonely or whatever, and if you two hit it off—don’t get mad at me, I’m just saying if you did—you can hang out or something. Whatever. Maybe he thinks he needs to use the money to keep you around. Tell him you’ll be around either way.”
“I don’t want to be around.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?” She stretched out on her side, leaning on one elbow. “How was it?”
“How was what?” My cheeks burned with embarrassment.
“You know what, or else you wouldn’t be blushing as hard as you are right now. Come on, tell me. I don’t need the gory details or anything. Just tell me if it was any good.”
“It was nice.”
“Nice? I can see why you don’t like him, then.”
“Okay, it was more than nice. It was amazing. And I know, I know, I have nothing to compare it to. Let’s just say it was everything I ever imagined and more.”
“How many times did you do it?”
“Three? I think? I lost count.”
“Go ahead, rub it in. And how many times did you like it?”
“I liked it every time.”
“I’ll be more clear. How many times did you come?”
“Mac!”
“Come on, Aunt Fanny. Lighten up. How many? Or didn’t you at all?”
I bit my lip and kept my eyes on the canopy. “I lost count.”
“Are you serious, or are you only saying that?”
“I’m dead serious. It was amazing, like I said. I wasn’t kidding.”
Mac squealed and laughed, smacking my arm with glee. “Lucky bitch! Oh, I hate you. A sex god. Ugh, some people get all the luck.”
Just then, we heard a moaning noise from the next room, and all laughter stopped. “Yeah. All the luck,” I murmured as I got up from the bed to see what my mother needed.
“Hi, Mom.” I sat down beside her. “What do you need?”
“Oh, you’re here.”
“Yes. You remember that I was gone?”
“Why wouldn’t I remember?” she asked, squinting at me. She still had that way of looking at me that turned my bowels to water. She could still be intimidating on her death bed.
“Never mind. What can I do for you?”
“I’m hot and uncomfortable,” she said, pushing the blankets away. I didn’t love the idea of leaving her uncovered when it was cold outside, but I pulled the blankets back to give her some air. She breathed in short, shallow gasps.
“You having trouble breathing, Mom?”
“A little. How are you doing? Are you sleeping enough?”
I had to smile. Even then she cared more about me than she did about herself. “Yeah, Mom. I’m sleeping plenty. Don’t worry about me.”
“I do worry about you. Who’s going to take care of you when I’m gone?”
A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. “Mom, don’t talk like that.”
“Come on, sweetie. You know it and I know it. It won’t be long now.” She shrugged slightly, just enough for me to see.
“I’m a big girl, Mom. You taught me how to take care of myself, so I’m all set. All I have to think about right now is you.”
“But when I’m gone, you’ll have to think about you. I don’t want you to forget about you. You’re always thinking about other people more than yourself. You have to live your own life.” She was struggling to breathe, and her words were only whispers, but she was determined to get her point across.
“I know, Mom. I know. You just relax now. You’ve done everything you can.”
I hadn’t done everything I could, though. I needed to get the money, and fast. There had to be some way I could get through to Eric, appeal to his better nature. He was a decent person. I was sure of it. I just had to remind him of that—his needs weren’t as important as my dying mother. It was as simple as that.
“Where’s your father?”
My head snapped up, my eyes wide. “Daddy?”
“Do you have another father?” she wheezed. “Where is he? I’ve been waiting for him all day.”
My heart hurt. It literally ached in my chest. I felt so full of emotion, I didn’t know what do to. Was it better to tell her the truth—to remind her that her husband had been gone for years? Or was that cruelty? Was it better to let her believe what she believed? Was it hurting anybody?
“I don’t know, Mo
m,” I said, finally deciding to go with kindness. It was all I could do at that point to make her last days as kind and easy as I could. I wasn’t sure I would be able to stand seeing her reaction when I told her he was gone, anyway.
“When he gets home from work, tell him to come up and see me. I want to go out tonight.” She drifted off to sleep, a little smile on her face. I felt as though the weight of my grief and ineffectualness was crushing me. Hot, heavy rocks sat on my chest, getting heavier and heavier. I couldn’t breathe with them on my chest, but I couldn’t get rid of them.