“Details about our previous business venture, and some shit about family that’s too close to the line. I think somebody—and I’m gonna guess Mac Evans or Jimmy or Meg Sullivan—shared more than we agreed. Some other shit. Doesn’t feel like the story we want told, and might make trouble for some of our friends—the Scorpions, for one. Script has them with us in St. Louis, which is true, but they don’t want that light shone their way, and we do not need the Scorps displeased. Here’s where the deal we cut for a say in the story comes into play.”
Show was surprised that Isaac hadn’t briefed him ahead of time about the script. They’d always worked as a team, and it was rare for Show to hear something for the first time while he was sitting in the Keep. But he made an effort not to exhibit his surprise. If he’d been more on the ball, he wouldn’t have asked the question he did ask. The Horde knew how Isaac and Show worked. They, too, would be surprised that he hadn’t been briefed ahead of time. He wondered if something else was going on.
But Bart spoke up and interrupted Show’s thoughts. “There’s already talk about casting for this thing. And bloggers are doing their own digging. I’ve been keeping an eye out and controlling it. I’ve got our shit locked down tight, but I think we should call Rick in, too. When they get to the production stage, interest could blow up again.”
Rick Terrance was a friend and associate of Lilli’s. He was a top-level hacker, and he’d been invaluable in helping the Horde beat Lawrence Ellis and save Signal Bend. He’d been repaid with a position as Intelligence Officer for the mother charter of the Scorpions, the international MC and a hardcore outlaw club, with whom the Horde were allied.
“Call him. I heard they patched him on the day of his one-year anniversary as Prospect. I’ll call Sam, too, let him know what’s up.” Isaac shook his head. “We could be in serious shit if the attention Ellis brought down on us causes the Scorpions grief.”
Leaning back in his chair, Len asked, “If we want a rewrite, does that bring the writers back?”
Havoc elbowed him. “You’re just looking for another taste of California pussy.” Everyone at the table laughed. Show noticed that Badger was more reserved than the others. He was still new to the table. Took some time to shake off the obeisance of the Prospect.
“Hey, that was some choice pussy. Smelled like the ocean breeze, tasted like a ripe orange. Tight like a fist.” Len grinned and licked his lips.
Laughing, Isaac sat forward. “Alright. I don’t know if a rewrite brings the writers back. If it does”—he looked directly at Len—“be careful with the little princess. We don’t need that drama.”
Len spread his arms in artificial innocence. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. She loved her ride on the Len Machine.”
At that, Isaac gaveled the meeting to an end. As the Horde filed out, he held Show back. When the room was clear, he asked, “You okay, Show? Not like you to lose focus.”
Show knew that was true. Lately, though, with things so calm in the clubhouse and around town, and with things between Shannon and him heating up, he was distracted. It had been damn long time since he’d felt the way he was feeling now, like his life had focus and purpose beyond work. “Yeah, Isaac. Just a fluke. You got reservations? Surprised you didn’t bring me in on the script thing.”
Isaac shook his head. “No reservations. Just got the script this morning. I didn’t need input to bring it to the table. But you’re good?”
Show laughed. “Yeah, brother. I’m good. That’s the problem. Can’t remember when I’ve been this good. It’s distracting.”
“Don’t I know it.” Isaac clapped him on the back. “Good for you, man. Nobody deserves it more.”
~oOo~
When Show stepped into the B&B that evening, a couple of hours past dark and a couple of shots past sober, he found Shannon, Steve, and Connie working on the Christmas decorations. The tree was a big fucker—twelve feet—and he’d brought it in himself earlier in the day. He was surprised to see them still working.
The scene was cozy—a fire in the fireplace, Christmas music on the sound system, Shannon on a tall ladder, hanging ornaments near the top. Steve was wrapping evergreen garland around the bannister, and Connie was spraying fake snow in the corners of the windowpanes.
Show had enjoyed Christmas with his girls. It was Holly’s favorite holiday, and she went all out. Her birthday was Christmas Eve, and, unlike some people with Christmas birthdays, who’d felt slighted by it, Holly felt special. Her parents had gone out of their way when she was a kid to make it special for her. And Holly was crafty. So their house had been crammed to the rafters with Christmas cheer, and she spent the whole holiday season, from Thanksgiving to New Year’s, at peace with the world. Even with Show.
Last Christmas, so soon after Show had lost his family—he barely remembered it. He’d spent as much of it as he could as drunk as he could get. Now, he watched these goings-on with a strange sense of contented melancholy. He was missing all three of his girls badly, missing their youthful excitement for the holiday. But he was standing at the foot of a ladder which held a woman who made him feel a kind of peace he’d never known with Holly. Shannon liked who he was, accepted what he did. She had patience Holly never had. She was controlled—too controlled, maybe, too cautious—but it was a nice change from Holly’s extreme responses.
From the foot of the ladder, he had a great shot of her ass. “You good up there? Be careful.”
She looked down at him, smiling. “That’s such a dumb thing people say. Like I wouldn’t think to be careful if you hadn’t said it—or like your saying it would change my mind if I hadn’t intended to be careful.”
He shook his head. “You think too much. I’m just saying don’t fall.” When she opened her mouth, he held up his hand in surrender. “I know, I know. That’s dumb, too. Get off the fuckin’ ladder, smartass.”
“One sec. I just want to get this bare spot filled in.” The tree was beautiful, but nothing like he was used to. The tree Holly and the girls put up was decorated with all manner of unique ornaments. The girls each got a new one every year, and Holly either found or made ornaments to commemorate important events all year long. So their tree was a chronicle of their family. By the last few years, it was hard to get all the ornaments on. Show had liked that tradition, and he’d felt a sharp pang when Holly had wanted the Christmas decorations sent to her in Arkansas.
This tree was done in dark pink, greenish blue, and silver—bright, shiny ornaments in a bunch of different shapes and sizes, clustered together in groups, tied with iridescent ribbon. The color theme carried over to the decorations throughout the room—a huge wreath on the main wall, the garland up the bannister and across the desk, and a wreath lying on a sofa, which Show assumed would make it to the front door. It was beautiful, but didn’t feel very Christmas-y to him. Looked good in the room, though.
Shannon was coming down from the ladder. As she came to the last couple of steps, Show caught her around the waist and lifted her to the floor, then folded up the ladder. Steve, finished with the garland, crossed the room and took it from him. “If we’re done with this, I’ll put it back in the storeroom.”
Shannon smiled at him and put her hand on his arm. “Thanks, Steve. For all your help. Everything looks great.” She turned to Connie, who was winding up leftover ribbon. “You, too, Connie. It was so great of you to stay.”
Connie grinned. “I love the holidays. Any chance I get to play with Christmas decorations is a chance I’ll take.” She put the roll of ribbon on the desk. “But I should get home. Got to get supper on the table for my men.”
When Steve and Connie had left, and Show and Shannon had the B&B to themselves, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She kissed him back, gathering his shirt in her fists, and he slid his hands under her sweater, savoring the silken feel of her skin under his palms.
He moved his hands up and forward to cup her gorgeous, ample breasts, and she pushed away a little, smiling up at h
im. “You taste drunk.”
“Nope. Just warmed up some.” And even more, now. He brushed her nose with his and took hold of her hand, preparing to lead her back to her apartment. She held back.
“Wait. Can we sit in here for a little, turn out the house lights and see the decorations glow?” She reached out and pushed the side of her hand down the row of switches, leaving on only the Christmas lights and a small table lamp behind the desk.
With a nod and a smile, he led her to the sofa facing the tree, and they sat. Show put his arm around her and tucked her in close.
He kissed her head. “You like Christmas.” It wasn’t a question—seemed obvious to him that she did.
But she shrugged. “I don’t know. I did when I was a kid, but…” She shrugged again. “Since I’ve been on my own, it’s been a pretty long time since I had much of one. I used to have dinner with my aunt and uncle, but they moved to Arizona…God, eleven years ago. Since then, I usually work the holidays. I like the lights and stuff, though. A glowing tree in a dark room like this seems…peaceful.”
It was peaceful. Christmas carols were still playing, and Johnny Mathis was singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” Show moved his hand into her hair, combing it through his fingers.
“What did you like about Christmas as a kid?,” he murmured.
“The usual stuff, I guess. Baking cookies with my mom. Putting up the tree. When I was little, my dad and brothers would put on this act for me on Christmas Eve, making a ruckus in the attic and jingling sleigh bells, so I thought Santa was there.” She laughed. “When I was seven, I was so eager to see him, I snuck up and caught them in the act. And learned on Christmas Eve that Santa was my dad and brothers.”
He laughed too, feeling alert and cautious. This was the first he was hearing about her family, and he didn’t want to scare her off. “But that’s a rough way to find out.”
“Not really. I’d already heard about it at school, so I wasn’t all that shocked. Plus, they were in their damn union suits, looking ridiculous, their mouths open and their eyes bugged, seeing me with my head through the trap door. I laughed.”
Easing a little deeper into the memory, he asked, “Your brothers older?” He knew the question was on the verge of breaking his word, if not actually breaking it, but he was following her lead. Trying to, anyway.
She sighed heavily and was quiet, and Show understood that he hadn’t caught her unawares. She was willingly giving him this story, letting him in a little. His heart swelling, he put his hand lightly around her neck, his fingers grazing her shoulder, and pressed his lips to her head again, this time lingering there.
“Yeah. I was a surprise. My brothers were—are—fifteen and seventeen years older than me. I had a sister who would have been twenty years older than me, but she died before I was born. Her name was Shannon, too.”
He let that sink in, not sure what to say. It seemed like a burden, to be named for the daughter her parents had lost, but he didn’t know how she felt.
She turned in his arms, settling her head on his chest. “That’s all I’ve got, Show. I hope it’s enough.”
“Shhh,” was all he could think to say. They sat quietly regarding the huge Christmas tree, with its glowing white lights and its color-coordinated ornaments, listening to fifty-year-old Christmas music.
~oOo~
A couple of weeks later, as they sat at Marie’s, waiting on their lunch order, holding hands across the table, Show cleared his throat. “I’m going down to Arkansas next weekend, try to see my girls.”
Shannon had been looking out the window. They’d had another snowstorm a few days ago, and the ground was again thick with it, but the roads were clear. The sky looked heavy again, and the forecast called for three to six inches overnight. It was going to be one of those winters. She turned back to him, her eyes wide. “Next weekend is Christmas.”
He shook his head. “No. Sunday is Christmas Eve. I’ll come back then—won’t ruin Holly’s birthday by being around. So I’ll be back with you for Christmas Day, and we can go to Isaac and Lilli’s—or we can just stay in. But I need to see my girls.” Shannon had been reluctant to go to Isaac and Lilli’s since the night they’d first had supper together there. The Horde Thanksgiving had been at the clubhouse, and it had been a great day. She’d enjoyed herself and been easy with everyone, including Isaac and Lilli. But she’d found reasons not to go back to their house again.
He didn’t know if Lilli had said anything to Shannon about the strange end to that evening, but he doubted it. She wasn’t one to nose in on other people’s business without a compelling reason. Isaac hadn’t said anything more to him; nor had Show volunteered to talk about it. He didn’t know why Shannon was—What? Afraid?—of Gia, and she wasn’t saying. He told himself it didn’t matter.
But it mattered if she wouldn’t go to Isaac and Lilli’s house anymore. To him, it mattered a lot. They were the only family he had left. Without them, he might have offed himself in those first months after Daze. And Gia. He loved that girl. He wanted Shannon to love her, too.
Cutting into his thoughts, Shannon said, “The party’s that Saturday. You’re going to miss that?” While Christmas Day was for families; the Horde celebrated together on Christmas Eve, usually. This year, on the day before.
He nodded. “Yeah. I need to see Rosie and Iris. I miss the hell out of ‘em, and this cutting me out shit is fucked up—for them, too. I was a good father. I am a good father.”
She nodded, but then she asked, “Is she going to let you?”
“Not giving her a choice.” There was a risk that she would be angry enough to cause a scene in front of the girls, but it was a small risk. Holly was a good mother. She wanted what was best for their daughters. He knew that somewhere in her hurt and fury, she knew they were better off having him in their lives. Especially if he kept them away from the club.
Again, Shannon nodded. “Of course, you should go. They must really miss you.” But she looked sad.
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be back for Christmas Day, hon. We’ll do whatever you want—go out, stay in, stay naked. Whatever. Okay? I promise.”
She smiled at that. “Okay. It’s fine, anyway—like I told you, I’m used to being alone on the holidays.”
That was a damn chick “fine.” He hated that shit. He had three choices: ignore it, get pissed, or call her on it. He chose the third and grinned. “Oh, no. Don’t play me with ‘it’s fine.’ I know all about ‘it’s fine.’ I made you a promise.”
At that, finally, she laughed. “You’re right. Okay. Be with your girls, come back to me.”
~oOo~
He pulled up in front of Holly’s apartment on Saturday morning. He’d arrived in town the night before, but it had been late, and he’d taken a room in the same motel he’d stayed in before—it was cheap and convenient. Now, it was pretty early, not yet nine, but Holly and the girls were all early risers, and he wanted as much of the day with his girls as he could get.
He hadn’t called. Too much risk that she’d say no and then, alerted to his intention, take the girls somewhere. Holly was stubborn and hated more than anything else to have her will thwarted. She was going to be pissed. His hope was that she’d keep a lid on it in front of the girls, but he was going to fight her for this, even if it meant doing so in front of them.
He got out of the truck and strode up the long walk into the breezeway. He knocked on the door. Through it he could hear familiar sounds of his family’s morning—the TV was on, the girls were arguing. He thought he smelled pancakes. If he was coming in on their breakfast, that was a complication.
The door opened, and Holly was grinning. That grin disappeared immediately upon looking up to meet eyes with Show. “Jesus Christ. What are you doing here?”
“I want to see the girls, Holly. I want to spend the day with them.”
She looked over her shoulder, then stepped into the breezeway and closed the door. She’d lost some weight, and she’d done som
ething to her hair—it was wavier than he’d seen it, and a brighter blonde. She had a dish towel over her shoulder, and she wiped her hands on it, then crossed her arms against the cold.
“You are nuts. Just nuts. Showing up here without a call or anything, on Christmas weekend, expecting me to just hand over my girls to you? The answer, of course, is no. I should call the cops.” She turned and put her hand on the doorknob, as if they were done. They weren’t. He grabbed her arm and turned her back to face him.
“No. The answer is yes. They are my girls, too. No fucking piece of paper changes that. I want them. For the day. I’ll bring ‘em back by six. We both know they’re better off having contact with me.”
“No, we do not both know that. What I know is that you put us in danger. You are a threat. I’d be a fool to leave them alone with you.”
“You knew who I was and what I did from the day you met me, Holly. You were a fool to pretend it wasn’t true. You were a fool to refuse to learn to take care of yourself and the girls. If you hadn’t fought me all those damn years, maybe you would’ve been okay. Maybe Daze would still be with us.”
She swung at him, but he caught her wrist in the middle of its path and held it. “No more of that shit. It’s not all on me. I won’t carry it all. Not anymore. You know I’m good for them. And I am tired of the bullshit. I’m not dropping this. I gave in to your drama all our years together. But no more. I want to see my girls. I will. Fight me, and I will bring to bear everything I have. That’s a promise, Holly.”
She blinked and pulled her arm, trying to get free of his grip. He let her go. For a few seconds, she stared at him, her brow deeply lined. He could see her struggling not to explode. He was glad, at least, that she was making an effort. “It’s Christmas weekend. We have plans.”
“Change ‘em. If it helps, I’ll bring ‘em back after lunch, and we’ll talk then about a good time for me to come down again.”
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