by CM Genovese
She’d been about to get up from the table when I said it. She turned back to me and smiled.
“You do something to me,” I added.
“Do something to you? Me?”
“You.”
“Pipe, I don’t even know what you mean by that.”
“Let me take you home after this.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I’m almost old enough to be your mother.”
“Key word is almost.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight,” I said.
“Thirty-eight.” She shook her head slowly. “I’m fifty-five, and I’m too tired to play games. I work hard. I don’t want a relationship.”
“I’m not offering one,” I said. “If I can be honest here, my heart’s tied up with someone else.”
“My heart is too,” she said, “and I’m afraid he’s not coming back.”
“Two people with needs, that’s all we are.”
She closed her eyes and remained silent. Usually I could tell when a woman was turned on by me or was sizing me up for some sexual healing, but Carla was unreadable. Then, I was shocked to see tears fall down her cheeks. I quickly reached for a napkin and handed it over.
“I’m flattered,” she said. “I really am.”
“Just let me take you home,” I tried once more.
“Pipe, I’m sorry, but I’m not taking you to my house, and I hardly think I’d fit in at yours. I’ve seen the young, pierced, tattoo-covered, wild hair-dyed women who ride on the backs of your guys’ bikes.”
I understood completely. I’d just mentioned being a one-percenter, an unsavory type, and here I was asking her to let me drive her to her house.
When I nodded my head, she reached across the table and took one of my hands. She gave it a squeeze. “I really am flattered. You definitely brightened up this terrible night.”
“You got a pen?” I asked.
She nodded and reached into her pocket. When she handed me the ballpoint, I scribbled my cell phone number onto a napkin and handed it to her.
“Call me,” I said. “For anything. If you need protection, if you want to talk, or if you want me to stop by and have a cup of coffee with you.”
“Or whiskey and Coke?” she asked.
She knew my order. I nodded and chuckled. “Or whiskey and Coke.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
On the way to the parking lot, Rain said, “Well this was a busted night.”
“Nah, it was all right,” I replied.
Rain shook his head. He usually didn’t say much, but I knew he was thinking I was crazy. We’d almost gotten shot, never did get the burger we’d wanted in the first place, and had to spend the rest of the evening being babysat by cops.
“Could have been worse,” I answered his silence. “She took my number.”
“Who? Carla?” Rain asked.
I nodded.
“You’re a mess,” Rain said softly as he threw his leg over his bike.
4
Carla didn’t call that night. I figured she wouldn’t. It was probably a good thing she didn’t because I had plans the next day. My life was full of secrets. At least it seemed that way. Everyone in the Royal Bastards loved Cubby, the old ex-Royal Bastard who now ran the local VFW. He was a stand-up guy who’d moved to Anchorage to be closer to his daughter, Tayla, who’d married an Air Force captain who was stationed at Elmendorf Air Force Base.
Most of the guys in the MC had tried to strike up a relationship with Cubby’s stepdaughter, Maggie, who tended bar at the VFW. She was a looker, and she was a hellraiser. Rain fucked her a few times before meeting Cassie. Over the years, I’d wished it was Maggie I’d gotten mixed up with.
Instead, it was Tayla. I knew she was married at the time, but her husband was on a one year remote tour of duty in South Korea. No family allowed. That wasn’t the problem, but Tayla caught wind of a fling he was having with one of the female soldiers also stationed there.
The night I found out about all this, Tayla was shit-faced drunk at the VFW and came to sit at my table. I was alone that night. Rain was meeting me later. I was reading a book and listening to tunes, minding my own business. The song playing that night should have keyed me in that I was in for some trouble. Molly Hatchet’s ‘Flirtin’ with Disaster’ played as she sashayed over to my table.
“He cheated on me,” she said.
Conrad’s Heart of Darkness would have to wait. I set the book face down on the table and set my eyes on her. She stood with her hands on her hips, her tits on full display, and I found myself glued to her. She had some kind of glittery dust on her face that sparkled under the overhead lights. She was fucking unbelievably gorgeous, and I hated myself for wanting her so badly. She belonged to somebody else, and I wasn’t the kind of guy to dip my toes in someone else’s pond.
But looking at her couldn’t hurt, so I did.
“Did you hear me?” she asked, snapping me out of my momentary daze. “He fucking cheated on me.”
I knew who she was talking about because I’d seen her at the bar before and knew her husband had a way of making her feel like shit quite often. Tayla was stunning. A true country girl through and through with wavy blonde hair and a thick body. She was the kind of girl you’d go horseback riding with, throw some darts, guzzle a few beers, and have a roll in the hay. Only she was respectable. She didn’t usually flirt. And Cubby warned me I better not flirt either. After all, she was a married woman.
“What do you mean he cheated on you?” I asked.
She pulled out her phone, showed me her Facebook page, and zoomed in on a photo. Sure enough, there he was. Captain Jonathan Armstrong making out with a skinny redhead at a restaurant’s corner booth. Closer to the camera was some guy taking a selfie.
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
“Him,” she said as she pointed at the selfie guy. “He’s Airman First Class Ruckmire. He works for my husband. He hates Captain Armstrong and had his buddy friend me on Facebook and then showed me this photo.”
“Someone’s gonna get in trouble,” I said.
“This isn’t a joke, Pipe.”
Before this moment, I didn’t know she knew my name.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“He swears there’s nothing serious between him and this whore,” Tayla said, a couple of tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
I reached out and wiped them both away. She smiled at me, and I knew that look in her eye the moment she stared at me. She wanted to use me to get back at him. I shook my head.
“No,” I said.
“No, what?” she asked, her hand under the table sliding up my thigh until she was squeezing my cock.
She’d had a bit to drink, but she wasn’t messy. She was a woman on a mission. I’d wanted her for a long time, but not like this. Not as some kind of rebound lover. She was spoken for, even if the guy was a fucking douchebag.
“Take me home,” she said. “I think I’ve had too much to drink.”
“I think you’re right,” I said, “but I’m sure your dad can—”
“Pipe,” Cubby called out, “do me a favor and drop Tayla at home.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Her dad, who’d warned me to stay away from her, was asking me to take her to her house. Her house where we’d be alone. Her house where she had no kids with her husband. Not yet. Where only the two of us would be parked in her driveway. Where her husband was on the other side of the world, the husband she’d just found out was cheating on her. The house where if she reached for my cock one more time, I knew I’d let her have it.
I had morals… of sorts. Violence was in my nature, fucking was a hobby, but I didn’t like pissing in my own bed and Cubby’s VFW was kind of like my bed. If I fucked up and her dad found out about it, I’d be ousted from his bar and could quite possibly have the old man coming after me. It was drama I didn’t need.
“You heard him,” Tayla said. “I need a ride.”
“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath.
Tayla smiled. “Guess Daddy likes the idea too.”
Her fingers tickled my inner thigh and it was taking everything in my power not to attack her mouth and pull her onto my lap. If the place wasn’t crowded with military veterans and if her dad and stepsister weren’t right behind me at the bar, I probably would have.
“You better answer him,” Tayla said. “Tell him you’ll take me home.”
I shook my head.
“Pipe, I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“Tayla…”
“Just drop her off and head back,” Cubby shouted.
“Please,” Tayla said, “I’ll be good.”
I nodded. “Yeah, no problem,” I called back to Cubby.
Needless to say, I was invited in when I took her home. There wasn’t much talk. Before I knew it, I was wearing a condom and she was riding me on the couch. Years of pent up desire spilled out of me that night. It was fucking hot. It was clear she’d wanted me too. She told me as much, whispering shit in my ear like, “I’ve needed you for so long. This is what a real man feels like.”
Now, bikers don’t fawn all over chicks. It’s just not in our nature. I wasn’t all googly eyes for Tayla or anything, but I did want her. As far as I was concerned, this night changed things. I was going to take care of her, snatch her away from that piece of shit captain. Cubby would come around. Maybe he’d even prefer her being with me. I could have made her my ol’ lady. I was convinced she was the woman for me, that she’d leave her husband, and I’d end up wifing her at some point.
It was the first time since Holly that I let myself feel something for a woman. In many ways, I had to. If I didn’t, it would mean I was fucking another man’s wife solely so I could get her pussy. That wasn’t like me. I convinced myself there was something more going on and that this was fate.
She didn’t even care when the condom broke. Sure, she was tipsy, but she wasn’t that damn drunk. I had her bent over on all fours on the living room floor, driving into her from behind, when I felt that sudden warmth and wetness only pure pussy wrapped around a cock can provide.
“Shit, the condom broke,” I warned her.
“I don’t care,” she said. “Rip it off.”
I knew better, but if she didn’t care, I certainly didn’t, and when I came, I gave her one warning. Her reply? “Go ahead. Give it to me.”
When we woke up, I didn’t rush out of there. She made me breakfast and we fucked again. It happened several more times before her husband returned. All secret rendezvous and shit. I didn’t care how, when, or where… as long as we were fucking. And every time, we fucked without protection. I thought she was mine. She told me she was falling for me, and I, like a clown, admitted I shared her feelings.
That was six years ago. She didn’t leave her husband. Instead, she was honest about our hookups, and when our son was born, Captain Jonathan Armstrong signed his name on the daddy line, cutting me out of the boy’s life. He knew the boy was mine. He wasn’t even in the country when he was conceived, but he forgave her as long as she agreed to forget about his fling and to bury ours deep down and never consider repeating that mistake again.
I was that mistake.
Tayla and the captain swore to be loyal to each other, but that was my boy. Caleb Connor Armstrong was my son. Even if it didn’t say so on paper. I visited from time to time. The good captain agreed to tell the kid I was his uncle so he wouldn’t be confused. He didn’t do it by choice. I threatened to wrap his intestines around his throat and choke him to death if he didn’t.
I would not abandon the boy. Nobody in the MC knew the truth. Cubby would probably kill me if he found out. I played the part of the uncle, and I was the best uncle on the planet.
Uncle Pipe. Ain’t that some bullshit?
When I visited Caleb, it was always at the park. That was one of the captain’s stipulations, rules I told him he could shove up his ass, but Tayla wanted to respect his wishes so we met in public places. That way nothing ever accidentally happened between us again.
This morning, the day after the diner shooting, Caleb was playing in the sandbox with his little sister when I pulled into the park parking lot. Yes, the sweet couple had a second child together. No, I had nothing to do with that one. Tayla sat on a bench playing with her phone, the way she always did on visit days.
Usually, I’d catch myself staring at her, still slightly pissed off about the way things turned out but always mindful that she’d been in a shitty position and maybe a life with me wouldn’t have been much better. Today, I thought of Carla, the chick at the diner.
When she heard the rumble of my engine, Tayla lowered her phone, turned to me, and smiled. She was a gorgeous woman. She’d been prom queen in some faraway town. She spoke with the southern twang of someone from the Lonestar state or nearby. She was one of them trophy wives. Cubby sure knew how to grow ‘em.
“Hey, stranger,” she called out.
We were always friendly with each other. After all, I’d had my dick buried inside her in more ways than I could recall, and we’d never had to go through that stale relationship drama. We didn’t have to fight over the remote control, me drinking too much, her being flirted with by every man in Anchorage… none of that bullshit. We hadn’t had time to get sick of each other. I was sure if things didn’t work out between the captain and her, she’d be ringing my phone.
“Tay,” I said, “you look nice.”
She always looked nice, and I – being the gentleman I was – made sure I always reminded her.
“You’re sweet,” she replied. “You cut your hair. I like it.”
My hair had been longer, always in my eyes, hanging down to my shoulders, but I’d recently chopped most of it off. Now it was just a messy do, but the chicks seemed to like it.
“Thanks.” I sat down next to her at the bench. “The kid doing okay?”
She sighed, “Yeah, John still treats him differently than he does Myra.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I guess… but Caleb doesn’t get it. I don’t even think he fully sees the differences yet, but he will someday. John brings home treats for her whenever he travels and doesn’t bring much for Caleb… if he does it’s something dumb.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I was. Not because we’d slept together, but because the boy was suffering for it.
“At least he has his Uncle Pipe to treat him well.”
“Yeah, at least there’s that. You know, when he’s older, if you ever want to tell him the truth—”
“He should never know the truth. Not unless… well, never mind.”
“Not unless what?”
“We shouldn’t talk about ‘what ifs’ I suppose. I’m with John and you’re with… whoever you’re with right now.” She laughed. “The life of an outlaw, right? So much pussy, so little time.”
I laughed. “Things could change.”
“Could they?”
Sometimes our conversations went like this. Slight flirtation, both of us playing on the outskirts, threatening to topple over into each other’s arms but knowing it should never happen again.
“If you wanted them to,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you player.” She playfully slapped my arm.
“I’m just saying, maybe someday we can tell him the truth and…”
I stopped, lowering my head with shame for bringing it up again. The truth was, while so many men ran from their children, I wanted to run toward mine. Only, he couldn’t know about me.
“We can talk about that later,” I said.
“Pipe—”
“Later. Not anytime soon. I’m talking when he’s a teenager… or maybe an adult. By then you will have had enough time to think about it. If you still think that asshole is a better option for a father, then…”
I didn’t need to finish. She got the point. Her hand inched over on the bench and I felt her fingers br
ush the backs of my knuckles. She was always doing things like that. Small gestures to let me know she cared. I grabbed one of her fingers and gave it a pinch, so she’d know I felt it.
She’d never leave the captain. He provided too much security. She had a house and a nice car and money to spare. I loved her, in my own kind of way, and deep down I believed she loved me. We had a special bond that had nothing to do with romance. We shared a child and we both worried about his wellbeing. But we’d never be together again.
“I met someone last night,” I told her.
She laughed. “One of your clubhouse hussies?”
“Nah, not like that.”
“Fucked her yet?”
“Damn, come right out with that, why don’tcha.”
“Only wondering how lucky she is.”
We both laughed at that one.
“You’re a flirt,” I told her.
“Just remembering good times, honey.”
“No, I haven’t. I haven’t kissed her either. Hell, I’ve barely spoken to her.”
“You’re off your game,” Tayla teased, elbowing me in the ribs.
“Maybe.”
“Is she cute?” she asked.
I nodded. “Really cute. She’s older though.”
“How much older?”
“Older.”
“What’s her name?”
“Carla.”
“Carla,” she repeated. “Well, I hope you strike up the nerve to talk to her.”
“I did talk to her.”
“Then the nerve to kiss her.”
I wasn’t sure why I told her about Carla. It wasn’t to make her jealous. We were past that. I’d fucked so many women, and we’d talked about so much during our visits at the park, that nothing surprised her anymore. In some strange way she’d become almost like a therapist. She often gave me unsolicited advice. So much so that now I asked her for it.
“If, you know, you feel the need to kiss her,” she added, and I sensed slight jealousy there where it usually wasn’t.
I cocked my head to the side and tried to read her. She blushed and covered her face with her hands.
“What’s going on with you?” I asked.