BIKER’S GIFT

by Claire St. Rose

  She spun on her heel, thrilled that she didn’t wobble and fall into the dust, and went straight inside. She walked up the stairs to her apartment, went in, and locked the door. Then she ran to the window and peeked out from behind the curtain. He was still there, and he had been watching her window. He gave a little wave, and then he kicked his bike back into motion and rode off, a plume of dust marking his location.

  She was so angry she wanted to kick something or fuck something, but not too many people she’d bumped into wanted to fuck a woman whose belly was growing like this. It wasn’t that she particularly minded the way her body was changing, but she did mind the way her clothes weren’t fitting—the way things seemed to be shifting out of control. There were foods she loved that she couldn’t eat anymore because of the heartburn, and other things she was craving like mad.

  She couldn’t kick anything. So, she was by God going to fuck something. She was exhausted, even though she’d only worked half her shift, and she threw off her clothes as she stomped into her small bedroom before flopping down onto the mattress. She hadn’t made her bed in the morning, because what was the point, who was going to see it other than her? She was going to have to get a bigger place sometime in the next twenty weeks, but God, how could she even try right now when all she could manage was to work and sleep? All the magazines said you got more energy in the second trimester, but all she’d gotten was hornier.

  Her vibe was exactly where she’d left it, charging on the nightstand, and she had a funny mental image of Jackdaw following her up to the bedroom and seeing it there. Taking it out of her hands as she tried to stash it somewhere, anywhere, that he wouldn’t see, and laughing quietly to himself.

  “Oh, no,” she could hear him say in her head. “No, we’re going to have fun with this.” He’d slide into her, just as sweet and smooth as he had that first time, and then he’d push the vibe into her clit, and she’d—

  The orgasm came fast, her fingers buried inside her cunt and the vibe pressed hard on her clit, making such tiny circles that they hardly counted as movements. She came hard, grunting into her pillow, feeling her entire cunt pulse hard around her fingers. She kept going with the vibe until it started to ache, twisting every last bit of pleasure she could get out of the moment. And, for the first time as she sagged into the mattress, she sat with the certain knowledge that it would have been better with him.

  She curled up on her side and let herself fall asleep.

  ***

  She woke up to her phone buzzing right by her head. She jerked and fumbled for it. She wasn’t entirely sure when she’d grabbed it from her purse or how it had gotten there; she had a bleary memory of waking up to go pee and grabbing it on the way back, thinking she’d check her social media accounts before she fell back asleep. Clearly, she hadn’t made it that far.

  The call went to voicemail before she could organize herself enough to pick up the phone. She slapped at it a few times until she managed to get her hands in order and look at her notifications. The missed calls and messages and texts were all from Cook. She hadn’t missed a shift, so he was clearly checking in on her. But why were his messages so increasingly frantic? She scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand and pulled up the diner’s phone number before tapping call.

  “Hey,” she said as soon as he answered. She was surprised at how gravely her voice sounded. How long had she been asleep?

  Cook’s voice, meanwhile, sounded like someone speaking while they were being held at gunpoint in a movie. “Hey, Mindy? How you holding up, girl? You rushed out of here in a terrible hurry last night.”

  “I’m fine, Cook. I just thought I was going to be sick, is all, and I couldn’t handle coming back in because of the smell. I should’ve called so you wouldn’t worry.” Lying came so easy to her. It had for years now, but it still struck her how simple it was to spin a tale and have people believe it. She didn’t understand people who were bad at lying; the key was to half believe what you were saying yourself.

  “Well, if you can make it in to cover a shift for Jessica, I’d appreciate it. Carol’s here, but you know how she gets when she has more than six tables.”

  There was something about his voice that just wasn’t right. “Cook? Everything okay?”

  He laughed, and the sound was way too high-pitched and forced to be natural. “Of course everything’s fine, Mindy. Just get your cute butt in here, alright?”

  She shook her head. “You know I’m going to have to walk in, Cook. I’ll do it, but I won’t be there for thirty minutes or so.”

  “That’s fine, that’s fine, just get here. Alright?”

  Cook’s Diner was literally the last place on earth that she wanted to go right now. Wait, no, that wasn’t true. It would still be better than traveling back in time to Gram’s trailer. But it was the last place on earth she could actually go to that she would want to go to. That was the point.

  She ended the call and pushed herself up to a seated position. Her entire pelvis ached from yesterday’s walk; she’d pushed herself way too fast, stomping away from the diner, and she knew it at the time. Her back was a wreck, and her feet were swollen. There was no way she could put those pumps back on her feet. Cook would be pissed that she turned up in sneakers, but he’d have to damn well cope. That’s what he got for working a pregnant woman half to death, even if he didn’t know she was pregnant. And it wasn’t his fault anyway. Absolutely none of that was the point, at all.

  She dug through her closet until she found the uniform dress she’d almost thrown out because it was sized wrong, and was too big for her five months ago. Now, it closed over her breasts and her belly without gaping like the old one had. She’d have to reclaim the apron she’d thrown off in her panic yesterday. That would be nice. She shook her head and headed out to the diner.

  Chapter Six Jack told himself, quite firmly, that he and Bodhi were not at the diner to threaten Cook or stalk Mindy. No. They were just after a cup of coffee and some lunch. He couldn’t be blamed for running into Mindy when she basically worked at the diner full-time and seemed to pick up extra shifts whenever she could. Or so the other waitress had told him when he’d slipped the girl a fifty and asked for the details.

  Bodhi sat across from Jack in the booth, his small body sprawled out. The guy’s name wasn’t actually Bodhi; he was actually named Samir and had gotten nicknamed Bodhi in the service. He had light brown skin and wore a short, well-kept beard that was a deep brown, nearly black. He was Jack’s VP in the newly reformed Chain Gang and the most reliable man that Jack personally knew.

  “So, we’re not stalking this chick,” Bodhi said. “Just to be clear.”

  “We’re not.”

  “Because the club’s paying, Daw, so I’m not complainin’, but I’m on my fourth cup of Cook’s really bad coffee, and at some point, I’m going to get acid reflux.”

  “I’ll buy you some Tums.”

  “I’m gonna need a whole bottle. This coffee is bad.” Bodhi let the last word ring out just a little. Cook’s hand came through the window to flip them off before he went back to cooking. The coffee wasn’t bad at all; for a roadside diner, it actually ventured towards good. Cook kept his pots scrupulously clean, and the carafes were constantly being emptied and refilled, so there was no time for the flavor to get stale. Jack laughed a little at it.

  But just a little. He was stuck on how Mindy hadn’t told him that she was pregnant. She hadn’t really admitted that the baby was his yesterday, but she also hadn’t denied it even a little bit. They’d only been together those few days and granted they’d spent most of their time naked, sweaty, and biting back screams, but there had been quiet times when she’d curled up in his arms and run her fingers through the hair on his chest. They’d traded dreams, and told jokes, and there had been a connection there—more than just his cock penetrating her cunt. He’d gotten the sense that it was the kind of thing that could have grown, given time.

  When he’d gone out for a couple of bee
rs and some jerky, he’d seen Bodhi outside the old clubhouse. He’d waved to Bodhi and called him over, intending to tell him about this great girl that he’d hooked up with, but that was when Bodhi had delivered the news the Wardens were planning to try for a takeover while the Chain Gang was disorganized after Grim Teller’s death. The two gangs had been one just a few years back, but Grim had decided to clean things up. The guys who didn’t want to stop running drugs and women headed off in their own direction, and that was fine for a bit, but Providence wasn’t big enough for two motorcycle clubs, at least not when one of them thought that murder, extortion, and selling drugs to children was the best possible way to keep the coffers full. It wasn’t that the Chain Gang was full of Boy Scouts, Jack was always quick to explain when the topic came up, but they sure as shit didn’t sell drugs to kids, or sell kids to adults. Some lines were uncrossable if you wanted to stay a human being.

  “So, you’re sure about this girl?” Bodhi asked, and Jack pushed the tension out of his shoulders before it got a chance to settle there.

  “I don’t know about the girl,” he said, forcing himself to be honest with his second. “But I’m sure about the baby, and I’m sure it’s mine. The timing lines up. I just need to talk to her some more. Make sure she understands that I’m not going to be an asshole. I want to help.”

  “And we’re driving home the ‘not an asshole’ point by stalking her?”

  “You have a better plan?”

  Bodhi shrugged. “Send her an email? A text? A nice card from Hallmark? Maybe even flowers? Give the girl a chance to realize that you’re in this for the long haul, and you’re not just some deadbeat who wants to get off on his pregnant-lady kink and then disappear once there are diapers to change.”

  Jack paused. “Wait, that’s a thing? The pregnant girl thing?”

  Bodhi laughed. “There is a kink for everything, and everything is on the Internet. You have got to get off AOL and find yourself a real web browser. My God.”

  This time it was Jack flipping Bodhi off, but Bodhi laughed just as hard. He was working on a clever retort when he saw a tiny bundle of fire and fury slamming the diner door open. Mindy was wearing that cute little uniform dress, but her apron was gone. Come to think of it, she hadn’t been wearing it yesterday either. Without the pockets and the frills, the start of a swell to her belly was even more obvious. The dress she was wearing today was big enough that the buttons didn’t gape, but that didn’t actually hide her belly; if anything, it made it more obvious.

  She stormed into the diner, letting the door bang shut behind her, and surveyed the booths with her hands on her hips. When she saw Jack and Bodhi, her eyes narrowed. Jack fought the urge to laugh at how fierce she looked for someone so small. Some poet had said something about that, he thought. But he pulled his mind back from the distraction to focus on the woman in front of him.

  “Are you actually kidding me?” she snapped. He opened his mouth to answer, and she lifted one finger in a don’t you dare gesture. He shut his mouth again. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, mister, but you will absolutely not dog my place of employment trying to get back in my pants. You ruined that a long time ago. You could’ve found me if you’d cared even a little bit, and you didn’t so you have no claim on me, or—or anything to do with my life. Do you understand? I don’t ever want to see you again. You don’t come here, you don’t bother me, you don’t bother Cook, you just go away, and you stay out of my life. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, just spun on her heel and rushed through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen and the back of house area. Jack thought about following her, but Bodhi blocked him with his outstretched leg before he even got a chance to shift in his seat.

  “Time for Plan B.”

  Jack sagged, running his fingers through his hair, and took a very deep breath. Not going after the woman he believed to be the mother of his child was agonizing. “What’s Plan B?”

  Bodhi shrugged. “Don’t know yet. You’ll figure it out. But it involves you not being a damn asshole.”

  “If this gets out… Bodhi, she could be in danger. You know Wester wouldn’t hesitate to use her against me if he knows.”

  “Daw, you know I’d follow you into hell itself if needed, so I’m not going to call you a player. But let’s be honest here; you’re not so discriminating about where you stick your dick that someone’s going to make the connection between you and some little waitress at a diner on the outskirts of town. Now, if you keep showing up here, and you keep causing fireworks, someone’s going to hear. But if you stay away, play it quiet, act like an actual person, I think we can handle this situation.”

  “This is my child,” Jack said, with a hiss. “And my child is not a situation.”

  Bodhi raised one eyebrow. “If you don’t cool it the hell down, it’s going to cause a situation. Daw, look. I know you like the girl, but I need you to be real for a minute here. You don’t have any way to know at this point. She hasn’t said it. She’s right; you didn’t come back for her. She’s not in danger now. Let’s make sure to keep it that way, alright?”

  Jack looked longingly at the door, and Bodhi nudged his calf in a way that Jack wasn’t entirely willing to describe as a kick.

  “Come on, man. Let’s get out of here before we cause a problem for the nice lady.”

  Chapter Seven For the second time in as many days, Mindy fought back the tears as she rushed through the kitchen. She didn’t head out the door this time, though; as frustrating as it was, she needed to put on a normal face for the rest of the world. Losing this job would be a disaster for her, especially with a baby on the way. Even if she took off in the middle of the night, who would hire a pregnant girl with a GED and some vague experience with odd jobs, retail, and waiting tables? In this market, she was sunk. She had a good thing going in this stupid town – if Jack Dawson would just quit messing it up.

  That said, she figured five minutes to sob her heart out wasn’t asking for too much. She sank down into the old couch in the employee break room, the one she hadn’t noticed was musty until she was pregnant, and put her head in her hands. She let the tears come and didn’t try to stop them. She cried for the lonely child she had been. The kid who hit the road the moment she looked old enough to be on her own. The kid who had done all sorts of stuff, only some of it legal, in order to stay safe over the years. The girl who bugged out of town as soon as people started to remember her name. The girl who now had no idea of how to build a life for herself, but who had decided to have a goddamn baby on her own.

  “Bean, what are we going to do?” she asked herself, stroking her belly.

  And then she heard a shuffling sound, and looked up, seeing Cook leaning against the door jam. “Sorry,” he said.

  Shame rushed through her, and her cheeks went bright red. “I didn’t—you weren’t supposed to—”

  “Figure out you were pregnant? Come on, Mindy. You started showing three weeks ago, and you spent two months barfing your guts out every time we had fish as a special. I’m not a genius, but I’m not an idiot.” Cook shook his head, then pulled a folding chair close to the couch, sitting down facing her. “What do you need?”

  “I don’t know,” she muttered into her hands. “I need this to be easier than it is.”

  “I can do a little of that,” he said. “I’ll bring on some extra help—make sure you get to spend part of your shift off your feet. Do you—I don’t mean to be an ass. Are you in contact with the father?”

  She thought of Jackdaw, sitting outside in that booth, trying so hard, and her, so angry and refusing to accept any kind of kindness because what if she accepted it and it was withdrawn later? That would feel terrible, and she didn’t want it to be like that. And intellectually she understood concepts like if you don’t accept the attempts of other people to love you, you can’t be angry when they don’t love you, but her childhood had made that a lot easier to say than to believe.

  “No,
” she said. “No, I’m not.”

  Cook seemed surprised. “Oh,” he said. “I thought—Dawson—”

  She flinched at the name, and Cook’s eyes narrowed for just a moment.

  “I see,” he said. “Does he know?”

  She weighed the burden of doing this all on her own with the idea of having an actual friend, someone who wanted to be there to support her. Cook had been good to her, kind to her, helped her get set up when she rolled into town.

  “No,” she said. “He’s figured out that I’m knocked up, and he suspects, but I haven’t confirmed it.”

  “Any reason why not?” She shrugged, and Cook sighed. “He’s a good man, Dawson. Not a great man, not by any stretch, but he’s a good one, at least. I think you should tell him the truth.” She hesitated too long, and he shrugged. “Not my call. I’ll tell him and Bodhi to leave, alright? Tell them that they need to leave you be.”