Isaac was just about done for, though. Four hundred miles since seven in the morning, and he was limping worse than Havoc had ever seen before, at least since he’d been back on a bike. Once they met up with some peeps at the show, he clearly found some last reserves and hid his pain well, but the Horde knew. Havoc saw him discreetly toss back some pills with a beer, and he worried.
But Isaac made it through the show, and supper afterward, not ducking out until they’d been at the bar after supper for a couple of hours—at which point, he got up quietly, not calling attention to himself. Show and Badger were in some deep conversation. Omen, Dom, and Mikey were up to their elbows in booth bitches, several of whom had glommed onto their group. So was Len.
When Havoc saw Len untangle himself from his pussy pile, he knew the SAA was heading out to ride at Isaac’s flank to the motel.
Havoc stood and headed him off. He wasn’t interested in the pussy on offer tonight, so he put his hand on Len’s arm. “Go back to your buffet, brother. I got the boss.”
Len gave him a skeptical look. “Yeah? You don’t want any of that?” He indicated the several scantily clad girls.
Nope. He could have some if he wanted. He was on a run, so it wasn’t cheating. But he just didn’t want it. What any of those tarted up bitches could do for him paled in comparison with what Cory made him feel. Wasn’t even worth the hassle. He shook his head.
“Damn, brother. You turning down fresh free pussy? That chick’s got you locked down.” He grinned. “Fine, then. More for me. I’m gonna load up.”
He went back to the girls, and Havoc went out. Isaac gave him a long look as he hitched his stiff leg over his bike, but he didn’t say anything. They rode to the motel. When Havoc got to his own room, he called Cory.
Jacking off on the phone with her was far and away hotter than fucking some random skank. The things she said, the sounds she made, all quiet so Nolan wouldn’t hear. Fuck.
Len was right. She had him.
~oOo~
Havoc came into the clubhouse one evening a couple of weeks later and found Nolan playing on the Xbox with Omen and Badger. He went over and stood in front of the television. All three of them yelled—even Badger, who was only watching. Somebody paused the game, and they all gave Havoc their grudging attention.
“Hey, kid—what’re you doin’ here? It’s a school night.”
“Chill, dude. I’m off this week. Thanksgiving break. Remember?” Nolan rolled his eyes, and that got Havoc’s back up some.
But yeah. He knew about the break; he’d just forgotten. “Right, okay. Carry on. But don’t call me dude, you little shit.”
“Game of pool later?” Nolan looked back over the couch as Havoc headed to the bar, where Len was sitting with Dom.
Havoc had been teaching him. He wasn’t going to be hustling anybody anytime soon, but they were having fun anyway. “You bet.”
They finally had a new Prospect, Aaron. Badger had sponsored him—he was growing up, starting to take on some leadership. Len was starting to call the new guy “Double A,” and Havoc thought that might stick. He thought he might help it stick. “Just a Bud tonight, Double A.” When he winced at the name, Havoc grinned. Yep. It’d stick. It would be on Double A to make the name mean something that didn’t make him wince.
Dom tipped his beer at Havoc and Len and went over to the couch.
“Talk to you a minute, Len?”
Len turned to Havoc. “Sure, brother. What’s up?”
“Got an idea for Sophie’s Christmas, but I’m gonna need your help. It’s a little cagey, though. Want to be straight up with you.”
Len gave him a look that was interested and a little bewildered. Probably because Havoc wasn’t one who normally put a lot of thought into things like gifts. But this was more than a gift. This was atonement. He told him about the colt, and his old man’s determination to sell it—and his threat to sell Mabel, too.
“Colt’s not weaned yet. But I was thinking to buy ‘em both, give ‘em to Soph for Christmas.”
Len cocked his head. “Won’t that get in your old man’s way?”
“Yeah. That’s where you come in. Even if he’d sell ‘em to me, which I doubt, just out of sheer orneriness, he’d jack the price way up. He’d sell to you straight, though.”
“How’s that gonna fly when the horses stay right where they are?”
“I was thinking she could stable ‘em at your place—I’d pay your rate.” Len bred quarter horses and had a sweet setup. Though some of the Horde had tightened their belts after the meth work ended, Havoc had always kept his belt tight. He hadn’t had much to spend money on—nothing really but booze and bikes. He lived at the clubhouse. He’d been pulling a salary from Valhalla Vin while he was managing, on top of his owner’s cut. He had some bank saved.
“That’s a convoluted plan, Hav. Expensive present, too. What’s with all the 007 shit?”
“I fucked up. Stuck a bur under the old man’s saddle. Soph wants that colt, and it’s on me if she loses him.”
Len didn’t think long. “Yeah, brother. I’ll help you out. Cut you a deal on the stabling rate, too. Your old man’s still gonna find out, though.”
“Yeah, but if the horses are gone, not much he can do about it.” Havoc had thought this through. More than he thought most things through. It was a good plan. “Thanks, man.”
“You know it.”
They clinked their beer bottles and drank.
Len snagged LaVonne’s hand as she ambled by. “C’mon, girl. I wanna play.”
She smiled. “Debbie’s in the kitchen—you want me to get her?”
“Nah. I think you’ll do tonight.” Len pulled her down the dorm hallway. Havoc swiveled on the stool to watch the BMX racing game the guys were playing.
At the end of the next race, Nolan handed his controller off to Badger, who’d been heckling the racers. Nolan came over to the bar.
Havoc drained his beer. “Wanna rack up?”
“Actually, no.” The kid sat down. “Can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure. Sounds serious.” He liked the thought of Nolan coming to him for advice.
“No. Or—I don’t know. I don’t know how to say it.”
Now Havoc was feeling guarded. Was there something wrong? “Spit it, kid.”
Nolan blushed. “It sounds stupid, but what are you doing with my mom?”
“What?” Christ—was he asking a sex question? “Shit, kid. That’s private. You don’t need those details.”
“No! God! I’m not asking—no! Gross! I’m asking—I’m…just…what is she to you?”
Okay, it was worse than a sex question. He was asking what Havoc’s intentions were.
“Nolan…”
“I mean, you’re around a lot, and you make her happy mostly, and that’s all great. I like that a lot. But you’re not having Thanksgiving with us, and that just…I don’t know. It seems like the way things have been the last month and a half or whatever, you’d be with us.”
“It doesn’t mean anything. Just—I have to eat at my folks’ place, and the way dinner went last time, your ma and I thought we’d just do it apart. Keep the family shit to a dull roar, you know? Nothin’ more than that. I promise. Your ma and I are…we’re good.”
“Yeah, I guess. It just sucks. We’re going to my aunt and uncle’s and I fucking hate it there. And I thought…since we’re kind of a family, I guess, we’d be together.”
Oh, shit. This conversation was way deeper than he wanted to get. He and Cory hadn’t figured any of that shit out for themselves, much less for the kid. What she’d said the night of the day he’d taken her to meet his family was still hanging out there. Were they a family? What did that even mean?
Havoc decided not to confront that set of psychic crises and instead said simply, “Isaac and Lilli are having Show and Shannon over. I know Lilli’d be cool with you going, too. I’ll talk to your ma about it, if you want.”
But Nolan shook his head
. “That’s not…no. That’s okay. What I really wanted was mom to have somebody besides just me on her side when Uncle Alex went for her.”
A little spike of adrenaline hit his spine. He knew Cory wasn’t a fan of her brother-in-law, but she didn’t talk much about her family, and she hadn’t suggested he meet them. “Went for her how?”
“Just—never mind.” He started to turn away, but Havoc grabbed his shoulder. If this Uncle Alex was hurting Cory, then he and the kid were having the wrong fucking conversation.
“No way, kid. Went for her how?”
“Not like you’re thinking. He’s just an asshole. Telling her all the ways she does things wrong. Using me as his favorite example of what she does wrong. It sucks.”
He eased up on Nolan’s shoulder, still pissed but calming down. He thought he’d like to meet this guy, but he no longer thought it would be happening tonight, as soon as he could get there. “Yeah, that guy sounds like a real prince. Sorry, kid. I’ll be around that night, though.”
Nolan faced him with serious, searching eyes. “Don’t ever make my mom feel bad. The way my dad did, or the way Uncle Alex does. Or any way. People are always making her feel bad. If you do, I’ll figure out a way to make you feel bad. That probably sounds funny, but I mean it. I’ll hurt you.”
Havoc didn’t think it sounded funny. He thought it sounded sad—and brave, too. His chest felt tight and heavy. “I believe you. You’re a good kid, Nolan. You’re a real good kid.” He reached out and put his hand on Nolan’s head, giving it a gentle push.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The day before Thanksgiving, Cory and Nolan hung out at home for most of the day. Nolan was working on the game he was designing, and Cory was baking a couple of pumpkin pies, her contribution to the next day’s dinner at Lindsay and Alex’s house. She was making them with canned pumpkin and the kind of crust you could buy raw and pre-rolled in the dairy case at the market, but she’d doctored the recipe a little to make them more like their mother’s honest-from-scratch-dig-the-goop-out-of-the-pumpkin pie had been. Anyway, the house smelled good, and she was feeling in more of a holiday spirit than she had in several years. She had some money set aside for Nolan’s Christmas—more than she’d had for those several years—and she had somebody she loved besides her son to share the holidays with.
In a manner of speaking. Havoc wasn’t spending Thanksgiving with them, but it was much better this way. She hoped that Christmas wouldn’t go the same way, and they had a little more time to work that one out. Thanksgiving, not even three weeks since that unpleasant dinner at his parents’ house, was too soon.
She wasn’t ready for him to meet Lindsay and Alex, either. Not because she was embarrassed—at least not of Havoc. She would love for them to meet him. But she also worried that he would have a very difficult time being in the same room with Alex. Thanksgiving seemed the wrong time to concoct that brew.
So, confronted by the impasse of their complicated family situations, they’d decided to do the day apart. Nolan was being cross about it, and he hadn’t seemed to believe her when she said it didn’t mean anything. Today, though, he seemed to have achieved some Zen about it. She wondered if he’d talked to Havoc the evening before, when he was at the clubhouse.
She and Havoc had achieved a kind of Zen, too, since she’d blurted out the L-word and he’d freaked. Too soon. It was too soon, and she understood. She knew how she felt, but she had gained some insight into the complicated puzzle that was Havoc Mariano, and she was comfortable not pushing. She could see the way he felt about her in the uncharacteristic things he did with, for, and to her. His need to touch her, to hold her hand. To simply be near. In the way he was trying to be sweet sometimes. And in his care of her son. She didn’t need the words to know how he felt. He showed her, and she could hold her own words back and show him, too.
She’d just taken the pies out of the oven when she heard Havoc’s bike pull up. As usual, he came right on in, and she met him in the living room, where, as usual, he grabbed her and kissed her hard. He hadn’t even taken his gloves off yet.
“Where’s the kid?” He asked before he’d taken his mouth from hers.
There was something new about him today, like he was excited or nervous or something. “In his room, working on his game.”
Havoc turned to Nolan’s door. “Nolan! Taking your ma out for awhile!”
Nolan opened his door. “What?”
“I’m taking your ma out. Don’t fuck up while we’re gone.”
“Hav, I’m going in to work at five.” She tried halfheartedly to get loose from him, but he was having none of it.
“That’s three hours. I’ll have you back. C’mon.”
“Is everything okay?” Nolan had come out into the living room—Cory had a quick thought about how young and sweet he looked, having a typical teen day off, still in his plain flannel pajama bottoms and ratty t-shirt, his hair tousled in an aggressive bedhead.
“It’s great, kid. No sweat.”
He took Cory’s hand and led her outside, grabbing her coat off the hook on the way.
When they got outside, he released her and handed her her coat. “Put this on—you’ll need it.” Then he walked to his bike. She had no idea what was going on. She didn’t have her keys or anything, though, and if he was taking her somewhere, it would have to be in the Beast, so she’d need to go back in. She started to turn back to the door. Nolan was standing in the doorway, and as she watched, his face split into a wide, open grin.
“Hey—catch,” Havoc called from behind her. She turned, and he tossed her a helmet. It was obviously new and obviously for a woman, with a silvery kind of paisley pattern on the black surface. Kind of fancy. Sweet Jesus, did he think he was going to teach her how to ride his damn enormous Harley? No. Not going to happen. She looked up, prepared to set him straight, and he stepped to the side of said enormous Harley, gesturing like a game show hostess.
She didn’t see it at first. At first, she just saw the same bike she saw just about every day, and she was stuck on the idea that he thought he was going to teach her to ride that monster. And that was so not going to happen.
She started to shake her head, but then, behind her, Nolan muttered, “Mom, geez. Look. Look.”
She looked. And she saw. There was another seat, a new seat, behind his. A bitch seat, as he called it.
He showed her what he couldn’t tell her.
She stepped off her little stoop, crossed her scrubby little yard, and went into his arms. He wrapped her up tight.
“Ride with me, Cory.”
She nodded, feeling too overwhelmed with love for words.
~oOo~
“Oh, excellent. Pies. I picked up a couple at the little French bakery we like, too, in case you forgot. Are these homemade? Mom’s recipe? Here, you can set them on the sideboard. Can I get you something to drink? Alex is making champagne cocktails.”
The whole family greeted them in the round, chandelier-lit foyer. Lindsay was in full hostess mode, dressed impeccably as ever, in wide-legged, velvet pants, little gold ballet flats, and a shimmery gold top with a flouncy neckline. She had her chestnut hair done in an elaborate updo. Alex was in khakis and a navy cashmere sweater. Vienna and Verona were, as always, dressed in matching outfits, Vienna’s pink, Verona’s purple. Today’s outfits were fancy little cream-colored velvet dresses with wide satin sashes in their assigned colors, with hair ribbons to match. And black patent-leather Mary Janes, naturally.
Jesus, everybody was precious. Cory and Nolan had dressed up, too, but they looked like street people in comparison. Cory was wearing a pair of jeans in black, waleless corduroy—which was almost like velvet—and a white poet shirt. Nolan was in his newest jeans and his one and only collared shirt. Cory didn’t miss her little sister’s quick, evaluative, head-to-toe, glance, or the slight twitch of her perfectly glossed lips that accompanied it.
As they came all the way into the house and Cory carried the pies to the big, antique
sideboard in the formal dining room, she realized that the noise level in the house was higher, and different, than she would have expected from the two adults and two small girls who lived here. There was a hum of conversation. She looked over at the table, set for dinner with aggressively tasteful china, silver, crystal, and linen. The table was extended its full length. Thirteen settings.
She’d noticed a lot of cars parked on the street, but the whole street was that way, and it was Thanksgiving, so she hadn’t thought much more of it, figuring the neighbors were having lots of people over. Apparently, so was her sister.
Setting aside the vast aggravation she felt at the idea that she and Nolan were being subjected to a whole crowd of strangers without at least the courtesy of advance notice, Cory did some deeper reasoning. Lindsay would never have an unbalanced table. Not without a reason. To Cory’s mind, that meant one of two things. Either Lindsay had invited their father to dinner—and no, she’d never do that; he was far too unpredictable, and she’d die before she exposed him to people whose esteem mattered to her—or she had invited a single man. For Cory. To Thanksgiving dinner. Cory didn’t even need to seek out the location of the conversational hum to know that was the answer.
Fuck Lindsay. Just fuck her.
“What the hell, Mom?”
She’d momentarily forgotten that Nolan had followed her into the dining room with the other pie.
“I don’t know, kiddo. Chin up, though. Just a meal, right? And then we’ll hie on home.” They set their plain pies next to the fancy bakery selections and went to the coat closet to hang up their coats.
“Okay. Into the breach we go.” She hooked her arm through her son’s—when had he gotten so much taller than she was?—and they walked into the wide, tall, airy space that was kitchen, and breakfast room, and hearth room. And found the crowd.
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