Time had been good to her. The years had taken all the sharp parts of her body and rounded them into a beautiful hourglass figure. Her hair was still blond (of course it was), and she wore it in an up-do with soft curls falling around her face. Her makeup was biker-babe chic, which meant heavier than the average woman but not over the top (which would have made it biker-babe cheap). She had on a pair of lightweight black pants and a white lace shirt that was sheer in the back. On her wrist were the gold bracelets with the little tiny bells that I remembered from my childhood.
Her eyes met mine and widened. She stood stock-still and looked at me. From head to toe her eyes seemed to miss nothing. I held my breath. I felt Prosper do the same. Pinky’s eyes were suddenly bright, and she turned to the counter, giving us her back.
Pinky had turned her back on me.
I felt my heart stop, and Prosper’s hands fall heavier on my shoulders. I felt him step in closer to me. Those few seconds felt like hours. One more second and I knew that both my heart and Prosper’s would lay shattered on the floor. It had all come down to this moment.
Then she turned around to me again.
She had given us her back just long enough to toss the dish towel on the counter. Pinky looked to Dolly and whispered, “My baby girl is home, Dolly.” Dolly grabbed her hands and smiled into her eyes.
Then Pinky put her arms out to me. She spanned the distance between us in three steps. She grabbed hold of my arms and held me away from her.
“You look just like your mamma did at your age, Sweet Pea. And from what I know of her, there weren’t a sweeter, more beautiful woman that ever walked this earth. Here you stand before me looking just as pretty as a picture; I just know you’re just as sweet as the baby girl Prosper and I looked after all those years ago. Now, you gonna give your ole Pinky some sugar?”
I fell into her arms. She smelled like lavender and tobacco just like I remembered. I held onto her tight, determined not to be the first one to let go.
Then I whispered in her ear, “I tried, Pinky. I really, really tried.”
She hugged me tighter and whispered, “I know, baby girl. And you did real good too.”
She pulled away from me and said loud enough for the whole room to hear, “Welcome home to my sweet baby girl!”
Dolly called out, “Thank sweet Jesus! That light bill was getting ridiculous.”
The whole room erupted in laughter. Even though I’m pretty sure no one but us got the inside joke, it served to break the tension. Prosper left me and wrapped his big arms around his woman. He hugged Pinky so tight he picked her clear off the floor. When he whispered into her ear, she blushed and swatted at his tattooed arms, laughing. He gave her a big, soft kiss on the mouth. He put her down and held her close with one arm and pulled me closer to him with the other. The three of us were grinning like fools.
The afternoon passed quickly and turned easily into night. Slowly the masses left. I had the opportunity to peek at the cuts of the many men that filled the house, and they were from the various West Coast chapters. Diego explained to me that like a family they had come to show support. They did the same with any kind of crisis or big celebration. Like a family. I didn’t really know what that had meant as a kid, but I was getting a taste of it now. And it didn’t seem so bad. Maybe.
Mostly everyone had left, save a skeleton crew of cleanup biker babes and their men. The blondes worked the kitchen. Dolly, Pinky, and I were served a fresh pot of coffee in the front sitting room. Diego, Prosper, Reno, and the men who belonged to the cleanup crew were out on the front porch smoking, drinking, and congratulating themselves on being kings of the universe. Testosterone was seeping through the walls.
Every so often Diego would lean towards the window, and his eyes would find me. They held me with an intensity that spoke volumes and made me tingle from head to toe. Then he went back to the fist pumping and the slapping each other on the back and talking about whatever badass bikers discuss.
Pinky dragged out a big box of pictures. We were to pick some to make a montage for Lilah’s services. Even though I was mindful of the circumstances, I couldn’t help the warmth of the feelings coursing through my veins at seeing old family photos. Claire and I had no photos of ourselves as children. None of our mother, none of our father. No photos of us sitting on Santa’s knee or hunting for Easter eggs or blowing out birthday candles. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I thought I remembered my mom having a book like that somewhere. Well, maybe kind of like that, but somehow it had gotten lost along the way.
Pinky’s photos of her sister were funny and sweet. She had a story to go with each one. There were a few of Prosper as I remembered him. There were some of the lake house where we spent that summer. I was a little disappointed that there were none of Claire and me. I knew I had no right to feel that. So I pushed those feelings aside and enjoyed the pictures for what they were.
Lilah had been beautiful once. Young and pretty with light brown hair and freckles. Unfortunately, you could see the steady decline in the photos. The first tattoo, then the second, then the full sleeve. The first piercing, then the second, then the third. Pictures with the first bad man, then the second bad man, then the last. Finally, Lilah beginning to look better again. The most recent was with Lilah in a bikini holding up a large trout that she had caught with Pinky and Prosper at the lake house. Three months later, Lilah would be dead.
We put together a beautiful mosaic of the Kodak moments of Lilah’s life. It came out great. I know that Pinky was pleased. The cleanup crew had gone by that time, their men taking them away in a roar of engines. Diego, Prosper, and Reno had moved into the house with us and they were admiring our handiwork. Reno and Prosper added some great memories to the ones that Pinky and Dolly had already provided. Leaning back into Diego’s arm, I felt it again. The warm feeling that being with family provides. Maybe.
I caught a look pass between Prosper and Pinky. While I wasn’t sure what the look meant, I had the feeling it was about me. Prosper got up and left. I closed my eyes and got lost for a moment at the feeling of Diego running his fingers through the strands of my hair that hung near my waist. He was always doing that. He seemed to love playing with my hair. I loved him doing it. I felt Diego move away from me and looked up lazily to see Prosper take his place next to me. I smiled at him and he smiled back. He nodded at something he had in his hand. I looked down and gasped. I lost it. Lost. It. Totally.
There, sitting in Prosper’s lap, was the book. The photo book that I remembered from my childhood. I looked at him, then at Pinky, then at him again. I placed my trembling hands on it. I did the thing I seldom allowed myself to do in private and almost never did in public. I burst out crying.
And I didn’t stop for a long time.
CHAPTER 39
Jesus. She was beautiful. In bed and out of bed. Goddamn crying her eyes out. She was so fucking beautiful he wanted to bury himself deep inside of her and never come out. And Diego owned Raine. She was his. He made that clear a whole lot of times in that hotel room. She had been hot for him. Willing and hungry. Soft in all the right places.
He had been watching her all afternoon. Every time she moved, he moved. Like some crazy stalker. He couldn’t help it. Everything about her fascinated him. The way she hung back from conversations until she was invited in. The way she listened, really listened, to what people said to her. The way she searched the room for him. Eyes touching but never landing on all the other dudes in the room until they landed on him. Then she would smile. And that smile went straight to his dick, but on the way down, it touched his heart.
Now she was sleeping next to him. After she had finished the adorable crying marathon where she had held on to Prosper like she was drowning. That flood of tears had soaked his shirt straight through. Diego had felt a surge of jealousy run through his bones so deep he felt something crack. Pinky moved him into the kitchen, and together they shared some reefer
and what was left of the tequila. Pinky shared some more of Raine’s history, and Diego listened to every word.
Then they heard Prosper yell, “Coast is clear.” They also heard Raine giggle and knew that the crying jag was over.
Raine was pretty quiet on the way to the hotel, but once they hit the room she never stopped talking. She was so excited about that old photo book that he swore she was practically orgasmic. She showed him pictures and told him stories. She spoke more to him in the next hour than she had done the whole time he had known her, which he admitted wasn’t very long.
While he loved hearing the stories, his thoughts were mostly about getting into her pants. Every time she leaned in to point at something and her tits brushed his arm, he had instant wood. Her hair brushed against his forearm. He had to clench his jaw to keep himself reined in. He knew she was sharing something important, but having her was so new he couldn’t wait to have her again. And again.
So after the fourth page of pictures, he made his move. He took the book from her excited hands and excited her in a different way. Because she was so happy she was different this time when he took her. While she was willing before, this time she was eager. She undressed him and kissed him all over. All. Over. She stroked him and nuzzled him. She tugged at him and put her mouth on him. She climbed on top of him and rode him. First, slowly with a control that had him in awe. Then harder and harder. Her heavy tits bouncing while he came hot and hard inside her.
Then he flipped her over and took her again. Then over one more time. She felt his mouth on her and she opened wide for him. And he took his time. Tasting her honey, his tongue sliding over her clit and pushing its way deep inside her. God, she tasted sweet and clean and new. He fingered her and watched her face as she started building. Her eyes on his the whole time. Just when she was almost there, he took his fingers away. She shuddered and looked at him with those beautiful big blue eyes, pleading with him to finish her. He moved his big body over her smaller one and pulled her to him. He slung her legs over his shoulders and drove himself home.
CHAPTER 40
We were back at the farmhouse with Pinky and Prosper getting ready to head out to the services for Lilah. All I could think about was the incredible night, middle of the night, and very, very hot morning I had spent with Diego. Under him, on top of him, clasped tight to him, and every other way imaginable.
Wow.
I was dressed in my new blue pencil skirt, my new white blouse, and some seriously high heels. Diego had told me (yep, told me) to leave my hair down and I had. Minimum makeup, large silver hoops, and I was done. Diego had a new button-down white shirt under his cut and black leather pants that laced up in the front. He looked beautiful.
And I felt beautiful standing next to him.
The services were lovely. Pinky and Prosper had decided to combine the viewing with the church services and the church was packed. The church was progressive and allowed Pinky and Prosper to do as they saw fit to honor Lilah. There was a slide show, a number of eulogies, and the ceremony ended with Prosper and me playing guitar to one of Lilah’s favorite songs. “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen. I thought the last verse was particularly relevant. When we hit the chorus it surprised me to hear the congregation (such that it was, a sea of blond and leather) sing along.
CHAPTER 41
Prosper, Diego, and Reno headed home two days after the services. Pinky had asked me to stay behind with her and Dolly to get things settled. I was happy to do that. Despite the tragedy of it all, those were some of the best days I had ever spent. Later on I would draw on these memories as a source of solace and strength. Glad to have had that time.
Pinky and Dolly brought me right into the fold. We had long mornings sitting at the coffee table poring over the treasure book of photographs that Prosper had rescued from my childhood. Some of the pictures were events I remembered, some I didn’t. There were pictures of my mom and my dad and Claire and me as babies. Candid shots. Claire and me in a bathtub, Claire sleeping in Dad’s arms, my mom pregnant with Claire and holding my hand and smiling that sweet, sad smile that I remembered so well. If the pictures and the memories made Pinky uncomfortable, she didn’t let on. I loved her so much for that, my heart was near to bursting. What a gift they had given me. Claire and I had mattered; we had been seen. We had been loved. I couldn’t wait to share them with my little sister.
Pinky decided to put the family home up for sale. We helped her do that. The three of us drove into town and met with a realtor. The realtor came out, assessed the property, and told us what we needed to do to get a fair and quick sale on the house. We did those things. Pinky hired some painters and had the kitchen floor replaced. We spent the week packing and cleaning and threw a lot of stuff out. A lot. There didn’t seem to be much that Pinky wanted to keep as reminders of her childhood. I completely got that.
Once I walked in to find Pinky sobbing in Dolly’s arms. When Dolly’s eyes met mine it was with mutual understanding. Not one of the three of us had had an easy life. Packing up the remnants of that kind of life could dredge up a whole lot of muck. That week poor Pinky was knee-deep in it. That’s why, Dolly explained to me later that day, Pinky had needed her girls with her at this time. Dolly thanked me for being there.
Her girls. Thanked me.
I wondered how it could be possible that these two brave, generous, loving women didn’t know what a gift their acceptance and love meant to me.
Over the week I spent with Dolly and Pinky, we shared a lot of our history. It didn’t happen all at once, and there was no pity party. It happened in between moments of laughter and tears. Between morning coffee and late-night margaritas. Pinky shared some hilarious moments with Prosper. I laughed until I cried. Dolly, not to be outdone, also shared stories about her man. Big badass biker stories in their testosterone fits and macho moments. They also shared their tender, most loving memories and that had made me cry in a different way. I wondered for the millionth time what it would be like to have a man love me, really love me, the way these women had been loved.
CHAPTER 42
When I returned to the compound with Dolly and Pinky, things began to take on a sort of rhythm that felt good. I continued to live in Prosper’s rooms and continued to work at Ruby Reds. Pinky and Prosper still owned the lake house, which was about twenty minutes away in the direction of Reds. Prosper explained to me “in the days when he was whoring and drinking” that he spent a lot of nights at the clubhouse, but now he mostly wanted to be where Pinky was.
He went on to say that while I could consider those rooms mine, he figured eventually I would want to have more of a place to stay. He wanted me to know that I could consider the lake house my home if that was something I wanted. Wow. I wanted that. I so wanted that. But that was something Claire and I had to decide together. My little sister was never far from my mind and always, always in my heart.
My days were filled with Reds and the rest of the time I was at the compound. It became easy for me to be there. I was getting to know the brothers and their women and they were getting to know me. Slowly. I still kept to myself a lot, but eventually felt myself being drawn in. Prosper and I played music together in the evenings a lot and gradually I became a part of the firelight and laughter that I had feared as a child. Sometimes I would help Jules cook. Pinky and I decided to start a garden. Nice.
Things were good. However, there was much I had left unsettled back in Willows Point. I knew that I would have to face it eventually. Claire and I were going to plan what came next. It had always been Claire and me. We planned what came next and this brief parting made no difference.
So my life was in a holding pattern.
Diego. He was gone on some MC business when I had gotten back. He called me every day and just checked in.
So our calls basically went like this.
“Hey, Babe.”
“Hey.”
“How�
�s it going?”
“Pretty good. You?”
“Pretty good is not an answer, Babe.”
“Oh.”
“So, I’m gonna ask you again. How’s it going?”
“Not bad.”
“Babe.”
He’d ask me a few questions about my day. He never divulged much himself, so at times the conversation felt stilted and forced. I tried not to think too much of it. Really, our relationship thus far had been based on sex and arguing. Or so it seemed. I wasn’t sure where Diego fit in my life or if he fit in my life or if I fit in his.
And I gave Ellie some thought.
I did.
I thought a lot about Diego’s relationship with her. I had been around the club long enough to know the difference between the old ladies, the girlfriends, and the whores. Most times the guys would have all three. Some even had the added fourth, which meant a wife at home with kids. Fidelity was not in the Badass Biker Dictionary. Except maybe for Crow, and who knew what that was about.
I stayed away from the girl posse. Despite everything, or maybe because of everything, I was still a watcher. When it came right down to it, I honestly and truly didn’t know what really had gone on between Diego and Ellie. Sure, Diego had denied anything serious between the two of them. But I wasn’t stupid and neither was Ellie. Crazy mean maybe, but she was no dummy. Ellie didn’t seem like the type who would have stuck around if she hadn’t felt there was some there there.
I didn’t trust that she would just walk away from Diego or from what she thought was going to be the life of an old lady. The way some women dreamt of a house, a husband, and a minivan full of kids, these biker chicks dreamt of wearing property patches and filling in the back seat of a Harley.
She was gone. For now. But I had no doubt. Not one shred of doubt that we hadn’t seen the last of the train wreck that was Ellie. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t in her path.
Raine Falling (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) Page 15