by Goode, Ella
“What’s that smile for?”
“I don't know.” I shrug, embarrassed at being caught. “It just seems like taxes is something that an outlaw motorcycle club shouldn't be worried about.”
Judge raises an eyebrow. “Wheels Up is my business and has shit all to do with the club. And Al Capone was taken down for taxes, honey. No man messes with the IRS.”
Judge leaves me with a pile of work and I'm grateful that there is so much of it. Concentrating on sorting the bills alphabetically, making sure that they have been entered properly into the software program which fortunately is very close to the one that I used at the church, makes it easy for me to think about things other than my messed up personal life.
Chapter Four
Michigan
“We need to take care of business,” Easy says on the phone as I'm driving back to Fortune.
“It’s about time.” I’ve been waiting to clean house ever since I saw Annie in her dad’s basement nearly flayed alive. It eats at me that the man who spawned her is breathing the same air as us.
“There’s just too much on her plate right now. Someone looking suspiciously like Annie and claiming to be her mother showed up at the house today.” He’s put me on speaker and I hear the clink of metal against metal. Easy must be at the granary today working out.
“We doing her too?”
“I think we ought to hold off on that but I’m not opposed because I can see Annie getting stressed out about it and I don’t like that, particularly now she’s pregnant. Let’s see how it all shakes out. I talked to Judge about having a vote over getting rid of Bloom.”
“How’d he take that?” My fingers tighten around the steering wheel. Either way, approval or no approval, Bloom is going down. I’d prefer it if we had the okay from the club but I’m killing him no matter what.
“He has no problem with it so long as there is no blowback to the club. He also reminded me that it's hard to parent while you’re in prison.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I’d killed my share of men and never once had a whiff of the law on my tail. I knew how to kill and how to make sure we’d get away with it. Judge should know that too. Most of the deaths occurred because he’d ordered them.
“So one of the questions they asked me at the clinic today was whether we wanted to have a paternity test.”
Shit, that had not occurred to me. I knew there were whispers around town about our living arrangements. Easy and I were not shy when we went out with Annie. One or both of us had our arm around her at all times. She’s ours and we like making our claim public. Not everyone is accepting of us but I don’t give two fucks. “What’d Annie say to that?”
“I think she’d rather not know. I figure any baby that comes out of her belly is both of ours.”
“Agree.”
“Good, then I think we ought to move up our wedding plans to get you hitched to Annie.”
“What’s that mean for you?”
“It’s your name going on the birth certificate, I suppose, and the baby would have your last name but I’m okay with that. We can do it the other way with the next baby she has.”
“That’d get tongues wagging.” I snort.
“Yup, but as long as we’re okay then it don’t matter. We just all need to be on the same page. Doesn't matter to me what a piece of paper says,” Easy says. “What matters to me is that we take care of Annie and that we live a good, happy life with plenty of fucking and laughter. Hell, with three parents, we ought to have a passel of kids.”
“You’re not the one who has to pop them out.”
“Good point. Maybe a half a passel then. Like a basketball team instead of a baseball team.” Easy’s clearly thrilled with being a daddy. Me? I’m a little terrified. I know nothing about parenting other than not to abandon the kid. But maybe just showing up is half the battle.
Speaking of shitty parents, though… “What's the deal with Annie’s mom?”
“No clue.” He grunts and I wait for the clang as the barbell hits the posts. “Annie didn’t take it well. She nearly collapsed and begged me to take her to Wheels Up. I dropped her off there and she's promised to call the doctor. She says it’s okay so long as she stays away from any fumes. Judge got her a mask she’s supposed to wear if she goes into the garage but the office should be fine.”
I’m not a fan of Annie working. “Aren’t pregnant women supposed to be at home in their beds?”
“Yeah, you don't want to bring that up with her. If you do then make sure I'm there.”
“So you can back me up?”
“Oh, hell no. I want to watch the explosion.” He laughs.
Okay, so telling Annie to stay home and lie in bed all day isn’t one of my better ideas. “I’ll be in town in about 45 minutes. When are we having church?”
“Before the mash on Friday night.”
“Sounds good.” I lean over to press the end call button when Easy pipes up.
“One more thing. We’re taking Mom out to dinner tonight.”
“Come again?”
He snorts his disgust at the whole thing. “She thought she’d stay with us and so I lied and told her we had too much construction going on. You might want to put a couple paint cans in the guest room just in case. I have a feeling that Annie's going to end up asking her mom to stay with us.”
“Why can’t she stay at Bright’s Motel?”
“I suggested that but the chick was not happy with that idea. My guess is she’ll play the ‘poor me’ routine at dinner and Annie will cave.”
Someone calls his name. “I’ve got to go, but my grandma says that Mrs. Bloom is ‘vain and selfish’ so approach with caution.”
“Do I pretend I'm a friend?”
Easy snorts. “Fuck no, man. We don't hide who we are to no one, least of all Annie's deadbeat mother.”
I hang up and stew for the rest of the ride back to the factory where I trade the delivery truck for my bike. Mrs. Bloom's appearance raises a whole host of questions, not the least of which is why she thinks she's got to stay with her daughter when she hasn’t paid an ounce of attention to her for years.
When I roll up to our house, there’s a powder blue four-door Honda sitting next to the curb. After pulling into the driveway, I watch in my rear view mirror as she steps out of her car. Part of me can appreciate that this is a good-looking woman and that Annie’s going to be a good-looking woman when she’s fifty too, or however old her mom is. But mostly I’m wondering what the hell she's doing casing our house. Has she been parked there all morning?
I park my bike on the cement pad we laid shortly after buying this place. The house was a shit hole when we bought it four years ago. Since then, we’ve put a lot of time and sweat equity into fixing it up. It has a new roof, new siding, and all new appliances and flooring. After convincing Annie to move in, we added on a brand-new bedroom and bathroom to accommodate our new family. One of the existing bedrooms will have to be turned into a nursery. Fuck. A nursery. A big-ass grin spreads over my face. It’s finally sinking in. I’m going to be a dad. My baby is growing in Annie’s belly and after some months we’re going to have a little person in the house. Ho-lee shit.
Maybe I didn’t have any good examples of parenting growing up but I can use that as a guide toward what not to do.
I slide my leg over my bike and amble toward the side door cut into the garage. I can see her closing in but I pretend I don’t and step inside the garage, locking the door behind me. From inside the garage I can hear the doorbell ring. The shrill sound echoes once and then twice as she impatiently presses it again as if I didn’t hear the damn thing the first time.
I take my sweet time hanging up the spare helmet I had to wear since my main one got cracked when I threw it against the wall. I’ll have to get a replacement for that. I stop to get a drink of water in the kitchen and the doorbell rings three and then four times. Impatient cuss, I think. I rinse out my glass and turn it upside down on a towel to air dry and then fina
lly go to the front door. I open it a crack.
“Sorry, no soliciting here.”
“Oh, I’m not selling anything.” She smiles innocently. “I’m Annie’s mom. I heard she lives here.” She tries to peek into the house but my big frame blocks any view. Oh, she’s selling something all right. It might not be good but she wants something from us or Annie.
I don’t know a hell of a lot about Annie’s past other than this woman ran off with another man and had only the barest contact with Annie after she left. Shacking up with another man isn’t where she went wrong; it was not taking Annie with her where she tripped up. The fact she’s trying to claim some kind of relationship now makes me suspicious and disinclined to treat her with any degree of welcome.
“That's nice,” I say in a tone which tells her I think it’s anything but. If Annie were here, I might act differently for Annie’s sake. But she’s not here and all I can think of is that this woman walked away from her daughter and left her in the hands of a man who cared more about his appearance to his congregation than he ever did about his daughter.
“Mind if I come in?” she asks. She flicks her hair back in a move that I’d have said was a come-on if it were done by club ass. Based on what Easy said about her being hooked on her own looks, I’ll chalk it up to habit rather than intentional flirtation. There are some women, no matter what age they are, that just like to kiss ass. She might be one of those.
I want to close the door in her face but decide I better not so I step back and allow her inside. Manners I didn't know I had prompt me to ask her if she wants a drink.
“I’ll take a vodka and orange juice.” She gives me my order and then walks into the living room. Her hand rubs the leather of the couch as if she’s testing to see if it’s real or something.
“We’ve got Dr. Pepper, water and beer.” Dr. Pepper is Annie’s favorite.
“No liquor? How quaint. I’ll take a glass of water then.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh gosh.” She laughs. It sounds like a bird. “Don’t call me ma'am. That makes me feel so old and I’m only a few years older than Annie. Child bride and all, you know. That's how people do it in religious communities. We aren’t allowed to have sex until we’re married so we marry very, very young.”
I scratch my head and then head for the kitchen to get this woman a glass of water. I don’t care how old she is and it’s strange as fuck that she thinks I would.
I stomp back into the living room and hand her the glass of water. She’s settled onto the couch and her short skirt is riding up so high I think her panties are showing. I avert my gaze. If there’s one woman’s cooch I don’t want to see, it would be Annie’s mom. “Nice place you got here. This sofa is really comfortable.”
“We like it,” I say. I don’t tell her why. We like fucking Annie there because one of us can stand behind the back of it and have her suck us off while the other one pounds her in the ass from behind. Or she can ride us, either reverse cowgirl or straight-on doing the same. One in her mouth and the other in her cunt. So, yeah, I like the couch a lot. What I don’t like is the way Annie’s mom is patting the seat as if she wants me to sit next to her. I fold my arms and stand by the entryway.
“I hear that Annie has moved in with you. Is that just a temporary thing while the issues with her father are being worked out?” At my stony response, she hurries to add, “I’m asking because I’m concerned about my daughter.”
“Seems it’s a little late for you to be concerned about her. After all, she’s twenty-three now, not eight.”
She smiles, not at all feeling any shame at leaving her young daughter to go pursue her own jollies. “You never stop worrying about your daughter. Her father kept us apart all these years. After I read about what happened in the newspapers, I had to come down and see how she was, no matter what her father demanded.”
She’s got a full line of bullshit she wants to feed me and it makes sense to just let her spit it all out. I nod for her to continue and she does. “I’ve been out in Seattle and had come back for a visit and I saw the whole sordid story in the paper. It’s been covered extensively in all the city newspapers because it’s so sensational. A small town pastor beating his adult daughter and then being arrested for it.”
Her narration has a sort of sick breathless quality to it as if it’s about strangers, not her own flesh and blood.
“I bet,” is about all I can manage. “Why don’t I fill your glass for you?” I snatch up the barely touched glass and speed into the kitchen needing to get away before I give in to my urge to deck this woman. Shit, I have to be able to do a better job than her at being a parent.
Unfortunately she follows behind me. I dump out the water and then pour her a new glass. When I turn to give it to her, she’s practically up my ass. I take a step to the side and feel a brush of a hand against my groin. Did she just touch my junk? Nah, I must’ve imagined that. Still, I move away and lean against the refrigerator as she walks around inspecting our small kitchen.
“They tell me that Annie’s got two boyfriends and that they all live together in sin. Is that right? That she’s sleeping with both of you? How scandalous!” Her eyes are roving all over me as if she’s measuring me. “How long did you know Annie before you started seeing each other?” she asks, trailing her fingers over the granite counter top.
“A while.” Days, really. Easy saw her first at the library when he was sent in by Judge to make sure some skinheads didn’t hassle his woman, the town librarian. Annie was volunteering. He came back to the club that night and had no interest in the sweet butts strutting around the granary.
He told me he’d found the one. I tried to resist it because I didn’t believe him. Some pastor’s daughter who blushed when he flirted with her was not going to jump into bed with two strangers. He ignored me, gave her his claiming cuff, and that was that. He was right. Not only did she take his claiming cuff, but she wore mine as well.
“I heard that you all barely knew each other. Don’t you think you’re a little too much man for Annie?” She steps toward me—crowds me, really.
“I think Annie’s got it under control."
“Both of you, though? I saw your friend earlier.” She sweeps her hand along the outside of my biceps in an unmistakable caress. “Maybe she could handle one of you, but two? You should think about someone who has a little more experience.”
I push away from the refrigerator and walk to the front door. I wrench it open. “Time for you to go.”
She hesitates but under my unrelenting glare, finally scoots out. She puts a sway in her hips but I slam the door shut immediately. I don’t wait to see if she leaves before jumping in the shower. I don’t want any of her on me when Annie comes home.
Chapter Five
Annie
We take Mom to the Hilltop Cafe. It’s the nicest place to eat around here. On Thursday nights there is a prime rib buffet and the smell of roasted meat actually has my mouth watering.
I hadn’t wanted to leave Wheels Up when Easy showed up at five. Most of the filing had gotten done and I had started studying the product catalog. Judge pushed me out the door and ripped the product catalogs out of my hands claiming that Michigan and Easy would quit the club if I went home with a bunch of automobile repair catalogs.
Easy picked me up, took one look at my pinched face, and suggested that we skip dinner with my mother. I wished I could just turn away and tell her that she had her chance to mother me, but the little girl she walked away from is thrilled she’s back. Which is why I’m sitting across the table from her and the more I look at her, the more I see the resemblance. It’s in the shape of our faces, the small slope of our noses. Her chin is softer than mine and her eyes are bigger, wider and far more blue. She’s a shinier, more refined version of anything that I could be. She didn't look anything like a woman who had lived in a commune.
“So what have you been up to these past years?” Easy asks. He and Mom are the only two talki
ng. I’m tongue tied and Michigan doesn’t want to speak. I’m glad Easy spoke up with the question because it’s one I wanted to ask but I wasn't sure I could get it out without sounding accusatory. Which I'm sure is not the correct way to go about reconnecting.
“Oh, all over. I've been in a commune south of St. Paul but I had a falling out with one of the commune leaders, Keith. He wanted more than I could give to him. But I met this wonderful organic farmer who had come to a seminar at the University of Minnesota about healthy planting and crop rotation and he suggested that I visit him. I helped Paul for a while on his organic farm but after a few years of that I realized that my love for healthy living really didn't extend to mucking out stalls and spreading manure. I moved down to Portland and joined a small group of artists. Very fascinating people, Annie. I’m sure you would find them interesting.”
How would she know? She doesn’t know anything about me. Plus, I eat meat.
“I’ll have the prime rib,” I say mulishly.
“Same.” Michigan hands his menu and mine to the waitress.
“Me too,” Easy replies.
We all look at my mother. “Do you cook your vegetables in butter, because I’m a vegan and I don’t eat butter.”
“Is olive oil okay?”
I wonder if the Hilltop cook has heard of vegans before.
“Olive oil is fine. I’ll take the steamed vegetable platter and a side of pasta cooked in olive oil but only if the pasta doesn’t have eggs in it. If there are eggs in the pasta then I’ll just have the vegetables.”
The waitress looks dazed as she leaves to enter our order. Mom pats her non-existent stomach. “I started on the vegan diet about a year ago and it’s done wonders for my figure as well as my skin. You should think about it, Annie.”
I look down at my stomach which will soon be round and full.
Easy claps his hands together. “Annie’s figure is just fine.”
Michigan grunts his agreement and places two rolls on my plate.