by Tara Oakes
A family.
Even if it’s a family that’s gonna be fuckin’ late.
“Babe, I swear, I’m comin’ up there and carrying you down myself.” I have every intention of doing it, too, and step on the first stair. The old wooden plan creaks under foot loudly and I know she hears it.
“Don’t you dare! I said I’m coming! You try finding something to wear that fits when you’ve got watermelons on your chest,” she’s getting frustrated.
I laugh and retreat down the stair. “But I love those watermelons!”
She’s early enough in the pregnancy where her body isn’t changing all that much except for her boobs. It’s like Christmas every night when I come home and look to see how much bigger they’ve gotten.
I’ve always been a boob guy, and Angel never disappointed, having a good handful to keep me occupied. Now though, I can’t get enough of them.
“Fine!” She angrily stomps out into the upstairs hallway where I can get a peek. “Happy?”
I know better than to answer that question. There’s only one acceptable thing to say right now and I better get to it before those crazy hormones of hers catch wind that I haven’t,
“You look beautiful.” When she reaches the third to last step, I lean in, holding onto the banister, and kiss her belly.
Her hand holds my head gently, thumb caressing the scruffy hairs that cover my cheek. She loves it when I dote on her like this. Must be those hormones again.
I look up and she’s smiling down at me, all traces of her frenzied last few minutes gone. She’s in a long white button-down shirt that skims her sides perfectly, even though the fabric is stretching around the top regardless of the four buttons that are undone to allow for more slack.
There’s some sort of tank top on underneath, covering the swollen mounds from popping out completely.
Not being able to resist the chance, I place one sweet kiss on each of them before burying my chin in the center, letting it fall into the tightly squeezed cleavage.
“You know these things never start on time. We could get one in before leaving…”
Angel smacks my head away in mock disgust. “Pig.”
“Oink, oink baby. I am completely serious, though. We don’t even have to make it upstairs. Could do it right here. No one’s home,” I wink.
There’s a flash in her eyes and I know she’s contemplating the offer. For a second, anyway. “It took me almost ten minutes to get into these skinny jeans. I’m not getting out of them until I have to. Probably won’t be able to wear them again for another year or so.”
My eyes drop down to the dark blue denim that’s nearly painted on her body. I feel my dick jump in my boxers. Every single curve is being displayed and I want them.
“I’ll give you an I.O.U. for later, though.” She manages to slink past me where I’m hanging my head in defeat. “I’ll even let you take the jeans off so I don’t have to.”
I perk up. That could work.
There’s a rummaging sound as she grabs her handbag from the hallway table near the door. “Let’s go. I want to get good seats.”
It doesn’t matter what time we get there. The best seats in the house will be waiting front and center. One of the perks of being President. And, I’m highly confident that the show won’t start until after my ass is planted in that folding chair, regardless of how late we are.
~*~
Trixie’s Tiny Tots Nursery School is in a white house not far from Trix and Uno’s own home a few blocks away. The home was a foreclosure that was boarded up for years, decaying and rotting away when Uno first came to me with the idea of opening up a nursery school for his wife to run.
All it took was some clever maneuvering with the bank to pay up the past due taxes and whatever was left on the abandoned mortgage, and the place was ours. Well, technically, according to the County of Riverdale, the building is owned by an LLC that we created as a front to keep the place separate from all of our other businesses.
This way, God forbid we get wrapped up in some legal shit, the nursery school has no direct ties to us and won’t be touched. That’s the theory, anyway although Trixie’s livelihood was threatened not all that long ago anyway.
The Conquistadors had made a bold move back before the change of command, back when Caterina’s Pop was running things and he was trying to put pressure on me. Next thing we knew, Trix was getting a letter from the state that her license had lapsed and they were ordering the business closed.
Sure, we got everything sorted to a degree, and got the Cartel to back off with a little bit of persuasive leverage of our own.
That leverage was none other than Caterina Jimenez.
Taking her hostage was the best idea I could come up with at the time and it worked out better than any of us could have wanted. Especially for Chase, my Enforcer. He was the lucky bastard to get stuck guarding her. It may have been a case of dangerous attraction at first, with her all but maiming him while trying to escape, but it ended up well enough.
The club helped her out by getting rid of her Pop, who, it had turned out, was even more of an evil bastard than we had given him credit for. In his place, with our assistance, her cousin Mateo was propped up as the new Cartel leader.
And after all was said and done, Cat and Chase found some crazy connection and have been inseparable ever since.
As part of the deal struck with Mateo and the Cartel, Caterina stays here, in Riverdale, as assurance that they are holding up to their end of the bargain. They become our new supplier of illegal pharmaceuticals and we call a cease fire with them.
That’s the watered down version of our agreement, although it’s much more involved.
Stitch’s parole is tied in to our peace treaty, and so is Uno and Trixie’s daycare, although that one is more of an implied threat. If they can pull the shit they did with the state licensing board once, then I know they can do it again.
It’s one thing to go after our club, and our own businesses. But, there’s a code, one they apparently don’t follow.
You don’t go after families.
The second they did that the first time, I knew we weren’t playing by any of the regular rules. This shit is gorilla warfare. All bets are off. Anything is fair game.
And that scares the shit outta me.
For the first time in a real long time, I’ve got shit to lose.
Shit that I’d kill to protect. People that I’ve already killed to protect.
Thanks to the Cartel’s pressure in our now ended war, Sasha’s biological pop, or sperm donor, showed up at my door and threatened to take his kid away. Sure he was a junkie. Sure, he was a dirt bag. But, he was her legal parent, and knowing how fucked up the court system is, I wouldn’t have put it past them to rip Sasha away from the only loving parent she’s ever known, my Ol’ lady, and put the kid right into the arms of a derelict piece of scum.
I wasn’t going to take that chance. I did what I had to do.
With that dead beat now buried under six feet of dirt, there’s no way my woman will know the pain of having the child she raised as her own being taken from her.
“Over there,” Angel waves to Caterina as soon as we enter the main room of the nursery school that has been transformed on the cheap to resemble an auditorium.
Rows of metal folding chairs are lined up, filled with plenty of parents ready to watch their kids prance around on stage in some sort of costume. That stage being a wooden platform at the front of the room hidden behind a curtain on a drawstring.
I won’t lie, I’ve never been a fan of these things even though we turn out every year to support Trix and the kids. This year? This year’s different, though. This year, Sasha’s gonna be up on that stage wearing the pink fairy princess costume that Angel’s been working on all week.
I’ve got my phone ready to take an obscene amount of pictures and act just like every one of these parents that I’ve silently mocked over the years for doing the same thing with their own kids.
“Hey, D! Can I bust your balls now for being late?” Stitch calls out over Chase’s head from two rows behind from where we take our waiting seats.
Angel takes the seat closest to Cat. The two of them have gotten close lately. Caterina is gonna start med school next year, so I guess the two of them have a lot to talk about with the baby coming and all.
Angel’s read a million books, articles and whatever she can find on the topic. Having Cat, who’s essentially a walking medical textbook around, is like crack for her.
“Where’s Baby?” I ask Stitch over my shoulder as I take my place next to my woman.
“Home with the kid. Colic. What the fuck is Colic, anyway?”
Damned if I know. I shrug my shoulders. “Some sort of rash or something?” I take a guess.
Stitch laughs loud enough for others in the audience to turn. “I don’t know what it is, but it ain’t no rash. You two live it up now while you can. You’re in for a rude awakening when it’s your turn.”
Angel’s eyes open wide, round and horrified.
Great! Now this is gonna give her somethin’ else to worry about, adding to the long list she already obsesses over. Stitch and his big mouth.
I take my woman’s hand in mine and squeeze. “Don’t even worry ‘bout it, babe. The kid’s gonna be just like me. Just stick a tit in his mouth and he’s happier than a drunk with a bottle of vodka. Trust me.”
“Shhh!” A loud whispered voice calls out in our general direction from back toward the rear of the crowd.
What the fuck? Hell, no.
Clenching my jaw to make it pop the way I know looks most intimidating, I turn my head just enough to show the person that I’m addressing them. I point my finger toward him in silent warning.
His face blanches. His eyes freeze. The woman sitting next to him, I’m guessing she’s his wife hits his shoulder, not liking the attention he’s earned them. My message is read loud and clear.
He sits back and stares forward to the stage curtain and shuts his fuckin’ mouth.
And I didn’t even have to say one word to get him to do it.
Haven’t lost my touch.
~*~
Applause breaks out for the second time, demanding an encore of the pint-sized cast. They file out in a single line to the middle of the stage, link hands together and bow over and over again.
Whistles break out in the crowd. Cameras flash. People wave.
Another year, another successful show by Trix and her crew.
When the woman herself finally takes the stage Uno rushes up to give her a huge bouquet of roses. She blushes and accepts them with a kiss, just like she does every year.
Atta boy. He’s definitely gonna get some tonight for this. I mean, roses are pretty much a guaranteed blow job at the very least.
“Thank you so much for coming to our little production to support your sons and daughters that have worked so hard in preparing this for you.” Trix’s speech doesn’t change much year to year, but it don’t matter. It’s sincere. “I want to thank all the parents for all your hard work in making the costumes and sets. I also want to remind you that this weekend is our fundraiser carnival to help raise scholarships to cover tuition costs for children next year. Please remember to buy your tickets at the door on your way out and we’ll see you then. Now, let’s give one last round of applause for our little actors before we enjoy some refreshments made by some very generous parents.”
Sasha beams with a wide grin waving to us as if she were accepting an Oscar. For the last couple of weeks she’s been reciting her few lines over and over again around the house, terrified she’d make a mistake.
I’ve been helping her with her part to the point where I knew the entire play by heart already and even found myself mouthing along to the dialogue as she spoke her part. She got every single word right. Perfect. Just like I knew she would.
“Dawson!” Sasha leaps off the stage just as they are collectively dismissed by their teacher and runs into my arms. “I did it! Did you see? No mistakes!”
I laugh as I scoop her up high. “I saw! I told you you could do it! We’re so proud of you!”
Angel reaches up to remove Sasha’s princess crown.
“No! I want to leave it on! I’m a princess!” She swats Angel’s hand away.
We’ve come to learn which battles are worth fighting with this little girl. And this one, is definitely not one either of us are willing to push. It’s late. She hasn’t gotten much of a nap on these days, with all the rehearsing they’ve been doing.
She’s just about ready for a meltdown now that all the excitement is about to wind down. Angel nods to me, admitting defeat. If Sasha wants to be a princess for the rest of the night, then she’s gonna be a princess.
“Sasha!” A similar dressed little girl around Sasha’s age comes running up to us dragging who I’m guessing is her mother by the hand. “Mommy! This is Sasha. My friend.”
The straight-laced looking woman trying to keep up with her precocious child begins to slow down as they approach.
“Hi Abby!” Sasha wiggles out of my arms and lands on the ground with barely any effort before running to her little friend.
The two of them begin to giggle and share notes on how nervous they were during the play.
“Hello. I’m Abigail’s mother, Laura. You must be Sasha’s parents?” The woman is older than Angel by nearly a decade.
Angel looks to me out of instinct and I know it’s because she doesn’t know how to answer the question. She’s Sasha’s aunt and I’m her man. That doesn’t exactly have a place in the cookie cutter storybook version of the kind of family this woman obviously appears to have, with her pearl necklace and grandma looking shoes.
“Uhm. I’m, uh,” Angel isn’t the type to stumble on her words. Ever. In fact, she’s the type to ram them down your throat if she feels she needs to.
I know what she’s got to be feeling right now. Sasha is young enough where she hasn’t come in contact with any of these Stepford moms before. It’s just feeding into any insecurities she already has about losing Sasha one day.
“Yes. We’re Sasha’s parents. I’m Dawson. This is Molly,” I use Angel’s real name, the one most everyone not in the MC calls her.
“Very nice to meet you Molly. Your daughter is just terrific. I know she and Abby would just love to have a play date. Let’s set something up soon,” she smiles. “Abigail? Come now. We need to find your father and your brother.”
Nodding to each of us, the woman leads her daughter off.
“Why did you say that? Tell her that?” Angel whispers in my ear so that Sasha doesn’t overhear.
I wrap my arm around her waist. “You love her like she were your own kid. So do I. We take care of her when she’s sick, we make the costumes for her play, help her memorize the lines, know when she’s about to have a tantrum, put her to bed every morning, argue with her about brushing her teeth… Face it, babe. We are her parents.”
“I want ice cream!” Sasha wiggles her way in between Angel and I. “Miss Trixie said we could have ice cream!”
I can’t let the opportunity pass. “And we are the ones who will have to deal with her sugar high when she eats ice cream. That makes us her parents in my book.”
CHAPTER FOUR
MOLLY
“Babe,” I wiggle my way into the tight knit group of bikers standing in a sort of huddle in the corner of the makeshift auditorium. “Sasha’s out cold. I’m gonna take her home.”
Although she was bouncing off the walls no less than twenty minutes ago, my niece is now dead weight in my arms. I can hear her gentle, even breathing on my shoulder and know she’s sleeping with her mouth open just like she always does.
Dawson is mid-laugh with his men, coffee in hand, but turns to me. “Yeah? Okay.”
He moves from his perch against the wood paneled wall and rummages deep in his pocket for the keys. “No. You stay,” I stop him. “Cat’s gonna drop us off. I’ll put her,�
� I chin toward Sasha, “to bed and then take a bath. You guys have fun and I’ll see you when you get home.”
Dawson’s been home more than usual lately and I haven’t had a night to myself in weeks. I’ve been daydreaming about this bath for days now.
“If you’re sure?” He asks, feeling out the situation. I’ve never passed up an opportunity to spend time together.
I shift the little girl dressed as a princess in my arms and stand on my toes to reach his cheek. “I’m sure. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Uno moves aside Sasha’s falling crown for me before it topples to the floor. “She did real good tonight, Angel. You two should be proud.”
Sasha stole the show, just like the little ham she is.
“Hey Angel,” Gryff holds up a paper plate. “The cake’s damn good.”
All of the refreshments laid out buffet style were either baked or bought by the parents. I’m not much of a baker, but my Aunt Nelly’s pineapple upside down cake is always a hit. I even let Sasha put the cherries on it.
“Good. Go eat another piece so there’s none left for Dawson to bring home. He already ate an entire cake last night.” I bust my man’s chops a little more in front of his brothers.
I had made two cakes, one for the show tonight and one for the house. Well… I guess when you have a two hundred and thirty-pound biker looking for a snack at night, he doesn’t really get the whole concept of moderation.
“You stole cake from a pregnant chick?” Esè gasps. “Man, that’s cold.”
I smile smugly. “That’s okay. He’s gonna pay for it.”
Dawson reaches around and cups my ass. “Baby that’s one bill I don’t mind payin’.”
~*~
Caterina is flipping through a magazine on the kitchen island by the time I tiptoe down the stairs.
“She’s out,” I give the update on Sasha. “Want some wine?”
Cat’s eyes look up from behind the gossip rag. “Uhm. You serious?”
I nod and bounce my way over to the small wine fridge under the cabinet. “Yup. I’m going to enjoy watching you drink it for the both of us. White?”