“Thanks,” I comment when he stands back up.
“Anything for you,” he grins.
Wrapping his arm around my lower back, he curls me to his warm side. Instinctively, I snuggle into him and rest my head on his chest. Reaching into his cut with his free hand, he pulls out and sucker and pops it into his mouth.
“You want?” he offers, and I shake my head.
“Thank you though,” I kiss his muscled chest over the cotton of his navy long sleeved t-shirt.
Once everyone is finished, we head to the salon portion of the upscale spa to get facials and treatments for our hair. Jezebel opts to add a streak of purple through her hair. Pixie has the stylist redo her chunky blue highlights. Dixie adds a thin deep purple streak by her face. And by the end of the day, Pixie convinces me to join the sisters and add a hot pink streak through the side of my blonde hair. I opt to go with semi-permanent just in case I don’t like it. I’ve never done the coloring thing before.
Back in the spa’s white marbled locker room, we undress out of the luxurious terry cloth robes and redress in our street clothes. For me, it is a pair of black maternity pants, a sassy maternity t-shirt, and my black studded flats. Although, I’d much rather stay in the robe. I need to buy myself one for home. They’re too sinful not to own one.
Fully dressed and purse slung over my shoulder, I reach into my bag’s zippered side to check my phone and wait for the rest of the sisters as they get dressed. I have two missed calls and two texts.
Big: Must be no cell reception in the spa. I’m just checkin in. Love you. Give me a call around dinner.
Deke: The girls have decided to adopt Pretzel. He’s been over here since ya left and the girls and him are having a blast. Miss. H told me to tell you she wants a weird eyed doggy for Christmas.
Smiling, I laugh out loud, shaking my head with amusement. Of course Miss. H wants a doggy. What doesn’t that sassy little girl want? Two weeks ago, she wanted a purple pony named Twilight Sparkle. Instead, Bulk bought her an oversized Twilight Sparkle My Little Pony to appease her. It worked for one hot minute.
Ignoring Big’s text, I reply to Deke’s while exiting the spa’s locker room with some of my sisters bringing up the rear.
Me: We can do shared parenting. Happy he’s behaving. Thanks again for watching him.
Meeting up with Gunz in the opulent reception area, my phone buzzes in my hand. I stop next to the leather sofas.
Deke: Don’t thank me. Just have a pleasant weekend. You deserve it. The girls say they miss you. I do too. See ya tomorrow.
“Big textin’ ya?” Jezebel asks, sidling up to my left, clad in her jeans and purple t-shirt.
I look up from my phone and tuck it back into my purse, “No, it’s Deke. Is Miss. H staying with him? I thought Deb was watching the kids?”
Jezebel nods, “She was supposed to, but Deke’s keeping Miss. H and Deb has Gabe.”
“So Deke is watching my dog, his two girls, and Miss. H? That’s a lot to handle.” Biting my inner cheek, I stare straight out of the front windows clutching my purse. That would be a lot for even a woman to deal with. No offense to men, but most of them can’t handle themselves, let alone three girls and a pit bull.
“He’ll be fine, Bink. I know that look. We are not going home so you can help,” Jez comments, watching me like a hawk. I can feel her eyes drilling into the side of my face, and I see her out of the corner of my eye. She knows me too damn well.
I frown. “But that’s a lot.” I know it shouldn’t bother me, but I do worry about Deke. I don’t want him to bite off more than he can chew. He’s had enough to handle with his ex-bitch.
Jezebel shakes her head and places a hand on my shoulder. “He’s a grown ass man. The girls and a dog ain’t gonna break him. And Debbie is there to help if he needs it.”
“But—,”
“No buts,” she sternly cuts me off, and squeezes my shoulder with love. “This is our weekend to relax, not worry.”
Conceding, I sigh, “Fine.”
The remaining stragglers join us in the reception area. It’s time to roll out. Gunz steps out of the front glass doors first and does a quick scan of the bustling street, with his hand tucked under the back of his cut where his gun holster is located. He’s definitely taking these security measures to the extreme.
Waving for us to come out of the spa, Gunz’s hand remains under his cut as we depart. The sisters and I stroll along the sidewalk chatting all the way to the suburban. Gunz brings up the rear, his eyes raptly assessing every passerby as they come. This is going to get old quick.
I slide into the passenger seat, and the girls clamber into the back. Gunz waits until I am secure before he shoots around the front of the suburban, gets in, and swiftly turns the engine over.
“Where to, boss?” I ask Gunz as he merges into traffic.
He reaches across the center console and lays his hand on my belly, “It’s time to feed my girls.”
Awe, grandpa Gunz is too damn sweet for his own good.
Laying my hand over his that’s on my belly, I smile contently as I gaze out of the passenger side window, taking in beauty of the city. I hope he picks out a good place to eat; I’m starving.
Leaving Gunz and Niki to their raucous bathroom time, I write a quick note with the hotel’s pen and sticky notes, telling Gunz where I’m headed so he doesn’t worry, and sit it on the desk. I can’t stand another night of the loud porn show. I need some air, and I’ve got to call Big. It’s already well past dinner, nearing midnight, according to the clock radio on the nightstand between Gunz’s and my bed.
We took much longer at the mom and pop pizzeria Gunz had taken us to then I had anticipated. It was ladies dollar beer night. I’m sure ya know what that means. Four hours later and a slew of wasted sisters barely able to stand, we finally made it back here without injury. Hurray!
Niki, who hadn’t rejoined us, was climbing the walls by the time we returned. She attacked Gunz within minutes of our arrival. They’ve been at it in the bathroom like a bunch of ravenous sex beasts for the last half hour, and I can’t take it anymore.
Slipping out of the hotel room, I quietly pull the door shut behind me. Phone and room key in hand, I make my way down the long gaudy corridor to the elevators. I press the down button and patiently wait, already feeling temporarily relieved leaving Gunz and Niki to their devices.
One person can only handle so much ‘Fuck me harder’ and blissful relief cries before going clinically insane. I know they aren’t meaning to, but it’s like they’re rubbing their unruly and highly kinky sex life in my sexless face. I’ve already got over a month and a half to wait out on top of recovery before I can fuck again. It’s gonna be a long ass time before I’m satisfied.
The fourth elevator bay dings open, and I enter the car. Hitting the lobby button with my thumb, I rest my back against the wall and wait. Eight floors down and I’m exiting the car, one step closer to peace and quiet.
Passing the concierge at the reception desk, I give him a small wave and nod as I head outside. The cool night air soothes me the instant it fills my lungs, and a wave of relief crashes through me. It feels fucking amazing to be out here. I desperately needed this alone time, away from the constant chatter and go-go-go. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters and Gunz but their loud drunken antics tonight was a lot over the top. Between flashing tits, stupid jokes, one sister crying, and a whole lot of other shit, I need to disconnect for a moment.
Out front under the entrance bay, I slide my phone on and call Big.
Phone pressed to my ear, head down watching my feet so I don’t trip, I begin to stroll on the sidewalk that surrounds the perimeter of the hotel.
On the third ring, the call connects.
“Hello?” A velvety feminine voice answers.
What the hell?
I’m stunned into silence, and I stop in my tracks. Pull the phone from my ear I check the display to make sure I called the right number. Yup, it’s Big’s
.
“Hello?” The woman repeats.
Placing the phone back to my ear, I clear my clogged throat. Big better not be up to no good. Don’t jump to conclusions, Bink. Get the facts first. I give myself a weak pep talk and return to my journey around the hotel. Walking will do me some good. Hopefully it works out some of this building anger.
“Is Big there?” I finally speak keeping my tone nonchalant.
“Is this his old lady?” the woman inquires.
How would she know what? The itch to reply like a bitch voraciously claws at my insides. I have to muster all the strength I retain not to reply, ‘Fuck yeah, I am bitch. Now hand him the motherfucking phone.’ Nevertheless I’ve got to stay cool, even if I don’t want to be.
Taking a deep breath through my nose and slowly out my mouth, I reply, “Yes why? Where is he?” There, I sounded smooth. Thank fuck.
She makes a small noise of discomfort, “He’s in the bedroom conducting some business. I just heard his phone ring.”
Something’s not adding up. What kind of business are we talking about here?
“Why are you answering it?! And who—,” I pause to calm my nerves, I’m just about to go off, “are you?” I finish levelly. That was a close one. I just about cussed her up one side and down the other. Answering the prez’s phone ain’t cool at all.
Holding the phone to my shoulder with my ear, I wipe my clammy palms on my pants before grabbing the phone again. I’m already sweating like a whore in a church, and my breathing is erratic. I’m trying not to get worked up and pissed off, but it’s not working. I’m all kinds of bent out of shape. Like Big would say, I need to chill the hell out. And maybe I would if asshole would have picked up his own fucking phone. Or if it wasn’t a chick who answered it. Or maybe all of this wouldn’t be an issue if I trusted the controlling bastard. I don’t - not in the capacity of keepin’ his cock to himself anyhow. He better not be dickin’ some whore, or I’ll murder him and dump the body where nobody can find it. I’m tired of the ‘what ifs.’
“It was sitting on the kitchen counter, and I’m Bridget.”
At least she sounds nice enough. Better than the alternative of dealing with a mouthy, disrespectful bitch. God knows there are plenty of them.
“Well Bridget,” I sigh heavily, “I don’t know who you are, but Big told me to call him.”
“I can relay a message,” she sweetly offers.
Sure, she can. But I don’t trust anybody, sweet or not.
“Are you an old lady?”
“No,” she states like it’s not a big deal. Must be one of those whores who are only there for the fun, not the catch. Good for her. Still not going to give a message to a whore I don’t know though.
“Then no, you can’t relay anything.” Rounding the corner of the hotel, the lampposts in the parking lot safely guide my way.
“The brothers have been busy most of the night,” she explains.
“Are any of them not engaged?” Meaning who isn’t busy fucking, sleeping, or conducting legitimate business.
“Ummmmm,” she pauses, and I listen to her walking to another room. The sounds of rock music and fucking register through the receiver. They’re busy men tonight.
“I think they’re all busy, except someone playing a video game on the couch getting a blowjob from Tammy. Want me to get him for you?”
The woman is very kind. Most club whores wouldn’t care enough to ask, or they would have hung up on me already.
“What does he look like?”
“From here… it looks like he’s got brown hair and a hula girl tattoo.”
Runner. Blech, no thanks.
“Yeah, not him, but thanks. I know ya shouldn’t tell me this, but….can you let me know if Big is fuckin’ someone?” I don’t really want to know the answer, but I have to ask anyhow.
“Is Big the giant brother with long hair and light blue eyes?”
“Yeah, he’s the president.”
“That’s what I thought. Just had to ask. I’m not really sure if he is or not. I wasn’t invited to their private party. I’m too fat,” she sighs sadly. “But two old ladies and three of the whores that I don’t know very well went into one of the bedrooms with him and some of the other brothers.”
Can’t I catch a goddamn break? Seriously? And why isn’t Bridget good enough for the party? She’s probably nicer than the rest of the women there. Fucking men, they’re dogs.
Clenching my jaw and balling a fist at my side, I shake my head in anger. I know I shouldn’t have asked and them going into a room doesn’t actually prove anything. But, fuck, my entire body is riddled with stress, and all it’s telling me is that I got my hopes up for nothing. I’m just a stupid bitch for even believing otherwise. Big is a dog just like the rest of ‘em.
“You okay?” Sympathy pours from her lips.
Just as I am about to reply, a rich male voice interrupts me from behind.
“Ma’am,” the deep whiskey voice drawls.
Startled, I flinch and whip around to face him.
“Ye—,” I barely make it mid-turn when a strange debilitating pain unexpectedly strikes my neck, robbing me of my voice. Before another thought can process in my swirling brain, my body loses all function and I’m plumping to the ground as my world goes inky black.
Easter Sunday, April 20, 2014
My eyes feel like they’ve being held down by lead weights as I pry them marginally open. They immediately slam shut. Moving my tongue in my mouth, it feels like sandpaper. I groan deep in my throat. My body aches everywhere, and my head feels like it’s being split in two by a rusty axe.
Discombobulated, my mind fumbles through hazy thoughts. What the…fuck… happened to me? Where am I? Suddenly, my heart rockets in my chest with recollection. My daughter! Is she alright!? I try to lift my unbearably heavy arms that are stretched above my head. I need to feel my stomach now! They lift only an inch then drop back into the softness of whatever I’m lying on. The texture of something rough digs into my wrists. Dammit, I’m restrained. This can’t be good.
I hear the faint sound of footsteps in the quiet room moving further away. Then the sound of a faucet turning on and off, and more footsteps again as they near. A man’s voice in another room is muffled as he speaks to someone. Somebody bumps the edge of whatever I’m lying on, jostling it. A hard stick like object is stabbed to my dry lips. I scowl at the discomfort and hold my mouth firmly closed, curling my lips inward, teeth clenched together. What the hell do they want with me?
“Open up, Eva, and drink some water. I know you’re awake.”
Oh my motherfucking God! That’s my mother speaking to me. I’m not drinking a damn thing she tries to give me. It’s probably poison. I don’t really care if she kills me, but if I die, Harley dies, and I can’t have that. As if she knows I’m thinking about her, my stomach jerks with a kick, and I instantly relax, letting out a relieved breath through my nose. All the tension in my body melts away, and tears well behind my closed eyes. She’s alive! Harley’s alive.
“Eva,” my mother speaks gently. “Please open up, it’s just water from the tap. You need to wake up to eat and drink something.”
The defiant urge to tell her to rot in hell and fuck off pounds through my veins. But I keep quiet. If she has kidnapped me, there is a reason for it. I’m not really sure I want to find out why right now. Flexing my feet to stretch them, I feel abrasive shackles around my ankles — rope would be my guess. I’ll find out soon enough.
“Eva, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re my daughter. Now please stop being stubborn.” A soft warm finger smoothes the tense creases between my eyes. “Calm down, we need to talk.” The finger continues to rub over the bridge of my nose, my eyebrows, and back again. “You’re not going anywhere for a while, so why don’t you make the best of a bad situation.”
I know she’s trying to be reassuring but all I hear is ‘I’m a lying cunt,’ ‘I’m a kidnapping bitch,’ ‘I hate you and that’s why you’re
here.’ Her soft voice is nothing but nails on a chalkboard to me. Her fingers touching my flesh feel like putrid acid, scorching me wherever she touches. I don’t want her anywhere near me. The last time my mother willingly touched me I was just a child, and even then I don’t remember it. This is her backstabbing, fake, I’m-a-liar voice. It’s not sincere. She wants to talk? Who kidnaps someone and then wants to talk? Nobody. Not unless they want to interrogate you and torture you for information. That’s probably why I’m here. They can try all they want to dig for information, but I got nothing. If she’s going to kill me, she might as well get it over with. I’m not buying into her phony bullshit.
“Eva,” she clips, frustrated. “We have a lot of talking to do before this situation gets ironed out.” She moves the cup and straw from my lips, and I feel her retreat, giving me much needed space to breathe.
Situation ironed out? Those words battle in my pounding brain. There wouldn’t be any sort of situation to fix, if she hadn’t done this to begin with. Big never told me what her threat meant or how it might actually affect me. He never does. He’s always trying to protect me from everything. That’s apparent in the things he did to buy my mother out when I was a child. I can’t imagine what else there would be for him to have to hide. Guess there’s plenty, which is why I’m here. Or maybe she’s just being a manipulative bitch and trying to hold me for ransom. Yes, that’s probably more like it. More money for a daughter she never loved. Pathetic, isn’t it?
As if her getting excommunicated from the Sacred Sinners wasn’t bad enough, she has to go pulling this stunt. Before this, I could see why they protected her. She was my father’s old lady. They’re getting divorced now, and he has no assets to take or children to use as pawns, so she’s up shit creek without a paddle. Everything my father has is technically owned by the Sacred Sinners, not him. The brothers do that with all of their vehicles and other assets to keep money hungry whores like her from getting a cent. I used to find it sorta sexist and disrespectful. Now it makes perfect sense. It protects them from cunts like her.
The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) Page 13