Why was he pursuing her now?
“Come on, sugar,” Roxy declared, slipping her arm through Bailey’s and guiding her toward the escalator that would take them up to the corridor to the parking garage. She was traveling light with nothing but a carryon.
With one, final look around, she nodded and followed her mom.
Twenty minutes later, they were in her mother’s sedan, heading east on I-10 all the way to the 610 split and the St. Bernard Avenue exit. Not much change had taken place in the ten months Bailey had been gone. The new Columbia Parc development that had replaced the old St. Bernard Project in the wake of Katrina was a beautiful testament to the city’s revitalization. Although Roxy went right toward Gentilly instead, Bailey had come this way a lot over the years.
“What’s the doctor saying?” Roxy asked, breaking into Bailey’s thoughts and stopping at the intersection of St. Bernard Avenue, De Saix, and Gentilly Boulevard to wait for the light. It would be a few minutes, thanks to all the different directions of the cars. “How’s the baby? I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother. I’m too young.” Her mom smirked at her and Bailey laughed.
“I’m retaining fluid,” she admitted morosely. “I haven’t been feeling too well. I think because of the medicine.”
Roxy gripped the steering wheel. “Magician knew this and still put you through this bullshit?”
“It’s Mortician, Mom,” Bailey said with a little sniff. “But call him Lucas like I do.”
“I have a few choice words to call him and none are Mortician or Lucas,” Roxy grumbled. “Be happy I’m settled on Magician. The only reason I haven’t gotten my knife and come after him to cut his dick off is your daddy liked him.”
A prime example of why she didn’t make a big deal over situations. “I know—”
“Of course, that was before the motherfucker stuck his dick in you and left you with a baby.”
“He married me, too.”
Roxy sucked her teeth. “Marriage don’t mean shit without the dedication. I should know.”
A bike illegally sped through the intersection and Bailey did a double-take at the man, who rode with a helmet, allowing his dreads to fly free. Her foolish heart sped up and Bailey sagged against the seat. Lucas had ignored all her efforts to make their marriage work when he’d shared a bed with her. It was beyond illogical to think he’d chase her hundreds of miles away to win her back.
The light finally changed and Roxy started off again, leaving Bailey to debate on whether or not she should tell her mom about the bet, too. She doubted her dad had because her mother hadn’t mentioned it.
Not long after crossing N. Broad, they were coming to their street and turning onto it.
Just as they pulled into the driveway, Bailey’s phone rang and Lucas’s name flashed on the screen. She’d had it in her hand the entire time. Now, she squeezed it, wanting to answer it so bad it made her dizzy and she had to draw in a deep breath to clear her vision.
She exited the car and closed the door, leaning against it until the world stopped tilting.
“Bailey, are you okay?”
Her mother’s concerned voice washed over her and Bailey forced herself to nod. The phone vibrated in her hand and her pulse pounded.
Eyes narrowed, Roxy’s lips tightened and she snatched the phone from Bailey. At the moment, Bailey didn’t even care her mother was responding to a text and probably threatening Lucas to within an inch of his life.
“I’m tired, Mom,” she said, reclaiming her phone and stumbling forward. “I’m going to rest and worry about everything else later.”
Mortician slid a bowl of oatmeal to Johnnie, who was resting his head on the bar, demanding another bottle of alcohol. Like a petulant child, he flung the food to the floor. Val snorted and stalked away, while Mortician was an inch from knocking the fuck out of John Boy.
“If not for the limited access thanks to fucking Sharper, every motherfucker around would see your bitch ass falling apart,” he growled. “You picking up that fucking shit. I’ve been watching over you and all you fucking doing is fucking drinking.”
“Come on.” Val’s annoyed voice floated down the hallway and Mortician turned to the monitors.
He blinked. Not quite believing what he saw, he rubbed his eyes. Image didn’t go away. Dumb-as-fuck Val was fucking pulling Meggie by her elbow and…
Reaching the main room, he dragged her next to Johnnie. Her irritation and panic wasn’t a good combination, especially with her not up to par.
“Talk to him, Meggie.”
Glaring over her head as she swayed and grabbed onto the bar, Mortician sent a message of death to Val.
“Sit, Meggie,” Mortician ordered. “You look green. Why the fuck you came out here?”
“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she said on a groan, hanging her head in her hands. “I was asleep and Val’s knock woke me up. The moment I opened the door, he yanked me out of my room.”
Well, that explained why she only wore a nightie and nothing else. “Because he’s a brain dead motherfucker.” Especially given Val’s and Meggie’s history. “Go back to bed before Prez get back from walking with Little Man.”
“She need to talk to John Boy,” Val snapped. “She might be able to get through to him.”
“Go and get my robe then, moron,” Meggie grouched back, throwing him the evil eye, then considering the oatmeal coating the floor near the stool she sat on.
Not saying another word, Val stomped away, returning a moment later with Meggie’s robe. By now, Mortician had placed plain Saltine crackers in front of her, since she’d declined a 7Up. After shrugging into the robe and nibbling a cracker, Meggie leaned her elbow on the bar.
“Kendall loves you, Johnnie,” she said quietly.
“She wouldn’t have left,” he rasped out.
“Sometimes—”
“I don’t want to hear the sometimes bullshit. I’m talking about here and now. The rest of my fucking life. You wouldn’t leave Christopher.”
“Christopher wouldn’t have sent me away,” she countered, not flinching when he sat up, rage blazing in his eyes.
“So this is my fucking fault?” he snarled, his fists tightening.
Mortician rested his elbow on the counter and leaned over, making sure Johnnie remembered his presence. He’d never seen John Boy so on edge, so crazy. Any other time, Mortician would bet his life Johnnie would lay down his own before he laid hands on a woman, especially one of their women, but he’d gone completely off his rocker.
“Answer me, Megan,” he ordered.
Setting the cracker aside, Meggie rested her chin on her palm and shrugged. “Yes.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you right back,” she said tiredly.
Johnnie’s eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up. You need to stand up to Christopher like that,” he spat. “Stay the fuck out of my business.”
“I didn’t want to get into your raggedy business. Val brought me into it. Obviously, they are worried about you.”
“So they pulled Christopher’s dick out of your mouth long enough to grace us with your wonderful knowledge and wisdom about my life.”
Drawing her brows together in a frown, Meggie straightened and studied Johnnie for a moment before jumping from her seat and shoving him right the fuck off the stool. “You’re an ass,” she charged, standing over his groaning ass. “I never would’ve thought that my Johnnie was an abusive drunk. This is your fault. You let Kendall down and you’re still letting her down. If she walks back through that door today, look at who she’ll find. You sent her away when everyone, her entire life, has sent her away. Worst, you asked me to plan her wedding and made it clear you wouldn’t marry her at all if I didn’t.”
Johnnie staggered to his feet, his hurt and shock removing some of the fury. “What did you expect me to do—?”
“Marry her. Stand by her. Fight for her. You engage me in arguments more than you do with Kendall. It’s all come here
, gorgeous. No, gorgeous. Sure, gorgeous. She needs to feel like you actually hear her, and not be someone you cater to because it’s the easiest way out. She wants to matter to you, Johnnie.”
“She does—”
“She wants to see it for herself.”
“How can she if she’s gone?”
“Have you tried to call her?”
Jaw clenching, he glanced away.
Meggie sighed. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Have you?”
“I figured she doesn’t want to hear from me right now,” Meggie admitted. “When she does, she’ll call. You, on the other hand, should text her. Let her know you’re thinking about her. Don’t let pride ruin what you two have.”
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her and, somehow, Mortician recognized the friendliness of it. There was no lust involved. Care? Yes.
“Thanks, Megs,” he whispered, stepping back.
Meggie smiled gently. “You’ve got to stop. Megs is…I’m not Megs to you anymore. I’m Meggie or Megan. When she comes back, you have to leave no doubt in her mind that she’s it for you. Calling me Megs is harmless to us.” She twisted her wedding set and squirmed. “Mostly. You like to piss Christopher off with that nickname.”
“That,” Johnnie admitted, his brow furrowed, confusion in his eyes, “that’s part of it. But we’re friends. You’re Megs to me and—”
“I could be Megs to you if it didn’t cause so much trouble,” she interrupted. “Christopher knows why you say it. Kendall can’t accept it. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t know what that meant either. I’d wonder if you still had feelings for her. It’s a special name for a special place and time that’s gone. I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. Kendall makes you happy, but you have to make her happy, too. You have to listen to her. The way you listened to me. When Christopher left me, you spent almost all your waking hours with me. The lab didn’t matter. The club. Nothing but making me happy.”
“But you weren’t. Just like Kendall wasn’t. And Iona. The only person who’s ever loved me, knew me, is Lo…” He wilted and his whole demeanor changed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” she countered. “Christopher knows you and loves you. You know he does. Better than your pig of a grandfather ever did. Ever wanted to. And I was happy, Johnnie. As much as I could be. But I was already in love with Christopher.” She blushed. “Already pregnant for him. You’re everything Kendall wants, but she has to be everything you want.”
“She is.”
“Then show her the man you showed me. Kendall is gorgeous and smart and tough, but she’s still a woman at heart, Johnnie. She still needs to know her man will drop everything for her if she needs it. When her strength falters that you’ll be there to pick her back up. Hold her up. Be her rock.”
The door opened and Little Man’s babbling filled the air a minute before Prez walked in, his son around his neck. He paused when he saw Meggie. Or her back, since she hadn’t faced him, too busy throwing Val another dirty look. Flipping Little Man over and—kind of—smiling at the child’s squeal, he kept his focus on Meggie.
Sniffing, Meggie turned halfway. “There’s my little potato,” she gushed.
“Mamamamama,” Little Man chanted happily, holding out his arms for Meggie.
Meggie reached for him, scowling at Prez’s glare.
“First of fuckin’ all, you shouldn’t be out of fuckin’ bed. You got two babies in you. Second, I’m thinkin’ you fell and conked your fuckin’ head if you think I’m lettin’ you carry my heavy ass boy. Third—”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“No the fuck I ain’t. Unreasonable your ass, Megan. Battin’ your pussy at me and makin’ me fuck you. Walkin’ the fuck ‘round like you normal. I think you a lyin’ lil’ motherfucker that can’t do without dick cuz Doctor Will ain’t even wantin’ you with one baby in you. Suddenly, she lettin’ you have two in you and my dick on the regular?”
Mortician bit his lip to keep from laughing his ass off.
Meggie just growled in pure frustration. “Christopher—”
“Get the fuck to bed, Megan. Now.”
“I swear you’re going to be in the hospital before me,” she yelled. “I’m going to punch you in your mouth.”
Tightening his hold on Little Man, Prez sniggered. “Hear that, boy? Your Ma threatenin’ your old man? Whatcha gotta say ‘bout that shit?”
Whatever it was, it was a fucking lot because he babbled his little ass off.
“I been hesitatin’ to ask this fuckin’ question, Megan, cuz I ain’t tryin’ to fuck a motherfucker up and it’s just after eight in the mornin’, but what the fuck you doin’ out here? Why the fuck oatmeal on the fuckin’ floor?”
She reached for Little Man again, but instead of allowing her to take him, Prez handed him to Val, ignoring both his son’s whine and Meggie’s, “give me my baby.”
Prez waved Val out of the room, before sweeping Meggie into his arms. “I fuckin’ told you how the fuck things workin’ ‘round this motherfucker while you expectin’ those two lil’ motherfuckers.”
“Omigod, you’re calling our babies names?”
“They ain’t fuckin’ babies to me ‘til they here and you still here, too,” he snapped. “You ain’t listenin’ to a motherfuckin’ thing I say and this shit pissin’ me the fuck off. We gotta go eight fuckin’ months.”
Meggie laid her head on Prez’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “You’ve made love to me. I’ve walked around. I’ve even dressed myself and fed myself and showered. Viola. I’m fine.”
“You still throwin’ the fuck up. You ain’t fuckin’ fine.”
“I love you, Christopher the Grouch.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too, Megan.”
“Can I walk to our room? Please. That’s how I got out here, you know? By walking.”
“No.” He looked at Mortician and Johnnie. “Be right back. Lemme tuck my girl in bed.”
Johnnie rubbed his eyes as Prez disappeared with Meggie. “I need a shower.”
“You also need to fucking sleep.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“No. Red not answering nobody. Not me. Not Chester. And not Bailey.” Of course, he hadn’t spoken to Bailey in three days, so he couldn’t be certain. After leaving him, Bailey wasn’t answering his calls and the couple of texts he’d received hadn’t been from Bailey. For one thing, she’d never called him a little man with dick issues. Even before the responder had identified herself as Bailey’s mother, Mortician had known it wasn’t his wife.
Bailey neva ignor my txts u could b any fuckng mothrfuckr
I’m not any motherfucker. I’m Bailey’s mama. You think K-P would cut your dick off? Try me, Magician.
Mortician
Magician. Mortician. Motherfucker. All the fucking same to me.
Kiss my ass
Oh, no the fuck you didn’t. Did you just tell your wife’s mother to kiss your ass, boy?
Im a grown ass man
You’re going to be a dead ass man if you fuck with my baby again. She left your sorry ass to be around people who love her, so go stand on your head and make faces with your ass on Canal and Royal.
Dnt hav a fuckn clu where the fuck Canal & Royal at
Come to New Orleans and I’ll fucking point you there.
Fuck off
You think you some bad motherfucker? You haven’t seen bad yet. I know Voodoo. I’ll fuck you up. You better ask somebody.
Bitch please wheres Bailey
Wouldn’t you like to know? Who’s the bitch now?
He hadn’t gotten anywhere with Bailey’s mother and had only succeeded in pissing himself off. Later, after he’d cooled off, he’d realized he’d be a stupid motherfucker to get on his mother-in-law’s bad side, given the current state of his relationship with Bailey. He couldn’t be sure how much influence her mother had over her, so he’d backed off and stopped texting alto
gether.
The same bleakness he saw in Johnnie hit him. He missed Bailey so much. The deadline for the bet had come and gone. How fucking anticlimactic. She’d left, so he’d won, since Prez hadn’t told anyone Mortician had conceded. But the victory was hollow and anticlimactic. He’d prefer to have her and Harley. So much so he hadn’t even mentioned the money he was owed. He huffed out a breath. “For what it’s worth, Johnnie, I think you should call her yourself. That might make all the difference to her.”
“Think she’ll answer me?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But if you chase after her, she might start to answer us. Why should she talk to us when all we going to do is tell her shit going to be okay? We not the motherfuckers who know that.”
“I don’t know it, either, fuckhead.”
Mortician rubbed his eyes, unable to believe he and Bailey were truly over, just like he didn’t believe Red and John Boy were over.
“Think about what Meggie said.”
Prez walked out just then and headed to the spot next to Johnnie. “Why the fuck oatmeal still on the fuckin’ floor?”
“I guess because nobody picked it up, Prez,” Mortician answered with a sigh.
He looked between him and John Boy and scowled. “If you two ain’t the saddest lookin’ motherfuckers, I wonder who the fuck is.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out an address and held it out to Johnnie. “That’s where your bitch livin’ at. Riley found her for you. Under that the name of her new psycho doctor. Under that the fuckin’ cell phone number Brooks got for her. He has her old one in his fuckin’ office. I suggest you don’t fuckin’ call from your number, assfuck. When you go to Brooks’ office to pick up your documents, call her from there.”
“What fucking documents?”
“Your marriage license, fuckhead. Shit that’ll give you the fuckin’ right to get her fuckin’ information from motherfuckers who ain’t givin’ it to you otherwise.”
“I couldn’t get anything,” Johnnie said irritably. “She’ll tell everyone we aren’t married.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 202