Lucas took her hand in his and kissed it. Not letting her go, he offered her a gentle smile. “Roxy a tough bitch, Bailey. Wherever she at, she fine.”
“She didn’t even tell my grandmother. Suppose she went somewhere to die?”
“I think Roxy went somewhere to come to terms with whatever her doctor telling her. She need to process the shit, before she can put on her brave face to the world.”
Bailey understood what Lucas was saying, but didn’t he know how much she needed to be at her mother’s side at this time?
“This not about you,” he said gruffly, reading her mind. “This about Roxy. I know you need to be there, but what does she need? She the one with the cancer.”
“I don’t even know what type of cancer it is!” she sobbed, the well finally opening. Even after she’d moved away from New Orleans, Bailey had kept in close contact with Roxy. Once she married Lucas and Roxy visited the club, adopting Kendall as her own, she’d practically moved in with Bailey. She was supposed to move in, then she’d just left. Now, Bailey had to accept not only not knowing about her mother’s illness but her location as well. “Mama has never been so selfish!”
Disapproval tightening his mouth, Lucas released her hand. “Peep this, Bailey. You don’t think this the reason right here she disappeared? Your mama got a fucking right to be selfish right now. Know why? This some fucked up ass shit for her. You not a spoiled fucking child. You a grown ass woman with a husband and children. Lay the fuck off Roxanne, man.”
Lucas was so right. Having no argument at her own selfishness, Bailey nodded.
“Roxanne going to resurface when she good and fucking ready.”
“I know.”
“No matter what she facing, we here for her. I’m going to be your strength so you can be hers.”
He always had been and he always would be. Without Lucas, Bailey wasn’t sure how she would’ve gotten through the devastation of her father’s death. With him at her side, she’d conquer any and everything, from the most painful heartache to the greatest success.
“I love you, Lucas.”
Taking her hand again, he pulled her into his lap and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too, pretty girl.”
“Roxanne, if you don’t fucking call Bailey, I’m hunting your ass down and dragging you the fuck back to Hortensia,” Mort snarled, later that afternoon, after he’d gone to Prez. In turn, Outlaw called Riley, who connected them to Roxy. He hadn’t meant to yell at her—she was going through shit herself—but Bailey’s sadness just about killed him.
“You got to find me first, Mort,” Roxy said.
True, that. Maybe, if Prez hadn’t left Mort alone to have a private conversation with his mother-in-law, he might be able to get Roxy to call Bailey. Working with what he had, Mort decided to fake more knowledge than he had. “Riley found you. It’s just a matter of calling him and demanding he tell me where you at.”
“Ever heard of a burner phone?”
Ssssccccrrreeecccchhhh…Roxy had his ass there.
Unable to think of a comeback, Mort scowled at the phone.
“I been hanging around the club for how long?” The weak quality to her voice frightened Mort. “I picked up a trick or two.”
“Roxanne, I’ll give you whatever you ask for if you place one call to Bailey. Fuck, I’ll hand over my entire fortune to you just to stop her from worrying.” He glanced toward the door. “Please.”
Silence, and then a watery laugh. “If I ever doubted how much you love my Bailey, that doubt would be gone,” she said and sniffled. “I don’t want Bailey to see me with the way I’m looking or sounding. You understand that, don’t you? I’m her momma. The last thing I want is my baby’s pity. I already feel less than a woman with all my hair gone and all the weight the steroids making me gain.”
“Fuck, Roxanne, since when you became such a superficial bitch.”
She laughed again. “Who would’ve thought it? Two things I never worried about—what I already had and what I never had. But that’s not important right now. I don’t feel superficial. I just feel stripped of my dignity.”
“Your ass all alone and don’t have nobody to tell you how fucking pretty you are,” he shouted, hating to hear her sadness. Generally, Roxy and Bailey were upbeat, happy women.
If something upset them, Mort always found a way to fix it. Adding Roxanne’s unhappiness to Bailey’s made the situation seem even more unfixable.
“I created a bank account for Bailey, and trusts for Lou and Harley,” he told her, wanting to include her just as he’d started doing when she lived with them. “The will was finally probated.”
“That’s tight, baby. I’m so happy for you.”
Mort hung his head. “Why you not cussing my ass out? How bad off are you?”
“As soon as I feel better, I’m going to cuss you from here to Kingdom Come.”
“You swear?”
“I promise, Magician.” She snickered at the name she’d called him during their first phone conversation when he’d been such a fucking dick to Bailey and Roxanne wanted to cut him. “I’m going to call Bailey. Let her know I’m fine and not to worry.”
“Are you?” he asked, almost dreading the answer.
She sighed. “I will be. I believe that and you better, too.”
“I do. I don’t fuck with you New Orleans girls.”
Ice clinked through the line. “Ice water,” she said, then picked up the conversation again. “We some bad bitches. That’s why Only by Nicki Minaj my anthem.”
“Digger back from his honeymoon. Meggie threw Bunny a cold-ass bachelorette party, complete with a dick-swinging motherfucker Outlaw laid down the rules to.”
“You didn’t?”
“Fuck, no. I know Prez threatened Jax enough for all of us.”
“How’s Kendall?”
“She just got back. Prez was going to kill her for real,” he said, and explained the situation.
“I told her to stop riling that man up. She got a crazy man herself. She want to piss a man off, do it to her own. Lord Jesus, I need to put Kendall over my knee. Wait until I see her.”
“When’s that going to be?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly, sounding like a vulnerable woman, not the touch bitch he knew.
“Me and you didn’t get off on the best start, but you like a mama to me. I already lost my mother too early. I don’t want to lose you.”
“We all have to die, baby. Some of us sooner than others. Don’t mean we want to go.”
“I just…Fight, Roxanne. This might be selfish as fuck for me to say. You not saying if you in pain or where the cancer at. If it’s curable. Nothing. But, fight. Harley wouldn’t know what to do without her glam-ma.” Roxy said she was too young and glamorous to be an ordinary grandmother.
“I’m not saying nothing. I’m scared and I don’t want to jinx myself.”
“Is there anything I can do for you? On the real. Bailey…without you and K-P, I wouldn’t have her. You raised an amazing, smart, beautiful woman who belong to me. What makes her hurt, makes me hurt, too.”
Another sniffle and laugh. “K-P looking down on all of us, smiling. He always thought of you as a son. With the way you treat our Bailey, he’d worship you. K-P loved that child something fierce, and his eyes wouldn’t be big enough to see Harley and Lou. You a fine man, Mortician, more than worthy of Bailey. More than capable of taking care of her with me alive or not.” She released a noisy breath. “Now, let me go and call my baby and talk some sense into her. Bye, Magician.”
Before Mort could get himself together, she’d hung up. Feeling as if the world had upended, he covered his face with his hands.
A few minutes of silence went by before the door opened, and Meggie and John Boy walked in.
Meggie hurried to him. “Are you okay, Mortician?”
He didn’t want her to worry, so he nodded. “Yeah. Just talked to Roxy. She about to call Bailey and you know how difficult Roxanne can
be.”
“Omigod! You talked to Roxy.” Something in his expression made her lean closer. “What’s wrong? Is she…will she be all right?”
“Roxanne always all right,” he answered, getting to his feet. He wouldn’t be responsible for upsetting Meggie and having Prez shoot his ass off.
Meggie drew her brows together.
“What you and Johnnie doing?” he asked, to change the subject, sending a message over Meggie’s head that he hoped Johnnie read. The motherfucker had been silent since they’d walked in. He looked angry, too. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing,” Meggie answered as Johnnie fumed, “two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
“For your wife, moron.”
“No fucking wedding in the fucking known world costs that fucking much. You’re out of your fucking mind, Megan. I’m not giving you that much money for anything.”
“Yes the fuck you is,” Prez snarled from the door. “One, cuz you hollered at my woman. And, two, cuz my woman planning your bitch shit. Cough up the fuckin’ money or take over the shit your-fuckin-self.”
“She won’t even tell me why the fuck she needs all that money, Christopher.”
Meggie snatched her phone from her back pocket and scrolled through, then shoved it in Johnnie’s face. “This is one thing Kendall wants. I found it on this site and it’s on sale.”
Mort looked over Johnnie’s shoulder. “Red want a crown?”
“A thirty-five-thousand-dollar tiara?” Johnnie asked, appalled.
“Yeah, baby, that’s a lotta fuckin’ money. I can save you thirty-four-thousand, nine hundred, ninety-nine dollars and one cent. Just go to the dollar store. Stop this motherfucker from having a fuckin’ fit while still keepin’ Kendall happy.”
“Shut. Up,” Meggie snarled, glaring at Prez, who shrugged.
“Why he gotta write you a check any-fuckin-way? All you gotta do is find what the fuck you need, then bring him the invoices.”
“And go through this every time, Christopher?” Meggie asked in frustration. “Besides, I don’t want him to know about her wedding gown.”
“I’m just askin’,” Prez said, heading to the bar and getting bottles and glasses for them to put on the table. “Motherfucker givin’ you the money like I said.” He poured Johnnie’s drink first. “Look at it this fuckin’ way, with Megan plannin’ it, all the fuck you gotta do is show up at the church.”
“The fittings, too,” she added. “Don’t forget that. All of you.”
Drink halfway to his mouth, Prez paused. “What the fuck you talkin’ about? What fuckin’ fittins?”
Meggie shifted from foot-to-foot. “For the tuxedos,” she mumbled.
“Come fuckin’ again.”
Yeah, come fucking again? “Aww, Meggie girl, you shitting me,” Mort complained.
“I ain’t gettin’ into no fuckin’ monkey suit, Megan. No. Fuck no. Hell no.”
“But—”
“No. Case fuckin’ closed. Only bitch I wore that shit for was you. I especially ain’t wearin’ a fuckin’ monkey suit for Kendall.”
“Please, Christopher. She wants a traditional wedding.”
“Don’t give a fuck. Understand? So shut the fuck up.”
Through with begging, Meggie narrowed her eyes. “Really, Christopher?”
“Yeah, really. Fuck all you doin’ changin’ my mind.”
Meggie drew herself up. “I see,” she said with a sniff, then turned to Johnnie. “Please deposit the money into my account. I’ll get started paying for everything tomorrow. I’m heading home, Christopher. I’ll see you there.”
“Meggie girl pissed,” Mort said after she stalked out, throwing death glares to Prez. He bypassed the glass and swallowed his vodka straight from the bottle.
“Can you talk to her about this money?” Johnnie asked when Outlaw didn’t respond to Mort.
“Nope. Take it from me, weddins expensive as fuck.”
“Maybe, when Roxanne heal up, I can marry Bailey in a church ceremony. Do like a big celebration,” Mort said, thinking aloud, the momentary diversion of Meggie interacting with Outlaw and John Boy gone.
“Don’t put yourself through this shit if you don’t need to,” Johnnie grumbled.
“You don’t need to, motherfucker,” Mort responded.
“I do. She told Megan the type of wedding she wanted at Bunny’s wedding. Once I heard what Kendall wanted, I couldn’t not do it. I love her too much.”
Mort couldn’t say a fucking thing. If Bailey wanted the stars, he’d find a way to get them for her, so he leaned back and drank from his bottle. “I feel you, brother.”
That shit said it all.
Dropping her towel, Zoann glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror, wondering how Matthew would like her bald pussy. She didn’t know why she’d decided now was the time to shave off her pubic hair that made him call her Puff.
She studied herself, focused on the grooves and indentations of the scars Cee Cee had left behind. Maybe, she did know. Maybe, it boiled down to simply being time to stop hiding behind…hair. That wasn’t to say this would be her brand new style. Nine times out of ten, she’d return to her neat bush.
But Kendall exposing her rape to Fee brought it back to Zoann, too. She’d moved on with her life, except with this. This was the last hurdle she faced. At one time, the sight of her damaged skin would’ve sent her into a tailspin. Not now. Never again.
She had her children to raise and the love of a good man. She also had a business to run and a cousin-in-law to keep in line.
Smiling, she picked up the phone and saw that she’d missed a call from Christie. He’d sent her a text instead.
Everything in place
Her reflective mood changed to excitement. Thank you for your help, she texted back. Val needs this.
At least she believed he did. Later, she’d strip for her and ask his opinion of her new look. Right now, she had a date at a graveyard.
Val walked through the wrought iron gate, wondering why the fuck Puff sent him a text message, telling him to meet her at the cemetery, of all fucking places. Not the best fucking place for a date, or whatever the fuck she’d label this.
In the distance, he saw the black granite rising from a grassy knoll. Recently added flowers and a bench kept Boss’ grave company. Although Meggie’s old man didn’t rest in the grave, K-P, Arrow, and Mort’s son, Tyler were, as was Kendall’s little sister, Carolyn. Outlaw’s second son, Patrick, was interred with his grandmothers, Patricia and Dinah. Outlaw’s sisters and nieces were in surrounding graves and…A lone figure kneeled in front of the grave where Patricia, Dinah, and Patrick were.
Puff.
Val wondered how often she visited. As far as he knew, she hadn’t returned since her sisters and nieces had been buried last year. Which made her request to have him come there even more odd.
Detecting his presence, she looked in his direction. The wind lifted her chestnut colored hair, her beauty sucker-punching Val as always. Every time he looked at her, he felt like the luckiest motherfucker on earth. Always had and always would. She’d been through hell, but never stopped loving him.
Deep within her, she’d retained a certain innocence and an innate belief in him.
“Hey, Puff,” he greeted as he reached her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her wet cheeks.
Tears made the flecks of gold in her whiskey-hued eyes gleam brighter.
“I miss Mama so much,” she said. “She never met her grandchildren, Matthew.”
“I don’t agree,” he said gruffly. “Just like I think my mother has met our boys.”
He didn’t often think of his mom, dead now for two decades. Sometimes, though, he’d watch his sons as they slept, see their laughter, and tell himself Ryan and Devon laughed with angels—words he remembered his mother saying to him.
Strange how the mind worked, sometimes, and clung to sweet memories. Val couldn’t even call it a defense mechanism. It wasn’t until his ch
ildren had been born that he’d recalled those words.
“You still miss her,” Zoann guessed.
“Wrong, babe. I still think of her, but I stopped missing her years ago.” After killing her, Val’s father took her body away and never revealed its location, taking that secret to his grave. “I wish I’d discovered where he buried her.”
Getting control of herself, Zoann nodded. “That’s why I asked you to come here.”
Val frowned. “What’re you talking about?”
“Come with me.”
“Cemeteries not my favorite fucking place, Puff. Where are we going?”
“Come with me,” she repeated, sidling a scowl at him. Without giving him a chance to respond, she sashayed ahead of him, toward Big Joe’s obelisk.
As she walked up the hill, Val admired the way her jeans hugged her ass. Her hips flared out, then curved into slender thighs. So busy lusting after his wife, he didn’t notice her stopping, and ran right into her.
“Sorry, babe,” he told her, grabbing her arms to steady her.
Turning in his arms, she smiled up at him, then caressed his jaw. The feel of her touch ignited his blood and he leaned into her touch.
“I think about my mother from time-to-time, Matthew,” she started. “When I want to talk to her, I have a place to visit her. You’ve never had that.”
“I accepted it a long time ago.”
“I can’t give you her, but I can give you this.” She dropped her hand and stepped aside, pointing to a granite stone.
It read, Davita Raylene Taylor, 1966-1996, Finally at Peace.
Val stared at the words, his heart beating fast and hard. He’d known his mother was gone. He’d watched his father slit her throat, but he’d never allowed himself to mourn. Not really. He’d never had the luxury of having a refuge to grieve. Every time he thought of her, he felt as if he had to keep it all in. Bottle it all up.
Knowing of his addiction to sex, and the reasons for it, he often wondered if he should miss her or feel any sorrow. Even Zoann blamed his parents for introducing him to porn as a child. And yet…yet…
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 368