Holy shit, this is good.
I nodded my head and raised my cup, “Holy shit, this is good.”
“So…” she said as she studied her cup of frozen beverage.
Talking to Jennifer about it would be easier than talking to Biscuit or my parents. I figured if nothing else, discussing it with her would provide me with a little experience. Beginning the conversation, however, is always the hardest part.
“I’m pregnant,” I sighed.
“Excuse me? I thought you said you were pregnant,” she responded.
I nodded my head, “I am.”
She leaned forward in her seat - almost off the front edge. She lowered her hands between her knees as her eyes widened drastically.
“Holy shit, what are you going to do?” she asked, “What’s Biscuit or whatever his name is going to say?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. And before you go ballistic, let me finish,” I said.
“Okay,” she sighed.
“It’s Kyle’s. From when he came over and all but raped me that night after he got arrested. Remember me telling you about that?” I asked.
“Oh my God,” she gasped as she covered her mouth.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered.
I gazed down at the floor and began to explain my intentions. “I’ve already told Kyle. I’m going to do the only thing I can do. We’re getting back together. I’m not going to raise this baby in a fatherless home. I can’t do that to him or her. We’ll just have to work out our differences.”
“It’ll never work Kat. I hate to say it, but you and I both know it won’t work. He’s mean, abusive, and violent. He’s a douchebag, I’m sorry. He needs help, and it’s not help you can provide,” she paused and sat up in her chair.
I raised my hand and held it between us, “Please. Don’t say that. I’ve decided it’s what’s right. And, no matter how difficult it is, I’m going to do it. For the baby. Maybe he’ll change once the baby is born.”
“Maybe,” she shrugged, “But I doubt it. I’m sorry, but I hate him. You’re better than that. And what about your parents? Told them yet?”
I shifted my gaze from her toward the floor. As my eyes went unfocused, I began to speak, “Well, that’s an entirely different issue. My father will be pissed. Truthfully, he’ll probably be glad it’s Kyle’s and not Biscuit’s. He doesn’t know how violent Kyle was, by the way.”
“And Biscuit?” she asked.
“Dalton. His name is Dalton,” I said as I shifted my eyes to meet hers, “Here’s what sucks. I love him, Jen. I really do. I know it’s going to seem weird to you, but I love Dalton, and I’m going to be with Kyle, and I can’t…I can’t…”
And that was it. The pain in my heart was unbelievable.
I began to blubber, crying uncontrollably. The thought of Dalton not being in my life was one I didn’t want to think of, but it was all I could think about. Being with Kyle was going to be torturous at best, but it was what had to happen, like it or not, for the baby.
“Kat, it’ll all be fine. It will,” Jen said as she placed her hand on my knee.
I continued to cry, alternating my eyes from the floor to Jen, “I’ll never…I’ll never be able…”
“I won’t be able to…see him…and it’s going…it’s going to hurt,” I blubbered.
I was a lot of things, but one thing I wasn’t was a cheater. If I was going to be with Kyle, there was no way I could ever see Dalton again – or talk to him. It wouldn’t be fair to Kyle, me, the relationship, or the baby. I was going to have to cut ties to him in any and all respects. Realizing it caused me pain that was over and above any pain Kyle ever caused me.
Because my heart belonged to Dalton.
BISCUIT
It’s never too late to change. I’d heard people say that phrase, from time to time, for my entire life. I’d heard it so many times I had actually begun to believe it. Like almost everything else do-gooders say, it was false. Luxuries most men and women of this earth are afforded don’t apply to me. The rules don’t apply to me.
Because I am a Sinner.
Sinner Forever, Forever a Sinner.
She glanced down at her feet, crying. I didn’t know whether to hug her, tell her to kick rocks, or stare up at the sky and scream. I felt like life was a great big lie. For the first time in my life I cared for a woman - actually liked her - yet keeping her was out of my control.
What upset me more than anything was my knowing the child was going to be brought up in an environment no different than the one I grew up in. A life exposed to violence between his or her parent’s would do to the child what was done to me. Nothing good would come of an upbringing in such an environment. In fact, it would cause permanent damage to the child, and its ability to discern right from wrong – regarding violence – when it was an adult.
“So that’s it? The decision’s made?” I asked as I kicked my boot against the grass, digging a small hole with my foot as I did so.
She nodded her head and wiped the tears from her eyes, “I’m sorry. I can’t…”
She turned away.
“And we’re not going to talk to each other?” I shrugged as I shifted my eyes upward.
She turned to face me and wiped the tears from her face, “I’m sorry…”
I’d never been in love, and I knew nothing about it. I couldn’t say whether what I felt for Kat was love or something else, but I knew the pain I felt from thinking about never seeing her or talking to her again was greater than any pain I had ever felt in my life – and I had my fair share of pain in my days.
“Alright. I’ll respect that. Kat,” I paused not quite knowing what to say, especially if it was going to be my last words with her.
“Yeah,” she said.
Her voice was dry and full of emotion.
I raised my hand to my beard and caressed it in my hand, “What we had was real. I want you to know that.”
“I love you, Dalton,” she said.
And she turned and walked away.
BISCUIT
In the week following Kat’s departure, my life had gone into a whirlwind of activities, none of which were good. I’d spent all seven days drunk, depressed, and in pain. The club found out a fully patched member was an undercover ATF agent, and it was all I could do not to kill him. In the end, we decided to make a deal with him, giving him a chance to live – as long as he didn’t testify against us.
My knee jerk reaction upon learning we had been infiltrated by the ATF was to kill the agent. After learning he had a wife, kids, and a desire to right what we believed was wrong, I didn’t go soft, but I considered things I never would have thought I’d consider in the past. Still uncertain if our decision was in the club’s best interest, I spent my days wallowing in the pain of living life without the woman I desperately wanted to share my days with.
“You need to sober the fuck up, Brother,” Axton said.
“Ain’t drunk now,” I shrugged.
“It’s eight o’clock in the morning, I’d sure as fuck hope not,” he responded.
“I can’t convince myself that killin’ Gunner wasn’t the right choice. Lettin’ that fucker walk was wrong. He was gonna have us all doin’ time in club fed if he had any say,” I said as I stood.
Axton crossed his arms and flexed his biceps as he narrowed his eyes slightly.
“We’ve been over this every day for a god damned week,” he growled, “I don’t like it, but it was our only choice. Killing him would have had the ATF in here in a matter of fucking minutes. As soon as he didn’t report in, they’d have come looking for him. Talking about it makes me think of it, and I’m done with both. How about don’t fucking bring it up again?”
I cleared my throat and shook my head as I shifted my eyes to the door, “It’s eatin’ on me, Boss.”
“I’ve got some news for you. What’s eating on you is the girl, not Gunner,” Axton sighed.
I glanced toward Axton, some
what surprised with his statement. Slightly embarrassed, but fully understanding Axton wouldn’t embarrass me further or poke fun at me like the other fellas might, I responded honestly.
“Bein’ honest, it’s a little of both,” I shrugged.
“Well, from what you told me, there’s no changing it. She’s going to try and make things work with that kid. You need to respect that,” he said as he uncrossed his arms and turned his palms upward.
I fixed my eyes on his for a long minute and eventually shifted them toward the tips of my boots. As I studied my scuffed up boots, I responded the best I felt I was able.
“You know, when my iPod fucks up, or when my air ride fucks up, most times I can smack the fuck out of it and fix it. Just hit it real hard one time, and whatever’s fucked up fixes itself. I wish I could smack this deal and fix it, Boss,” I said under my breath.
“Everything happens for a reason, Brother. Can’t say I know what the reason is behind this one, but there is one. It’ll make you stronger or it’ll kill you,” he said as he approached me.
He wrapped his right arm around my back and pulled me in for a bro hug. As he slapped his hand against my back, he continued.
“It just depends on whether you choose to accept it, or let it eat you up. Let’s lock this fucker up and go for a ride. We can go see if Jack and Toad are done cutting the grass. If they’re done, maybe we’ll all go for a ride out to Benton and have a little late breakfast, how’s that?” he asked.
“Sounds good,” I responded.
“Hell, maybe you’ll meet someone out there,” he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the door.
The thought of any woman in my life other than Kat was unthinkable. Not only was I in pain from not having her in my life, I felt terrible for all of the women I had wasted my time with, wondering if I wasn’t busy with them if it would have been possible to meet Kat sooner, before she got pregnant, changing the outcome of my life, her life, and the life of the child.
“Don’t wanna meet someone. Don’t care to ever meet another woman as long as I live, Boss,” I seethed.
“We’ll see how long that feeling lasts,” he chuckled.
I followed him through the door and into the shop without speaking. There was no need for me to respond. Hell, if I did, he wouldn’t believe me.
I was done.
I needed to change the plate on the back of my bike to ROF.
Ride or Fight.
Those were the only two options left.
And I was ready to do both.
KAT
Trying to accept Kyle as my partner in life wasn’t something that was easy to do. To agree to have him as my husband or even significant other was almost impossible for me. Although in the last week we had taken the time to discuss marriage, the thought of it was repulsive to me and it would be nothing more than a shotgun marriage and I knew it.
On a nightly basis I prayed for the ability to forgive him for his past actions, and accept him as not only the father of our child, but my lover. As much as I wanted everything to work between us, I had accepted that I would be living my life feeling alone and in love with someone I would more than likely never see again. So far, I had not made love to him, and spent my time thinking of Dalton, and making excuses for not being able to make love to Kyle. My heart belonged to Dalton.
And it hurt.
Realizing I was doing this not for myself, but for my child, allowed me to understand the bond a mother has with her child, even if unborn. Some of the decisions I’d seen young mother’s make in the past - wondering all the while why they made them - began to make perfect sense.
We sacrifice ourselves for the sake of our children.
And my sacrifice was huge.
Gazing out into the living room as Kyle drank a beer I proceeded with cooking our dinner. Staying at Kyle’s house made me feel uneasy and exposed. I had always felt more comfortable in my home when we were together - primarily because I always believed I could kick him out if need be. Living in his place left me feeling vulnerable and full of fear.
As I poured the noodles into the colander I wondered just how long the uncomfortable feelings would last. As with anything, I decided, in enough time I would probably forget his past behavior as long as what he expressed in the future exhibited growth and change.
After draining the noodles, I placed them in the pot on the stove, turned down the heat, and added the vegetable and meat mixture I had sautéed. Almost more than I feared Kyle and his potential for violent behavior, I feared getting fat throughout my pregnancy. Unlike some women who were able to eat as they pleased and remain thin, I was different. I had to constantly exercise, eat healthy foods, and count my daily caloric intake to remain in the physical condition I was in.
The whole wheat pasta, chicken, and fresh vegetables sautéed in olive oil would be a healthy dinner for us both, but satisfying nonetheless. After stirring the pasta, I opened the oven and removed the bread I had prepared.
A whole wheat loaf drizzled with olive oil, basil, and garlic.
As I placed the bread on the counter, I turned toward the living room and sighed.
“Dinner’s ready,” I shouted.
“Be there in a minute,” he responded, “We’re about to make a touchdown.”
There was no doubt Monday nights were going to be one of my least favorite nights of the week. Kyle spent the majority of the time glued to the television watching football and shouting if the game didn’t go the way he wanted it to. As his choices for football teams could easily be compared to his choices in life, rarely did his team of choice win.
Some women may simply accept the life of having a man in front of the television, and take him his food on a platter. I’m not that woman, nor would I ever become her. Kyle and I would learn to eat dinner as a couple; regardless of what was going on in our home, a thirty minute break from it to come together as a family wasn’t too much to ask of anyone. As I carefully placed the pasta on the plates, he began to scream and cuss at the television.
“Call it both ways, ref. Motherfucking offsides!” he bellowed.
“God fucking damn. Cocksuckers went offsides and sacked the fucking quarterback,” he screamed.
“Son-of-a-bitch ref doesn’t call it both ways,” he grunted as he kicked the end table, knocking his can of beer onto the floor.
“Fuckers,” he sighed as he walked toward the kitchen.
I did my best to act interested by shaking my head.
“We’re getting our asses kicked, I’m just going to take mine in there and watch this,” he said as he reached for his plate.
“Let’s sit down and eat. It’s not even half time, it’ll just take a few minutes,” I responded as I sat down on the stool.
“I’m eating mine in there,” he said as he gazed down and studied the plate.
I glanced upward and fixed my eyes on the top of his head.
“Sit down,” I said through my teeth.
He tilted his head back, met my gaze, and wrinkled his nose, “What the fuck is this shit?”
“Dinner,” I responded as I dropped my fork onto my plate, “It’s what I fixed for dinner. It’s pasta.”
“Where’s the fucking meat?” he asked as he stirred his finger through the pasta.
“There’s chicken in it, sit down please,” I sighed as I reached for my fork.
“Ain’t eating it. Looks like shit,” he said as he turned toward the refrigerator.
Seriously? You insensitive prick.
I glanced over my shoulder as he pulled another can of beer from the refrigerator. After opening it and taking a drink, he began to walk the length of the kitchen and toward the living room.
“Sit down,” I demanded as I turned in his direction.
He reached up with his free hand as he passed me, and slapped me on the top of the head, “You eat it. I’m watching the game.”
Don’t you dare touch me.
As I ran my hand over my head to smooth my hair, he walk
ed to the couch and sat down.
I took a bite of my pasta, chewed it, and dropped my fork onto the plate. Only a week into our new relationship and he was already being a dick. I really had no idea why I’d expect him to be otherwise, but accepting it wasn’t something I was willing to do. I was going to make this work regardless of his willingness to participate. I stood from my stool, walked to the couch, and crossed my arms in front of my chest.
I sighed heavily. He turned to face me. I lifted my elbows and allowed them to drop onto my stomach heavily, sighing again as they did so. As he glanced in my direction, I opened my mouth and spoke my mind.
“Get in there, sit down, and eat. It’s time for dinner,” I said flatly.
He gazed my direction, shook his head, and laughed. As he turned toward the television, I continued.
“I’m serious,” I huffed.
“Fuck off. I’m watching this,” he said as he waved his hand my direction.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” I asked, “After our baby is born? Are you just going to tell me to fuck off when I want something?”
“Depends on what you want,” he shrugged.
“You’re a selfish prick,” I said as I turned away.
“What did you say?” he growled.
“You heard me, you selfish prick,” I responded over my shoulder.
I heard him get off the couch and begin following me into the kitchen. To think I would have to beg him to take time out for dinner was unnerving. As I sat down on the stool, I noticed he wasn’t walking toward his stool, he was walking toward me.
And he was beet red.
“Don’t ever talk me like that again, you mouthy bitch,” he bellowed.
The blur of his hand caused me to lean back in the stool, but I didn’t lean far enough. As his hand impacted my jaw, everything went black. I realized as I tried to stand that he hit me so hard he had knocked me off the stool. Before I had a chance to shed a tear, and long before I was able to stand, he leaned over me.
For an instant, I thought he was going to help me up.
I was sadly mistaken.
The sound of his fists hitting my face was sickening. I raised my arms to try and block his hands from hitting me, but it did little good. Within a few seconds my arms were at my sides and his hands were pounding against my head.
Hung (Selected Sinners MC #4) Page 16