“Just goddamn have Stephenson fucking call me at his motherfucking earliest opportunity!” Bishop had bellowed into the phone before disconnecting the call.
And then he went to number one on his speed dial. Trey’s private cell number. As soon as Trey answered with his, “yo’, Bish. What’s doing?”, Bishop had gone off. Yelling, waving his arms in the air as he tried to make his friend and club president understand how fucking far off course Stephenson had gone. Bishop didn’t even realize when he’d stood so he could pace as he yelled, demanding to know just what the fuck the attorney had been thinking to file that kind of shit, in thinking that Dory wasn’t a good mother.
And Trey listened as Bishop ranted and raved. Never said a complete sentence, allowing his friend to vent for as long as was needed and only encouraging him to continue with a few ‘okays’, ‘I see’ and the like.
By the end of it, when Bishop’s throat was raw, when he was more frustrated than blisteringly angry, Trey finally spoke. “All I know, brother, is that you said you wanted full custody of your son. There are laws about that and I know that Stephenson follows those laws to the goddamn letter. If you don’t want to prove that Dory isn’t a fit mother, then get Stephenson to amend the filing to joint-custody or some such. It ain’t such a big thing, amigo.”
Bishop covered his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding his phone. “But she already saw the other goddamn paperwork, already motherfucking knows that everyone and their sister is gonna be poking their noses into her life, finding every instance she’s fucked up.” He swallowed deep and hard. “But it’s not gonna show the good, Trey. It’s not gonna show how she raised up a boy-man from a baby who knows his head from his ass, that is not only respectful but fucking funny as hell. Who can make friends in an instant and goddamn worries about taking care of his mom.” Bishop’s eyes prickled and he tried to suppress the hitch in his voice as he finished. “I fucking caused this…”
“It ain’t nothing that can’t fucking be fixed, Bish.” Trey’s voice held a surety that Bishop discounted because, knowing Dory, what he’d done would reside in her heart for-fucking-ever. “Now are we done with the ‘Agony Aunt’ questions, because I’ve got a lot of fucking shit to complete before Dallas punches out.”
“Yeah, we’re done,” Bishop admitted, defeat front and center in his voice. “Thanks.”
“Always have your back, amigo. Always.”
And as Bishop disconnected the call after a quick goodbye, he knew Trey spoke from the heart. Which was the only way the two men, both born and bred as Hellions, knew to speak to one another.
Bishop only hoped that the woman who he found he still valued more than ever would be as understanding as he searched through the cell’s contact list to find her number.
*.*.*.*.*
I felt my phone vibrate and glanced down at where it sat in my palm. ‘Stan’ the screen read and I quickly shifted my eyes back to the realtor who was expounding on the retail space J.R. and I were currently viewing.
It was the third call in the last half-hour, one that had seen me walking into, then straight out of, Missoula Mousse which was looking for beauticians to rent their chairs. But the décor had been tacky as hell, their clients solely in the one-step-up-from-Mega Cuts kind of customers and their receptionist was just down-right rude. Not that I’d talked to her because I wasn’t going to give her a chance to treat me as she did the customer in front of me. The middle-aged darlin’ who’d simply asked to have her roots touched up.
“Jesus, Claire! I’ve tol’ you and tol’ you that you need to book up to two weeks in advance of coming in for that shit! Damn! Get it straight, honey!” The little muffin behind the counter, who was wearing too much eye-shadow and rouge to be believed, had leaned over the counter. “You are about an inch, an freaking inch, from being banned!”
Excuse me? Banning a customer from your salon because she needed an emergency touchup (and there was no mistaking the woman did) without an appointment?
Oh hell to the no!
That was no way to operate what I’d heard was the number one salon in Missoula.
So a Luscious Two would definitely be in order and give that particular shop a run for its money! I’d immediately called the number that Stan had given me for the realtor representing the retail space in question. And because I had never worked in Missoula, I didn’t have the ban of not setting up a place within a five mile radius of any shop I’d previously worked in.
Sweet!
Or it would’ve been if Stan would’ve just stop calling.
But I knew why he was.
He’d obviously gone home and done as I’d suggested, reading through what his attorney had filed.
But I couldn’t leave him hanging. Mainly because that wasn’t my style. And number two, I wanted to prove I was the better person in all of that was bubbling underneath the surface of our re-meet. That I’d hauled my cookies from Casper at his request, introduced him to his previously unknown son and had been an absolute joy to be around in the time I’d spent in his fair city. Okay, so the last was a lie but I had tried to be nice and not let my bitch side rule our every interaction.
So I handed my phone to J.R. “Your dad keeps calling. Call him back and let him know what we’re doing,” I instructed on a low tone, too low to interrupt the realtor who was experiencing his own brand of rapture as he described the retail space and how it could be outfitted to service beauty clients instead of catering to the vegetarian market.
But I’d already seen how it could be converted as soon as we’d stepped inside, so as he spoke on and on, pointing out this feature and that, I kept one ear on J.R. “Yes. We’re with the realtor now. No, she hasn’t talked about the connection with the construction company. Uhm, I’ll ask her when she’s done. Negotiate? Yeah, she’s good at that stuff so I’m sure she’ll get a good deal. You will? That’d be awesome,” were the parts I overheard and I tried to fill in the blanks but there were a lot of them that I wasn’t sure matched what my mind had provided.
“We have a firm that can do any and all refurbishments to your every request,” the young realtor announced.
Without thinking, because I was still tuned into J.R.’s conversation with Stan, I murmured, “that won’t be necessary. I only use Hellion Construction on these sort of jobs.”
“Hellion Construc…” the realtor’s voice wound down but held a note of awe. “They’re the best in the city. The state! And you have an in? Do you know if they’re looking for people to represent them because while I don’t have a lot of experience, I’ve been told I’m very good at what I do.”
Seriously? One utterance of the Hellion name and the realtor was practically groveling to see if I could get him a chance of working with them? Interesting! But I couldn’t play it, just didn’t have it in me to work the young agent up into believing that I, of any person on the planet, had any sway with the club. “I’m sure you are. Now how much is the monthly lease and how long is the term again?”
Which was only a rouse so I could tune back into what J.R. was saying. “I’ll ask her about both, Bishop. Yeah. Oh sure, yeah. Late.” As my son came toward me, I caught his shining eyes and carefully hidden grin. I held a hand up toward the realtor as a signal to stop talking and took my phone from J.R.’s hand with a canted eyebrow.
“He asked if he could take us to dinner. A steakhouse. And then if he could take me for a ride but told me to tell you that he’d bring the extra helmet.” J.R. leaned closer and dropped his voice, shooting his eyes towards the realtor who I knew was listening in. “Said to work the lease. That it’s not worth more than three kay a month, although I don’t know what that means, and that the Hellions would do the refurb, another word I don’t know by the way, for fifty-percent of retail price including labor.”
Shit, shit and double shit!
I so wanted to hate Stan, needed to hate him and the goddamn papers that had informed me that I wasn’t worth shit in the whole scheme of him obtaining custo
dy of J.R. but he kept doing things. Amazing and wonderful things that showed him in a different light.
I’d been prepared to offer $3,200 per month as the rent but he’d told J.R. that it wasn’t worth more than $3,000. Which meant I should start my portion of the negotiation in the $2,700 range.
And to get the best of the best in construction work for 50% of retail prices which also included the labor, of installation?
Holy shit!
Even in my amazement though, I had to let J.R. know he’d done good in his first telephone call with Stan. So I stepped towards him and snagged him in a one-armed hug, bringing his head close to mine. “A ‘kay’ means a thousand, kiddo. What your dad was telling you to tell me was what to offer. And I have no trouble with you riding with him as long as you wear a helmet and pay attention to his every instruction. Understand?”
At his nod, I smiled. “Did he say what time dinner was?”
“Five-thirty,” came the reply but it was offered with a long search of my eyes. Though I knew J.R. wasn’t clued into all that had gone on before, he felt the emotions that were being thrown out around him. “It’s four-twenty now. Maybe we need to go so you can get ready.”
Still holding my kid, I turned back to the realtor who was staring at us with very wide eyes as he pressed his fingers to his mouth. “If I can get it for a solid twenty-eight hundred a month and can have crews in to start next Monday, then we have a deal.”
“I’ll have the papers ready by tomorrow,” the realtor gushed, rushing up to shake my hand.
And I glanced at J.R. to see my boy-man rolling his eyes which I knew was at all the corny adult shit that was being thrown around right in front of him.
Or might even have been at having been a go-between between me and Stan.
But I couldn’t deny just having J.R. around made everything easier to handle.
Chapter Twenty Three
Bishop pulled up at the hotel and eyed both Dory’s and J.R.’s room doors before sighing.
The night that followed was gonna be hard, hard in a way he’d never experienced. And he’d been preparing his speech to her since the very moment his eyes had lit on the portions of what Stephenson had included in his oh-so-legal, so-full-of-judicial-bullshit writ that basically called Dory a whore and a sorry excuse for a mother.
One that Bishop knew was so far from the truth that it was a total crock.
And he need to make it up to her somehow. In some way.
He only hoped that his upcoming night’s plans would help.
In some fashion.
Because he was totally and truly fucked if it didn’t.
He turned off the motor of the Escalade, his eyes still trained on the room doors, as he thought. As he tried to imagine how the evening would go. There were apologies to be done. Bridges to be built, if nothing else.
But, fuck! He wanted more.
His boots thudded against the cement stairs as he made his way up them, in direct cadence to the beat of his heart and as he stood outside her door, he realized he was almost panting in the need to be with her.
To talk to her.
To fucking explain!
And just as he was raising a hand to knock, to announce his presence, the door next to hers opened. Turning his eyes he saw J.R. exiting.
“Hey, Bishop!” his son greeted. And if Bishop wasn’t mistaken, J.R. was totally delighted at seeing his father standing outside. “Good timing, huh?”
“Yeah. I mean, yeah,” Bishop stuttered as his eyes took in the almost mirror image of himself at that age. How had he missed that view before? Of how J.R. was the spitting image of how he’d been as an early teen? “Do you think you mom is ready to go?”
“Dunno,” the kid muttered with Bishop’s one-sided grin. “Girls make me crazy.”
“It gets worse as you get older,” J.R.’s dad replied, trying so fucking hard to find the compass point of normal in that moment.
“Geesh, no wonder so many guys go gay, then,” the boy-man offered before slapping his palm on the door and drumming his fingers.
“Uhm, son? That’s not how the gay thing works, dude,” Bishop advised as he heard the locks within shoot open.
“It’s not?” And as Bishop turned his eyes to his boy he realized there was, for the kid that seemed to have a handle on everything, so much that Bishop, as his father, could teach him.
“No, buddy. It’s not.” And the older biker’s voice caught in his throat as his gaze involuntarily went to the sight of Dory as he held the door open with a crooked smile. Which was two seconds before his heart dropped in disappointment.
She wasn’t dressed for dinner but was still wearing the clothes she’d worn earlier in the day and she hadn’t even reapplied her makeup. “Don’t you both look nice? Listen, I’ve got some stuff to do but you two go on ahead.”
Bishop searched her face, wondering what was so motherfucking important that it precluded her from joining them for dinner but her expression didn’t give him a clue.
“It’ll give you guys some alone time without me horning in.” Even her tone didn’t provide any info on what was going on.
“You’re not coming?” J.R.’s question only echoed the confusion that was rumbling through Bishop.
“Nah, buddy. But I should be back by the time your dad brings you back.” Nope, nothing in her voice indicated she was angry or acting out of spite.
J.R. turned and fully faced Bishop. “Yay! My first motorcycle ride!”
Letting the confusion of Dory’s behavior behind, Bishop hastened to set J.R. straight. “Brought the truck, little man. We’ll save the bike ride for another day.”
“But why…” J.R.’s plaintive tone seemed overly loud at Bishop’s announcement.
“You guys have fun!” Dory interrupted before she quietly closed her door.
Succinctly cutting off any protestations Bishop might’ve offered in order to convince her to come along. Without giving him the opportunity to talk to her about what he’d discovered in the documents Stephenson had filed.
And to apologize.
*.*.*.*.*
True to my word, I was back at the hotel before J.R. and Stan returned. But then my business hadn’t taken long after I’d made up my mind.
I knew that my behavior had knocked Stan for a loop, at how I had declined dinner but I needed to get things moving in the right direction and I’d been determined to do it myself. To have it set in place before he learned of it and could stop it.
So when the knock on my door came, I felt better than I had in days. More confident that there might be a way for us to work together.
“Wanted to let you know that I was gonna take off,” he mumbled my way after I opened the door. To my mind, he seemed unsure as if how to act, shifting from foot to foot, tossing his braid over his shoulder and smoothing back the little wisps of hair the wind was stirring around his face. “We’ve gotta make some time to talk, though. Talk plain, direct and without the audience of our kid, dig?”
“Why not now, Stan?” I took a couple steps back, moving the door with me as a clear invitation. “I’ve got time if you do.”
His eyes widened before he nodded and stepped into my room. But by the time I’d closed the door and twisted the dead-bolt, the surprise in his face was gone.
“Read the papers all the way through, Dory. Just like you asked me to,” he growled, his beautiful eyes steady and firm on mine. “That’s not what I thought I was asking for. Or rather, I may have thought that’s what I wanted at first but…”
I turned away and walked to the tiny kitchen, sweeping a hand toward the table where we’d had breakfast in a silent request for him to sit down. I knew he was still talking but I wasn’t paying attention. My thoughts were on what I needed to get out, to get said.
“Stop, Stan,” I cut in, turning to face him. “You called an attorney, told him what you wanted and papers were filed. Legal papers. The kind that can’t be stopped but only superseded with other filings.” I tu
rned my head away as I tried to come up with the words that were churning inside. “Now, especially after all we got up to last night, you’ve changed your mind, right?”
His eyes never left mine as he took a seat and I took heart at the movement.
“Both of us want J.R. and I wouldn’t have minded sharing him with you.” I forced a smile on my face as I choked the words out. “But you didn’t give me a chance, did you? Didn’t even try to talk it through together and work something out. No. You took the other road, bullying me, manipulating me and J.R. into moving. Forcing us to turn our lives inside out and upside down so you can get what you want. And now you’ve had a change of heart?”
“Babe…” he started and I held up a hand because I was far from finished.
“So, because of what you’ve started, J.R. has an appointment tomorrow for a DNA test and I have an appointment with an attorney who’s agreed to represent me. Then there’s the meeting with the realtor regarding the new shop as well as a phone call with the movers that were hired today in order to get my belongings from Casper to here. Which I have to say is going to cost me a whack and will set me back a bit until the shop is up and running. And all this was started because of your instructions, of what you told your attorney to do.” I took a deep breath and glanced to see Stan’s eyes were steady on me, holding an expression that seemed…regretful.
I’d deliberately kept my tone of voice easy, conversational, which seemed to do the trick in making sure he listened to me, really heard what I needed to get off my chest. Because he needed to see what his decision, the one he’d made about going after me for full custody, had done to our lives. “So while I appreciate that you weren’t aware of everything you put into motion, you have to understand that it was still you who did it. And just because we had a few amazing hours last night, you’ve changed your mind but that’s not how real life works. Not with what was started the moment Stephenson filed those papers.”
Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel Page 23