Mia and I both frowned at that, but mine was the laughter that betrayed our attempted indignance first. Mia, now Mia Presley, and—man!—was I never gonna get tired of hearing that, wasn’t far behind. Her laughter—Your wife’s laughter! I thought, still fawning over that fact—was more contained that Candy’s or my own, however. Though she was, to her credit, still keeping fit, Mia’s pregnancy had carried her well beyond the realm of “big” and dropped her off in a gray area between “massive” and “glorious.”
And, sweet fucking hell, she was still the sexiest person in the world as far as I was concerned.
“I think I’m a better judge when it comes to the subject of… oh holy hell,” Danny paused in mid-step, arms loaded and bulging around the weight of several stacks of boxes that had kept him from coming in alongside Candy. “Yeah, girl, ye’re fuckin’ fat!”
“You’re one to talk, you porky fag!” Candy teased, driving a skinny elbow into his side.
Danny grunted, stumbled, and nearly lost himself beneath a tumble of boxes. Catching himself, and his cargo, at the last moment, however, he came out of it with nothing more than a scowl to show for it.
“Bony whore!” he shot back.
Mia, still working to stifle her giggles, cradled her belly as she started to duck-walk towards the two. She was a few words into offering to help Danny before I stopped her. Frowning at this, she got only one word into offering Candy a drink before I stopped her yet again.
“What you can do,” I said, already pulling out a chair and bringing it in behind her, “is sit down and relax.”
“But…” she said in protest.
It was, of course, our typical routine:
She tried to do something she shouldn’t.
I didn’t let her, sometimes providing some line that our doctor had given as a means of supporting my demand.
She argued—which, as of lately, amounted to either “But…” or “Ja-a-ace!”—and then immediately succumbed to my demands.
The succumbing, however, had been coming faster and easier, I’d found. This, I imagined, was in large part due to the fact that, once off her feat and comfortable, she knew that I’d get her whatever it was she wanted as well as fulfilling the initial task she’d set out to accomplish.
This, of course, meant that I now had to help Danny with his boxes and get Candy a drink.
I did both without complaining.
Candy, taking a pull from the chilled bottle of beer I offered her, hurried to crouch beside Mia and croon over the massive bump that her midsection had become. While she set her head to my wife’s stomach and giggled over whatever secrets our unborn child dared to share with her in that moment, I set the last of Danny’s cargo in the corner of the room.
“So how ya been?” he asked, a big, thick eyebrow raised at me.
I smiled at the question. “That’s my wife,” I reminded him, nodding back in Mia’s direction. “How do you think I’ve been?”
“Did pretty well for yerself,” he said with a smirk and a nod. Then, giving a soft whistle that (hopefully) couldn’t be heard by the others, he added, “She really has gotten big, huh? I mean, it’s only been—what?—a month-or-two since the wedding? No way she’d still fit in that dress now!”
In fact, it had been forty-two days since Mia’s and my wedding, and, yes, a great deal of “growing” had passed in that time. More than just in Mia’s midsection, in fact.
I nodded and patted his shoulder. “Pregnant folks have a habit of doing that,” I reminded him.
“Then I must be carryin’ triplets!” he boasted, grabbing the sides of his amble stomach in either hand and giving his gut a wiggle.
We both laughed at that.
Then, settling, I watched as Danny took his first genuine look around the room. Though I’d spent plenty of time ogling the place, I shared the gesture with him.
“It really is a nice place,” he said, a heavy “but” hanging in the air for a moment before he finally added, “but don’t’cha miss the condo? Place was like somethin’ outta Star Trek, and it was definitely a lot safer than… well,” he nodded around the room; nodded past the room to the rest of the house.
I only grinned at him and his concern. Not long ago, it would have been the other way around, with me worried over every possibility while Danny reassured me that it’d be alright.
“The Carrion Crew is gone,” I reminded him. “More than gone, in fact.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Danny waved a giant, dismissing hand at me. “I handle the reports, remember?”
“And a fine job you do of it,” I said with a chuckle. Returning to the cooler that I’d gotten Candy’s beer from, I retrieved two more and passed one over to my old friend. “And yet—and yet!—here you stand, the one-and-only larger-than-life and confident-as-fuck Mercury, shivering in his size twenties.”
“Who the fuck’s shivering, boy?” he demanded, taking a sip of beer. “It’s just a fuckin’ pain in the balls to ride all the way out here! The beach ain’t exactly a hop, skip, and jump from the city, y’know!”
“Aww,” I mock-whimpered at him. “And was riding with Candy that much of a nightmare?”
“As a matter of fact,” he said indignantly, “it was! Bitch actually waved her tits out the window at a van of college kids driving by us!”
“Why?” I asked, frowning.
Danny shrugged. “Because one of ‘em said ‘show us yer titties!’”
“AND SO I DID!” Candy, who’d obviously overheard the story he was telling, shouted from beside Mia.
My wife’s eyes widened and she groaned, dropping her face into her palms. “Oh, Candy,” she grumbled, “you didn’t…”
“Fuck yeah, I did, bitch!” Candy boasted with a grin. “Think of it as marketing!”
“YE’RE NOT AT WORK, YA OVEREAGER WHORE!” Danny shouted after her.
“SAYS THE MAN WHO’S GOTTA BRAKE FOR EVERY DAMN BUFFET HE SEES!” Candy shot back.
I regarded the two of them with a wide grin. “You sure the two of you shouldn’t just fuck and get it over with?” I asked him.
Danny harrumphed at the question, took a swig of beer, and said, “What part of ‘faggot’ does yer narrow ass not understand?”
“Hey, man, if it ain’t happening then it ain’t happening, right?” I offered as I held up my hands, palms out, in surrender, but I was already grinning and perverting the point as I tried to make it.
Danny was still looking expectantly at me, waiting on an answer.
I sighed and nodded for him to follow before starting out of our new living room and out onto the back patio. Passing through the double-doors, we were greeted by the crash of the surf as the lake’s tide sang out in the distance. A wooden staircase, hugging the otherwise intimidating hill that rested between our new home and the lake, stretched down from the opposite end of the patio. Ignoring this, I rested my elbows across the railing and stared out at the water. It was late in the afternoon, the sun still hanging high enough in the west to cast a beautiful glow across the lake’s surface, and a decent number of boats and waverunners were still carving their way through the water. Despite this, it was eerily quiet; the constant hum that I’d all-but grown accustomed to from living in the city so vacant in this place that, yes, the silence seemed almost noisy on its own.
“What’s that look like to you, Mercury?” I asked.
Danny moved to lean against the railing beside me, but pulled back as the wood started to groan under his weight. He sighed, gave the bannister a disappointed look, took a sip from his bottle of beer, and finally let himself survey the scene before us.
“Looks perty,” he offered with a nod. “That’s fer sure. An’ it’s ‘specially perty with yer dad’s ol’ Camaro out front.”
“I suppose I should thank you for turning her on to that car,” I nodded at that, almost driven to another bout of chuckles from his selective twang—I was beginning to think it wasn’t so much selective as it was a matter of him choosing to lay it on
extra thick at various points—and traced the path of a particularly daring speedboat. “And, yeah, the place is beautiful, there’s no doubt about that,” I said. “But what it really is is a fresh start. I’ve gone through too much—put up with too much—from that city to stay shacked up there. Same with Mia.” I shook my head and turned my back to the lake so I could face Danny. “I mean, hell, she can’t even pass by the corner of Lyell and Church without starting to shake. That’s not fair. So this,” I nodded back towards the lake, “and that,” I aimed my chin back towards our new house, “is a means to get away from all of… that,” I finished, waving my hands off in a direction that I wasn’t even sure was right.
But, then again, any direction was the right direction; “out there” was now officially out there—Mia and I finally, finally had peace here.
“I guess that’s fair,” Danny said with a frown. “But what’s that mean fer us?”
“Us?” I asked with a smirk, “Not sure if you got the memo, buddy, but I was never gay; there never was an ‘us.’”
Danny glared at me. “I meant the Crows, wise-ass, and ya knew that was what I meant!”
I laughed, dared a sip from my own beer, and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said.
Danny stared for a moment, shook his head, and smirked. “Y’know, I don’t know that I’ll ever get used t’seein’ ya smile.”
“Been doing it a lot more lately,” I told him.
“So I noticed,” he said.
A silence started to grow then, and, knowing he deserved a straightforward answer, I interrupted it, saying, “And I have no intention of abandoning you or the others, Merc. The Crow Gang has gone through a lot—faced a decent number of tolling trials recently—and I’m not about to bail on you all now that it’s behind us.”
He quirked a brow at me. “Quite a commute, ain’t it?”
I smirked at him. “You seen my bike? I’ll take any excuse to prolong my rides.”
“And Mia?” he pushed on.
I shook my head. “She’s not exactly in any shape to be riding right now,” I reminded him. “But, after the baby’s born and whatnot…” I gave a shrug and grinned. “Think I’ll look good in a minivan?”
“Nobody looks good in a minivan,” he answered flatly.
“Bitch, please!” I said with a snap. “I’d look good in a golf shirt and a tutu.”
Danny folded his arms over his chest. “Affirming the myth that straight men have no fashion sense whatsoever.” Then, taking in a deep breath, he stared out at the lake and, gradually, started to nod. “Yeah, I think I get why ya two came out here.”
I nodded and patted him on the back, leading him forward and urging him without words to once more try leaning on the railing. He did so, begrudgingly and with all the skeptical delicacy of a man who’s already resigned to failure—something I’d grown quite accustomed to in my lifetime—and, after a few sketchy moments of wood groaning and settling, came to finally relax beside me.
The Crow Gang was, admittedly, on the rise once again. Candy and her girls were succeeding in ways that we’d been reluctant to think possible—a new dawn of prostitution, this time one that could be enjoyed by both sides, shining upon the city—and, as it had before, word had spread and started generating a fresh wave of traffic. Business, both legal and not, was climbing.
Almost immediately following the death of Papa Raven, the Carrion Crew began to collapse. Those that we didn’t catch were quick to leave—leave town, leave the state, and, in some cases, outright leave the country—while a select few, either out of fear or guilt, chose to end their lives. Others, many of whom had started out their “careers” as Crows, decided to try their luck with us once more. Most of these “returners” we willingly accepted, though a few who we’d known to have willingly participated in some of the Crew’s more heinous activities—and quite a few who Candy or Mia personally recognized—were warned about being seen the next day.
To say that the tone of the city changed overnight would have been an understatement.
Danny and I decided it was closer to only five hours of selective weeding.
The sun set on a Tuesday and by the time it rose again on the following Wednesday it might as well have been on a brand new city. Granted, it had taken a lot to get to that point. It was an effort that had begun years earlier and taken the lives of many, including those of my father and my brother. It was an effort that I could barely begin to take credit for, and it was an effort that was far from being completed. But it was an effort that was bearing results.
And, no, I wasn’t about to turn my back on the Crow Gang or the city just because Mia and I had decided to relocate.
****
“I’m not that fat, am I?” Mia asked, frowning down at her belly as she gave it a contemplative rub with her left palm.
“Morbidly obese, I’m afraid,” I said halfheartedly as I put the last plate from our dinner with Candy and Danny into the dishwasher. They’d only been gone a few minutes—five at best—and Mia’s emotions were starting to shift from lively and social to something more calm. Understandably, this shift had to take a detour through a path of sadness to get there, and I was ready to navigate her through it as painlessly as possible.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun, did it?
Mia whimpered, glared at her stomach some more, and sighed. “Ja-a-a-ace!” she groaned.
I laughed and shook my head, closing the dishwasher and letting myself sit in the chair across from her. “But I like you morbidly obese, baby,” I offered.
Still frowning, she tore her gaze from her belly and looked at me, hunting for evidence that I was being insincere.
She wouldn’t find any.
“But what about after the baby’s born?” she asked.
I smiled and shrugged. “You wanna stay fat?” I asked, smirking widely as I said, “‘Cause if so I’d be more than happy to join you.”
This earned a smile from her. She paused, stared at me, and shook her head. “No,” she said, seeming to put genuine thought into this answer. “I think I’d like to keep you in good shape for as many years as I can. And—sorry if you do like me like this, babe—but I don’t like feeling out of breath from climbing a flight of stairs.”
It occurred to me that having to hunt down penises that had been eclipsed by large bellies was something she’d spent enough time suffering through during her time as a Carrion Crew prostitute. Though I wasn’t about to bring up that old life, it seemed a small favor on my behalf to keep myself trim for her.
“Then it’s decided,” I said with a reassuring smile, “we shall remain young and sexy forever.”
Mia laughed at that. “That’s a little unrealistic, isn’t it?” she asked.
I shrugged. “No more unrealistic than everything else that’s happened,” I offered. “Besides,” I challenged, quirking a brow her way, “aren’t you the one who’s always reading all those vampire novels? What’s the one you’re reading now about?”
Mia gave me her patented “like you really give a shit”-look, but still answered: “Two vampire lovers who lead a clan fighting a radical religious group that’s taken over their city.”
I grinned at that, nodding. “Funny how fiction can sometimes parallel real life, isn’t it?”
“Like how a whore thrown to her fate by a wicked brother could be saved by a brave-yet-crazy prince who leads an army that rides on steel horses?” she asked.
I chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds like something I’d read,” I mused.
She smiled at that, leaning forward as best she could with her pregnant belly in the way. “And how does their story end?” she asked.
“Long-term or short-term?” I asked.
She thought for a moment before saying, “Hmm… both?”
“Short-term:” I started, pausing to kiss her, “is the brave-yet-crazy prince taking his pregnant bride up to their bedchambers so that he can show her unimaginable pleasures…”
“Well,” I said, bringing myself to my feet before helping Mia to hers, “I guess that’s up to us, huh?”
I could feel the smile on my face beginning to bring an ache to my jaw, and this did nothing to stifle the gesture. Danny, in that regard, had been spot-on—it was happening more often, and who knew if anyone could ever get used to that. Like Mia, I’d been through hell and, every step along the way, I’d been certain that I’d never know happiness again. To come so far, to gain so much, in such a short time and come out of it with such a vast and encompassing sense of wellness wasn’t just surprising…
It was crazy.
But wasn’t that just our lives in a nutshell?
The End
Haven’t read book one & two yet of The Crows MC? Chapter ones for each below! See how Jace and Mia’s story began!
RUNNING ON EMPTY
ONE
~JACE~
A pair of vertical, needle-like lengths of light cut through the dim and wonderful darkness of my bedroom. I was awake, but only just barely. This had been the case for what my heart told me must have been several hours but what my head informed me was likely only measurable in minutes. Probably not even warranting a fraction of an hour. Both my heart and my head, however, both cursed the sunlight that cut past the edges of my bedroom’s blackout curtains and stabbed me like trained assassins through my pupils. The curse spread to my lips, and though I wanted to scream it I found myself grumbling something that was a distant cousin to “fuck” before letting my head fall back in an effort to remove the daggers from my eyes.
My skull banged against the headboard, and the next round of “fuck”s were more recognizable.
I dragged myself out of bed, still cursing and now rubbing the back of my head. A digital alarm clock flashed from my nightstand, seeming to repeat in nagging flashes that it was a little after four. This, I knew, wasn’t true. The power had crapped out sometime around ten or eleven in the morning, or so I gathered from the four hours that had lapsed since then. That the day’s sunlight was peeking through my curtains meant that noon had come-and-gone; the sun had finally circled my building and started its afternoon journey. It was a safe bet that it was closer to two or three, which meant I was, in a truly uncharacteristic achievement, getting up early.
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