I sigh nervously.
“I sure hope his excitement lasts,” I say. “He seemed to like it when we went for a visit, anyway. And I think he’s going to like his teachers.”
“It must be strange, sending him to school for the first time,” she remarks.
“It is,” I admit. “But he’s ready. And he needs some friends. I’ve been dragging him around from place to place for too long. He needs some stability in his life.” My heart constricts as I think about all I’ve had to put my little boy through in his short life.
“How’s your hand, by the way?” I ask, nodding toward the bandage, which I notice is smaller today.
“It’s okay. I mean, it’s healing fine.” She shrugs. “I figure it’ll still be a couple weeks until I’ll be able to go back to tending bar.” She sighs. “I can’t wait to be able to take a normal shower without having to put a bag around my hand to keep the water out.”
“Gosh, I’ll bet.” Noah comes back, his outstretched hands proudly displaying his artwork. The dinosaur version of me is purple, with a long neck, tiny arms and a huge body.
I try not to take it personally.
“Wow, those are pretty, Noah,” I say, admiring.
“Look!” he says proudly, holding out one of the sheets. “I made one of Cas, too!”
It’s a fourth sheet of paper, with an outline by Jewel of a large, strong-looking dinosaur. Noah has colored it a deep blue.
I glance quickly up at Jewel, searching her face for any reaction. “Noah asked me to draw one for him, as well. He said he was going to give it to Cas the next time he came over to your place,” she says hesitantly.
She’s trying not to react, but it’s as plain as day that she knows what’s going on between Cas and me. Of course she does. Jewel and I have never talked about Cas one way or another, but I realize now how much Cas and I have taken her secrecy for granted.
Reddening, I take the picture from Noah. “Uh, that’s really nice, Noah. I think Cas will really like it. Now why don’t you go get your stuff ready, okay, bug?”
He runs off to collect his things. When he’s gone, Jewel gives me a kind look. “He’s a good guy, Cas is,” she says simply. “Any girl would be lucky to have him.”
I freeze at first, afraid to say anything. But it seems silly to deny that there’s something going on between us. Jewel already knows, and lying to her face just seems wrong when she’s been taking care of Noah so that we could be together.
“When I first started tending bar for the club,” she continues, “The guys were a little… rough. Before this job, I used to be a stripper.” Her eyes cloud. “I moved here from Lincolnville. There’s a strip club there. Harry’s.”
I nod. Harry’s is kind of notorious.
“It wasn’t a good scene. At all,” she says quietly. I didn’t want to strip anymore, so I came here, but some of the guys found out that’s where I used to work, and they were looking to… take advantage.” Jewel smiles softly. “Cas was the only one that didn’t assume I was public property just because of my past. I think he told the other guys to back off of me, too, because after the first week or so, things settled down.” She looks at me now. “I’m no prude, but I like to decide who I sleep with, you know?”
There’s a small lump forming in my throat. As hard as my life has been sometimes, I get the feeling that Jewel’s has been much harder. “Yeah. I know.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “So anyway. Cas is one of the good ones. And he’s obviously really into you.” She quirks up her lips into a grin. “He’s hot, too. Lucky you.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. “Yeah, he definitely has that going for him.”
“So, are you two… you know… Are you exclusive?” Jewel’s eyes are wide and bright with curiosity.
I shouldn’t say any more. But, truth be told, it’s kind of a relief to talk it out loud. Like it makes it more real.
“Yes,” I admit. “For now, anyway.”
“Oh, gosh!” she squeals. “That’s so exciting!”
I grin — her enthusiasm is infectious. “We’re keeping it a secret for now, though,” I tell her.
“Oh, sure, I gathered that,” she nods sagely. “Don’t worry, honey. Your secret’s safe with me.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand, and I can’t help but feel a wave of affection for this sweet, kind girl, who seems so innocent in spite of everything.
Just then, Noah comes back out with his little backpack and his drawings. I take the backpack and carefully put the papers inside. “How about we take ours home, and let Jewel keep the one of her?” I suggest.
“Okay!” Noah nods. He hands it to Jewel, who kneels down and thanks him with a hug.
“Thanks, kiddo!” she says. “You take care, now, okay? I’ll see you next week and you can tell me all about preschool.”
I open the door and hold it for Noah to go through. We wave goodbye to Jewel and then walk out to the car. Noah’s talking a mile a minute, which means one thing: he’s about to crash. Sure enough, I get him strapped into his seat, and by the time we’re halfway home, he’s already asleep and snoring softly. I smile at my little boy adoringly as I look at him in the rearview mirror. I’m glad Jewel fed him something, because I think he’s down for the count.
Which means I can actually have grown-up food for dinner for a change.
I made decent tips today at the clubhouse. Maybe I should splurge on some Chinese delivery, I think jubilantly.
My stomach rumbles in agreement.
24
Jenna
I’m contemplating the very serious choice of sesame chicken vs. salt and pepper shrimp as I park my car, hoist a sleeping Noah into my arms, and climb up the stairs to my apartment. I fumble with my keys for a few seconds, then finally unlock my door and push it open.
And somehow, I manage to keep from screaming at the sight of the man sitting at my kitchen table.
“Dad!” I squeak. Taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I continue in a loud whisper. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in? You scared me half to death!”
“Jenna, I need to talk to you,” he says, in a voice I’ve heard before.
It’s the voice he uses when he needs something from me.
“Good God, Dad, you could have just called,” I hiss.
Then I guiltily remember the four voicemails from him that I still haven’t responded to.
“Okay, look,” I sigh. “Let me put Noah down. I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”
Thankfully, Noah’s still asleep in my arms, and my near-panic attack didn’t wake him. I carry him into his bedroom and lay him down on the bed. Pulling the covers over him, I decide that I’ll change him into his jammies later. Then I turn around and prepare to face my father.
When I go back into the main room, he hasn’t moved at all. He’s still sitting there with his elbows on the table and his chin on his fist, staring into space like a hanged man.
When I come over him, he nods vaguely and tells me to have a seat. I pull out one of the mismatch chairs and sit down facing him. “Why are you here, Dad?” I ask, deciding to get right to the point.”
“I need a favor.” There’s no preamble, none of the chatty questions about how I’m doing that he usually likes to pad a conversation with before jumping into the ask. He’s not looking at me, and his eyes look strangely vacant.
Whatever this is, it must be serious. I’m used to Dad playing people’s emotions to get what he wants. But that doesn’t feel like what this is.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, standing up. Suddenly I want a few more seconds before I have to hear what’s going on with him.
He tiredly accepts a beer from me, and I pour myself a glass of cheap red wine. When I’ve served both of us, I sit down again and take a deep breath.
“Okay,” I say. “What’s going on?”
“I need you to convince your club to do a deal.”
Whatever I was expecting, it sure a
s hell wasn’t that.
“What?” I’m dumbfounded. “What deal? Why me?”
“Because you have your brother’s ear. And Casper’s.”
Casper’s…? None of this makes sense. Sure, Dad knows I tend bar at the clubhouse. But why would he assume that Angel would listen to me about anything having to do with club business? And how would Dad know whether I have Cas’s ear specifically?
Before I can ask any of this, though, Dad starts telling me about the deal in question. “Jenna, you know I have a history with the club. That Rock Anthony and I have entered into certain… partnerships… over the years that benefit both the Lords of Carnage and the town of Tanner Springs.”
And especially the mayor of Tanner Springs, I think to myself sarcastically, but I don’t say anything.
“A bit ago, I went to the club asking them for a loan to get me the development deal I’ve been working on south of town,” he continues. For the first time, I notice how ashen my father’s face is. “I thought for sure they’d say yes. I was willing to give them a very advantageous interest rate on the loan, and a damn good return on their investment. And I know for a fact they can use the money.
“But the deal got voted down.” His shoulders sag. “Rumor has it it was a pretty close vote. And that both Angel and Cas voted against me.” He looks at me now, his eyes hopeful. “I want you to convince them it’s in the best interest in the club to do this deal with me.”
Rumor has it… I know he must mean that Rock Anthony told him how the vote went down.
I sit back in my chair, trying to take it all in. My mind is reeling with questions. Why would Angel vote against the deal if our dad wanted it — and if Rock wanted it? And I’m guessing Rock probably does want it, or he wouldn’t have told my dad about all this. What’s wrong with the deal? Why did Cas vote against it? And how would my dad know whether I “have Cas’s ear,” as he puts it?
I thought Cas and I had been pretty careful about keeping what was going on with us a secret. We never let ourselves be seen in any sort of compromising position at the club. It’s not like we’d been on any “dates” out and about in Tanner Springs. Until right now, the only person I thought knew about us was Jewel. But maybe I was wrong. Still, I knew for sure Dad hasn’t seen us together — unless he happened to see me on the back of Cas’s bike at some point?
Whatever’s happening, warning bells are clanging inside my head. I decide to play as dumb as I can.
“Dad,” I begin. “Look, I don’t know how I could have any influence in this. I mean, I’ve never talked to Angel about any club stuff. Or Cas.” I spread my hands wide. “I wouldn’t even know how, to be honest. The Lords keep their business between them.”
“You’ve got to try,” he says stubbornly, shaking his head. “I need this deal, Jenna.”
Exasperation starts to well up inside me. “Well, why is this one deal so important?” I counter. “And if it’s such a big deal, why can’t you just go to the club and try to convince them yourself?”
“I already have.” He pulls himself up straight for a second, but then all the fight seems to leave him, and he slumps, defeated-looking, in his chair. “Jenna Lee. I can’t tell you everything. But please.” He looks at me with eyes full of desperation. “My life is in your hands.”
He never calls me Jenna Lee. Or rather, he never calls me that anymore. It was his nickname for me when I was a little girl — too little to realize that the scraps of affection that he gave me were just that: scraps. These days, he only called me Jenna Lee when he wanted to soften me up.
Still, I can’t escape the fact that the look in his eyes is one of sheer terror. It’s not a look that he could fake — and I know his acting skills well, having seen him use them on me and others for years.
My father is scared. Really scared. And right or wrong, he thinks I’m the only one who can help him.
I feel trapped, but there’s no way I can refuse my own father when I see how much this means to him. Sighing, I scoot my chair next to his and give him a brief hug.
“Okay, Dad,” I tell him. “I don’t know if it will work, but I promise. I’ll do my best.”
25
Cas
The next day is Jenna’s day off from work, so I don’t see her until early in the evening, once the club business I have to attend to is taken care of. I call her from the road and ask her what she’s up to. She tells me to come by for dinner, and I turn the bike around and head off in the direction of her place.
When I get there, I park the bike in one of the spaces reserved for the tattoo parlor. Hannah, one of the tattoo artists who also staffs the front desk, waves at me through the window. I raise a finger to her in greeting. The club knows all the people who work at Rebel Ink, since they’re our go-to place to get our ink done. They’ve probably done hundreds of tattoos for us over the years. Almost every tat I’ve got is the artwork of one or another of them.
“Hey, handsome.” Hannah sticks her head out the door of the shop. She’s tall and saucy, with fire-engine red hair and tattoos covering most of her upper body below the neck.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I reply easily.
“Been seeing a lot of you around here lately.” She nods at the stairwell that leads to Jenna’s place. “You got something going on up there?”
I grin at her. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.” Hannah and I fucked once, about a year and a half ago. It’s not common knowledge. She asked me to keep it a secret afterwards because she’d just broken up with Bruno, another tattoo artist at Rebel Ink. Apparently, Bruno was having a little trouble letting go of the relationship. Hannah didn’t want him to find out she was banging other people, lest he get jealous and belligerent.
Hannah steps through the doorway to chat. She winks and glances up toward Jenna’s apartment. “She’s a cutie-pie, that one. I kinda had my eye on her myself, but it looks like you got there first.”
I laugh. “I don’t think she swings that way, but yeah, I think the ship has sailed on this one.”
Hannah raises her eyebrows. “Oh? Is this serious?”
I lower my voice and lean in. “Like I said, I don’t kiss and tell,” I say, my tone conspiratorial.
“Well, damn, man.” She high-fives me. “It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Good for you, dude.” She grins. “Now go get you some!”
I laugh and tell her I’ll be coming in for some ink sometime in the next couple of weeks. Hannah heads back into the shop. I’m just about to climb the stairs to Jenna’s place when I catch a slight movement out of the corner of my eye.
I turn to see that Charlie Hurt. He’s the cheap bastard who owns this place and lives next door. He’s sitting in a broken-down lawn chair in his front yard. Charlie’s peering at me keenly, and I realize he’s been watching my convo with Hannah. When I turn and stare him in the eye, he breaks my gaze and acts like he doesn’t notice me.
My fist reflexively clenches. I never liked that creepy fucker.
I shrug it off and head up the stairs to find that the door to Jenna’s apartment is open except for the screen. I tap on it and step inside.
Jenna’s in the kitchen, and gives me a quick wave while she stirs something. Noah is sitting on the floor next to the couch, a small mound of toys sitting beside him. He looks up at me with a wide, innocent grin.
“Hi, Cas!” he cries. “Wanna play cars?”
“Sure, buddy,” I laugh. “Just let me say hi to your mom first.”
I walk over to Jenna, who’s giving me a smile of her own. My pulse quickens, as it always does when she looks at me.
“Hey, you,” she murmurs as I wrap my arms around her.
“Hey, yourself.” I kiss her deeply, our tongues dancing, until I feel my dick start to rise to the occasion. I pull away and detach myself from her before it gets too out of hand. “What’s for dinner? Smells good.”
“Lime chicken,” she tells me. “It’s something I can get Noah to eat, as long as it’s not too ‘lime-y.’ And I hope
you’re okay with broccoli. He thinks they look like trees, so he likes them.”
“I’ll eat whatever you’re cooking,” I say, reaching down to cup her ass.
“Fresh,” she murmurs, pretending to swat me away.
I go back into the living area and plop down on the floor next to Noah. “So, what are we playing?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Just cars.” He picks up a small toy motorcycle and holds it out for me to look at. “That’s your bike!” he tells me.
“Wow,” I nod. “It sure does look like my bike.”
“Uncle Angel gave him that,” Jenna calls out from the kitchen, a small note of disapproval in her voice.
“Yeah, Uncle Angel says I can ride with him on his motorcycle someday. When I’m bigger.”
“Over my dead body,” Jenna murmurs.
Noah’s peering at me now, a tiny frown on his face. “Uncle Angel says your name is Ghost,” he declares.
“It’s not my name, exactly. It’s my road name,” I explain. “Kind of like a nickname.”
“Are you a ghost?” he asks me solemnly, his eyes wide.
I grin. “No, I’m not. See?” I hold out my arm and have him feel it. “Solid as a rock. If I was a ghost, you could put your arm right through me.”
“Then why do they call you ghost? If you’re not a ghost?” he says, confused.
“Well, they call your uncle Angel ‘Angel,’” I reason. “Is he an angel?”
In the kitchen, I hear Jenna snort.
“Noooo…” Noah says, frowning as he thinks about this. “He doesn’t have wings.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “Sometimes, people just have silly nicknames. Like how your mom calls you bug. Are you a bug?”
Noah giggles. “No way!”
“Well, there you go,” I nod sagely.
“And you call me buddy!” he crows.
“That’s because it’s a good nickname. And because we’re buddies, right?”
GHOST (Lords of Carnage MC) Page 10