I had no idea what point he was trying to make. “Okay.”
“I want you to be here when I get here.”
“Huh?”
“What do you think about moving in?” he asked. “With me? Especially with your new hours, I think it’ll be good for us both. It’ll let us focus on ‘us’ more.”
My heart raced. “Move in? Here?”
He nodded. “It worked well for my parents.”
“I think it’s insane,” I blurted. “Not the idea that’s not what I meant I came up with the very same idea That’s nuts I mean I want to but I don’t want to move in and then have you say that it’s not what you were thinking and then I’ve got another deposit on another place and I have to move all my stuff again and all of that crap with utilities and deposits I mean if I say yes I want it to be for all the right reasons is this what you really want?”
“Jesus.” He laughed. “You didn’t take a breath.”
“I was thinking and talking at the same time. I do that when I’m nervous. I just. I don’t want to say yes, and then have you change your mind after a little while. I’d rather not do it than do it and have you decide later that it didn’t work.”
He began pacing in front of the table. “Some knucklehead asks his girlfriend to move in because that’s what he thinks he wants. Later, he finds out what he thought and what he felt are two totally different things. So, he tells her it just isn’t working out.” He paused and looked right at me. “What our minds think and what our hearts feel aren’t always the same. I’m asking you to do this because it’s what my heart feels. That’s what matters.”
I couldn’t argue with his logic.
So, I didn’t.
I grinned. “Let’s do it.”
32
Price
Brisco sat on the far side of my office, picking at his fingernails. Halfway through my third jelly filled, I was ready. I tossed what remained into the trash. “You ready?”
He looked up. “Been ready.”
“Gray’s going to be moving in with me,” I said.
He stared for a minute with a blank look on his face. “You called me in here to tell me that?”
I scowled. “No, motherfucker. I called you in here for several things. I’m just trying to make conversation right now.”
“Oh.” He scratched his head. “Guess that’s a good thing. I mean, as long as you’re okay with it.”
“Well, it wasn’t her fucking idea.”
He nodded. “Hope everything works out. I know how you are.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You’re just a prick when it comes to shit. Don’t touch this, don’t move that. Just hope it ain’t one of those deals that ends up pissin’ you off.”
“She’s respectful,” I said. “Been staying at my place on and off for a month or so. It works out really well. For both of us.”
“Like I said. I hope it works out.” He began picking at his nails, again. “What else you got?”
He accepted Gray moving in better than I expected. I hoped the other men did the same. I stood. “When a man fucks up, like those three Stallions did, there’s a price that needs to be paid. You agree?”
His brows pinched together. “I took care of those three fuckers. Is there a problem?”
“No,” I said. “I’m just asking a question. When a man fucks up, he’s got to pay for what he’s done. Agreed?”
“God damned right.”
“Sometimes he pays by accepting an ass whipping, sometimes it’s a broken bone or two, and sometimes it’s his life.”
“What’s your point?”
“You agree with what I said?”
“Sure. Makes sense. A man spits a loogie on my sled, I ain’t gonna put a bullet in his head. And, if a man rapes a patch’s sister, I ain’t about to let it slide with an ass whippin’.”
“Alright,” I said. “Sounds like we agree.”
“Where you headed?”
“Brother, I need to forgive you for what you did to Gray,” I said. “This has been a long, long road, and it’s high time we put this deal to bed. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” he said. “Between you being pissed off at me and my cats bein’ dead, I’ve been a wreck.”
“Well,” I said. “For me to forgive you, one thing that had to transpire was that you had to pay for what you did. I’ve reached a point that I think you’ve paid enough.”
He nodded. “This has eaten me up, Brother. I’ve paid dearly.”
I faced him and folded my arms over my chest. “How you react to this is going to have a lot to do with me being able to believe that you’ve accepted responsibility for your actions.”
Confusion washed over him. “React to what?”
“Gray kidnapped your cats. It was payback for what you did to her. She wanted—”
He leaped from his seat. “Are they okay?”
“They’re fine. She wanted you to suffer just as much—”
“Where are they?”
“Can I finish?”
Filled with nervous energy, he paced the floor. “Go ahead.”
“She wanted you to suffer just as much as she did. It was her way of accepting what you did to her. Having been through an awful situation in my childhood, I can attest to how traumatic experiences can affect someone for the rest of their life. She’ll more than likely be dealing with memories of that fucked up mess for a long, long time.”
“So, what do I do?” He asked. “Pay you, or pay her?”
“What?”
“The fifty grand?” he asked. “I can have that shit dug up in ten minutes.”
I laughed. “She doesn’t want your money, Brother. She just wanted to get a little revenge.”
He shook his head. “I’d say she got it.”
“I’d agree,” I said. “There’s only one problem. It’s not much, but it’s a problem.”
“What is it?” A worried look came over him. “One of ‘em get hurt? Which one?”
“They’re fine,” I said. “But she’s got really attached to ‘em both. She feels like we’ve become a family. Tell you the truth, I think those cats have been therapeutic for her. I think they’ve helped her recover from that situation. Without ‘em, I doubt she’d have come out of it the way she did.”
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
“I’m afraid when they’re gone that she’ll fall apart.” I said. “I’m thinking she might need some visitation rights.”
“Man, I feel bad about what happened to her.” He pressed his palms against his temples and rubbed his big bald head. “You need to know that. Hell, couple of weeks ago, I did a little soul searching. When I did, I made a list of all the chicks I’d dicked over.” He lowered his hands. “She was at the top of the list. Fucker was sixty-some women long by the time I was done, and I’m sure I forgot as many as I remembered. I wish I could take it back. You know, turn back the clock, or whatever. All I can do is apologize, but I know that ain’t enough.”
“There’s nothing you can do to take it back, but a heartfelt apology would go a long way.”
He rubbed his chin. “How about I do one better?”
“What do you mean?”
“I got an idea.” He grinned a sly grin. “It’ll let us all come out of this deal a winner.”
33
Gray
Chin held up one of my ribbed night shirts. With the shoulder straps pinched between his thumb and forefingers, he peered over the top of the pink fabric. “This wife beater yours or hers, Boss?”
It looked like it could fit a twelve-year-old. The image of the Panda on the front was faded and cracked from ten years of wear.
Price, rather frustrated with the move, glanced up from organizing his folded jeans. Upon seeing the shirt, he scowled. “Fuck you.”
Chin winked at me. “Just wanted to make sure which closet it went into.”
Prior to the big move, Panzer and his crew remodeled the master bedroom. Converting one huge clo
set to two modestly sized ones allowed Price and I to each have our own closet space.
The modifications allowed Price to accept the addition of my clothes without having a massive meltdown. There was no doubt we were going to have some adjusting to do, but I was certain we’d make it without much more than a few mini meltdowns on Price’s part.
He carried the three stacks of jeans to his closet, cussed a little, and then emerged. “What a clusterfuck.”
Panzer lowered a wicker basket beside another just like it. “Other than a few of those Tupperware tubs, that’s about it,” he said. “Not bad at all with all the fellas helping.”
Price looked one basket, and then the other. He looked at me. “How many pairs of shoes do you have?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “A few.”
He stomped across the bedroom floor and peered into each basket. “They’re heels.” He looked up. “A hundred fuckin’ pairs. When do you wear heels?”
“When I dress up.”
His brows pinch together. “When do you dress up?”
I put my hands on my hips. “When I go somewhere nice.”
“When do you go somewhere nice?”
“Since I met you?” I asked. “Never.”
“Shots fired,” Swag hollered from the hallway.
Price glared in that direction. “Shut the fuck up, Swag!”
Price took another look at the shoes. “Every pair. Heels.” He shook his head. “Do you collect them?”
“No. I’ve just acquired them. I got a really good deal on every pair, though. If that helps.”
“Do you know how many pairs of boots I have?”
“Three, I think.”
“That’s right,” he said. “My lace-ups, my pull-ons, and my good pair.”
“The pair you never wear.”
“Don’t want to ruin ‘em,” he said.
“Don’t let him shit you,” Brisco said. “Fucker bought ‘em in Austin three years ago. They were on sale. He refused to try ‘em on. They’re two or three sizes too small.”
“Fuck you,” Price said. “They fit fine.”
“Put them on,” I said.
“I don’t need to put them on.” He looked around the room. “I need to get everything organized so these knuckleheads can go home. I need a minute of peace and quiet.”
Brisco reached for his wallet. “Twenty bucks if you can get those fuckers on and walk to the kitchen.”
“Fuck you.”
Brisco pulled out a 20-dollar bill. He waved it at Price. “Right here.”
Price stepped into the closet. After a moment of mumbling sons-of-bitches, motherfuckers, and cocksuckers into the closet’s confines, he emerged with his shiny “new” boots.
He raised his hands victoriously. “What’d I tell ya?”
He took one step, nearly fell, and then took another. After stabilizing himself, he attempted to walk across the room. He looked like a two-year-old wearing her mother’s heels.
“Look like you got a roll of quarters poked up your ass,” Brisco said with a laugh.
The room of men all began to laugh and point, which only made Price madder than he already was. After a few more wobble-legged steps, he lowered himself to the floor.
“Cheap bastards shrank.” He pulled each of the boots off in one tug. “They used to fit.”
“They never fit,” Brisco argued. “And, you owe me twenty bucks.”
“What size foot you got, Swagger?” Price asked.
“Nine and a half,” Swag responded.
Price tossed the boots across the room. “Take those fuckers home. You’ll be able to go another ten years without buying a pair.”
Swag picked up the boots and looked them over. “Good lookin’ out.”
Boots in hand, he rushed out of the room like a child who had just opened a new Christmas bicycle.
I carried one basket of shoes to the closet and then picked up the other.
Gunny poked his head through the bedroom door. “All the moving blankets and shit are loaded. Takin’ the truck back and picking up the scoot. What’s the plans for later?”
“Just hanging out,” Price said. “Gonna fire up the grille in a bit.”
Gunny tilted his head toward the hallway. “Swagger’s pacing up and down the drive in a new pair of boots. What’s goin’ on with that?”
“Just gave ‘em to him.”
“Figures,” he said with a laugh.
“Penny-pinching prick won’t spend a buck and a half on truffle fries,” Panzer said. “You know he ain’t buying a new pair of boots ‘till those others fall the fuck apart.”
“Buck and a half?” Gunny looked at me. “You could charge ten bucks for those truffle fries and I’d buy the fuckers. Ought to have a warning on the new menu sayin’ ‘caution: these little fuckers are addictive’. Those fuckers are the crack cocaine of French fries.”
I’d never had my food compared to cocaine before, but I guessed it was a compliment. “Thank you,” I said. “I think.”
He flashed the group a peace sign and turned toward the hallway. “Be back in a couple.”
“We done?” Panzer asked.
Price looked around the room. “Looks like it.”
“Be right back,” Panzer said.
In a moment he returned. He sauntered across the room and handed me a flat powder blue velvet box. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“Housewarming gift.”
I looked at Price.
“Don’t look at me,” he said, nodding toward the box. “Open it.”
Giddy with excitement, I opened the box. A gorgeous silver chain bracelet with a round charm on it was centered in the box. On the box’s lid, the Tiffany and Co. was imprinted, in silver.
I stared at the bracelet for a moment, nearly in tears. It was too much. I looked at Panzer. “I don’t know what—”
“It’s from the club,” he said. “We all talked about it, and had it engraved. I volunteered to give it to you.”
I lifted the bracelet and looked at the charm. The name “Sis” was engraved in ornate script. My eyes welled with tears.
“Here,” Price said. “Let me help you.”
He clasped the bracelet to my wrist. “There you go.”
I wiped my eyes with the heel of my palm and glanced at each of the men in the room. Thank you. This means…”
I couldn’t continue. I pursed my lips and nodded while mouthing the words thank you.
Panzer walked to my side, patted me in the shoulder, and then gave me a hug. “Welcome to the family, Sis.”
The Hard Eights consisted of over thirty different men, all of which were different in their looks and demeanor.
Some, like Gunny, were downright scary to be in the same room with. A former Marine who exercised his right to “open carry” a firearm at all times, I couldn’t help but wonder what his limitations were when it came time to protect the club or its members. Others, like Swag, were fiercely loyal, but presented themselves as somewhat of a goofball.
Panzer was mean-looking, but he had the biggest heart of the bunch, short of Price.
Regardless of their differences, I saw one common denominator in all the men. They were caring of the men—and women—who comprised their close-knit family, the club.
We cooked burgers and brats on the grille and stayed up until midnight telling stories and drinking beer. One by one the men disappeared. The sound of their exhaust pipes faded in the night as they rode to their various destinations.
In the end, it was Brisco, Price, and me, sitting on the back deck. Seeing Brisco and Price get along once again was rewarding. Seeing Brisco was also a reminder that to have him back in our lives, I had to release the hostages.
I missed them dearly.
After Price recovered from the shock of me moving in, I planned on seeing if I could negotiate a new cat into our family. Considering the obscene prices of a registered Bengal the new addition would likely be a rescue kitten, but
a rescue kitten was better than no kitten at all.
Price stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “I’m fucking beat.”
“Makes two of us,” Brisco said.
“Three,” I chimed.
Brisco picked up a few empty beer bottles and tossed them in the garbage can. “We good for tomorrow?”
“Yep,” Price said.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” I asked.
“Time to return the favor,” Price responded. “We’re helping Brisco.”
“Helping him do what?”
“Miscellaneous,” Price said.
I looked at Brisco. “Helping you do what?”
“Miscellaneous.”
Even though it was poorly lit on the deck and they probably couldn’t see me, I rolled my eyes. “You guys and your secrets.”
“Club business is club business,” Brisco said.
“Bar business is bar business,” I said, mockingly. “I’m not telling either of you anything, ever again.”
“Something I want to know and you won’t tell me, I’ll just kidnap your little ass,” Brisco said with a laugh.
Price choked on a cough. “Jesus, Brisco.”
“It was a joke,” Brisco said.
“Pretty bad taste, Brother.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m over it.”
Brisco gave me a hug. “Love ya, Sis.”
“Love you, too,” I said in an uneven voice.
Being a little sister was something I was going to have to get used to.
“I’m out,” Brisco said with a wave. “In the mornin’.”
Price swept the table off with the edge of his hand. “See ya, Brother.”
We picked up everything, stumbled into the house, and got ready to go to sleep. As we each took our positions in the bed, I realized I wasn’t simply sleeping at Price’s home, once again.
Now, it was my home, too.
There would be no rush to have sex, hope for some cuddle time before I left, or feeling of necessity to cook Price one of my new creations before I tried it in the bar. I had the rest of my life to fit everything in.
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