MC Chronicles Shorts #3

by Cummings, Bink

  MC Chronicles Shorts #3

  Bink Cummings

  MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings Shorts #3

  Bink Cummings

  Copyright © 2019 by: Bink Cummings

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Editor/proofreader: Heather Hendrickson

  Beta Readers: Sheri Klotzer & Kali McQuillen

  Cover Artist: Bink Cummings

  Image Provided by: BigStock

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to the author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  (Note: This book/series is a work of fiction with aspects based in truth.)

  Contact the author: Email: BinkCummings@yahoo.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Friday, April 24, 2015

  SOCIAL MEDIA

  Also by Bink Cummings

  1

  Friday, April 24, 2015

  With Harley perched on my hip, I stand outside the doorway to give Tati the best view of her new bedroom. Who knew living in a house with a basement that could double as a small apartment would come in this handy? That a teenager would use it as her home—a private refuge? It’s the perfect place to give her space, yet close enough to be under the same roof, protected at all costs… even if Big doesn’t appreciate her presence.

  Truth? I don’t care what he wants.

  It’s been a week since she first arrived at the compound with the others. They left to join Whisky in Carolina Rose, Kentucky three days ago. We’re still under lockdown. Though the overflow of bikers has slowly begun to decline. Thank God. I was on the brink of pulling my hair out, if I had to deal with them much longer in the current climate we’re stewing in… a.k.a. Big’s epic Asshole Fest. He’s bad enough when he doesn’t get his way in normal circumstances. Add the stress of running a club with the looming threat of Remy and his crew, and housing dozens of extra bikers who only serve to spoon-feed your machismo, equals the biggest dickwad ever born.

  Yep, that’s my old man for ya.

  I have him on full go-fuck-yourself ignore.

  Consider it a gift. I do. It beats having to listen to his self-righteous bullshit. I’m over it.

  Now dressed in her own apparel, courtesy of Gunz taking a special trip for me, Tati wavers at the room’s threshold, thumbs warring in front of her as usual. Chewing her bottom lip, she rocks back on her heels as she eyes the redecorated space.

  With the help of the Sacred Sisters, we transformed Harley’s downstairs bedroom into Tati’s teen oasis. There’s a blue and black floral comforter on top of a twin bed, matching blue walls, a girly lamp, dresser, bookshelf, and one of those Papasan chairs teenagers seem to love. Up until today, I slept on the downstairs couch while she took the bed in the downstairs bedroom Big and I use on occasion. I didn’t want to contaminate Big’s main floor with our presence, so we’ve turned the basement into a chicks-no-dicks zone. Guess it’s a good thing I love it down here. It’s not exactly a hardship.

  “Sooo, what do ya think?” I prompt with a jut of my chin as Harley reaches out to touch Tati’s hair.

  The teen turns, arms stretching out to take my daughter.

  As expected, Harley launches herself with a happy laugh into her new favorite person’s arms. If their bond wasn’t so adorable, I’d be offended by my baby’s desire to get away from her mother as fast as possible.

  Tati smiles as the blonde ham snuggles her, babbling a bunch of nonsense. I smile, too. Their interactions are too precious to ignore.

  Carrying Harley on her hip into the bedroom, Tati speaks in hushed tones to the tiny turd as she points out each piece of furniture. “What do you think of those books, Leech?” I hear her ask.

  Sighing quietly to myself, I rest my head against the door jamb as Pretzel sits beside me on the floor, his body leaning heavily against mine.

  It’s official. I’m the only person who doesn’t call my daughter by the ridiculous nickname her father magnanimously bestowed upon her. Can you imagine going through life being called Leech? That’s what her future looks like, thanks to him. At least he had the decency to give me Bink. Couldn’t he have given her something more badass? Leech doesn’t cut it.

  Content to keep my distance, I watch my two most favorite girls explore the room together. They test the bounce of the bed, the softness of the comforter and the chair, where Tati places Harley in her lap to make faces at her. It doesn’t take long for them to roll in laughter. For a teenager who’s been through hell and back you’d think it’d be hard to find joy. But she does. Maybe it’s stolen moments like this that keeps her upbeat. Whatever it is, I’m grateful. She’s been through enough.

  As they carry on, my thoughts travel back to the moment I asked Tati if she wanted to stay for good. She’d just gotten her first shower and was relaxing on the cot in the common room… A tender smile curves at the memory of her wet hair and those fingers combing through the locks almost reverently, like she’d forgotten how amazing it was to be clean. Not to get too deep on ya… But isn’t it strange to think about all the things most of us have that we take for granted? Things, when they’re stripped away, you appreciate more.

  There I stood at the end of her cot, riding high on adrenaline when she looked up at me. If I didn’t believe in God before, I would’ve then. Those innocent eyes connected with mine, and it’s like Tati knew before I did. She began to cry. Not wracking sobs. Little droplets of tears cascaded down her fresh face. It was hard for me to keep my shit together long enough to get the words out.

  “You wanna stay with me?”

  Five words was all it took to bring us to today.

  You think people are grateful when they say thanks for something nice you did.

  Or, those times when you give a friend a gift, and are humbled by their sincere gratitude and hug they give for thinking of them. But there’s not a damn thing that could ever top the scales of offering a girl, who’s had less than nothing, a brand-new life. It’s that simple. Kindness, compassion, love, empathy, all starts with words… and are cemented with action.

  I don’t get sentimental often. It’s a bit too cheesy, to be honest. But… if I’ve learned anything by meeting the survivors, it’s that life is precious, and you’ve gotta grab those priceless moments by the balls and never let go. Even if that means standing in a boring old doorway watching your daughter squeal with laughter as a silly teenager blows raspberries in the crook of her chubby neck. It might be trivial to some. To me it means the world, even if this tiny blip of life fades into the obscure memories I hold dear.

  Pretzel’s low growl tears me from my thoughts.

  A stair squeaks like someone’s descending into the basement.

  Nails scratching across the floor, my protector positions himself in the middle of the hallway, ears perked up, ready to engage. Not that he should be worried. It’s the basement of our house on a secure compound. Then again, if it’s Big trying to sneak up I wouldn’t mind my pups taking a bite out of his calf for his stupidity alone.

  The noise of boot heels thudding in measured steps echoes throughout the hall. “Bink, you down
here?”

  It’s Viper.

  Shaking my head at his approach, doing my best not to roll my eyes, I reply a sarcastic, “Do you wanna get eaten?”

  Pretzel, knowing the dumbasses’ voice, stands down on his own. The lazy bum yawns a high-pitched doggy yawn and sprawls out on the floor like pretending to be a badass guard dog for five seconds zapped the remaining energy from his body.

  Sigh.

  Men.

  A head of colorful hair pokes into the hall. “Hey.” Viper winks.

  Out from behind him pops another person I didn’t expect to see—Janie. Her shiny, dark hair’s up in a bun. Legs encased in a pair of tight jeans with a worn a Harley t-shirt to finish the outfit. Her son Dom, is nowhere in sight.

  “Hey, both of you.” I wave.

  They approach, but stop once they reach Pretzel, who is too lazy to do more than groan a hello. Chuckling to himself, Viper kneels to pet the pup. “So, yeah, Janie wanted to see how Tati was. I told her I’d walk her over,” he explains as if this is normal behavior.

  It’s not.

  Apparently, Viper’s been spending more time with Dom since the lockdown. It’s no secret he’s all about kids. If he were a woman, you’d think he had baby fever.

  I back away from Tati’s bedroom to give them access. “Yeah. Sure. Harley’s in there, too.” Inviting them to do whatever, I sweep my hand toward the space, hoping Janie takes all the time she needs to get to know Tati. With them close in age and trafficking survivors, I don’t think it’s crazy to hope the foundation of friendship could be built on their shared past. Hell, friendships have been built on far less.

  Janie nods a hello as she steps around Pretzel to enter Tati’s room. Viper stays in the hall with me as Janie swoops in to claim my daughter, who’s reluctant to leave her new best friend, if her whines are any indication.

  Leaving the girls to do their thing in private, I turn my attention to Viper. He takes a seat on the floor, back against the wall, to feed Pretzel’s inner affection whore.

  “You know you’re spoiling him,” I tease.

  He shrugs. “I like dogs.” Thick, tattooed fingers scratch behind the pup’s ears.

  Taking my own load off, I lean my ass against the opposite wall. “I know.”

  “And kids,” he volleys.

  “And Janie,” I add with a smirk to test his response.

  A rush of pink suffuses his cheeks, followed by a faint nod. “That, too.”

  Gotta give him props, at least he didn’t deny it.

  “You know she’s too young for you, right?”

  Viper’s lips press into a thin line. “It’s not like that.”

  Maybe, but it could be.

  “You sure it’s not?” Ignoring the urge to scratch the hell out of my healing tattoo, I cross my arms over my chest. I’ve been slapping the stupid thing all day to keep from clawing my side like some rabid cheetah. Pix told me it helps. It doesn’t. Not really.

  Pretzel’s head lifts, then drops onto Viper’s thigh. “Yes. I’m sure. I was keepin’ an eye on Dom. When she got back from the clubhouse with Gunz she said somethin’ about Tati’s new bedroom, so I offered to walk her over while Gunz kept an eye on her kid.”

  Right. Right. Wish I could say I’m buying it, but I’ve been around far too many pretty women and bikers to know how this story goes.

  I’m in a relationship with Big, remember?

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Viper shouldn’t be interested in Janie. She’s beautiful and smart… even if she’s far too young for him. I’m no hypocrite. The club just doesn’t need the added complication. Maybe in a few years if she sticks around, when she’s had time to heal, be a mother, grow up on her own terms… then she can get swept off her feet by a Harley lovin’ bad boy. Until that day, I want her to find peace within herself. Same goes for Tati. Dicks need to stay where they belong, in their pants.

  “You do realize I’m in a relationship with the man who helped raise me—”

  “Yeah,” he interjects, cheek twitching in mild irritation. “I get that. But it’s not the same thing. I might be protective of her and Dom, but I’m also really fuckin’ protective of you, too. And the rest of the sisters. I respect women. And most of the women here got men to look out for ‘em. She doesn’t.”

  “She has Gunz,” I remind. No offense to Viper, but Gunz is the one you want on your side, and she’s already got him in the bag. A familial bag, with no boy romance drama to shake shit up.

  “True.” His head bobs in agreement, not backing down in the least. “But he’s got a load of shit to juggle. Between the club, you, Leech, Niki, Beth, Janie and Dom, he’s stretched thin. I ain’t…” Eyes on mine, he grins, eyebrow lifting in a classic hot boy arch. “You goin’ all queen of the castle on me, Bink?”

  “I’m not queen of anything.” And just because you can charm the pants off any bitch, don’t mean I’m fallin’ for this ‘I’m a nice guy. Wanna keep my dick in my pants’ schtick.

  Viper snorts. “Says the old lady of the prez.”

  “We are not on speaking terms.’” Haven’t said a single word to Big in four days. Not one.

  “Oh, everyone’s aware of that.”

  Great. Goddamn peachy.

  Massaging the bridge of my nose, I groan. “That bad?”

  “You know Big… You tell me.” The ugly truth hangs heavy in Viper’s statement.

  Sex deprivation and stress will do that to any man. Big hasn’t gotten laid in forever. Neither have I. People get cranky when they quit gettin’ their O’s. Dick deprivation is real, and it sucks major lady blue balls. See, just another thing to be pissed at Big about. If he’d been on board with Tati, then we’d be humping like rabbits… instead of this…

  Speaking of this… Ya know, life, adulting, doing the responsible stuff… It’s about time to feed Harley before her nap.

  Not in the mood to discuss Viper’s prez, I change the subject altogether. “I’m gonna run upstairs for a minute. You gonna stay for a bit?” I push off the wall to peek into the bedroom. All three girls are sitting on the bed, pouring over some book. Harley’s slapping the pages with excitement while the teens converse.

  “I think so. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on ‘em. You do your thing,” Viper says.

  “Thanks.”

  Taking my cue to leave, I knock on the door jamb to fill Tati and Janie in on what I’m doing before stepping over Viper’s outstretched legs.

  Climbing the stairs like I’ve got all day, I mull over the dozen different things I gotta get done…

  Maybe we can do chicken for dinner, I think I’ve got breasts in the freezer.

  Cookies sound good for dessert. A giant batch to share with everyone... besides Big. Maybe Tati will wanna learn my recipe. She probably doesn’t have much experience cooking. Could be fun for us to do together.

  Reaching the main floor, counting off recipe ingredients in my head, I take three blind steps toward the kitchen and that’s all it takes for me to realize I’ve messed up. Royally, messed the hell up.

  This cannot be happening.

  I’m not alone.

  Pausing mid-step, I come face-to-face with him. Not only that, Mr. Blond and Buff, Kai, is standing on the opposite side of the kitchen counter talking to my Neanderthal. It takes them less than a second to notice me and my hesitation.

  Fuckity fuck.

  What do I do now?

  This is not what I wanted to deal with today.

  Door number one, I bite the bullet and go about my business as if they don’t exist.

  Door number two, I take the mature-ish route, say hello, then get our daughter’s food, hoping we can avoid any further confrontation. I’ll worry about the rest of the supplies later.

  Door number three, I run back down the stairs like my ass is on fire.

  Door number four, I cause a scene that’ll be remembered for years to come. A scene so epic our grandchildren will talk about it when they’re my age. The day Grandma Bin
k nailed grandpa’s balls to the floor. It will forever be marked on the calendar as Don’t-Fuck-with-Bink day.

  What option would you choose?

  Four?

  I agree, that does sound promising. Too bad I don’t have a hammer or nails handy. Also, cleaning blood off the floor isn’t fun. If you’ve ever had one of those early morning serial killer menstruation moments, you know what I’m talking about.

  Option three?

  Meh. Sounds okay.

  Though, I’m no scaredy cat. So that’s out.

  Can you tell I’m stalling?

  Guess it’s time to face the music.

  Keeping my cool, I hold my head up, shoulders back, and avoid eye contact, or any contact at all for that matter, as I stroll into the kitchen like I would any other day. In the cupboard behind Big I extract jars of fruit and vegetable baby food for Harley. The room’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

  Once I’ve got her meal covered, I turn around and wouldn’t you know it… I get a wall of man back. The jerk hasn’t moved an inch and he’s too close to the silverware for my liking, so I forgo the drawer. I’ll get a spoon in the basement, where it’s safe.

  Escaping his vicinity on the tips of my toes, I’m almost in the clear to make a break for the stairs when the bane of my existence opens his stupid mouth. “Can I see my kid today?”

  Ohhh… that motherfucker!

  I freeze, spine going ramrod straight. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

  Do not engage. Do not say shitty things in the heat of the moment, Bink. Stay cool. Don’t be an asshole. He’s the asshole. Don’t follow his lead.

  The words of wisdom chant in my brain on a turnstile, doing fuckall.

  Since that doesn’t work, I count...

  One, Mississippi. Two, Mississippi. Three, M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i. Four, aww-fuck -all-this-horse-doody. Five.

  Anger suffuses my heart as it tries to tear from my chest to club him over the head.