Craving Rose (The Aces' Sons)

by Nicole Jacquelyn

  “Daddy’s little princess, huh?” Grease joked.

  “No shit, man,” Casper said with a shake of his head. “Anyway, you’re all invited. Next Saturday. We’ll barbecue.”

  “No worries if you and Kara don’t have any gear,” Cam said to me. “We’re bringin’ extras, and no way will Trix be a part of any of that.”

  “You think any of the women will?” I asked as we left the room.

  “My mom’ll probably get in on it,” Cam said with a smile. “Lily and Rose, too. I doubt Aunt Callie will, and who knows with Brenna. She’s a dark horse. Molly—maybe. Hawk—definitely.”

  “It’s gonna be a free for all,” I said, remembering the water balloon fight at Rebel’s birthday.

  “No doubt,” Cam said, looking at me. “And all of the women know how to shoot, so watch your balls.”

  “Fuck.”

  “You knew the score when you went there, man,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder. “Take the abuse and say thank you.”

  “That what you did?” I asked.

  “Trix was pregnant,” Cam replied with a shake of his head. “I let them do whatever they wanted. Couldn’t be worse than what I was doin’ myself.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  “’Course, Farrah’s my mom, so she was firmly in my camp.” His lips turned up in a smile. “But she’s definitely not in yours.”

  Fuck me.

  “You’ll live,” he said easily as he walked away. “But I wasn’t joking, man. Wear a cup.”

  The rest of the day passed by quick. Even though I kept my phone turned all the way up, I still checked it a hundred times. I couldn’t believe that Rose was still pissed. She’d completely overreacted to the fact that I didn’t want more kids. I’d asked her to move in with me, for Chrissake. It wasn’t like I was the villain here.

  And sure, if she wanted kids, then things were never going to last long-term. But storming out and going radio silent was immature as hell. I should’ve known that hooking up with someone so much younger was going to be a fucking headache, but I’d been too caught up to care.

  By the time I got off work for the night, I was more pissed than I’d been since Rose walked out. Fuck her. Fuck her dramatics and her immaturity. And fuck me for letting it get so serious that I still couldn’t think about anything else weeks after it ended.

  I was walking to my bike when my phone rang, and I reached for it so fast that I got irritated all over again.

  “Hey, princess,” I answered when I saw that it was Kara calling.

  “Hey, Dad. Do you care if I stay for dinner? Charlie’s mom says she can drive me home.”

  “You got homework?” I asked, hoping she did. I wasn’t real excited about Farrah showing at my house later.

  “I finished it right after school,” Kara said quickly. “And I did all my morning chores, and I won’t be home late.”

  “Fine with me, I guess.”

  “Thanks, Dad!”

  “Mind your manners,” I ordered as I stopped by my bike. “And help with cleanup. You’re over there so much, you definitely can’t be considered a guest anymore.”

  “I always help,” she replied. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  As soon as she hung up, I stuffed my phone in my pocket, but I didn’t climb on my bike. I had nothing to go home to.

  Before Rose, I wouldn’t have thought twice about going home to enjoy a beer and some TV while the house was quiet. I’d been doing it for years, and I enjoyed the rare time to myself. Now, the house just felt empty as fuck when I was there alone.

  “All good?” Grease asked as he came out of the building.

  “Yeah, man,” I replied. “Fine.”

  Grease nodded as he stopped next to his bike.

  “Your boys have been glarin’ at me for weeks, but you haven’t,” I said, immediately regretting the words.

  “My boys are young,” Grease said, pausing with his helmet in his hands. “They’re just startin’ out with their women. Still in the stage where everythin’ is either black or white. Haven’t had a chance to see all those shades of gray in between.”

  I nodded, thinking that over.

  “She’s not sayin’ much,” Grease said, making my head snap up. “But I know you love my daughter. So whatever’s happenin’ with you two is none of my business.”

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  “Don’t thank me,” he said flatly. “There comes a time I think it is my business, there’s not a place in this world you can hide from me.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised his hand to stop me.

  “Don’t want to know,” he said. “I ain’t your confessor. Man up and fix shit with my girl, yeah? ’Cause the longer this goes on, the less neutral I’m gonna be.”

  I laughed to myself as he pulled away and I tugged my helmet on. Wasn’t sure how I’d fix shit with Rose when she was the one who’d ended things. I wondered for a second if she was claiming something different, but immediately knew better. Rose wasn’t the type to lie about shit just to gain some sympathy. It was more likely that she was saying nothing, so everyone just assumed that I’d fucked up somehow.

  I stewed the entire ride home, all the way through my shower, and as I made myself a sandwich for dinner. It wasn’t anything new, I’d been doing it for weeks, but for once I didn’t try to think about something else. I glared at the table while I ate, letting that last morning play on repeat in my mind.

  By the time I was done with my food, I’d looked at the argument from all angles, and I was still pissed as hell at Rose.

  I found myself riding to her work a few minutes later. It was earlier than she usually started, but I was on limited time since Kara would be home before too long. I figured if I caught Rose, great. If not? Well, I’d order a beer and enjoy it somewhere other than my couch.

  She was behind the bar when I got there, doing her thing like it was any other night, and that made me even angrier. I was sitting at home stewing, and she was moving on with her life like nothing had happened. As I walked up to the bar and she smiled at a customer, I flexed my fists, wanting to break something.

  Rose did a double take when she saw me, then, with a resigned expression, walked my way.

  “What can I get you?” she asked warily.

  “Beer,” I replied. “You know what I like.”

  She swallowed and nodded, reaching for a glass. Silently, she poured me a beer, grabbed a coaster, and set both down in front of me. She turned to walk away and paused when I scoffed.

  “Was there something else?” she asked, turning only her head to look at me.

  “Shot of whiskey,” I replied.

  I watched her closely as she grabbed a shot glass and set it next to my beer. Her hands shook as she poured the whiskey, and knowing that she wasn’t as unaffected as she seemed tempered my anger a little, but not enough.

  “Is that all?” she asked woodenly, her eyes pointed somewhere over my shoulder.

  I don’t know what made me say it, anger or resentment or some mix of the two, but when she finally looked directly at me, I gave her a nasty smile. “I’d like a shot at the bartender,” I said, not bothering to lower my voice. “You on the menu?”

  Her head jerked back like I’d slapped her, and all the blood drained from her face.

  “No?”

  “I don’t come into your work and cause problems,” she said, her voice so low I could barely hear her. “I expect the same from you. Drink your beer and your whiskey and get the hell out.”

  “You don’t come into my work because you don’t want your brothers knowin’ that you’re the one who left,” I shot back. “Easier to play the victim when everybody thinks that I did somethin’.”

  “I’m not playing anything,” she replied, glancing down the bar nervously. “I haven’t said anything to anyone, because I prefer my privacy.”

  “Right,” I spat.

  “It didn’t work out,” she said through her
teeth. “There’s no victim here. But right now, you’re being a colossal dick. Go home, Mack.”

  I laughed, irritated as hell that I couldn’t get a rise out of her. I wanted—needed—something. Any sign that she was as fucked up over all this as I was. I’d given her time to think shit over, and I’d kept my distance, but this was complete bullshit.

  “You’re seriously throwin’ it all away,” I said flatly. “Because I don’t want more kids. Jesus, I know you’re young, but figured you were more mature than that.”

  “From what I can see, the only immature one here is you,” she replied. “Finish your drinks. They’re on the house. Then get the fuck out.”

  She walked away before I could say anything else. It was then that I started to feel stupid as fuck. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with me?

  I threw a couple of twenties on the bar and left, not bothering to finish anything.

  When I got home, Kara, Charlie, and Farrah were sitting on our front porch.

  “Shit, sorry,” I called as I shut my bike off.

  “No problem,” Farrah said. “We just got here.”

  “You got your key?” I asked Kara.

  “She already put her stuff inside,” Farrah answered. “But she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to have company inside.”

  I looked at Kara in surprise.

  “Alright,” Farrah said. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted us in your house when you weren’t there. No big deal.”

  “For future reference,” I said as I reached them, “if I’m not here when you drop her off, you can go inside, or she can stay on her own.”

  “I can?” Kara asked excitedly.

  “When I know you’re comin’ home and I’m on my way?” I replied. “Sure.”

  I ignored the way Kara rolled her eyes.

  “I’d love a cup of coffee, thanks,” Farrah said as she got to her feet.

  “I didn’t ask,” I said as I opened the front door.

  “Could’ve sworn I’d heard you,” she said easily, following me inside.

  The girls immediately ran upstairs, leaving me with the barracuda. The back of my neck tingled as I made a pot of coffee, and I knew she was staring at me. Farrah was tiny, closer to Kara’s size than Rose, but she might’ve been the most terrifying woman I’d ever met. You just never knew what she was going to do. The only thing that gave me any comfort was that she wasn’t carrying the shotgun she liked to pull out when shit got rowdy at the clubhouse.

  “What’d you do?” she finally asked as I set a cup of coffee down in front of her.

  “Why does everyone think I did somethin’?” I asked in frustration. “Why don’t you ask your niece what happened?”

  “She’s not talking.”

  “Then why don’t you respect that?”

  Farrah laughed. “Not the way it works, kid.”

  “I’m not that much younger than you.”

  “You’ll always be that much younger than me,” she replied, taking a sip of her coffee. “Even if we were the same age—which we aren’t. Not even close.”

  “Say what you need to say,” I replied.

  “This is your show,” she announced, waving her hand toward me. “Start talking.”

  “Nothin’ to say.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Where were you tonight?”

  “None of your fuckin’ business.”

  “Not hasslin’ my niece at work, I hope.”

  “The fuck?”

  “Casper’s got eyes everywhere, kid. Not a damn thing happens that we don’t know about.”

  “Then why the fuck did you let that shit go on with Copper so long?” I shot back.

  Her eyes darkened. “Can’t see what happens behind closed doors,” she said.

  “Because you shouldn’t. It’s none of your goddamn business.”

  “My kids, my business.”

  “Last time I checked, Rose was Grease and Callie’s.”

  Farrah chuckled. “If you think that, you haven’t been paying attention.” She pointed at me. “That girl is as much mine as she is Callie’s. Her brothers, too.”

  We stared at each other for a long time, the girls’ laughter in the bedroom the only thing breaking the silence.

  “She wants kids,” I finally said, irritated that I broke first.

  “And you don’t?”

  “I had a vasectomy years ago.”

  “Fucking hell,” she said as her eyes widened. “I forgot all about that.”

  “Guess it’s a deal-breaker,” I said, keeping my expression neutral.

  “You didn’t tell her?” Farrah asked.

  “Thought everyone knew.”

  “Assuming makes you an ass.” Farrah glanced toward the bedroom. “Can’t those things be reversed?”

  “If I wanted it reversed,” I replied.

  “Ah,” she said in understanding.

  “Ah, what?”

  “There’s a difference between, sorry, baby, I did this before we met and sorry, baby, I don’t want any more kids.” She stood up. “The first one can be fixed—plenty of ways to build your family without sperm. The second one can’t.”

  “That’s it?” I asked as she started around the table.

  “What?” she laughed. “You want my advice now? Alright, here it is. If you don’t want more kids, then stay away from Rose. Even if by some chance you get her back, you’re stealing away something precious. Because even if she agrees to go along with it, she’ll never be happy. She’ll resent the hell out of you.”

  “I’m not forcing her,” I ground out. “If she wants to be with me, she’s making that choice.”

  Farrah looked at me sadly. “If you love her, don’t even give her that option.”

  My stomach sank.

  “Charlie-bear,” Farrah called. “Let’s go.”

  I stayed there in the kitchen as Charlie ran down the hallway and left with Farrah. I couldn’t make my feet move. I’d never had trouble doing the right thing, making a decision and following through with it. My conscience was clear because even if my actions didn’t follow with someone else’s version of right and wrong, I knew in my gut they were right.

  But I didn’t think I could do the right thing this time. If I had a chance with Rose, I’d take it and the resentment Farrah was so sure would follow.

  Chapter 13

  Rose

  It was drizzling outside when I got to the clubhouse for Charlie’s birthday party, and my hair was wild around my face by the time I walked through the door.

  “What in the I-married-my-cousin is this?” I asked, pausing with my hands holding my hair back.

  “Paintball war,” my mom said, coming out from behind the bar. “The boys went a little overboard.”

  “You think?” The crowd was a sea of camouflage clothing and faces smeared with green and brown paint.

  “Are you going to play?” she asked, looking me up and down. I’d worn a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, nothing out of the ordinary, but I definitely wasn’t prepared to be running outside getting hit with paint.

  “Why did no one tell me that we were doing paintball?”

  “I thought I told you,” Hawk said as she walked toward us. She was wearing all black, and had a ski cap pulled over her purple hair.

  “Are you planning a little B&E later?” I asked, making my mom snort.

  “No way in hell am I putting on camo anything,” she replied with a shudder. “This is giving me flashbacks to the douchebags in high school that constantly asked me for blowjobs.”

  “Gross.”

  “Mick took care of it,” Hawk said with a smile. I felt a little pang, but smiled back. My older brother had been Hawk’s best friend in high school before he’d died.

  “That’s because we raised our boys right,” my mom replied.

  Just then, Tommy hopped on top of a table and started thrusting his hips.

  “Two out of three ain’t bad,” I told my mom consolingly as she grimaced. />
  “Are you going to play?” Hawk asked. “You might want to change.”

  “I didn’t bring anything else to wear.”

  “I can get you something out of your dad’s stuff,” my mom said. “At least a flannel or something.”

  “Then, yeah,” I replied to Hawk. “I’ll play.”

  “Yes!” She threw up devil horns. “We can work together.”

  “Don’t do it,” Molly called from the bar. “She’s been asking all of us.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Hawk yelled back. She turned to me. “My loyalty is to you, of course.”

  I laughed, but my skin felt tight as I caught sight of Mack across the room. He hadn’t gotten the memo to wear camo, and he was standing with my cousin Cam, wearing a pair of faded, old jeans and a dark green sweatshirt with bleach stains all over it.

  “Okay, here’s the rules,” my Aunt Farrah said, stepping onto a chair.

  “There are no rules!” Will yelled jokingly.

  “Wrong, Wilfred,” she replied, pointing at him. “Number one, inside the club is off limits. Under no circumstances will you bring the fight inside. Number two, no face shots. I’m not taking anyone to the hospital today. Number three, one hit is wounded, two hits is down, three hits is out. Once you’re out, clear the course.”

  “There’s a course?” I asked quietly to my mom.

  “Wait until you see how they set up the back field. It’s awesome,” she whispered back.

  “Number four, if at any time someone wants to quit, all they have to do is put their arms in the air and they’re out of the game. Don’t be a douchebag about it,” Farrah said. Then she climbed off the chair.

  I followed my mom into my dad’s room and left wearing a pair of her sweatpants and one of my dad’s old flannels over my sweatshirt. It wouldn’t keep me dry outside, by any means, but it would hopefully keep the paint stains to a minimum.

  By the time I got outside, the game had already begun. Everyone was screaming and laughing and racing around the course that my uncle and aunt had set up. There were tractor tires, logs, my dad’s beat up old pickup, and even a little shed made out of plywood for cover. They’d also set up a ton of green netting from the army surplus store, making visibility even worse.