by Nicole James
He lowers the bottle, and his eyes hit the new coffee maker, then scan across to the cute floral dishtowel I have hanging off the oven handle, then over to the matching oven mitt I left on the counter when I took the pizza out.
He opens the fridge again and does a double take, eyeing the items I bought at the grocery store. Milk, eggs, cheese, bacon, jelly, etc.
He closes it. “Where’d you get the money for all this?”
“I had a little.”
“I’ll give you some. I don’t want you spending what you have on this place, hear me?”
“Fine.”
“How much did you spend?” He pulls out his wallet.
“Almost three hundred.”
His brows lift at my response. “Three hundred? For what?”
“I bought a few essentials.”
He counts out five bills and passes them to me. “You think the extra two hundred will hold you off for awhile? I’m not rollin’ in dough this month.”
I can’t imagine he’s ever rollin’ in dough but I actually have no clue what he does for money. I’m guessing if he gets it from working for the club, it must be illegal. Do I really want to know? Yes, I actually find that I do. “How do you earn your money?” It’s a brazen question, but I feel this ring earns me some rights, besides I’m living in his house.
“That’s between me and the club. You don’t get to know club business.”
“Is it illegal?”
“Most of it, yeah.”
“And you don’t even care, do you?”
“Maybe someday I’ll have the time and energy to have a discussion with you about morals and things that get you put in prison, but right now I’m too tired.”
That was a crack at my stepfather and the things that got him and my mother put in prison. I lift my chin. I didn’t think he was capable of hitting that low. “Fine. I put a pillow and blanket on the couch for you.”
He doesn’t even acknowledge my gesture, just walks past me and into the bathroom, closing the door. I retreat to the bedroom, and crawl under the covers, hearing the shower come on.
Now, all I can think of is Saint stripping his clothes off and stepping under the hot stream of water. Images of it sluicing over his muscular tattooed body fill my head.
I roll to my back and stare at the ceiling, the sound of the water running continuing to torment me.
Eventually the water shuts off. A minute later, the door opens and he comes in the room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The lights are off but I can still see him in the gray light from the moon outside.
He moves to the dresser, and pulls open a drawer. I wince because I moved his things to the bottom drawer, and filled that one with my bras and panties.
“What the fuck?” he murmurs, his hand coming up with satin and lace, then whirls on me. “Where’d you put my clothes?”
“I moved them to the bottom drawer.”
He digs out a pair of sweatpants, and slams the drawer. Then before I realize what he’s about to do, he drops the towel, and slips into the sweatpants. They hang low on his hips showing off that delicious v men have that drive women crazy. My gaze trails up over his flat abs and muscled chest until I hit his eyes. They’re drilled into mine.
“See something you like, wife?”
I turn over towards the wall, my face burning.
I hear him chuckle behind me. “We’re gonna be spending the summer together, so you better lose that shy act.”
“Maybe it’s not an act.”
“You a virgin, Kam?”
“Of course not.”
“Sorry to hear that. How’d you lose it?”
I lift up on my elbows to glare back at him, and find he’s moved closer. Some of my steam goes out at that, but I swallow and murmur. “That’s none of your business.”
He takes my hand and holds it up, the diamond flashing in the dim moonlight. “This says otherwise.”
I hate that he throws my words from earlier back at me. I pull my hand free. “Go away.”
He tousles my hair, grinning, and then he notices the new sheets. “New shower curtain, new sheets, you really went all out.”
“Hardly.”
“Sweet dreams, babe.” He saunters out, and I can’t keep my eyes from dropping to his phenomenal ass. Really, how can a man have such a cute butt? It’s not fair.
“I’m not your babe!”
I hear him chuckle from the other room, and I drop back to the bed and punch a fist in my pillow. “God, he’s infuriating.”
“I heard that.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kami—
The following Saturday, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Saint’s truck in a simple blue eyelet dress. He pulls into a parking spot, and I stare over at my high school. The graduation ceremony is in the gymnasium so there’ll be enough room. I see other students in their caps and gowns, along with their families, moving toward the building.
Saint shuts off the engine. “You ready?”
“Nope. Not even close.”
He shoulders open his door, ignoring my response, and steps out, then reaches behind his seat, grabbing a suit jacket off the hook. He’s wearing jeans and a white shirt with no tie. I guess I should be thankful he bothered to put in the effort to track down the jacket.
He slips it on, and I can’t deny the man looks good. Really good.
He comes around to my side, opening my door and extending his hand like a gentleman. “Come on.”
I slip off the seat, dropping my high-heeled sandal to the pavement. My dress slides up my thigh, and Saint doesn’t miss it. “Look, I’ve changed my mind. I really don’t want to do this.”
“It’s important to your mom, Kami. Now, put on the cap and gown.”
It’s more of an order than a request. I huff and yank the gown from the hook behind my seat. He takes it from my hands and holds it up for me to slip my arms in. Then his hands land on my shoulders, and he turns me around, hooking the clasps. I slap the stupid cap on my head and pin it into place.
“You’re a people pleaser, Kami,” he tells her.
“A what?”
“You’re always trying to make everyone around you happy.”
“Am I?”
“Yup. So let’s drop the act that you aren’t going to do this. You’ll do it for your mom.” He leans to press his forehead to mine. “Because it’ll make her happy.”
I pull back. “You think you know me so well.”
“Don’t I? I see through all your bullshit, and I’m not afraid to call you on it, babe. You’re problem is you care too much about what people think.”
“And you don’t care at all.”
“Bingo.” He’s infuriatingly smug as he admits it with a grin.
A couple of boys in my class walk past; they snicker when they see me. Saint, turns toward them and takes a single step. Their smiles disappear, and they jog off with their tails between their legs.
I’m so down-in-the-dumps right now, but seeing Saint stick up for me like that makes me stand taller. He turns back to me, and I can tell its different now—the way he looks at me. Now that he’s seen with his own eyes just a small portion of what’s in store for me. He takes my shoulders, and dips his head to meet my gaze, giving me a shake. “Show ‘em your smile, not your pain. You hear me?”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is. Not everyone matters, Kami.” He lifts his chin toward the school. “And no one in there matters to you anymore. Don’t let ‘em get to you. This is for your mom, and everything she did for you, raisin’ you up. After today, these people are dead to you.”
He’s trying to be supportive, but I’m only feeling worse. I gaze off.
“Listen to me.” His voice is low, and it seeps into my soul.
I meet his eyes again.
“You hold your head up, and you know—down to your bones—you’re better than all of them, understand?”
I nod.
“T
hey’re nothing.” He gives me a little shake. “Say it.”
“They’re nothing,” I repeat.
“They’ll never have half the grit you’ve got, Kami, and that’s a fucking fact.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Hell, yeah, I mean that. You ready?”
“All right. Let’s get this over with.”
***
Saint—
“Kami Lee Jennings.” The voice echoes through the speaker system into the huge metal rafters of the gymnasium. I see her from where I stand next to a full bleacher. She starts across the stage and shakes the principal’s hand taking the diploma. I snap a couple pictures with my phone, zooming in on her, hoping to get at least one good one for her mother. I hear a few boos scattered through the crowd of students. Someone yells out, “Loser!”
I don’t see the kid, but a round of murmured laughter fans out.
I want to break some legs, but I don’t know who said it.
Kami moves quickly down the steps to the floor and follows along the line of students returning back to her row.
It tears my heart out to watch her have to deal with that abuse. Witnessing first-hand her humiliation at the hands of these privileged brats is more than I can stand. I move down the side aisle, stopping at her row. The wide eyes of every kid around me, stare. I lift my hand, palm up, and waggle two fingers, motioning Kami out of the row. Her eyes get big, but I can also see the relief in her face. She wants to get out of here as badly as I want to get her out. She stands and comes to me. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, tugging her against me, and whisper in her ear. “Flip ‘em off, babe.”
She grins at me and does just that as we move toward the door.
I push it open and we escape like two inmates making a jailbreak. We run, laughing to the truck. She turns to me, smiling brightly. “God, thank you for getting me out of there.”
“You’re welcome. Now smile big and hold up that diploma, girl. I want to get a good shot for your mom.”
She does, and the happiness on her face is real this time, nothing like the brittle one she’d worn on stage.
I get a couple of shots, and then I hold the door for her, and she climbs up into my truck. I shut it and move around to my side, pulling off my jacket and unbuttoning a couple of buttons on the shirt, rolling up the sleeves, and pulling the tails out of my jeans. Then I climb in and fire the engine up.
Kami is yanking off her cap and gown. I back the truck out of the spot as she rolls her window down and tosses them out onto the blacktop.
I grin big at her, and she leans out the window to scream, “So long, suckers!”
I bust out laughing at this crazy, happy girl that’s just gotten rid of part of the enormous weight that had been put on her shoulders.
“You want some ice cream to celebrate?”
“Ooo, I want a Blizzard!”
I take her through the Dairy Queen drive-thru and we park to eat. I lean against my door, and she twists toward me, leaning a shoulder into the backrest. She scoops a big spoonful of crushed Oreos and ice cream, and shoves it in her mouth, moaning at the flavor. “I haven’t had one of these in forever.” She talks around the mouthful.
“Oreo Blizzard. I’ll have to remember that for the future; sometime when I piss you off and need a peace offering.”
She points the spoon at me. “Don’t forget the sprinkles.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grin, loving seeing her happy. We eat quietly for a while before I break the silence again. “Have you heard from your mom?”
She shakes her head. “But her attorney called and said she’s put me on the visitation list, and they cleared me. I can see her next Tuesday.”
“Not sure I can get away Tuesday.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” And just that fast, the happy mood is gone.
“Not sure I want you goin’ alone, Kam.”
“Why not?”
“You can’t really want to go alone, either.”
“Maybe not. But I want to see my mom.”
“Ever been to visit someone in prison?”
“Of course not.”
“There’s a process. You don’t just walk in.”
“You sound like you’ve done it before.”
“I have.”
“To visit some one from the club?”
“Yep. Someone in a different chapter. Carried a message. Just one of the shit jobs they’ve given me over the past year.”
“So you had no trouble getting in?”
“Nope. I don’t have a record. And I’m not a known member of the MC. Not yet, anyway. It’s easier to get a prospect inside for a visit.”
“I see. So what should I expect?”
“They’ll take your Id. You can’t take anything in with you but money for the vending machines. They’ll frisk you. They’ll scan your hand. You might have to go through two or more checkpoints. They’ll probably stamp your hand. Depends on where you go. Some places are different. They’ll be a bunch of people so you can probably just follow the line to know where to go when you walk in. Guards can be nice or they can be assholes. Don’t let it bother you. Just do what you’re told and be polite. They can throw you out if you piss them off, so don’t give them any smart mouth or attitude.”
“Anything else?”
“The room they take you to will probably look like a high school cafeteria, but with no windows. They’ll be vending machines. Get your mom something quick, because they sell out fast. Then sit at a table and wait. They’ll bring them in in a line. Sometimes they’ll let you hug, sometimes they won’t allow any touching.”
“Wow.” I can see she didn’t expect any of that.
“I’ll try my best to get the time off to go with you.”
She nods. “Will I get to bring her pictures?”
“Probably. But you’ll have to show them to the guards. Some places, they allow it. Some don’t.” She’s looking forlorn now. “I’ll get the pictures I took with my phone printed out for you, okay?”
“Thanks. She’d like to see them.”
I toss my cup in the trash and start the truck, heading us back to Uprising.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kami—
My hand on the truck’s door handle, I stare up at the tall prison fence with the razor wire looped around the top. I try to hide it, but I’m intimidated as hell.
“Look at me. You can do this.” Saint’s voice is soft and confident.
The last time he said those words to me I was nine years old and stuck in a tree. I look over to the driver’s seat, to meet Saint’s gaze. Somehow those brown eyes always steady me, and make me believe. I nod.
“Remember what I told you. You’ll be fine. I’m not allowed to wait here, so I’ll come back in an hour, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Maybe next time, they’ll have me on the list, too.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I push the door open and climb out, taking only my ID and a few dollars, and the two pictures of me at graduation. I look back at him, and he must see the worry and nervousness I feel written all over my face, because he stops me.
“Hey.”
I turn back.
“Maybe it’d be best if you skip the part where I’m prospecting for the Kings. It’ll only worry her and make her think she trusted the wrong guy.”
“Did she?”
“No, Kami, she didn’t. I’ll take care of you, just like I promised her I would. I may be a lot of things, but I’m a man of my word.”
“I won’t tell her.”
“I’ll be here to pick you up. I promise.”
I nod and walk toward the building, falling in behind a man and his small girls. They couldn’t be more than three or four, dressed up in pretty sundresses. Maybe they’re coming to this women’s prison to see their mom. How sad is that? At least I’m old enough to understand all this. I can’t imagine losing my mother to the system at such a young age.
I go through the check in process, which makes
me feel like I’m just a faceless number. Eventually, just like Saint explained, I’m led to a room much like a cafeteria and told to take a seat at one of the tables. I get one near the vending machines, and quickly get a couple of cans of soft drinks, a chocolate bar, and a bag of chips.
I sit and wait, my leg bouncing up and down, wondering what she’ll look like when I see her.
Several inmates are brought in and find their families. They hug, so we must be allowed, but they break apart quickly. One couple hug too long and a guard blows a whistle. They’ve obviously done this before, and break apart, chatting happily.
Finally, I see mom standing in the doorway, her eyes scan the room frantically. I lift my arm and she walks toward me. I can tell she wants to run, but it must not be allowed. I stand, unsure what to do. She makes it to me and hugs me tight. “My baby.”
I grab onto her, holding tight, and we both break into tears. Mom pulls back, and I’m sure she’s been advised of the rules. We sit across from each other, and I know there’s no other touching allowed.
“How are you?” she asks, her eyes searching mine. “Is he taking good care of you?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” I push the snacks across the table. “These are for you.”
Her eyes light up at the candy. “Oh, God. Chocolate. Thank you.”
She tears it open and takes a bite, moaning. “You can’t imagine the food in this place.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she snaps it shut as if she realizes she didn’t mean to let that slip, and then smiles. “It’s not that bad, really. But I do miss chocolate.” I know what she’s doing; she’s putting on her best face, not wanting me to know how horrible it really is.
“You don’t have to pretend for me, Mama. I know how awful it must be in here.”
She changes the subject. “So where did Santos take you? To an apartment?”
“He’s renting this old cottage on the outskirts of Uprising, Ga. It’s a small town not far from Atlanta. The place needs a boatload of work, but it’s got this cute gingerbread trim and has lots of character. It’d be cute if it were fixed up.”
