“It’s not a stereotype if it’s true,” she seethed. “If you would have said I was an awkward, foul-mouthed therapist who’s a badass, I would have agreed with you.”
“Awkward, foul-mouthed, and badass. That’s quite the combination.” I smirked.
“It’s a heavy load to carry, but I think I pull it off well.” She nodded toward my bike. “Now hop back on your bike, and I’ll tell Dad you had some biker emergency and had to leave.”
I stepped around her. “Now, now, Lynn. I don’t want you to lie to your dad. A cup of coffee and a breakfast burrito won’t hurt anything.”
She growled behind me. “I don’t understand why you are doing what you’re doing, Zephyr,” she murmured. “And I normally always know why people do the things that they do.”
A smile spread across my lips. “Does that make me special since you can’t figure me out?” I reached the front door and pulled it open.
Lynn breezed past me. “As if,” she muttered. She spun on her heel just inside the door. Her eyes connected with mine, and she shoved her finger into my chest. “One cup of coffee, and then you are gone, Zephyr. I have enough going on in my life that I don’t need you strutting in and mucking everything up.”
With her standing inside while I was still on the porch, we were the same height. My eyes locked with hers, and I leaned toward her. “You having a bee up your butt about me coming inside makes me want to come in even more so that I can see what you got going on.”
She narrowed her eyes. “There’s nothing going on in here.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, darlin’.”
She huffed. “Please, do come in, Zephyr.” She stepped to the side and swept out her arm. “Let me get you that cup of coffee.” Her words were forced, and I knew I was the last person on earth she wanted to invite in.
But why?
I stepped into her house, and she shut the door behind me.
“Lynn,” her dad bellowed. “You got the creamer I like?”
Lynn sighed and dropped her purse on a small table by the door. “It should be in the door, Dad. You’re the only one who drinks it,” she advised.
After fighting to get into her house, I didn’t know what to do. I had stepped into her little world, and it wasn’t exactly what I thought it was going to be.
It was like I had been catapulted back into the seventies with the shag carpet, dull yellow walls, and pea-green furniture with plastic covers on it. The only sign of living in the present was the flat-screen TV hung on the wall opposite the couch. The matching end tables and coffee table even screamed the decade before I was alive.
Lynn walked into the kitchen and motioned for me to follow her.
I was abruptly kicked into the present. I looked over my shoulder at the ugly seventies living room and then back into the very modern kitchen.
Lynn’s dad chuckled. “House is like a damn time machine, huh?”
“Uh, that’s about right,” I muttered.
Lynn opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of creamer. “I’m remodeling.”
“For the past year,” her dad mumbled.
Lynn rolled her eyes and set the container of creamer in front of her dad. “Well, since I’m doing it all myself, and I work about ninety million hours a week, it’s a bit slow going, huh, Dad?”
“You’ll get it done,” he replied assuringly. He grabbed the carafe from under the coffee machine and filled it with water from the tap.
Lynn moved to me and snagged the plastic bag from my hand. “How do you take your coffee?” she asked me.
“Uh, black.” I was trying to figure out why Lynn hadn’t wanted me to come into the house. Sure, it was kind of weird that I was meeting her dad, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.
“Just like you, Lynnie,” her dad laughed.
Lynn rolled her eyes. “You mean like more normal people in the world?” she drawled. “Someone who also likes the taste of coffee, not creamer.”
Her dad waved a hand toward her. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” He grabbed the bottle of creamer and held it up toward the ceiling. “Gives you a nice, sweet kick.”
Lynn reached up into one of the cabinets and pulled out a stack of coffee filters. “All I want is a kick of caffeine.” She slid a filter into the coffee maker, added three heaping spoonfuls of grounds, and slapped the basket closed. “You leave room for creamer, which means you don’t have as much coffee in your cup.”
“That’s why I have three cups when you only have two. I get my caffeine just like you do; mine just has some more flavor to it.” Her dad grabbed the bag with the burritos and motioned for me to sit down at the table.
I sat and leaned back in my chair, still feeling a little bit out of place, but the show Lynn and her dad were putting on with bickering was making it feel like home.
“What’s your name?” he asked me.
“Uh, Zephyr.”
He glanced up at me. “That’s different.”
I shrugged. It was. “Yup.”
“Suppose it’s better than the other hundred Tank’s or some other common road name, huh?” he laughed.
“Yeah, I guess when you think about it like that.” He was right about Tank being a common road name, but there were a hundred other road names out there that were just as common. I had lucked out with Zephyr. At the time it was given to me, I hadn’t thought so, but now, I liked it. It was a part of me.
Lynn stepped up to the table and grabbed the plastic bag. “Let’s eat. The coffee will be ready in a minute.” She grabbed a burrito out of the bag and slapped it down on the table in front of me.
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to rush me out of here,” I chuckled.
Lynn glared at me. “I would never do that,” she mumbled. She grabbed another burrito and handed it to her dad. “They might be too spicy for you. Just pick off the jalapenos.”
He grunted and unwrapped the burrito. “Girl, I’m not some baby.”
Lynn set the other burrito on the table and balled up the plastic bag. “I’m not calling you a baby, Dad. I just know that you don’t really like spicy.”
He tsked and waved his hand at her. “Don’t worry about me; just work on getting the coffee done.”
Lynn rolled her eyes and turned back to the coffee pot.
Her dad eyed her closely. When she reached up in the cabinet, her dad quickly unrolled his burrito, and his eyes bugged out at the number of jalapeños.
Lynn had been right about there being a lot.
He quickly flicked them off and then brushed them in his hands. He looked around anxiously but couldn’t find a place to toss them.
I shot out my hand and tipped my head for him to give them to me. He dropped them in my hand, and I managed to pop them in my mouth. Her dad rolled back up his burrito and took a huge bite just as Lynn turned around.
“Good?” she asked him.
He nodded eagerly. “Best I’ve ever had. Has a nice kick to it.”
Lynn tipped her head to the side. “Wow, I’m amazed you like it, Dad. Maybe this means I can add a little bit of spice to my food when I’m cooking.”
Her dad nodded. “Bring it on, honey.”
She laughed and turned back to the coffee pot as it sputtered.
I chewed the mouthful of peppers and felt them burn going down my throat. I didn’t mind spice at all, but I didn’t regularly pop a handful of jalapenos into my mouth—especially not this early in the morning. I coughed and tried to clear my throat.
Lynn turned with two cups in her hand. She looked down at my burrito that was still in the wrapper. “Uh, are you eating air?” she laughed.
I swallowed and smiled. “Just my gum.” I stuck out my tongue. “That’s now gone.”
“Strange,” she mumbled. She set a cup in front of me and one in front of her dad.
“Creamer,” her dad ordered.
“For Pete’s sake, Walter. I’m bringing it,” she grumbled.
“Don’t call me Walter,
girl.”
Lynn slammed the creamer in front of Walter. “Don’t call me girl.”
He huffed and grabbed the bottle of creamer. “Never heard of a child calling their dad by his real name.”
Lynn rolled her eyes. “I’m twenty-nine years old, Walter. It’s not like I’m five years old calling you it.”
He poured a long glug of creamer into his coffee. “You can call me Walter when I’m dead.”
Lynn sat down in the chair next to me and unwrapped her burrito. “You’re too ornery to die. God doesn’t want to put up with you up there.”
Walter scoffed. “My luck, I’ll be stuck terrorizing the Devil.”
Lynn took a big bite and motioned to me. “Are you going to eat, or are you full from Dad’s peppers?”
My jaw dropped, and Walter let out a holler.
“How did you know?” I asked.
Lynn rolled her eyes. “Give me a little bit of credit, will you?” she laughed. “I’ve gotten that burrito before, and they do not skimp on the jalapeños. I knew there was no way in hell that Dad would be able to eat even one bite without steam coming out of his ears.” She wagged her finger at Walter. “I ought to make you my chipotle nachos and force you to eat them for lying to me.”
Walter shook his head. “Ain’t happening, girlie. I’m not touching anything you make that has even a hint of spice in it. You like to have your mouth burn like hell when you eat.”
Lynn took a huge bite of her burrito. A huge jalapeño hung from her mouth, and she slurped it into her mouth. “I like flavor.”
I chuckled and finally unwrapped my burrito. “If I would have known you knew he gave me his peppers, I wouldn’t have shot-gunned them.”
Lynn laughed. “Serves you right.”
I took a huge bite and was thankful I had something more in my mouth than just jalapeños this time.
“How long have you been in the club?” Walter asked.
“The Kings? Since it started.”
“What did you do before? The Kings of Vengeance haven’t been around for that long.”
I shrugged. “A little bit of everything. I was part of another club, but things didn’t work. Did the nomad thing for a few years.”
“Nomad?” Lynn asked. “What does that mean?”
“He’s a gypsy,” Walter muttered. “Now that’s living life. Going wherever you want, whenever you want. I wish I could have done that.”
Lynn dropped her burrito onto the wrapper. “Yeah, too bad you couldn’t have done that instead of raising Steph and me.”
Walter scoffed. “You know that the hell I mean, Lynn.”
She folded her arms over her chest but didn’t say anything more.
“I uh, got a call from one of my friends about the Kings, and that’s how I’m here now.” The air between Lynn and Walter had shifted. There was something I didn’t know about.
“You plan on sticking around for a while?” Walter asked.
I nodded and took a sip of my coffee. “That’s the plan. The urge to get back on the road hasn’t hit, and I don’t think it will.”
Walter nodded. “Good.”
Lynn rolled her eyes. “And why is that good?”
Walter shrugged. “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Lynn? You’re much more prickly than you normally are.”
Yeah. That wasn’t the best thing Walter could have said.
Lynn calmly put her hands on the table and slowly pushed her chair back. “You know what? I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m going to excuse myself and leave you to entertain Zephyr since you were the one who invited him in.” She stood, grabbed her burrito and cup, and nodded to me. “Have a good life, Zephyr.”
She turned on her heel and headed down the hallway in a huff until she disappeared into an open door and slammed it behind her.
Well, that took one hell of a turn.
“She’s a feisty one,” Walter laughed. “Suppose that’s partly my fault.”
I shoveled a huge bite into my mouth and washed it down with coffee. “You don’t say?”
What else could I say? I had wanted to come in to spend more time with Lynn, and now, I was having breakfast with just her dad.
Walter sighed. “I wasn’t the greatest dad for a few years. Lynn took up the reins and helped raise her sister during that time.”
“Sister?” I asked.
Walter nodded. “Yeah. Steph is nine years younger than Lynn. Their mom died while giving birth to Steph. None of us took it well.”
I could tell there was a whole hell of a lot more behind that statement. “We all just do the best we can, right?”
Walter nodded. “You always been into riding?” he asked, changing the subject.
I was thankful for the redirect and dove headfirst into the new topic.
Half an hour later, Lynn still hadn’t come out of her room. I managed to excuse my way out and walked back to my bike. I swung my leg over and started it up, then pulled my phone from my pocket and groaned when I saw it was barely eleven.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered. This was why I didn’t wake up so goddamn early. Too much fucking time in the day, which made you either be productive or lazy as hell.
I pulled out a cigarette and popped it into the corner of my mouth. After lighting the end, I glanced at Lynn’s house. A curtain on one of the windows moved to the side, and I caught a glimpse of Lynn’s face before she dropped the curtain back into place.
I knew she wasn’t back in her room sleeping, but the fact that she decided to leave me at the table with her dad surprised me. She either really didn’t want to be around me, or what her dad had said really pissed her off.
It might have been a combination of the two, but something told me Lynn had some issues with her dad that never really got resolved.
After I knocked up the kickstand, I rocketed off the curb and headed back to the clubhouse.
Lynn had said we were supposed to have one night, and that was it.
I took a left toward the clubhouse and smiled.
Too bad that wasn’t what I wanted.
*
Chapter Three
Sleep...
Lynn
“You can come out now.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sleeping.” God, I really wish I was sleeping.
Dad cleared his throat. “I came here because I need help setting up my meds, Lynn. I guess I’ll just skip taking my pills.”
And people said women were dramatic. I rolled over on my back and opened my eyes. “I’ll be there in a minute, Dad.”
“Good.”
I listened to him amble back down the hallway to the kitchen and sighed.
Of all of the days for Dad to decide he would come to me to set up his pills, it had to be today. For the past eight years, every Sunday at eleven o’clock, I got in my car, stopped at Frank’s Deli for two pastrami on rye, and then went to his place to set up his pills and have lunch.
The one morning in eight years where a man brings me home, Dad has to pull up before Zephyr can even start up his bike.
None of this would have happened if he would have just let me find my own way home.
I threw my arm over my eyes and held back a scream.
It also wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t slept with Zephyr last night.
I wondered if everyone else was this rude to themselves when they talked to themselves. Most people don’t talk to themselves and then answer.
“Ugh,” I moaned. I rolled off the bed and stood.
It was one night, and it wasn’t going to happen again.
Hell, who even knew if I would ever see Zephyr again. I only saw him because of Queenie, and it wasn’t like we normally hung out. She had invited Robyn and me to Brick’s prison release party to be nice. As far as I knew, there weren’t going to be any other parties like that.
I grabbed a hair tie off my nightstand and piled my hair on top of my head.
Last night was enough excitement to last me for a decade.
<
br /> Back to old Lynn.
Work, help Dad, and sleep. That was what I did, and that was what I was going to go back to doing. No more hanging out at MC clubhouses and making rash decisions after drinking a bottle of whiskey.
“I was wondering if I was going to have to yell for you again.” Dad sat at the kitchen table with his pill containers in front of him and his pillbox with the little compartments flipped open.
“And give you a reason to give me shit for something?” I plopped down in the chair next to him and grabbed the pillbox. “Have a good visit with your new friend?”
Dad scoffed. “Pretty sure that man is your friend, Lynn.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a bottle of pills. “Not friends, Dad. He’s just someone who knows someone I know.”
“Isn’t that how we all know people?”
I popped open the bottle of pills and started filling each little compartment. I could fill Dad’s pillbox in my sleep. “Are we really going to talk about this? If we are, you can leave and come pick up your pillbox later.”
Dad chuckled. “This Zephyr must be under your skin. Funny how I have never heard of the guy.”
“You haven’t heard of him because there wasn’t anything to tell.” I finished dropping one pill in the morning slot of each day and screwed the lid back on the bottle.
“Come on, Lynn. This is the first guy you’ve ever brought home.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed another bottle of pills. “It’s actually not the first guy I’ve brought home, Dad. Though to you, it might seem like it is because all of the other guys I brought home, you were either too drunk or just not around to remember.” I shouldn’t throw that in his face, but dammit, knowing what the right thing was and then actually doing the right thing was hard as hell. I could talk about supporting someone’s recovery ‘til I was blue in the face, but when it was about my own dad, I was petty and did everything I shouldn’t.
“I remember the guys Steph brought home, but not yours,” he murmured.
I dropped two of the pills from the bottle into the lunchtime compartment on Sunday. “And the ones you remember aren’t even around anymore, but you at least remember something about Steph growing up.” Not like any of the guys I had dated were around anymore, but it was just another thing to annoy me that Dad remembered about Steph and couldn’t about me.
Blacktop Freedom Page 2
