Money Shot: Selected Sinners MC Romance

by Hildreth, Scott

  “Call me a hopeless fucking romantic or whatever, I don’t give a fuck. I just know this. After going through what I went through and seeing all the shit I’ve seen, only to find out that my Ol’ Lady waited ten fucking years without me even speaking to her? Well, it kind of makes a motherfucker humble. If you don’t love this girl, well, you don’t love her. But if you’re being a stubborn prick, and you really do love her, but won’t admit it, I want to try and break you,” he said.

  “Well, I can’t be broken,” I said as I reached for my pack of cigarettes.

  “We’ll see about that,” he said.

  I nodded my head and lit my cigarette.

  “I suppose we will,” I said.

  SIENNA

  I had never been much for having girlfriends. Women seemed too competitive, and much too quick to judge, argue, fight, and lay blame. As a result, during high school most of my friends were male, and eventually most of my male friends ended up being my boyfriend, although some only lasted a few weeks.

  I attributed some of my reluctance to be friends with girls to my relationship with my father, and a desire to fill a void in my life I felt my father left when he went to prison. Living with my aunt seemed weird at the time, and having my father gone was difficult to say the least. Having a male in my life minimized conflict, filled a void, and more often than not, provided me with someone to have sex with.

  My patterns of behavior as a high school girl continued into my adult life, and over time, became second nature. As an adult, I ended up with no female friends to speak of, and really never wanted any. The few men who came and went out of my life provided companionship, and my friends on Facebook and Goodreads who followed my reviews provided a constant flow of communication and often gave advice.

  But now I felt I needed more.

  I wanted my father, and I needed a friend.

  I sat at my parent’s gravesite with a fresh arrangement of flowers and swept the dust from the base of the gravestone. After cleaning what little dust had settled into the etching of the headstones, I squatted down and placed the flowers on the stone base.

  “You know I love you, but I sure hate coming here to see you,” I said.

  “Nothing’s changed, we’re still apart. I hate it, but I can’t change it. I went to see his mother, and that was enlightening, but a disaster for me. You know I will never do anything to try and replace mom, but I really like her, Dad. She’s so cool. She’s like what I wish girlfriends were like, but she’s a mom. Heck, I don’t know, maybe that’s what moms are like.”

  I leaned forward and smelled the flowers. As I moved back to my squatting position, I continued.

  “But with her it’s hard. She’s so nice, and she makes me feel, I don’t know, kind of like you did. She’s just really fun. And she doesn’t take any shit from Vince, either. But he’s shut her out, and hasn’t been there since. And just so you know, I still haven’t had a drink of wine since that day. Maybe one day I will again, but I don’t really know. So there’s that. Uhhm, let’s see,” I paused and contemplated what else I should say before I said my departing remarks.

  “I guess I just hope one day we can work things out, but I’m beginning to have my doubts. I think maybe it’ll take a miracle or an angel. Yeah, and angel’s probably a good idea, so if you know one who isn’t busy, you can send one my way, you know, being as you’re up there with all of ‘em.”

  “I wish you could meet him, I really do. And you know what’s funny? I was there for a while wondering if we got married, who’d give me away. So yeah. Not wondering about that so much anymore.”

  I stood, stepped to the left, and squatted.

  “I love you, too, Mother. I’ll keep you posted on the progress, but I imagine dad will fill you in. Same goes to you, if you know an angel, send one, I could sure use one. I’ll be back to see you before you know it, and maybe one day I’ll have some good news.”

  I stood, blew a kiss in the direction of the gravestones, and turned toward the car.

  If you’re still listening, I wasn’t kidding about the angel.

  VINCE

  As I sat in my driveway mentally preparing my morning, I heard the unmistakable sound of Jackson’s bike coming up the block. The cams he added to the engine gave it a very distinct sound, but the way he rode it was what made the sound of it being ridden stand out as different.

  He rode it like he stole it.

  Within a matter of seconds, he was sitting in my driveway beside me.

  “What’s shaking?” he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Trying to decide what to do. Got to meet a guy at eleven, but that’s not for three hours.”

  He hopped off his bike and straightened the bottom of his cut. After going through a ritual of popping his neck, back, and shoulders, he stood and glared at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Can’t be broken, huh?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I’m going to ask you some shit, and I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me, and with yourself,” he said.

  “Always honest,” I said.

  “We’ll see,” he said with a nod.

  “You need to just give up,” I said as I got off my bike and lit a cigarette.

  “Yeah,” he said with a laugh as he pointed to my cigarette. “Have you a smoke.”

  I took a long drag, nodded my head, and blew a cloud of smoke into the still morning air.

  “So, you and your pop were pretty tight?” he asked.

  I nodded my head and took another long pull on the cigarette.

  “You ever make New Year’s resolutions?” he asked.

  “What the fuck?” I asked, coughing out smoke as I did so.

  He folded his arms in front of his chest and grinned. “Just asking,” he responded.

  “Yeah, make ‘em every year,” I said.

  He grinned and nodded his head. “Finish that smoke and fire up another, you might need it.”

  “Get on with it, Doctor Phil,” I said.

  “You ever go visit your Pop’s grave? You know, go see him or anything, and before you ask, no disrespect here. I’m just saying, I know a lot of fellas whose pop has passed, and a lot of ‘em go to the grave and just sit and talk. You know, some leave notes, and stuff like that. So do you do any of that?” he asked.

  I nodded my head. “Sure do.”

  “Okay. Now. You said yesterday when we were at that donut place that the only reason you dropped this girl was because she agreed to meet for dinner, and she never showed up. It’s undisputed you don’t carry a phone, but she could have called your mom’s place, because she’s got her number, and she could have called your place, even though you were gone, but she didn’t until the next day. You went by that night, and you thought she was gone, but she left you a voicemail the next day explaining that she got drunk and passed out. You see all of this as a broken promise, and how can you trust her if she breaks promises, right? Sound about right?” he asked.

  “Sounds about right,” I said.

  He uncrossed his arms and clapped his hands together.

  “When did you start smoking again?” he asked.

  It shocked me that he knew I had even quit. The entire time I knew Jackson I had smoked, and was never around during the time I had quit. As far as answering the question, I didn’t even have to think about it.

  “When we broke up,” I responded.

  “Figures. Okay, and before that, did you smoke at all? You know, maybe an occasional cigarette?” he asked.

  I nodded my head. “When I was really pissed.”

  “Alright. Now, here’s a few questions I want you to either answer, or just stand and stew on for a minute. Let me ask them all,” he said. “And then you can chew on ‘em.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, pulled out another cigarette, and lit it. “Okay.”

  He held his clenched fist in the air and extended a finger each time he asked a question.

  “Did you ever
make a New Year’s resolution to quit?”

  “Did you ever tell your pop you quit? When he was alive or after his death?”

  “Did you ever go to his grave and talk to him about it, you know, out of pride?”

  “Did you ever tell your mom you weren’t smoking when you were?”

  “Did you…”

  I held my hand in the air, spit my cigarette on the driveway, and stepped on it. “Stop.”

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Almost everything he had asked, I had done. I gave up cigarettes, at least initially, as a New Year’s resolution. Before and after doing so, I had gone to my father’s grave, and told him that I intended on quitting, and after having done so, that I had successfully quit.

  I had also told my mother on a few occasions when she said I smelled like smoke that I wasn’t smoking.

  I felt sick.

  Somehow, someway, I had become the exactly what I despised.

  I was a hypocrite.

  And there was no other way of looking at it.

  I had made promises that I didn’t keep; to myself, my mother, and to my father.

  “You look sick, Brother,” he said as he slapped his hand against my bicep.

  “I feel sick,” I said.

  “Probably that cigarette. Those things’ll kill ya,” he said. “So, you didn’t answer, you going to?”

  “Don’t think I need to, you already know the answers,” I said. “How’d you know?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Most people who smoke actually smoke their cigarettes. You take a couple hits and toss it. It told me you either felt guilty or you wanted to quit. I picked the former. Asked a couple of the fellas, and Axton told me you’d gone without for about five years as far as he could remember. And almost everyone who quits makes a resolution. The rest was just a good guess.”

  I felt as if my entire world had been turned upside down. My entire life had been lived under the premise that I was the one person who had never made a promise he didn’t keep, and I expected everyone who befriended me to do and be the same.

  And I used my ex-wife’s shortcomings against Sienna, the only woman I truly ever loved, based on my belief that she had broken a promise.

  “Think I’m going to be sick,” I said.

  “You already said that. You’ll be fine. Oh, I got one more question,” he said.

  I gazed down at the toes of my boots. “I don’t think I want to hear it,” I said.

  “Don’t rightfully give a fuck, I’m asking anyway,” he said.

  I shifted my eyes to meet his and nodded my head.

  “You still love that girl?” he asked.

  I nodded my head. “Sure do.”

  He turned toward his bike, threw his leg over the seat, and fired the engine.

  “Saddle up,” he said.

  “To where?” I asked.

  “Sienna’s place,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I’ll go alone,” I said.

  “Not an option,” he said.

  I furrowed my brow and glared at him. “What’s that mean?”

  “Means it’s not a fucking option. I’ve got a plan. You’ll see,” he said.

  “I don’t know if I want to,” I said.

  He revved the engine and grinned. “Don’t give a fuck. Get on, and believe me, you’ll be fine. I’m your friend, Brother, I won’t do anything to disrespect you.”

  I reluctantly got on my bike, fired the engine, and shook my head in disbelief. After turning around, I pulled alongside his bike.

  “Follow me,” I said.

  As I pulled out of the drive, I felt in many respects like I was a kid again.

  Starting my life from scratch again with my friend Jackson.

  SIENNA

  I was right in the middle of reading C.J. McShane’s new MC novel, My Brother’s Keeper, and the sound of motorcycles followed by my doorbell ringing sent chills down my spine. I ran from the kitchen to the living room window and pulled the blinds to the side. One motorcycle sat in the center of the drive, facing the street, with a man sitting on it. The other, which was clearly Vince’s bike, sat in the drive facing the street, but he wasn’t on it.

  I quickly moved to the other side of the blinds and peered toward the porch. Vince stood with his hands in his pockets rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  Holy shit.

  I ran to the bathroom, checked my hair, and made every effort to calm my nerves. I had no idea why he had come to my house, but I hoped it was at least to talk with me like an adult. I couldn’t help but wonder who he brought with him and why. After staring into the mirror blankly for what seemed like an eternity, I ran to the door and opened it slowly.

  “Hi,” I said.

  It sounded foolish, but I had no idea what else to say. It had been four months since we’d seen each other, and as with any other shitty time in my life, the time passed at an extremely slow rate, making the days seem like months. In many respects, I felt I had been away from Vince for a decade.

  His face wasn’t cleanly shaven, but it was close. He looked like he had a few days growth of beard, seemed slightly thinner than normal, but not unhealthy. The expression on his face seemed to be one of worry. He raked his hair away from his eyes and did his best to smile.

  “Hi,” he said.

  I guess I’ll say something.

  “So…”

  He raised his hand, cleared his throat, and shook his head from side to side. “Hold up a minute.”

  I stood in the doorway and wondered just what was going on. As I began to run through scenarios in my head, I wondered if something happened to his mother. Before I had a chance to ask, he cleared his throat again and began to speak.

  “Look, I made a mistake. I blamed you for things and you didn’t deserve it. You did nothing wrong. And me?” he paused, shrugged his shoulders, and chuckled. “I’m far from perfect, and I did everything wrong. I’m selfish, self-righteous, and I apologize for being so blind and stubborn to not even be able to see how imperfect I really am.”

  I inhaled a breath and considered speaking. He immediately raised his hand again to stop me.

  “I’m sorry for what I did to you, and I hope you can find a way to forgive me,” he said.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. All at once, my throat constricted, I felt flush, and I was afraid I was going to faint. But surprisingly, I didn’t say a word.

  “I’m just going to cut to it. Sienna, I love you and I can’t possibly live without you. Will you take me back?” he asked.

  I had rehearsed what I wanted to say over and over in my head if this day came. After reading for four months on a daily basis, thinking in my down time, and planting a hundred flowers, I decided if I took him back, I was going to be demanding of some things and do the best that a 125 pound girl could to make him feel like shit.

  I widened my eyes and cocked my head to the side. “Take you back? Really?”

  He nodded his head. “Will you?”

  As much as I wanted to just say yes and immediately pick up where we left off, I wanted to make sure he understood how I felt.

  “So?” he asked, standing with is shoulders perma-shrugged.

  “If I do, there are gonna be some conditions. Gimme a minute, I’m thinking,” I said.

  I shifted my eyes from Vince to the man in the driveway. I wondered who he was and what he was doing with Vince at this particular moment in time. Obviously a Selected Sinner, and more than likely doing some job with Vince or acting as his muscle on trying to intimidate someone, it seemed odd Vince would bring him to my home.

  “So, who’s he?” I asked a si tossed my head toward the driveway.

  “A friend,” he responded.

  I widened my eyes comically and nodded my head in my best sarcastic manner. “Oh, so you’ve got friends now?”

  He nodded his head. “One.”

  Vince didn’t have male friends, and he didn’t run with any of the Sinners that I knew
of. My guess was that this guy somehow convinced Vince to come talk to me after a long night or a drunken confession on Vince’s part.

  “Tell him to come here,” I said.

  “Jackson, come here for a minute,” Vince hollered over his shoulder.

  Jackson?

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Jackson,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes and stared. “Jackson?”

  He nodded his head once. “Yeah, Jackson.”

  Vince had no idea his mother had told me of his childhood friend, Jackson. Hearing the man’s name make goosebumps rise along my arms and caused my heart to race. I gazed over Vince’s shoulder and focused on Jackson, and all of a sudden my perception of him changed. He looked like he actually cared.

  I grinned.

  “Jackson Shephard,” the man said as he stepped onto the porch and extended his hand.

  “Sienna Boyco,” I said as I shook his hand.

  As he leaned back and crossed his arms, his mouth curled into a smirk. “What can I do for you?”

  He looked like a fighter. He was big, muscular, tattooed, and had a permanent smirk on his face, like he knew something I didn’t. Ninety percent of the population on earth would run from this guy, but all in all I felt extremely comfortable with him, and I didn’t really know why.

  “Just stand over there,” I said as I pointed to the edge of the porch. “I want a witness.”

  “You’ve got it,” he said as he stepped to the side.

  I shifted my eyes from Jackson to Vince and gave him my best angry glare.

  “Okay. Here’s my response. Yes, I will take you back under these conditions. One, we start up right where we left off. Two, you never, and I mean never do what you did to me again. If we ever have an issue that is worthy of creating waves in our relationship, we talk first, react later. And three, you’re going to go to your mothers and tell her you’re sorry, and I mean like now. And Sunday dinner starts again tomorrow,” I paused and crossed my arms in front of my chest in standard Vince fashion. “Take it or leave it.”

  He didn’t make me wait long.