by Blair Grey
I winced, but she was gone before I could respond.
I could hear her chatting with Grant down in the hallway for a moment, and then I heard the thumping sound of their shoes coming back up the stairs.
“Hey, babe,” Grant said, spinning me around into his arms and giving me a huge kiss. “I’ve missed you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You say that every time you see me, and you just saw me this morning.”
“I know. But it’s been too long,” Grant said, while Vera made gagging noises behind him. “So are these all the things?”
“All the things, I think,” I said, nodding around at all the boxes.
“Well, I guess we should get going then,” Grant said, hefting a couple boxes easily and heading toward the stairs.
We got all the boxes packed away in the van, and I said my goodbyes to Vera. “I swear, it’s not really a goodbye,” I told her.
“Because you’ll be back?” Vera asked hopefully. “Like I said, you can move right back in, no problem. You don’t even have to give me a heads-up.”
“She’s not moving anywhere after this, except with me,” Grant said protectively, putting his arms around my waist.
I laughed. “I didn’t mean that,” I said to Vera. “But like we said before, I’m right up the road here. And since I still suck at cooking, I’d say that chances are good that you’re going to have to deal with me for dinner at least every once in a while.”
Vera laughed. “All right, all right. Get out of here then. Give me a chance to miss you.”
I laughed and headed for the door with Grant following after me.
At the new apartment, Grant led me up to the doorway. Then he paused to lift me into his arms, bridal style. “I know you’re not my wife. Yet. But it seems appropriate,” he said.
“What do you mean yet?” I asked archly, holding out my hand teasingly. “I don’t see a ring on this finger. You’re not marrying me unless you propose properly!”
Grant laughed and pulled me close to him, his arms wrapping around my lower waist. “The thing is, you think I’m joking,” he said. “I just haven’t found the right ring yet. Can’t propose properly without the right ring.”
I shivered at the serious look in his eyes. We hadn’t been together for all that long, but the idea of marrying him definitely wasn’t unpleasant.
Finally, we brought in all my things, my boxes mixing in with Grant’s boxes, which we had brought over earlier in the week. The boxes mixing together made me smile. Like we were really going to create a new life together, a blend of both our lives from before.
There was one box that I wanted to keep an eye on. I made sure that I was the one to carry it in from the truck, and I placed it in such a way that no one would set another box on top of it. Then, I carried in the rest of the boxes.
“Do you want to unpack now or later?” Grant groaned, flopping back on our still-sheetless bed.
I stretched, my shoulders popping. “We probably have to do at least part of the unpacking now,” I pointed out. “Since we’re missing key things that we need. Like sheets.”
“Fair enough,” Grant said, rolling back to his feet and fishing his knife out of his pocket.
Time for the moment of truth. I grabbed the box from earlier. “Here, get this one first,” I told him.
Grant frowned as he looked at the box. “You didn’t label this one,” he pointed out. “Did you do that to a lot of your boxes? Am I actually living with a crazy person?”
“Ha-ha,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I just didn’t want to spoil the surprise, that’s all. Open it.”
Grant still looked confused, but he opened the box just like I’d instructed him to. He held up one of the tiny Onesies that was inside of it, then dug through the box a little. The one he was holding was one of my favorites: a deep blue with motorcycles all over it. There wasn’t just Onesies in the box either. There was a little motorcycle jacket, too, and some little leather boots. So our kid, boy or girl, could look just like Daddy.
“What is this?” Grant asked. “I’d ask if it was baby clothes from when you were younger, but they all look too new for that.”
“That’s because they are too new for that,” I told him. “They weren’t mine. They’re for someone else.”
Grant gaped at me, and his eyes flicked down to my stomach. But I could tell that he was afraid to ask the question.
So finally, I just came right out and said it. “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby, a little boy or a girl. In about seven months.”
Grant hurried over to me and dragged me into his arms, kissing me wildly. “That is the best news I think I’ve ever received,” he said finally, when we broke apart, smiling at each other.
He bopped his nose against mine. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said.
Not Constructive
NOT CONSTRUCTIVE
By Blair Grey
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Blair Grey
1
Cameron
I frowned at the hospital receptionist and hoped she got the message that I was not okay with having to wait while she finished up what was clearly a personal call on her cell phone. She rolled her eyes and put her hand over the receiver. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Ray Thompson. His room has been changed. I need to know where he is.”
I could see the color drain from her face, and she quickly hung up her call, typing something into the computer. Good. Even in this terrible hospital, Ray’s reputation preceded him. He was the leader of the most powerful motorcycle club in New Mexico, let alone Las Cruces, and he certainly deserved respect.
Of course, we’d all been hoping that his lung cancer wouldn’t be the stupid, anticlimactic end to his life, but it was looking more and more like that was going to be the case.
Sure enough, the woman winced. “He’s been moved to the ward for patients whose prognoses are…” She trailed off, glancing up at my face and then quickly looking back at her screen. I could fill in the blanks. He’d been moved to the ward with the rest of the terminal patients. We didn’t have much time left.
I tried not to let my emotions show. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure I could sort out my emotions at this point. I was angry that Ray was sick, I was sad to think of the club without him, I was worried about how things would be when Grant took over the club, and to be honest, even though Ray and I weren’t related, this almost felt like I was losing a member of my family. A father, of sorts. Ray had been there for me for years now, ever since I had joined the MC.
I wasn’t the kind of guy you normally pictured when you were thinking of a biker dude either. I wasn’t broad, and I wasn’t brawny. I wasn’t the kind of guy who would go rough someone up just to get their money.
I didn’t have to be. There was a lot more to a biker club than the enforcers, but they were all that people ever thought about. As for me, I was the club’s treasurer. I loved my bike, and I got along well with the other guys in the club. But if anything, I probably looked a bit nerdy to most of the outsiders.
Let’s get something straight, though. I wasn’t the biker with the Masters degree. That was Marcus.
I shook my head and found my way to Ray’s new room, steeling myself outside his door for the inevitable. I let out a breath and entered the room after a cursory knock.
Ray nodded at me when I entered. “You found me, I guess,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Only took half an hour of waiting for the damned nurse to get off her phone,” I told him. “How are you feeling?”
“You mean, besides the fact that they finally admitted that I’m dying?” Ray asked sarcastically, but he seemed matter-of-fact about the whole thing. Of
course, Ray had always been pretty stoic in the face of whatever came at him, but this was a whole new level. He shrugged one shoulder. “Death happens. And sure, I always hoped it would be a better death than this, but who am I to choose? I figure this means that my enemies never got the best of me. I’m pretty fucking lucky.”
I shook my head, unable to keep a small smile from playing across my lips. “You know, I never really believed it when everyone told me that you were crazy, but you keep saying things like that, and I might start to believe them,” I joked. “You sound like you’re almost happy about this whole thing.”
“Believe me when I say that I’m not,” Ray said slowly. “But I also realize that there’s nothing I can do to change things now. And anyway, it’s about time for me to go. The club needs new life breathed into her, and I’ve done all that I can with this life of mine. I just hope that I’ve left something for my boys. And Belle.”
“Belle has Will to protect her; you know that,” I said. “He’s doing a damned fine job of it too. I was in there last week looking for a part to my bike project, the one that I’m building, and he was showing me some of the work that he’s been up to. It’s good stuff.”
“I believe that,” Ray said gravely.
“And as for Landon and Braxton, Landon’s all set up in Sarasota, and Braxton has more than carved out a place here with the Las Cruces branch of Red Eyes,” I continued. “You don’t need to worry.” As Ray closed his eyes and rested back against the pillows, his small smile drove me to add something further. “Not only that, but you’ve made the community better. Even if it looked different in the eyes of some people.”
Ray snorted. “All right, all right, stop that,” he said. “Jesus, if I didn’t know better, I would think that you were trying to get something from me. You want the presidency instead of Grant?”
I gave an incredulous laugh. “Hell no,” I said. “You know me better than that.”
“I do,” Ray agreed. He opened his eyes. “You’ve been with Red Eyes for a long time, Cameron,” he said seriously. “And I need you to keep being there for the guys. Now, more than ever. I need you to make sure that Grant runs the MC the way that you and I both know that he can.”
“Is he having second thoughts?” I asked in surprise.
Ray shrugged a shoulder. “You know Grant. Better than I do, even; although, I think I understand him better than you do.” He paused. “You’d know if Grant was planning on backing out. But I know he’s worried.”
“I guess I knew that part,” I admitted with a nod. I had seen the hesitation in Grant almost from the moment Ray had named him as the next leader of the club. Since before that, really. Grant had come a long way since when he had first joined the club, but there had always been that hesitancy there, that slight pause, the uncertainty. The thing was: the club needed that. It needed someone like Ray who was going to think things through and not just run headlong into whatever problem we had.
Braxton would have been the obvious choice as Ray’s successor, as both his son and the main enforcer of the club, but Braxton was never willing to think. And besides, he didn’t want to be leader anyway. He didn’t want that kind of responsibility. He had grown up following his twin brother, and even though Landon was down in Sarasota now as vice president of that branch of Red Eyes, Braxton still was more of a follower than a leader. That was just the way he was.
I definitely wasn’t about to sign up as the next leader, either. Like I’d told Ray, hell no. I was good with the numbers, but I wasn’t so good with the strategies, not when it came to fighting our enemies. I could gather information with the best of them, but I never wanted things to end up violently. Grant at least had more of a stomach for that than I did.
“Just remember, Grant is still very young,” Ray said. “He’s only in his early twenties. He’s going to need a little guidance here and there. A little nudge. I know you’ve seen enough over the years that even if you and I aren’t always on the same page, you always have a good idea of what I’m planning. I need you to give that guidance to Grant in my absence.” He sighed, staring off into space for a moment. “If I had a little more time, I would make him leader now and be his guiding hand. But I don’t.”
It was the closest Ray had come to admitting that he was upset about this whole thing. This illness, his cancer. I didn’t know what to say in response.
Fortunately, Braxton and Landon came into the room, and I knew that particular conversation was over. Ray would want to look strong in front of his sons; he always had. It had taken him a while to even admit to the two of them that he was sick. Grant and I had been the first people to know. I had been the first person to know because I had noticed that he was missing and had gone to figure out why.
That said something about our relationship more than anything else. We might not have been related by blood, but I had known him long enough that I knew his patterns by now. I knew when things were out of the ordinary.
I was starting to know Grant in the same way already, getting close to him so that he knew he had someone he could rely on in the club. This club was like my family; it always had been. I wanted Grant to feel the same way, and the rest of the new recruits as well, because there were plenty of them coming into the fold in the last couple months, something that Ray had initiated right before—or maybe right after—he found out that he was sick.
“Hey, I think this room is an upgrade from your last one,” Braxton joked, looking around. “You even have color TV this time!”
Ray rolled his eyes. “I had color TV in the last room too,” he said. “I just happened to be watching some classic movies the one day that you came to see me.”
“Ugh, what an old man,” Braxton said, rolling his eyes. Because even when his father was on his deathbed, Braxton was too proud to admit that he was concerned or upset. Everything was a joke to him. But to be honest, that was kind of nice at a time like this. I could use a good joke or two. Not that Braxton’s jokes were ever any good.
Landon, however, gave his twin a look as he sat in the chair next to his father’s bed. “How are you doing?” he asked seriously. “The new room doesn’t sound like it’s good news.”
Ray sighed and shook his head. “But we knew this was coming,” he reminded his sons.
“I know,” Landon said. “I was just hoping that we would have a bit more time than this.”
“We don’t need more time,” Ray said firmly. His eyes turned soft. “Not that I wouldn’t love to see you grow older and fall more in love with your wives and eventually have children of your own, but you’re both well onto the paths of your lives at the moment, and I couldn’t be prouder of the two of you. I trust that even when I’m not around to hassle you, you’re going to continue to do just what you’re meant to. Just what I’d want you to. All you have to do is keep doing what you’re doing.” He cleared his throat, looking awkward. “Or something like that. I was never one for speeches.”
Braxton laughed and shook his head. “That’s probably simultaneously the most that anyone’s ever heard you say and the sappiest thing that anyone’s ever heard you say,” he said.
A nurse came into the room. “All right, I’m going to have to ask the three of you to clear out of here now,” she said. “Our patient needs some rest.”
Ray rolled his eyes, but Braxton turned a wicked grin on me. “You hear that, Cameron?” he asked. “Us three, Landon and Ray and I, are going to clear out. You get some rest now.”
There was more laughter in the room. But as we filed out of there, I could see the way Braxton’s shoulders fell and noticed the way that he deflated. It was all an act for Ray, I realized. Like if he acted chipper enough, Ray would get better and be able to come home.
Or maybe he was just doing it so that Ray wouldn’t worry about him and Landon, so that Ray would pass comfortably into the next life safe in the knowledge that his sons were fine.
But Braxton wasn’t doing fine. I could see that in the pained pinch around his
eyes. And his twin could tell it as well, based on the way that Landon reached up and put a hand on Braxton’s shoulders.
I trailed after them out of the hospital, feeling similar feelings of loss but also feeling a deep loneliness that they could never understand. Through all of this, they had each other. But even though we were as close as brothers—all of the guys at the MC—there was nothing that anyone could say to make me feel less alone in my grief. I had no one that I could lean on.
2
Tara
I stared down at the body. Middle-aged, white male. He’d been in a grisly accident, and his body was pretty mangled. But fortunately for us, and for the wife who for some reason wanted an open-casket funeral, his face looked pretty good. You know, for a dead guy.
“The wife wants him in a blue suit with a white shirt,” Maddie, my assistant said, frowning down at the instructions that we’d received along with the body. She glanced up at me. “But if we put him in a white shirt, it’s going to be obvious that he’s all bloodied up under there.”
I shrugged. “She knows that he was in an accident,” I pointed out. “Maybe she wants to make sure that everyone else knows it too.”
“Bullshit and you know it,” Maddie said, rolling her eyes. “She probably just wasn’t thinking about it.” She chewed at her lower lip. “Should we just change things on her behalf, or do you want me to give her a call?”
“If you want to give her a call, you can be my guest,” I said. “You know how these young wives are. They’re so upset about the death that they’re popping pills like there’s no tomorrow, which there won’t be if they keep taking those pills and downing them with vodka like they’re sorority girls gone wild. There are so many other details that she’s been focused on. She probably doesn’t even remember her own name, let alone what she asked for her husband to be wearing for the rest of eternity. We could put him in a bunny suit for all she’s going to care.”
