by Debra Kayn
"I don't know." Tracy shrugged and lost her smile. "Rick's going on a week-long ride, and I hate to be alone at the house with the babies. I thought maybe you'd like to come over. You can spend the night, so you don't have to drive there and back all in one day."
"It's only an hour each way."
Tracy met her gaze. "I'd like you to spend the night."
She was too old for a sleepover, but she also knew what Tracy had lived through back when she lost her parents. Coming back to Missoula would give her another chance at finding a job.
"When are you thinking?" she asked.
"Anytime this Monday through Friday." Tracy lifted her brows. "Please say you'll come."
She grinned, looking forward to some girl time. "I'll come over Monday and leave on Tuesday."
"Awesome." Tracy sat up straighter. "It'll be like old times."
"Yeah," whispered Faye, not feeling the joy she used to get at the anticipation of spending time over at The Greer's house. "Is there anything I can bring? Pizza? Baby...stuff?"
Tracy laughed. "No, just bring yourself."
"Okay." She faked a smile and pressed her palms to the top of the table. "Well, I better go. I don't want to hit all the traffic on the interstate when everyone gets off work."
"Drive safe." Tracy stood and looked around the room, digging in her purse. "I better go talk to Jerry, so I can get home, too."
"I'll see you Monday." She walked out of the building, put in a better mood than when she'd arrived.
She'd always worked at the lounge where the locals and tourists hung out. Business was hectic and loud and full of drama that kept her busy. After going from server to head waitress, she wasn't sure standing behind a cash register, pushing groceries for minimum wage, would be worth checking for a job. The tips she received in the food industry was where the real money was at.
Getting in her car, she glanced over toward the row of motorcycles. Priest, the president of Tarkio, stood in her view, rubbing his jaw and looking straight at her. She huffed in the privacy of her vehicle. Sometime over the years, Priest stopped caring about her. It was as if Uncle Walker going to prison meant she was no longer a part of the family.
They all forgot about her.
Curley had been the only one who came and checked up on her when she'd lived with Grandma June. He'd also taken her to visitations at the prison until she turned twenty-one and started going by herself.
She started the engine and raised her hand in farewell to Priest. He lifted his chin, never turning his back to her, but watching her put the car in reverse. For all she knew, he wanted to make sure she left the clubhouse.
Putting the car in drive, she stopped at the street and looked both ways. At a break in traffic, she pulled out and headed toward the interstate to go home.
Home wasn't exactly the word she'd use for where she lived. To her, it was still Grandma June's house, even though the deed was now in her name.
The house should've gone to Uncle Walker, not her. But Curley thought it was best if Grandma June put the house in Faye's name after the arrest and before the incarceration. It had to do with the prison taking assets and him being afraid she wouldn't have a place to live if the will wasn't changed and something happened to Grandma June.
Being a kid, she hadn't understood at the time, but she was thankful for his insight when Grandma June passed away.
Uncle Walker had nine years left out of a twenty-five-year sentence for killing two men. The article claimed it was a gang war because the victims were Cusclan Motorcycle Club members.
No one ever talked about Uncle Walker's crimes. It wasn't until she'd entered ninth grade and learned how to use the microfiche at the library that she found the records.
She was young when Tarkio Motorcycle Club was a part of her everyday life, but she wasn't stupid. Her uncle lived and breathed the brotherhood. If he'd killed—and the court system proved he had—then, he'd done it for Tarkio.
Each member, including Curley, were just as much responsible for the deaths as Uncle Walker.
She looked over her shoulder and switched lanes, spotting a motorcycle rider behind her, motioning an arm in the air for her to pull over. Recognizing Curley, she had the urge to keep going.
Anytime they were together, any conversation turned into a war. Most of the time, she felt like it was Tarkio Motorcycle Club that had the part of Curley she wanted as his old lady. He was quick to run whenever the phone rang, and she couldn't do anything to entice him to her house. He partied at the clubhouse, yet refused to spend time with her.
She hit the back of her head against the headrest and blew air out of her tight lips. He frustrated her. Somehow, he always gave her a glimmer of hope that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, and those signs he gave off, kept her hanging on.
When he touched her, she could see how he reacted. He could feel how she trembled. She'd swear he was obsessed with her but for him always leaving.
If he'd only spend time with her instead of with the motorcycle club, and let go of that damn control he held onto so fiercely.
One day, he'd realize she wasn't a young girl anymore. She had a lifetime of love to give him, and maybe, just maybe, she would be the best he'd ever had if he allowed himself to act on his feelings.
She exited the highway and pulled over into a small gravel patch at the side of the road. The noise of his Harley filtered in through her open window before shutting off.
Putting the car in park and taking her foot off the brake, she watched him in the side mirror stalk toward her.
His broad body filled the window. He braced his hand on the door and bent down. She gazed into his dark, brown eyes. Over the years, she'd had one person who remained a constant in her life. Curley was always there. He never forgot her birthday or Christmas, and he'd stood beside her at the prison and when Grandma June died.
Even though he hated her now for her part in having sex with him, she was glad he'd claimed her. Their relationship status meant he would never leave her unless he got killed. And, she'd take him, even if he never allowed himself to love her.
He was better than her mom, who'd abandoned her before her addiction took her life. He was better than her Uncle Walker, who'd promised to take care of her but ended up in prison. He was better than Grandma June, who'd died on her—life was unfair that way.
When he continued to stand there looking at her and not saying a word, she said, "What?"
He reached behind him and pulled a stack of money out of his pocket, tossing it into the backseat of her car.
Heaviness settled on her. "I don't want..."
He walked back to his motorcycle. Her gaze went to the mirror. Why wouldn't he ever admit that he liked when they had sex or that before she'd slept with him, he cared about her? That's all she wanted from him.
Putting her foot on the brake, she shifted the car into drive and pulled back on the road. Punching the accelerator, she roared away from him.
Curley could go back to his life, pretending he was a single biker. There were probably a hundred women who were standing around, waiting for their chance with him.
She exhaled loudly, letting the wind cool her off. Meanwhile, she would go back to Superior. To a house that belonged to her. To plants that needed watered and cared for. To her life alone.
Chapter 3
Faye
The water system, plumbed through the greenhouse, sent a fine mist through the air. Faye brushed the hair off her forehead with the back of her dirty hand. The warmer temperature inside the building dried what water landed on her.
Grabbing the handles of the wheelbarrow, she pushed a load of old potting soil to the end of the greenhouse and dumped the contents in the compost barrel. She picked up the hose and sprayed the mixture down, then gave two turns to the handle.
"Faye, are you out here?"
She shut off the water and looked toward the front opening, spotting Jenna. Happy to see her friend, she waved her in and met her halfway down the
center aisle.
"I thought you were going to get your haircut today," she said.
"I'm on my way there now." Jeanna clasped her hands together. "I came to beg a favor from you."
"You know I'll help in any way I can. What do you need?"
"My sister came into town for her baby shower and is staying with my parents—"
"I remember you telling me that," she said.
"Well, guess who forgot to order the flowers?" Jeanna scrunched her nose.
Faye laughed. "Good thing you have a friend who owns a nursery, huh?"
Jeanna exhaled in relief. "You're the best."
"Come on, let's pick out something beautiful." She tugged Jeanna with her to the front, where she forced the plants to bloom out of season, so her customers had access to them all year long. "Are you looking for cut flowers? Because I'm no florist. But I'm sure together we can whip up something presentable."
"I was thinking something in a pot about this big..." Jenna held her hands up as if holding a basketball. "Something that is blooming, and she can plant in the ground when she gets home to remember her baby shower year after year."
"You'll want perennials." She turned and walked to the left. "Start here while I go grab a pot. We can mix and match any of these together, and then she can plant them in the ground, and they'll bloom each summer."
Finding a white plastic pot with a lace pattern around the rim, Faye returned to find Jenna holding a Blue Lobelia. "Is she having a boy?"
"She doesn't know, but I love this plant."
How about mixing a pink plant with a blue one?" She gazed over the ground cover pots and reached for the Snow in Winter plant. "This will add some tiny white blooms with the dusty greenage, softening the two other colors since they're so vibrant. We want to focus on the daintiness of everything together. Small reminds me of a baby."
Jenna held up an Ice Plant. "Will this work?"
"Perfect. That's a succulent, and will give her a good variety and fill in the pot." She carried two plants. "Bring it to the table, and I'll plant them all for you."
Filling the container with fertilized potting soil, she quickly set the arrangement and stood back, cocking her head. There was something missing. It was too perfect as if she tried too hard.
"It looks great," said Jenna.
"Hang on." She hurried over to the outer row of plants and grabbed a newly bloomed yellow daisy. The plant was only two inches tall. It would be at least two weeks until the plant grew, and she could sell it, but it would work perfect as filler and add to the baby colors in the pot.
Once she finished, she rotated the arrangement. "What do you think?"
"Gah," shouted Jenna. "It makes me want to have a baby."
"Well, you have to go see your hairdresser and host a shower first. Then, you can look for the father of your child." She picked up the pot. "I'll carry this out to your car. You look so nice today. I don't want to take a chance at getting your dress dirty."
"I really appreciate you doing this for me." Jenna hurried forward to open the door for her. "How much do I owe you?"
"It's on me." She shook her head when Jenna opened her mouth to argue with her. "Honestly, I have plants to spare. I went crazy with the seeds this year in my plans for the sale on Mother's Day."
Jenna half hugged her at the car. "I owe you a night out."
"I'll take you up on that, but not until we get a job." She put the flower pot in the backseat, making sure it wouldn't tip on the corners, and shut the door.
"Thanks again." Jenna slid into the driver's seat. "See you in the morning for our job-hunting extravaganza."
"I'm feeling positive." She held up two crossed fingers and backed out of the way of the car.
Jenna, Stephanie, Angela, and her were going job hunting tomorrow in Missoula. She hoped to come home with employment lined up for all of them, considering they all quit working at the lounge at the same time. She could never repay them for the support they showed her by walking out.
She strolled across the front yard, heading around the house to go to the greenhouse in the backyard and noticed a white envelope taped to the front door. She jumped over the flowerbed onto the porch.
The envelope had her name on the front. Taking it with her to the greenhouse, she opened the letter as she walked.
Please, come back. I'll give you a dollar an hour raise, and we can talk. —Cal
She groaned, stepping into the greenhouse. The guy wouldn't stop.
Not once had she ever given Cal the idea that she was interested in him. In fact, she loved working for his ex-wife and really had nothing to do with Cal for years because he remained behind the scenes up until Celia left him. She wished Celia had kept the business, and given Cal the house, then she would still have a job.
Tossing the letter in the trashcan, she went back to the rows of plants and started deadheading the hanging baskets. Each time she plucked a dried, shriveled bloom off the plants, she pretended they were her former boss's head.
Chapter 4
Curley
Rocky jetted away from Tracy. Curley snagged the two-year-old boy and picked him up, amongst squeals and kicks.
Flipping the kid upside down, Curley held Rocky by the ankles in the air and blew raspberries on his round tummy.
Giggles erupted. He chuckled, righting the kid and holding him in the crook of his arm.
"You're going to get your butt beat if your mom or dad catches you running off." He walked toward the group in front of the door at the same time Tracy's head swiveled, and stark fear flittered over her face before she caught sight of him holding her son.
Tracy lugged the baby, Elizabeth, on her hip and reached with one hand for Rocky. He handed her son to her.
"Thanks, Curley." Tracy shook her head. "I think that's our sign to go home. This guy needs a nap."
"Hand him off to someone. We're not taking off for another hour." Curley took a pack of smokes out of his vest pocket. "Where's your old man?"
"Inside with Paco." She hitched Rocky up higher on her hip without waking the baby cradled on her other side.
Curley glanced down, wondering what she was going to do if she got knocked up again. "You're running out of arms."
She laughed. "I told Rick that. He wants to try for another boy, and I keep telling him I need to have at least one of the kids out of diapers before we even think about that."
"Your dad would be proud to see you now." He lit the cigarette. "You're doing a good job raising your family within the club, honey."
Tracy's eyes softened, and she mouthed, "Thank you."
"Do you need help getting them in the truck?"
No, I've got it down to science now." She walked toward the pickup. "Have a safe ride, Curley."
"Will do." He raised his hand. "Stay out of trouble while we're gone."
"I can't promise that." She laughed. "Faye's coming to spend the night tomorrow. We probably won't sleep with all the catching up we're going to be doing."
He lowered his arm to his side. The cigarette slipped from between his fingers to the ground. He stomped his boot against the asphalt, extinguishing the coal.
"Why is she hanging out with you?" he asked.
"Why not?" Tracy's head disappeared inside the cab of the truck. "We used to be friends when we were young, remember?"
He gritted his teeth. He remembered too much.
Like Tracy, Faye had been one of the kids belonging to Tarkio. Innocent and childlike, until life had changed her.
"Frank and Aaron will be around with the younger members if you or Faye need anything this week," he said.
"We'll be fine." She popped back out of the truck. "I don't plan on being alone. Even Chrischris is coming over on Wednesday. I promised to sew a patch on his vest if he hung around in the yard and played with Rocky."
Acid burned his throat. He wanted Faye away from Missoula. He knew enough people in Superior that he felt better about her staying at the house.
He couldn't
keep track of her here when he was going to be gone.
The baby cried, protesting the car seat. She grinned and motioned her chin toward the vehicle. "That's my signal to go. See you later."
He nodded. Not wasting time, he went over to the group of bikers and pulled Hammer away.
"What's up?" Hammer gave Curley all of his attention.
He took his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a picture. "See this woman?"
"Yeah."
"Her name's Faye Walker. She's got longer hair now and a bit older. Twenty-four years old." He looked at Hammer, trying to gauge his age. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight." Hammer thrust his fingers in his hair, pushing the strands back.
"Forget it." Curley walked away and went into the clubhouse. Spotting Aaron, he went to his MC brother.
He wasn't going to set some young punk up watching Faye, giving him ideas. Aaron was closer to his age than Faye's, and he was used to hanging out at Tracy's place. Having him there wouldn't look out of the ordinary.
"Faye's coming into town tomorrow. She's got the idea to spend the night with Tracy. I need you to watch her." He put the picture he carried in his wallet away.
"At Tracy's place?" Aaron rubbed the back of his neck. "Is she in trouble?"
"No."
"Danger?"
"Nope." He ran his hand over his head. "I just want you watching her."
"For what?" Aaron smacked Curley on the shoulder. "She's a grown-ass woman. Let her have her night with Tracy."
He cleared his throat. "You'll watch her?"
"Is that an order?"
"Yeah." He stepped back. "I'll call the clubhouse Tuesday around seven o'clock. Make sure you're around to answer."
Needing air, he went back outside, lit another cigarette, and tried to figure out what Faye coming around Tarkio meant. When she was working in Superior, he was lucky enough not to see her for months. Hell, it'd been almost six months before she showed up at his house.
During that time, he'd mailed her money that she'd mailed back. It was the only way he could remind her that she belonged to him.
