Inciting a Riot

by Karen Renee

  Warren took a deep breath and glanced at me, “Originally, I had planned to wrap this evening with a certain song from Dirty Dancing about the wind, but this very evening life brought another wonderful woman to my life. Or I should say brought her ‒back‒into my life. I may have three of the best sons on the planet, but for eighteen glorious months I had the only woman I’ve ever thought of as the daughter of my heart. She brings a light wherever she goes, whether she means to or not. Even during an uncomfortable scene in a restroom. I had been grousing early today about having a DJ at an already-expensive dinner. Seeing as how the daughter of my heart was one of the first people to request her own music from the DJ, I suddenly knew it would be well worth the price. I danced with her to her song choice, and I was reminded that she’s one of the few young women I’ve met with an affinity for jazz and the blues that rivals my own. So, with that in mind, Marnie and I are going to leave right after we dance to a song by Taj Majal, a blues master of the first order. I dedicate this song to Marnie, and also to Lorraine and my son Cary. It fully tells the story of how extremely happy I am to have all of you in my life.”

  I was silently crying during all of Mr. Sullivan’s speech, but when Taj Majal’s raspy voice immediately began the song “Satisfied ’n’ Tickled Too,” I started sobbing. Suddenly, Vamp’s strong, large arms were wrapped around my neck, pulling me to him. My arms reflexively went around his waist. After maybe thirty seconds of the song, Vamp started swaying us out into the middle of the dance floor. When I thought I had myself under control, I pulled my head out of Vamp’s chest to look up. I caught sight of Marnie and Warren dancing. As if they could feel my gaze, they both looked over at me, and Marnie gave me a huge, albeit watery, smile. Cary’s dad just winked at me, and I let go of a giggle crossed with a hiccupping sob. This scene drove home the other thing that hurt most about me and Vamp ending six years ago. If I was the closest thing to a daughter Warren had ever had, he was damn sure the only father figure I had in my adult life.

  “Satisfied ‘n’ Tickled Too,” is a five-minute-and-twenty-five-second song. I don’t know how much of the song Vamp and I actually danced to, but those minutes are certainly among the most treasured and beautiful minutes of my life.

  *** ***

  True to their word, Warren and Marnie left right after the song was done. The DJ announced ‘No more special requests’ and played seven more songs before calling it a night. Brock and Gabe talked us into going over to the Hidden Treasure Rum Bar and Grill which was less than ten minutes away. It was also situated on the inlet, and luckily for us, tonight there was a live musician performing out on their deck.

  The four of us were seated at a round table on the deck listening to the local musician play covers of laid-back, beachy artists like Jimmy Buffett, The Beach Boys, Bob Marley and even some Kenny Chesney. My buzz was diminishing thanks to the dancing and the club soda I drank half an hour ago. I had no intentions of drinking anything alcoholic at that point, or I would be a hindrance to Vamp on his bike.

  A curvy, blonde-haired waitress came by to get our drink order, and Brock and Vamp exchanged a look. Vamp gave a slight nod, and Brock said, “Three light beers, and a Tropical Booty in a lighthouse glass for the lady.”

  She turned on her heel saying, “You got it, sir.”

  I expected that sort of thing from Vamp, and had he spoken up first I would have been ready to interrupt him. In no way was I prepared for Brock to wade in and order for me.

  “Guys! I don’t need any more alcohol tonight. In fact, I should really only drink water, so I won’t be a problem on the back of Vamp’s bike.”

  “Too late now, Rainey,” Gabe said with a grin.

  The singer began to sing Bob Marley’s not-so-widely known song “Sun is Shining.” I leaned back in my chair while I gathered my long brown locks in my fingers and let out a sigh. It hit me that for the last seven hours I hadn’t worried about a damn thing, and I hadn’t felt anything but good, easy, and relaxing feelings. Before I could dwell on that any further, the waitress returned to our table with three bottles of beer and my cocktail in a shiny golden glass that I would be able to take home with me.

  Vamp moved his chair, and therefore himself, closer to me and asked in my ear, “You ok, baby?”

  Sliding my eyes to Vamp I said in a low voice, “Yes, I think I am. For the first time in a damn long time.”

  He handed me my glass, clinked the neck of his beer bottle to it and said, “Here’s to the first time in a damn long time.”

  On top of the live musician, Thursdays were apparently Ladies Nights at the Hidden Treasure. This meant that Gabe and Brock were getting more than their fair share of come-hither glances and stares from available women. Roughly ten minutes after we had our first round, the two of them left Vamp and me alone to go see what kind of women were on the prowl tonight. I glanced after them with worry as I thought about Marnie’s nieces. When I took in the many women scattered about, I realized that there was no way any of the women here could be even half the bitches those two had proven themselves to be.

  I turned forward when the musician began to sing James Taylor’s “Mexico,” and when I did, Vamp was leaned extremely close to me. His hand cupped my cheek and his lips tenderly took mine. Our tongues danced a slow dance with one another, and his hand slid from my cheek down to the front of my torso. His other hand wrapped around my waist, while his left moved to cup my breast. He is completely wearing you down, and you like it! This thought came to me in my own sing-song tone, and it was all I could do to not break the kiss. Problem was, he really was breaking me down, and I didn’t like it. I loved it. One of my all-time favorite James Taylor songs, plus a high-potency tropical cocktail half-consumed, plus making out with the man I thought could go the distance with me, all meant I didn’t need anything more for a stellar evening. I was thoroughly enjoying the way Vamp’s pierced tongue firmly swirled around mine when I heard the very masculine sound of two throats clearing. I was more than willing to ignore it, but Vamp pulled away. My eyes opened to see him glowering at his brothers.

  “Has it been ninety minutes yet?” I whispered, to no one in particular.

  I noticed Vamp’s lips twitch, but it was not enough to wipe the anger off his face that was directed at his brothers.

  “We’re headed back to Dad’s. Might be a little early for the ninety-minute head start he asked for, but we’ll cross our fingers they’re in Dad’s bedroom and take our chances. Hope to see you two soon, but if the past two minutes are anything to go by, you might want to get a room first,” Brock said.

  Vamp wadded up his soggy cocktail napkin from under his beer, and threw it at Brock. It fell short and landed on the table. The two younger brothers just snickered at Vamp and left. Vamp picked up my glass and put it back down again, as if he were testing its weight.

  “You wanna finish that, hon?”

  I want to finish what we started. There was a thought that was not going to be spilling out of my mouth.

  I nodded and said, “Finishing my drink is the best stall tactic I know of. I’m not half as willing to ‘take our chances’ that your father has finished up with Marnie at this point. No offense, dear, but that’s a visual no amount of therapy, drugs or even bleach could get out of my mind if it were to be actually seen.”

  Vamp leaned back with a belly laugh at my remark and put his left hand on my right thigh. “Believe me, doll, there is absolutely no offense taken. I not only don’t need to see my Pop in his fading glory, but I also don’t need to see my soon-to-be stepmom in any form other than fully-dressed. You really want to stay at a hotel?”

  I had just put my fancy souvenir glass back on the table after taking a very generous gulp of the tasty tropical concoction. His question shocked me so much I managed to not choke on the liquid, but just barely.

  Clearing my throat I said, “No, um, I don’t know.”

  Vamp tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear, “So which is it, baby? You don’t know or no, you
’re going to stay with me at Pop’s place?”

  Fuck me running! Why had I consumed more than half of this lusciously delicious cocktail? On top of my three glasses of wine, it was seriously putting my brain on the fritz. Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, I determined that I actually did want to stay with Mr. S and Marnie. I just didn’t want to stay with Vamp.

  Therefore, I announced, “I’ll take a couch.”

  Vamp arched a pierced eyebrow at me, “Guests don’t sleep on couches.”

  I thought about saying that I wasn’t a guest if Mr. S thought of me as the daughter of his heart, but I figured that would be digging my grave even deeper. The cocktail had made me forget about some of my defense tactics with Vamp, which was why I didn’t dial back the attitude on my next statement.

  “Well, this guest does. I’m sure there’s a spare set of sheets in that house, somewhere.”

  Vamp’s eyes looked up to the sky and then he shook his head at me marginally. He gestured to the waitress for the check, and once he'd paid, we left.

  Fifteen minutes later, Vamp parked his bike in the driveway of his father’s house. Their house had been built in 1960, but was well-maintained and even in the darkness of night I could see the sleek lines of the house were classic. The white stucco was very beachy, and the wooden garage door made it feel like a house in California. It was a very large house with five bedrooms and three-and-a-half bathrooms. The house even had a large kidney-bean pool that had been renovated to include a four person Jacuzzi on the far end. The whole pool area was screened and had an eclectic mix of patio furniture that Mr. Sullivan had picked up over the years. Four of the five bedrooms were upstairs, and they belonged to Brock, Gabe and Warren with the fourth bedroom being an office. Vamp had a bedroom on the first floor that was basically another master bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. Since Vamp typically spent most of his time in Jacksonville, his bedroom doubled as the guest bedroom whenever Warren had visitors. It was an awesome house, and I had always loved it, back when we were together.

  We walked in through the front door of the house and could hear Brock, Gabe, Marnie and Warren chatting in the kitchen. The kitchen opened right off of the dining room. Vamp and I meandered into the dining room and all four faces aimed smiles our way. Marnie was wearing a pink satin robe, and Warren was dressed in blue-and-white plaid pajama pants with a white v-neck undershirt.

  Sometimes I thought the whole world was nuts. Cary, now Vamp, came from such a tightly-knit family, even if his mother deserted him, his father, and his brothers so many years ago when Cary was only five years old. If it hadn’t been for his time in the Marines leading to such gripping Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, I really don’t think he would have moved to Jacksonville, and he damn sure wouldn’t have joined a motorcycle club, whereas, to hear people like Cal and Roll tell it, if I were a man, with my family history, the MC life would have drawn me like a moth to a flame.

  Brock and Gabe were giving their father compliments on his end-of-the-evening speech.

  Marnie nudged Warren’s bicep with her palm. “I just cannot believe you managed to work in the restroom incident with so much grace and sophistication.”

  Vamp moved across the kitchen to tag a beer from the fridge. He leaned against the counter as Brock rumbled, “What was that all about?”

  Brock’s gaze was laser-focused on me, so I said, “I am not rehashing the bathroom stuff with anyone here.”

  There was a very brief pause, and then Warren said, “Must’ve mentioned his package piercing.”

  Oh hell. Well, I was always pretty good at grammar and word games, so with a sweeping gesture at Vamp’s face, I said, "Look at his face, of course, he gets a piercing package.”

  I was focused on Warren, but that didn’t prevent me from noticing the small smile on Vamp’s lips at my comment.

  Warren said, “His ‒package‒ is pierced.”

  Damn it to hell and back! I felt sick sensations rolling through my body. It was humiliating to mention these details in front of Marnie in the bathroom, but to do it in the company of Vamp’s father and two brothers would probably make me toss my dinner. It was not a good feeling and I found myself acting on reflex, or possibly instinct.

  Waving my hands in front of me, I said, “You say I’m like a daughter. Well, you’re the only dad I’ve ever known. So, don’t give me the heebie-jeebies by talking about your son’s package.”

  “Lorraine, get over here,” was growled at me. It took a moment before I realized it was Cary’s dad doing the growling.

  I gave him an incredulous look. “You gonna say the word ‘package?’” I asked, with a cackle.

  He gave me a hardened look that even Vamp couldn’t pull off, and then he stood up saying, “Won’t tell you again. Get. Over. Here. Lorraine.”

  My heart warmed at the tone, the emphasis, and the determination of Mr. S’s voice. I never knew my father, but I had always hoped, wished, and prayed that if he were in my life some day that he’d sound like Warren when something big was going down. I moved toward Warren, and he snagged me in a fierce hug as soon as I was within arm’s reach. His hold was so firm, I had no choice but to bury my face into his neck.

  I felt his lips near my ear and he whispered, “Love you, girl.”

  With closed eyes, I breathed out a chuckle and then said, “Backatcha, Mr. S.”

  “Gotta change those last three letters, dear.”

  I pulled back from his neck to look in his eyes, and asked, “What’s that?”

  “‘Mr. S’ won’t do, if you really mean that I’m ‘the only dad you’ve ever known.’ So, no matter what happens with you and Cary, to you I’m ‘Dad’. Though it goes without saying, I know, without a doubt, that you and my boy should be together, just like the stars and the sky belong together.”

  Warren’s eyes were the same brilliant multi-faceted blue as Vamp’s. I could stare into those eyes all day and never stop marveling at the hue. Without realizing it, I murmured, “Fighting so dirty.”

  Warren’s eyebrows crinkled over his eyes, but apparently Vamp had moved much closer to us and he said in a low voice, “No, Rainey. Fighting to win.”

  CHAPTER 12

  I went to the downstairs bedroom to check my phone. I had ignored it since hopping on the back of Vamp’s Harley-Davidson in Jacksonville. The screen lit up to show three missed calls, and three voicemails. That wasn’t entirely unusual since it was Thursday. It could be an underwriter, or someone else, calling with questions about one of my pending loans for the month.

  I hit the button to listen to the first voicemail and heard Roxanne say, “Hey, Frankie, it’s me. Give me a call when you get this. Unfortunately your non-customer has alleged that you have been sexually harassing him regarding his qualifying for a home loan with us. I know you didn’t come into the office today, but it really would help if you got me the contact info for that friend who witnessed the attack last weekend. Hmm, now that I think about it, maybe your realtor buddy Reggie can be of some help. Regardless, call me.”

  I couldn’t even imagine why she thought Reggie could be of assistance on this whole debacle. Before I could give that any more thought the next message started playing and it was Roxanne again.

  “Frankie, never mind about the friend’s contact info. I got everything from Reggie over the phone. This Mark bastard wants to make false allegations against you, let him. He’ll hang himself, because we’re going to bring legal in on this, too. Anyway, no need to call me this evening. We can chat in the morning.”

  I hit the button to replay the second message as I plopped my ass down on the edge of the fluffy king bed. During the second playing of the message I realized I did actually hear her correctly. She got everything from Reggie. How could Roxanne get everything she needed regarding Emily’s friend from Reggie? That did not make sense.

  The third message started up and I heard Reggie saying, “Frankie, sugar, don’t be upset with me. I nabbed Emily’s number while we were at lunch
Tuesday, when you went to the bathroom. I planned to slip it back to you, but you’re out of town. I didn’t want you to have to deal with this in any way. You’ve been through enough, and Vamp had already told me to keep this bastard’s shit away from you. Call me when you get this. Don’t care how late, honey.”

  Well, if anyone was going to get a late-night call from me it would be Reggie! I could not wrap my head around the fact that he took that contact info from me. I pulled up my contacts, and went to Reggie’s number.

  Before I could hit the call button, Vamp asked, “Who are you calling at eleven-fifteen at night, woman? The Tropical Booty is a strong drink; you aren’t drunk-dialing are you?”

  He was standing just in the doorway, leaning on the frame of the door holding his beer in his hand. How rough-and-ready bikers managed to make standing around holding a long-neck beer look sexy as all hell, I did not know.

  I shot him a scathing look, “Hardy-har, Vamp. No, I’m not drunk-dialing. Yesterday, I drove myself certifiably crazy looking for a scrap of paper where Emily Yates had written down her contact info. My boss, no, my boss’s boss, wanted the info on the friend who witnessed my attack. I tore my entire cube apart looking for that damn sheet of paper, and now I’ve got a voicemail from Roxanne telling me that she got all that info from Reggie. And then a call from Reggie asking me not to be upset with him, and he wants me to call him back. Doesn’t care how late it is.”

  Vamp sighed, pushed off the door frame, and stepped into the room to put his beer on the dresser that was just a foot from the door frame. He came to me and took the phone out of my hand.

  “I had a little something to do with Reggie taking that slip of paper on Tuesday.”

  “Say again?” I asked, trying to keep my temper in check.