by Karen Renee
He lifted his chin slightly and said, “Hello to you too, Mallory.”
I reciprocated his chin lift, “Hi, Cal.”
At that point the waitress looked at me and then looked back to Cal and started speaking to him again. Quinton was sitting to my right, and I leaned in a little and asked, “Tell me she’s not our waitress?”
Quinton chuckled, “No, and that’s a good thing. Though her other tables are giving us dirty looks since she ain’t takin’ care of their business.”
I had closed up my menu and set it aside when I noticed the side door to the breezeway open. A patron was walking out, but the red-headed Riot MC prospect came inside. He moved over to the far corner of the room. I couldn’t imagine why he didn’t come hang with Cal. Gavin and James were sitting across from me, and I noticed their attention suddenly focused on something behind me. Before I could turn around, two female hands with pointy fingernails descended into my vision and a bubbly voice said, “Guess who?”
“Jackie.”
“Yes! Now introduce me to these cute computer guys.”
I did introductions, excluding Cal, of course, with the waitress still hanging on him. Guess nabbing him was worth seriously reduced tips from her other patrons.
When Jackie pulled up a stool next to me, I asked “So, did the prospect bring you here too?”
“Oh no. Volt brought me. He had to return a phone call. He’ll be in shortly.”
Gavin asked me, “Why were you so late, Mal?”
I half shrugged, “My boss decided to do my annual review at quarter to six. Good times, right.”
Quinton bumped me with his shoulder, “They give you a hefty bonus?”
“Ha! As if. I got a two percent increase. A raise is always welcome, but the whole evaluation meeting is so futile.”
James looked at me and said, “At least you just got the settlement money from the insurance company.”
I shook my head. “Greg’s mom has some credit card debt issues. I gave her nearly all of it to help out. The money won’t bring me back my son or the chance to have another son or daughter with Greg, so it’s fairly irrelevant.”
The waitress shot me a look at this point. “Must be nice to say money’s irrelevant.”
I sucked my lips in for a moment, and then replied, “If money’s important to you, you might try some work ethic. Those three tables over there look more than a little miffed that you haven’t refilled their drinks or taken their food orders.”
The waitress flung her strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder, and she walked away. Volt was now standing at the end of the table near Cal, and with a tip of his head at me, he said, “Looks like she’s an equal opportunity ball-buster, brother.”
Quinton, Bobby, James, and Gavin burst out laughing at this. I didn’t find it that funny. I didn’t think I busted people’s balls.
Jackie lightly smacked my shoulder, “Girl! You are the shit. No problem tellin’ it like it is. I love it.” She leaned past me to get a look at Cal, “Brother, you can do way better than that waitress.”
I took a sip of beer. Jackie asked me, “So, where’s Natasha? Is she coming or what?”
“No. She won’t be here. She teaches and has to drive to the other side of town early in the morning.”
I felt a presence behind us and saw Volt’s tattooed arm snake around Jackie’s chest, “You doin’ okay, baby?”
Jackie leaned back into him and said, “Of course. This is great. Beats hanging around the clubhouse again! Don’t get me wrong, I love the compound, babe, but a change of scenery is good.”
He put a kiss on Jackie’s cheek, and then turned to me, “Mallory. Nice to see you again.”
I looked at him. He was wearing his cut, and a black Jack Daniels t-shirt underneath. He was holding a high ball glass with brown liquor in it. I smiled and said, “Nice to see you, too, Volt. However, I don’t bust people’s balls.”
He laughed, “Oh, yeah, you do. And you’re on the verge of tryin’ to bust mine. Not happenin’, lady.”
I smirked, then saw Jim or Tim still standing watch in the corner, so I decided to go talk to him. I was walking over to him, and caught a dirty look from the strawberry-blonde waitress. Since I could not remember for the life of me which prospect was the redhead and which one was the brown-haired goatee guy, I started to say Jim but changed it to Tim at the last second. It came out something like, “Ji-Tim.”
I knew it as soon as I heard it leave my mouth. It sounded like the French word, “J’taime” for: “I love you.”
Apparently the red-haired prospect was semi-versed in French, and he smiled, saying, “Love you too, baby.”
Then I heard Cal growling, “The hell you say, Prospect!”
I looked up at Cal’s angry face and said, “He’s joking Cal. Lighten up.”
Cal’s focus shifted down to me, and he gripped my elbow. I tried to jerk it away, but apparently Cal was expecting this and he tightened his hold. A lot. I gave him a dirty look, but he ignored it and steered me out the side door to the breezeway. He kept pushing me down the sidewalk, and stopped us in front of a dry cleaner which was closed.
“How much did you give your mother-in-law?”
My head tilted at least thirty degrees, “I’m sorry, this is your business, how?”
Cal’s hand came to my cheek and righted my head, “Answer the question. You give her six figures?”
I reared back reflexively. “No! Of course not. There were lawyers involved, so there wasn’t six figures to give.”
Cal almost nodded, “Then you gave her five figures. You ask to see the credit card statements?”
I exhaled through my nose, “Excuse me? Did I ask to see the statements? She was embarrassed enough as it was, I’m not going to pour salt in the wound.”
Cal arched an eyebrow at me. “You sure you’re a business analyst for a living? If this were something to do with work, you’d have no problem asking the hard questions. Really. You gave up enough cake to buy a brand new car and you didn’t ask to see proof of your mother-in-law’s debt? You might want to clue in, woman.”
It was enough to buy two new cars, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes I said, “Look, Cal. She’s family. I’m not gonna get up in her business when it’s clear she knows she’s made a mistake.”
Cal leaned toward me. “Anybody with five figures worth of debt, credit card or otherwise, has a damn big problem. The idiot loaning them the pay-off for the debt has an equally large problem. How do you know your former mother-in-law isn’t using drugs? She lost a son. Maybe she’s got pain she can’t cure without something strong. Really strong.”
My head reflexively jolted back from my focus on Cal. His question about whether Gwendolyn could be using drugs reminded me of Officer Smith asking me the same thing the night of the break-in. I didn’t hide my reaction in time.
“What’s with the look, Mal?”
I looked aside then slid my gaze back to Cal, “Because the cops asked me the same thing about Gwendolyn when they were investigating the break in.”
Cal’s body tightened. “And what did you tell them?”
I’d had enough. He and I were done. I threw a hand out to my side. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I told them the truth. The woman can hardly finish a damn glass of wine at Christmas or Easter and those are the only two times she’ll have a drink. She’s two steps away from being a teetotaler. Again, we are finished. If I’ve made a colossal mistake by loaning her money, so be it.”
His hands were suddenly on my cheeks, “You haven’t made a mistake. You’ve made two. Lucky for you, I’m rectifying the first mistake you made. So get this through your thick-ass skull, we aren’t over. We aren’t finished.”
I put my hands on his arms to pry his hands away from my face and said, “If you’ll recall, the one and only time we agreed on something was when we agreed that we wouldn’t work. You can’t just take hold of my fac
e and tell me we’re not done. It takes two to tango.”
Cal seemed impervious to my attempts to remove his hands. After my outburst he moved them, and he did it in a way I did not expect. He shifted one hand down to my neck and the other further into my hair behind my head. Then he put his lips on my lower lip. He opened his mouth and gently bit my lower lip. I was shocked and opened my mouth and he pressed his advantage, thrusting his tongue into my mouth while widening his stance and pulling me into his space. My hands were forced to his burly chest and I began to feel lightheaded from his fierceness.
He pulled back and put his chin on the top of my head. Then he groaned, “Fuck!”
I couldn’t remember anyone putting that much passion into a kiss with me. It was like something from a soap opera, and truly – soap opera kisses don’t happen in real life. I could feel my breasts straining in the cups of my bra and I made a move to step back from Cal, but his hands tightened. He dipped his head to look me in the eye. “Mark my words, Mallory. I don’t agree with you anymore. We’re not done. You’re gonna tango with me, and you’re gonna like it just as much as I do. You can’t tell me that kiss wasn’t fuckin’ spectacular.”
I couldn’t tell him that, but I tried to anyway, “Actually, it –"
His hands moved to my shoulders, “Shut it. Do not ruin the best kiss I’ve ever had, and remember I’m a biker. I’ve kissed my fair share and been kissed by more than my fair share. None of it holds a God damned candle to that. I’m gonna make your sweet ass mine.”
My eyes bulged a little. “Well, mentioning that isn’t the way to go about it.”
Cal grinned, turned me around and hooked an arm around my waist guiding us back to the restaurant, “Noted. Did you wear this dress to work?”
I nodded and added, “Yeah.”
I tried to pull away, but Cal pulled me closer when I thought he couldn’t get me any closer to him. Gah! Then Cal said, “Boss must be a woman.”
Sheila was certainly a woman, but I was fighting the mild whiplash from his subject change. “You love to change the subject at warp speed, you know that?”
He stopped and turned me to face him, “I didn’t change the subject. If your boss was a man, any man, you’d have more than a two-percent raise. And that’s because of that dress. Hour glasses are fuckin’ jealous as hell you’re so damn curvy in this sexy get-up.”
Then he put his hands under my armpits and he watched his hands as they traced my figure from my chest down my waist then to my thighs. Once there, he pulled me closer again and kissed me again. It was brief and not even half as passionate as the last one. I didn’t think I could handle another one of those, not for another decade at least.
“I’m going home,” I blurted.
Cal’s arms around me tightened, “Uh, no. You’re not.”
I squinted, “Yes. I am. This is all too overwhelming.”
Cal nodded, “And that’s why you aren’t going home. You don’t need to slink back to your place and overanalyze this. I’m not some business scenario that you can dissect and hash out all the various ways for it to go. Only things you need to know are that you like me, I like you, we have great chemistry, and we’re going to get to know one another better. Much better.”
I sighed, “I’m not going to dissect things, but I am going home. I’m exhausted and my feet are killing me.”
Just then the side door to Rounder’s opened, and I managed to get away from Cal and go back into the restaurant. I noticed that Quinton, Gavin and James were all away from the table. Jackie was practically bouncing on her stool and Volt was sitting on my stool. I shook my head at her, and she almost pouted, which made me giggle as I came around the table.
Volt started to get off my stool and I said, “No, no. You stay there. I’m gonna head home. Jackie, can you grab my purse, it’s hanging from a hook under the table.”
Bobby put his beer down and said, “Leaving so soon, Mal? Seems like you just got here.”
Cal resumed his spot at the end of the table near Bobby and I said, “Yeah. I’m, uh, feeling a little overwhelmed. Tell Gav, Quin, and James I said bye, and I’ll see y’all next week.”
Cal tipped his chin at me slightly. “I will see you tomorrow, babe.”
I gave Jackie a light hug, and shot Cal a skeptical look over Jackie’s shoulder. Then I hauled my ass out as quickly as my high heels would take me.
* * * * *
The next day, I was grabbing my purse from my file cabinet before going to lunch when the phone rang at my desk. I picked it up. “Mallory Pierce.”
A gentle male voice asked, “Miss Pierce?”
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“Are you Gwendolyn Pierce’s daughter?”
Another red flag to say the least. “Um, no. Who is this, please?”
“I’m an associate of hers. I’m sorry, I was mistaken. I was led to believe you were her daughter.”
I was about to clarify that I was her daughter-in-law, but I heard the click of a phone being set down through the receiver, and I knew I had been disconnected.
I looked in my purse, found my phone, and made sure it had plenty of juice. Then I locked my computer and left to go to Jason’s Deli for lunch. Once I was in my car, I plugged my phone into the hands-free jack, and called Gwen. It went to voice mail.
After the beep I said, “Gwen, it’s Mallory. I just got a call at work from a gentleman who was asking if I’m your daughter. I didn’t know why someone would be under that impression, but I wasn’t sure if you knew anything about it. I’ll try giving you a call later this weekend. ’Bye.”
Fifteen minutes later, I set my order number on top of my table at Jason’s Deli and waited for my quarter-muffaletta to be delivered. I was scrolling through my emails on my phone, and I happened to look up to see three Leatherneck bikers walk in the main entrance. One of them was Bush. He didn’t seem to notice me, thank God. What was up with this? As a Jacksonville native, the only time I saw motorcyclists wearing cuts before was during the days just before or just after Daytona's Bike Week. Now, I had seen guys from two different clubs almost every time I was out in public. The lunch rush was in full swing, but I noticed by the time the three Leathernecks were at the counter, Razor had joined them. Maybe he wouldn’t notice me either; then again maybe pigs would fly first.
I was ready to text Tasha and Jackie when a food-runner showed up with my muffaletta.
I smiled at her and said, “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, you need anything else?”
I shook my head.
I decided to group-text the two ladies, Is J-ville becoming a biker town and I didn’t know it?
I took a bite of my fabulous sandwich, and thirty seconds later I saw a text from Jackie: What? I’m calling you chick!
My phone rang, and I answered, “Hi, Jackie. It was kind of a rhetorical question. Maybe I should have led with that instead.”
She giggled slightly. “Oh, no. Don’t try that with me. Where are you, and why would you think Jacksonville’s becoming a biker town? I can tell when there’s more to the story with you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but you remind me a lot of myself when Volt was in hot pursuit.”
A high-pitched laugh got away from me as I said, “Hot pursuit! What is this, an episode of ‘C.H.I.P.S.?’ I’m at Jason’s Deli on the Southside, and no sooner did I sit down than there were three ‒well, now four‒ Leathernecks in the building.”
It was almost ominous when Jackie said, “Mmmm.”
“What do you mean, ‘Mmmm?’ Or are you humming?”
Hesitantly, Jackie said, “You need to stay clear of the 'necks, Mal.”
I snorted, “I’m not going out of my way to find them. I was here first, you know.”
“I gotcha, but I’d try to get the hell out of there as quick as you can. Just sayin’.”
I shook my head, not that Jackie could see it and said, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the info. I better go so I can eat up.�
��
“Later, Mal.”
I ate the remainder of my lunch in relative peace, seeing as how Jason’s was a wide-open space with tile floors. Office workers and blue collar types flocked to it for lunch, and the multitude of various conversations bounced around the space. It was casual-day at work, so I was wearing jeans, my faux Doc Martens, and the grey cowl neck sweater with the black pleather sleeves that I bought for my date with Cal. It was a little edgy for the workplace, but I didn’t really care. I was hoping the grey and black would help me stay under the radar with the Leathernecks. I had two bites left to my sandwich and a quarter of a dill pickle left when the chair across from me suddenly slid out. I looked up to see Razor planting himself in the chair and putting a large red tray loaded with food down in front of him. So much for staying under the radar.
I tilted my head and shot him a look that was supposed to say, what do you think you’re doing. He ignored my disgruntled look, and said, “Hey, Fireball. I’d say let’s do lunch, but you’re almost done. So, we’ll have dessert.”
I furrowed my eyebrows at him and he picked up two chocolate chip cookies from his tray. Jason’s Deli cookies were almost as good as their muffaletta. I was tempted, but Jackie’s warning was still ringing in my ears.
