“No, it’s not fine. We have everything out. They need to leave.”
“The center is open to the public. You can’t tell us what to do,” said another guy. He was the one holding the basketball. “Come on, guys. Fuck her.”
“Excuse me? Don’t talk to me like that.” My mom stepped forward into the guy’s face, the basketball between them. My heart beat like crazy and I was scared. Scared of what she might do – of what they might do.
“Mom! It’s fine. Sorry, she’s over-protective about all of her hard work in here.” I pulled my mom’s arm. “Come on. It’s not a big deal if they play over there.”
“I know where you come from,” she said to the guy who still held the ball. “I know you never amounted to anything worth a damn. You need to-”
“Fuck you, lady. You don’t know shit about me.”
“Mom! Stop!” I yelled.
Horrified, I used every ounce of energy I had to pull her away from the basketball players, when Jackson, the sheriff of Lone Star, walked into the gym. This had to be the worst day of my life.
“What’s going on here?” Jackson asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “My mom was under the impression that the gym was closed to the public while we got everything organized for the picnic on Saturday. It was all a misunderstanding. Right, mom?”
“They need to leave,” she said. Her response wasn’t as heated as before and I was hoping that was because she recognized the danger she could be in with the sheriff involved – public intoxication wasn’t something she needed.
“Technically, the gym has to remain open unless it’s been rented out for a private event. I’m guessing that isn’t the case here.” The group of guys were already shooting hoops, fully aware of how wrong my mother was.
“We’re using it for the picnic,” my mom said. As if she were exempt from following the rules.
“It was a misunderstanding. It’s not a problem. We’re sorry we caused any trouble. She hasn’t been feeling well and it’s gotten the best of her. I better take her home. This won’t happen again. Come on, Mom. I will drive you home.”
Chapter Six
Maverick
“I can’t believe your dad survived this shit.”
“You and me both.”
“It’s looking better than it did last time I was here,” Thatcher said.
“Aside from work, she’s all I’ve been working on,” I replied.
“It’s gonna look great when you’re done.”
“Damn straight she is. Willow green and cream, that look right there.” I pointed to a page I’d pulled from a magazine and had tacked to one of the walls in my garage for motivation.
“Seriously?” Thatcher cocked an eyebrow. “It wasn’t up there last time I was here.”
“Yeah fucking seriously. I got the vision so that’s what I’m doing. You don’t think she’s going to look like that when she’s done? I’ve got the skills, brother.”
“Can’t wait. Aren’t you breaking some biker code by owning a Harley and an Indian?”
I shrugged, “Hell if I know. You know I don’t play in that shit.”
“No, but I thought the rule of thumb was that there are Harleys and then all the other brands.”
I laughed, “Since it was my dad’s, I guess it has me more than a little sentimental.”
“Did you ever write him back from that last letter?”
“Not yet.”
“You going to?”
“I don’t want to get involved with his shit regarding my mother.”
“Family’s family.”
“Don’t I know it. Some messed up part of me feels like I owe him something.”
“You don’t owe him shit, Cap. Family is family, but you also have to do what’s best for you. He was a half-assed dad, on a good day. What’s he want with your mom?”
“Hell if I know.”
“Your dad is sort of like my old man. Yours just happens to roll with the ten percenters.”
“One percenters.”
“Yeah, whatever. You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean.”
We stood there in comfortable silence for a few moments. Normally, I wasn’t one to give a crap about most people, but my gut heaved with guilt for being attracted to Grace – behind Thatcher’s back.
“My dad’s been an ass ever since I can remember. He fucked us up good and well even though Grace would never admit it. At least not at the level I can. Now Abby and I are trying to have another kid and it’s harder than when we weren’t trying.”
Thatcher had recently reconnected with his old flame, Abigail Murphy. He’d done some bonehead shit and up and left her and their son, Thayer, when he found out she was pregnant. She married his best friend because she didn’t want to be a single mother in a small town – she was a good girl. I wouldn’t give a shit about what the community thought, but that was me. Abby on the other hand, had cared. Now that Thayer was older and Abby was divorced from Adrian, Thatcher almost lost her and their son again, but fate had a way of pulling people through the rough times.
“Hold up. You guys are trying to have another kid and can’t?”
“Abby’s stressed. I’m stressed. We’ve been trying for a while. She has a doctor’s appointment in a few days to see what we can do.”
“Good luck, man.” I said.
“Thanks. It’s weird that I’m okay with this all of this. Every time she takes the test and it comes out negative, I’m disappointed. I made a huge mistake with Thayer and I’m so committed to the both of them now, I can’t believe I ever thought the opposite. That I hurt them when we were younger.”
“I hear ya.”
“My kids are never going to deal with the shit we dealt with from our dads. Growing up, I always felt bad for Grace. Older brother thing, I guess.”
“What’s wrong with Grace? She’s always so Ice Queen perfect.”
“Yeah, she pretends. I think deep down she craves someone to care about her and treat her with respect and loyalty. After Owen cheated on her, she’s pretty much steered clear from men. She puts up a huge front that all is good, but besides me, there isn’t a soul in her life,” he laughed without humor. “Hell, and I’m not much of a help. Not now with Thayer and Abby in my life. God, Cap, you ought to try it. Being with Abby and having a son, it’s unbelievable how much I’ve changed. I find myself wanting to be home more with them. I feel complete, man.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I hope Grace will find someone like I did. Someone who won’t mess with her head like Owen did. Someone loyal that she can count on. She deserves it. But I can’t say much and she doesn’t tell me too much. I’m her big brother. She only confides in me so much.”
Thank God for that.
For one of the first times in my life, I simply sat there and listened, afraid if I said anything it would either give me away or he’d stop talking about her and I sure as hell wanted to hear more about her.
“You’d think a mother-daughter bond would be iron clad. But not Grace’s with our mom. Don’t get me wrong, they talk every now and again. Gracie helps them from time to time but my parents aren’t close to either one of us. They could have done just fine without having kids.”
“What about Thayer now? Don’t they spend time with him?”
“It’s a work in progress. Abby and I don’t want to leave him alone with them. My mom’s half-cocked most of the time and my dad, well, he’s an asshole. So, we’re taking it one step at a time. I gotta go. I have to deliver this paneling to my neighbor. His wife is about to have their baby and I told him I’d drop it off.”
“See you later, man.”
“Let me know what you end up doing with your dad.”
“Fuck. Don’t remind me.”
I scrubbed my hand over my eyes. My dad. He didn’t write often. Only when he wanted something. Usually it was money—which was fine. I could send him money every so often and it was no sweat of
f my back. Money in prison was like frosting on a cake in the real world. He could barter and make loans—which wasn’t legal—and buy practically any kind of shit he’d need outside of those bars.
Sending money was easy.
This time, he wanted more than money. At least more than my money. He wanted me to find my mother and bring her to him. In his letter, he promised me she was still alive. That my uncle Hoop would know where to find her. Said he had something he needed to get off his chest and I wasn’t sure if I believed he was experiencing a pang of regret or if he had more sinister thoughts going on. I haven’t seen Reba since I was fifteen years old—what could he possibly have to say to the whore twenty-four years later?
Not only that, but even if I found her, how in the fuck would I get her to the prison where he was incarcerated? Talk about a fat chance. I couldn’t get her to take me to school in the sixth grade, I sure as hell wasn’t getting her to a prison.
I locked up my house and garage and hopped on my bike. I had no place in mind as I gunned her down the 319. Wind blowing in my face, the handle bars vibrating through my palms, and everything else an almost blur as I passed by, it made me feel like I was leaving my cares behind.
Almost.
Although Grace was the least of my problems, I couldn’t get her off my mind. It kept going back to the image of her standing in my kitchen with her tank top, almost curly golden hair and that delicious mouth of hers as she sassed her way to a cup of coffee. Her perfect tits. Her beauty was tremendous and although her presence made me think of Candi, that wasn’t what had me attracted to her.
Thanks to my parents, I’ve seen my fair share of debauchery. Being raised by my dad most of the time, I’ve lived a not-so-pleasant life in most cases. How I hadn’t wound up a ward of the state was anyone’s guess. My dad had been a lot of things: drug dealer, thief, gambler, enforcer, but he’d done his best to keep me out of the club. I had that to be thankful for. Especially when I’d met Candi. She was everything I wasn’t. Went to college on an academic scholarship, parents were stable—both doctors—bringing up her and her brother in a balanced, well-adjusted household. They had family game night, for God’s sake.
She was the crème de la crème to everything I’d ever known.
It hadn’t taken more than an hour in her company to know Grace was made of all of that. The very best of everything I couldn’t have. What had me attracted to her was that she was a girly-girl. Hair, skin, clothes and nails—all taken care of, leaving her hot as hell. She had that breathtaking quality you only found in good people, too. The way she could make conversation with anyone and by the end, they were head over heels for her sweet personality. I’d shoved that shit so far down inside me, I almost hadn’t recognized it. But there it was, every negative I said to Grace, every time I was intentionally an ass to her, she just kept up with the pleasantries and sass. Unlike myself, she wasn’t to be baited by my attitude. She just put her chin up and kept right on with all that sunshine shit.
Grace wasn’t like the women I’d toyed around with for the last thirteen years. I’d been careful not to look for or even go near women like her. Candi, Grace. They were women who deserved to be loved and treated with respect and dignity. They were going somewhere in life. Unlike Tiffany, who was happy living off the system. Tiffany, who’d give me a blow job for a ride on my hog. Neither women would ever consider my Harley rule, one that Tiffany firmly followed: ass, grass or gas, no one rides for free. Said so right on one of my patches stitched onto my riding vest. The same one that Grace disapproved of – duly noted by the way she crinkled the corners of her eyes and her full pout transformed into a thin line.
Whatever I wanted to do with Grace, was a situation all its own because of Thatcher. How could I tell him that his thirty-nine-year-old motorcycle riding, fucked-up friend that avoided high-class women was into his twenty-seven-year-old sister? He’d want commitment, my signature in blood, that I’d marry her right off the bat. That I’d be good to her. That was if he didn’t tell me to fuck off first.
Man, I was reaching too far, too fast. I needed to quit thinking about her and the possibility we could have anything beyond a good night in bed. Did I want more? I wasn’t even sure if she wanted more than that truthfully. I wasn’t blind to the attraction that brewed between us, but that was all it was. Attraction. She was too good to fuck for one night – I wouldn’t do that to her or on account of Thatcher being a good friend whether he ever found out or not. Although I was tempted. What if that was all she wanted? Who was I to tell Grace no?
Her spending the night was going to be our one and only secret. I wouldn’t tell him and that was where it was going to end. I had bigger fish to fry. My dad being numero uno.
What he could possibly want to talk to my mom about at this stage in his life was beyond me. Him wanting me to find her was a bigger road than I was willing to ride down. At least for the time being.
Chapter Seven
Grace
“Remember if you go shopping at your friend’s store, you need to put your closed sign up.”
Market Day at school was always a hit. My second graders had a choice of what to make to sell to their classmates using micro money. It taught the kids the value of money and it was fun. A great introduction to the way real life worked. They couldn’t bring any food or drinks to sell and everything had to be homemade.
“Ms. Patterson, would you like to buy some artwork?” Hallie had painted loads of paper, each with a different drawing. She had cute blonde hair that her mother curled for her every morning.
“I would love to. Here is my money. Do I get to pick?” She nodded and I fanned through the images. Balloons, a playground, and what looked to be a cat all stared back at me. I quickly chose the balloons and handed her my micro money.
“Thank you.”
Other kids had made bracelets, paper airplanes, small cloth pillows, stress balls out of balloons and a variety of duct tape accessories. It was only Tuesday and school seemed to be dragging on forever. The last few weeks of school always felt like two months. It did last year and I could tell it wasn’t going to be any different.
“Class, class.”
“Yes, yes.” The room quieted down and the kids focused their attention on me.
“Market Day has come to an end. Before anyone makes a move, please finish your last transaction with your neighbor and – Andrew, please listen – then go back to your desk and begin to put all of your materials away.”
The kids scrambled around for a few more minutes finishing their last transactions before everyone began to clean up. I had twenty-five kids in my class and more than half of them rode the bus. Which meant they had ten minutes to put stuff away and get into the bus line. Market Day was one of those projects that got the kids wound up which is why I chose to do it at the end of the day instead of the beginning.
Once I walked them to their bus line and the bell rang for all the kids that walked or rode home with a parent, I was free to leave. Through most of the school year, I’d stayed later out of necessity—always something that had to be prepared—or a meeting after school. But at the end of the year, and because I was usually one step ahead, I had nothing to do. Except go to Maverick’s and let Echo out.
Founder’s Day was approaching quickly and I dreaded having to see my mom after the incident at the community center. I was still angry with myself for lying to Jackson just to keep her out of trouble. I mean, I didn’t want her in trouble, yet I shouldn’t be the one to have to cover for her mistakes either. I’d felt guilty about the entire thing and deep down, I knew she hadn’t chosen to be the way she was. At least not with her drinking problem.
Had Maverick ever wondered what is life would be like if his mother hadn’t been a drug addict? We were clearly in similar positions with that one, although his had been much worse than mine. Would he be home when I stopped by? Not likely. I stopped over there four times yesterday—in the morning, mid-afternoon, after school where I took her to
the park for a while and once again at bedtime. I hadn’t run into him at all. He’d done a good job of making himself scarce and by the time I went over there at night before bedtime, I was disappointed I hadn’t gotten to see him.
I hadn’t seen him this morning either but the smell of fresh coffee in the air mixed with his freshly showered scent led me to believe I’d just missed him. When I made a quick jaunt over mid-afternoon to let her out and still no sign of him, I was steeling myself for the fact that he wouldn’t be around this evening either. I knew he worked but I thought for sure I would see him in the evening at some point. As shocking as it was, I even hoped to see him working on that bike of his out in his garage.
What did he do all evening? Who? I smirked. He wasn’t working on that thing of a bike in the garage and not that I was listening for it, but I never heard any obnoxious motorcycles last night either. His was loud like a fire truck. It was hard to miss when it went cruising around town, especially when I had my apartment windows open. It was a sound I’ve heard a million times before and honestly, every single one probably wasn’t Maverick, but now, he would forever spring to my mind when I heard one.
I was too curious about him. Curious about his whereabouts and if all he did in his free time was go to the Lazy Dogs Saloon. He didn’t seem like he was much of a party animal but by his own admissions of going there, he must have been. Because what else was there to do there? It was a biker bar. Not a place where someone like me could ever fit in.
Once I said goodbye to the other two second-grade teachers, I grabbed my book bag and started the walk for home. My phone rang—my mother—what did she want?
“Hello?”
“Grace, honey. I hope I’m not bothering you, am I?” she asked.
“No, I was just leaving-”
“Oh good, good,” she said in her crisp, cold voice. The voice that said she wanted me to do something for her. The voice that said I’m not interested in idle chit-chat, only to see what you can do for me. “Listen, I have a chore for you that I’m really hoping you’ll find the time to do.”
Wicked: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 3) Page 7
