by Bijou Hunter
Soon, we’re outside, where the chill crawls into my wet dress. Anders sets me inside the SUV and stares as if I need to tell him what to do.
“I liked the dumplings, but I ate too much before I got to them,” I say because I don’t know how to explain what happened.
Anders looks around as if I’m nuts. Finally, his gaze returns to my face, and he says, “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
“No, those terrible women shouldn’t have been awful. You did nothing wrong.”
Blinking wildly, Anders takes a deep breath and gets control of himself. He looks back at the building where people stream out. I see a few giving us ugly frowns. Others lean into each other and laugh. I see one woman make a face as if she’s imitating DeAnna as the watermelon hit her.
“Anders, can we go to Bronco’s house now?”
Focusing, he nods and shuts my door. Anders doesn’t acknowledge the other people. He gets into the other seat and drives slowly to the house. I don’t know what’ll happen next. Bronco didn’t seem angry when we left, but Anders punched his nephew really hard. Rooster looked upset. Bambi was yelling at one point. Will Anders get in trouble for my behavior? Should I have sneaked out like Topanga suggested?
No!
Whatever happens next is just the price I’ll pay. Like when I attacked Rusten to protect Anders, sometimes violence happens. I didn’t start either fight, but I won’t be weak just to make people happy. Those women were lucky I didn’t have a rock in my hand, or there might be more than hurt feelings and a few bruises tonight.
ANDERS
Turning this group birthday party into a “Meet Anders’s Honey” party was a bullshit idea. My club brothers have no interest in meeting Pixie. But because their wives are nosy, Pixie has to wear a dress and shoes that don’t fit right. Plus, she’s wearing makeup and styling her hair to look like someone else. Pixie is my flower child, which is why she loves me when no one else can.
Now, people are twisting Pixie into just another beautiful woman. I don’t want someone else. Why can’t they leave us alone?
The only good part of this stupid fucking party is Pixie’s reaction to new foods. She opens her mouth for me as I feed her. Her eyes are so bright when she bites into the foods she likes. They get very wide when she realizes something tastes awful. Learning stuff about each other is what I want for us. Not to be put on display for people who won’t be won over.
Not that Pixie is trying very hard to woo my club brothers and their honeys. She mumbles hello, nods, smiles, and then focuses on me. Back at Bronco’s place, she was much friendlier. Pixie is worse at hiding her disinterest than I am.
I made a mistake letting her drink so much wine. Pixie’s body isn’t used to booze. When she takes even a few hits from a joint, she instantly gets relaxed and a little silly. No way can she handle two glasses of wine.
“You only have to stay another thirty minutes,” Bronco says once Pixie ends up sick in the restroom. “I can see how uncomfortable she is. I also plan to use your exit as an excuse to bail.”
No doubt, Bronco is edgy about leaving Fairuza alone with his girls. Summer could likely take the older woman in a fight. While Pixie’s mom is tough, she’s underfed. Yeah, the biker princess should have no trouble kicking Fairuza’s ass.
I scan the room, taking in the faces of the men and women I’ve known for three years. Most of them barely know me, and I certainly don’t know them. Yet, never before did I resent these people. I kept to myself, stayed quiet, and let others lead. I never pretended to believe they might care about me. Deep inside, I knew they looked at me and saw a man who turned against his club before. Why wouldn’t I do it again?
Maybe I should leave the Woodlands. I have money saved up. Pixie, her family, and I could move away and start over. No expectations or disappointing people.
Except I swore to myself that I would protect Bronco. If I break that promise, I’m just as disloyal as everyone expects me to be. As long as he’s president, I can’t walk away from the Executioners.
My head swims from too many beers and a whole lot of second-guessing. I finally ask Topanga if she’ll check on Pixie. Lana goes, too. I imagine Pixie throwing up all the food I encouraged her to eat. However, the blame for the wine is on Topanga. Her solution to anxious women is to fill them with high-end booze.
Lowell sighs. “Why is everyone so fucking tense tonight?”
“Because this was supposed to be a birthday party that got turned into something else,” Wyatt grumbles from nearby.
“Nobody asked you, asshole.”
Wyatt turns toward the club’s VP as if ready to take him on. Lowell doesn’t even glance back. For months, they’ve poked at each other more often. I never say anything when it happens, keeping my gaze instead focused elsewhere while the men argue. I know the score, though.
Bronco wants to fuck with Wyatt, and Wyatt wants to fuck with Bronco. They can’t really get into it, though. Not with the younger man’s mommy and daddy always around. So, Wyatt and Lowell fight instead.
I really don’t care. They’ll throw punches on occasion. Never enough for Bronco to tell me to break them up. I view their bickering as play fighting. Wyatt is practicing for the day when he takes on Bronco. I still don’t know how I’ll stand by and allow the younger man to claim this club. More likely, I’ll snap his skinny neck and let Bronco punish me for it later.
Desperate to remain buzzed so I can hide how miserable I feel, I finish another beer. Should I check on Pixie? Can I just walk into the ladies’ room? With my size, the answer to most questions is yes.
I chuckle to myself at the thought of anyone standing in my way if I wanted to enter the restroom. Then I see Pixie, and my brain can’t figure out what she’s doing.
Is she wet? Has she been crying? Why is she running? The pot and booze keep me so blitzed that I stare dumbly when Pixie throws a watermelon at DeAnna and nails the dumb bitch in the face. Only when Bronco bursts into laughter behind me do I wake up enough to register what I’m seeing.
Pixie isn’t playing. Taryn and DeAnna are wrestling around with her, kicking and hitting. She’s getting ganged up on. Now, Wyatt is rushing over to help them. Bambi and Rooster might join in. too.
Everyone is fucking with my honey!
I yank one of those bitches off Pixie and then another. They’re lucky I’m so buzzed. If I were sober, I don’t know if they’d survive this experience. When I hit Wyatt, I almost forget to pull the punch. I’ve killed men before by slugging them in the gut. He gets lucky tonight, thanks to the pot and beer.
My buzz fades a little when I see the terror in Pixie’s eyes. She isn’t afraid of them. It’s all me—the monster, the Antichrist, a man unworthy of her love.
Now, I’ll lose her. A part of me always knew this moment was coming. Everyone turns on me eventually.
Pixie’s expression changes and she reaches for me. She isn’t ditching her grand sequoia yet. I still have more time with her. I lift Pixie into my arms and carry her wet body out of the clubhouse. I don’t hear the people behind me. Fuck them! If they aren’t on Pixie’s side, they can eat shit. I only see her.
But I feel uneasy. Why did I not put my foot down and say she wasn’t coming to the community party? That other idea with individual dinners made more sense. I could control them better. People would be on my territory. Instead, I let myself get pushed around. I’m a giant, scary motherfucker. Why can’t I take charge?
As we drive back to Bronco’s house, Pixie shivers next to me. I don’t know why she’s wet. I’m afraid to ask. What if she hears the barely restrained rage in my voice? I can’t scare away Pixie. I need to remain in control.
“How did you get wet?” I ask, self-sabotaging as usual.
“If I tell you, I’ll get upset. I’d rather focus on the bright moon,” Pixie says, stroking my hand on the steering wheel. “I wish I tried the dumplings earlier. My stomach was too full by the time I saw them.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t offer
them. I’ve never tried any before. They looked gross.”
“They do look gross,” she says, smiling brightly as if the world didn’t turn upside down for us less than ten minutes ago.
Pixie can’t understand how much she means to me. She grew up with a family that loved her. The only person to completely love me is this woman I let starve for months and now failed again. She can’t understand the burden I feel to redeem myself. She just smiles at the moon.
“I love all your hair,” Pixie says as I pull into Bronco’s driveway. Her fingers reach for my head. “I love the ones on top that get all the attention and the shy ones on the bottom.”
I turn off the SUV and sit silently. My gaze remains frozen on the garage door. On the surface, I’m stoned and drunk. Underneath, I feel my temper rising.
“I like your house better than Bronco’s,” she says, trying to get me to focus.
The Woodlands is so appealing at night when the streetlights cast interesting shadows against the houses. I used to walk around after dusk and admire how peaceful the world is when I’m not faking shit for people.
“Except I like how he has pictures of his family on the walls,” Pixie continues. “I wish I had a picture of my papa to put up, but the Village made us burn our beloved mementos to prove our loyalty to the Volkshalberd. Now, I have trouble remembering Papa’s face.”
Pixie doesn’t cry tonight when she speaks of her father, but I see how she struggles. At the Collective, grief was something to be experienced briefly and then released into the universe. But human beings don’t work that way. Pixie feels the hole where her father once lived.
“Do you want to go home now?” I ask as Bronco and Lana pull their SUV past us into the garage.
“I’m not sure. We should see what Mama, Dove, and Future want. They might be happy here, so we should be happy too. But they might be miserable. Then, we should return to your house, which is better.”
“Our house,” I remind her, and Pixie smiles as she opens the door.
Lana waves Pixie into the garage. I know they’ll get her cleaned up. I remain silent as I walk through the house out to the well-lit backyard. Bronco stands near the pool, telling Summer about Pixie nailing DeAnna in the face with a watermelon. His oldest daughter laughs while the younger two girls giggle nearby. I scan the backyard, searching for my people. Dove is in the pool with Summer, standing very still as if hiding in plain sight.
“Where are Fairuza and Future?” I ask the girls.
“Mama is on the trampoline,” Dove answers, smiling sheepishly when Bronco’s gaze falls on her.
I’ve finally caught on to how Dove acts starry-eyed with all men. She isn’t nursing a crush on any of us. She’s just weirded out by the opposite sex. With her being around fourteen, Dove’s behavior makes more sense. I’m just relieved she isn’t horny for me.
Frowning at the trampoline, I don’t see Fairuza. While Bronco continues to act out the scene for the girls, I walk farther into the yard. Only when I get closer to the trampoline do I realize Fairuza and Future are resting on their backs and looking at the stars. Pixie’s family has a way of enjoying the smallest beauty in life.
“Is the party over?” Fairuza asks while Future sits up at the sight of me.
“Yeah. Pixie got in a fight with those bitches.”
“Is she hurt?”
“I don’t know. She’s getting changed.”
“Lana’s baby is asleep,” Fairuza tells me. “Summer took Dove into the pool.”
“I see that.”
The woman gives me a soft, knowing smile. “Things come together as they’re written. I hadn’t been sure about our story yesterday or even earlier today. I am now.”
Fairuza isn’t my mom, but I still feel like a dipshit kid enjoying a compliment. I want to do right by these people. More so, I need to belong with them. Not because I have money or kill their enemies. I want them to like me.
Even after tonight’s clusterfuck, I know Pixie cares about the real me. She always finds my stories fucking brilliant. Pixie never behaves that way for anyone else. Topanga tells wild, fun stories. Plenty of people were talkative tonight. Pixie smiled, and she laughed a few times. But she never showed them what she shows me.
“Can I jump?” Pixie asks, suddenly at my side.
“Are you hurt?”
Pixie glances at her mother and then shrugs. “A little, but I still want to jump.”
I study her face until she takes my hand and rests her cheek in the palm. When I breathe normal again, she smiles and climbs into the trampoline.
“At the Collective, people struck with unhappiness would get inside one of these jumping circles and work out their dark feelings.”
Occasionally, Pixie will share something about her time at the Collective that helps me understand why those people loved their lives. They worked hard to keep their community afloat, but they also laughed and played often. I can’t imagine how tedious the Village felt to the Yabo family after they grew up in a place like the Collective.
Pixie stands on the trampoline and smiles seductively. She clearly wants me to jump, too. Yet, that’s never fucking happening. I hate jumping. I’ve always avoided the falling sensation. As a kid, I didn’t know how to control my large body and was constantly tripping. That’s why I’ll remain safely on the ground. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the sight of Pixie, Fairuza, and Future holding hands and gently bouncing.
Bronco turns on the outside sound system, and one of his favorite songs by Tim McGraw begins playing. Lana appears from the house. The dogs run around after Sidonie and Desi. In the pool, Summer encourages Dove to get her hair wet.
Even with the activity around us, Pixie keeps her gaze on me. She wears a knowing smile, reminding me of her mom. Pixie understands how I’m feeling right now. After only a few days together, I sense she knows me better than I know myself. Maybe that’s just my heart talking, but I could get real used to enjoying these kinds of nights.
PIXIE
Anders watches me jump on Bronco’s trampoline. Just until I pay the price of eating so much earlier. Then, I end up needing to stay very still on the trampoline.
Mama rubs my stomach while Future cuddles against me. I stare at the stars. Back at the Village, I’d admire the night sky and wonder if Anders was looking at it, too.
Knowing I can touch him whenever I want makes me smile. I imagine us together later in bed, making each other feel good. Tomorrow, I can remind him of how special he is to me.
Startled from my thoughts, I hear Barbie’s loud voice as she walks outside. She claims the family was headed over until they saw Anders’s car. Now, they won’t come inside because I broke DeAnna’s nose.
“Well, then, I need to make a cardboard cutout of Pixie and keep it in the front window,” Bronco says, and Lana laughs. “We might never endure a surprise visit from DeAnna again.”
“You’ve gotten spoiled,” Barbie tells her brother and then calls out to Anders, who she can see sitting in the grass. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Watching out for my people!” he yells back.
I assume she can’t see us when we’re stretched out on the trampoline. Anders’s explanation must satisfy Barbie. She starts talking about making a margarita in the outside kitchen.
Crawling to the edge, I smile down at Anders sitting in the grass.
“I’m not coming in there, so don’t even ask,” he says, stretching out his long legs.
“Is there space in your backyard for a trampoline?”
“Yes. Well, maybe not once you put in the chicken coop and the atrium and the playset.”
Mama crawls over with Future imitating her. She smiles at Anders. “I’ll joyfully give up the chickens if we can have a trampoline.”
Anders just grins. “We can order a trampoline tomorrow.”
Mama and I share a smile. Future laughs, even though he doesn’t know why everyone is happy. My brother had so much fun today. Now, everything amuses him.
>
But as the evening grows later, an autumn chill joins the darkness. Dove and Summer hurry inside to change out of their swimsuits. Future shivers against me as I carry him toward the firepit Bronco lit. Lana offers us a soft blanket and suggests cocoa and marshmallows.
When Anders follows me around silently, my thoughts return to DeAnna and Taryn mocking him. I wish I knew how to fight better. Is that something Anders can teach me? Or maybe Topanga knows a few moves? Kicking those women in the vaginas didn’t work.
Anders sits in a chair and pulls one closer to him for me. I hold my brother wrapped up in a blanket. Future sucks at his bottom lip and looks up at me with brown eyes as dark as mine. I love how relaxed he is tonight. Anders’s world might be confusing—and often annoying—but there are so many blessings, too.
Dove appears, following around the other girls, seeming small and nervous. But when I catch her gaze, she offers me a little smile. Dove’s making friends.
By the time Future dozes off against me, Anders has his arm wrapped around my shoulders. I know we should head home. The baby needs to sleep. Mama yawns, too. Bronco’s middle two daughters soon hide inside from the growing chill. Everyone understands how this evening needs to come to an end.
The drive home is quiet. Only a twangy song plays on the radio. Once inside the house, Anders leads the way, turning on the lights and checking the security.
I help Mama get Future tucked in. Dove stands nearby, thinking over her day. She’s been quieter since Papa died. For years, I’ve waited for Dove to return to the feisty girl from the Collective. Did part of her die with Papa?
My sister doesn’t want to sleep alone. She crawls in with Future while Mama decides to sit in the main area and meditate.
“Go upstairs,” Mama reassures me when I watch her. “We’re safe when Anders is in the house.”
Smiling at her words, I take pride in their meaning. She’s learning to respect Anders. He is complicated and, at times, terrifying. But his heart is full of warmth.
