by Shyla Colt
“Because I if I don’t, you’ll keep walking around here thinking you’re running shit. Which isn’t the case. It wasn’t enough that I moved in on your terms. You want me to be someone I’m not.”
“No I don’t.”
“Don’t you? You knew who and what I was when you started messing around with me. Now you need to learn how to live with it. ‘Cause you decided to keep the baby which means I’m damn sure going to be in their life.”
“Why do we always end up like this?” I ask feeling defeated as I turn the corner.
“You don’t know how to calm down and go with the flow. The attempt to control everything is halting our process. I can’t function like this. Shit puts me on edge. Every day, I’m biting my tongue and hating it at home. Do I seem the type to do family dinner? I ain’t never met a parent in my God damned life. But here I am. I’m trying. But you have to do the same.”
His words hurt because they’re true. I pull into the driveway and place my hands in my lap. “You’re right.” I’ve been holding back trying to protect myself.
“You let me into your body, but everything else is closed for business. Today is my last gesture of good will.”
The finality in his tone is sobering.
“You hear me.”
“Loud and clear.”
“Hope so. Clock is ticking down. I’m bringing this to the table at Church next week. After tonight, we’re going to have a long overdue conversation.”
“Fair enough. We should head in. I’m sure they’re peeking out the window by now,” I say fixing a happy expression onto my face.
“You think I give a shit?” He leans over, ups my chin and turns my head to face him.
“No,” I whisper.
“Don’t get caught up in their drama, Ruthie. I’ve watched you shrink back into your shell and become someone I don’t know on this drive. I understand family dynamics fucking with your mental. But you left it behind and became your own woman a long time ago.”
I sigh. “I don’t want to do to our child what was done to us. The fights we heard, the way we were made to feel like garbage when our dad bailed and went on about his life. He couldn’t even be alone with us. They deemed him that unfit. Most of my time spent with my father from ten and up was supervised. When he felt like being bothered. He was living in L.A. Still does actually. But his checks were never late. He always points at that. Apparently, that’s all it takes to be a good father, providing financially.”
“We both know that’s bullshit.”
The venom in his tone on my behalf makes me smile. “Yeah, we do. Being pregnant brought up a lot I thought I already dealt with.” I see the curtains move and swear, “Damn.”
“Tonight you’ll tell me?”
“Yes.”
“Good, then let’s go, I have my first parent meeting.”
I laugh. “It’s not a parent teacher conference.”
“Might as well be,” he quips as we climb out of the car.
The door opens as we make our way up the walk, and my mom turns her electric blue lasers on us. I can feel the disapproval pouring off her in invisible waves. Her hair has dulled to a strawberry blonde over the years as she lost pigment and gained gray. Her slender oval shaped face leads down to thin pink lips turned down at the corners. She’s pristine in a crisp white t-shirt she’s belted with a colorful scarf. The collar is starched to perfection and a thin silver cross catches the light.
“Ruth. I didn’t know you were bringing a guest.”
I clear my throat. “Hi, Mom. I told you I’d be bringing my boyfriend. This is Skull.”
She frowns and gives him a slow once over.
“Mrs. Gregg. It’s a pleasure,” he drawls. His dark gaze glints with the wildness that drew me to him.
My mothers’ eyebrows disappear into her fringe of bangs.
I cannot help it…I giggle.
She steps back speechless and allows us to enter the two story home.
“It’s about time!” Rochelle calls. She rounds the corner with her daughter, Rowan, in her arms. The dark haired girl with hazel eyes coos. With her fat cheeks and dimples showing, she holds out her arms.
“Hey, Rowie.” I take her from my slack-jawed sister. “Rochelle, this is my boyfriend, Skull. Skull this is my baby sister and my niece, Rowan,” I say tickling the chubby bundle wriggling in my arms. “Aunt Ruthie missed you. Yes, she did.”
Skull extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Rochelle.”
“Likewise,” my sister whispers.
Her husband, Tim appears and looks from me to Skull before he offers his own hand. “Tim…grateful to have some testosterone in the house.”
Skull laughs. “Skull, good to meet you man.”
The ice breaks and I breathe a sigh of relief as I wink at Rochelle.
What the hell? Rochelle mouths.
Surprise, I mouth back.
“Dinner is ready to serve now, if you girls will set the table,” my mother says.
“Yes ma’am,” Rochelle says, wrapping an arm around my wrist as she pulls me through the room pausing in front of Tim. “Take Rowan, please.”
“If Ruthie will relinquish her hold,” Tim says with a smile. “Hi Ruthie.”
“Hey Tim, you can have her for now, but I expect her back.” I plant a huge kiss on Rowan’s cheek making her giggle. She wraps her arms around her father’s neck. I can’t help but picture Skull in the same position. I glance over my shoulder and find him enraptured with Rowan. Rochelle tugs me away ending my daydreams.
“What the fuck?” Rochelle whispers.
“Language, baby sister,” I tease.
“Uh-uh. How long as this been going on?”
“Six months, give or take.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“Wasn’t sure it was fun or something more.”
“And now?” she asks, as she moves to the drawer that houses the silver wear.
“It’s more.” I collect the napkins and fold them up the way my mother likes.
“Enough that you’d bring him here knowing how our mother is?”
“He’s going to be around,” I say with a shrug.
“Look at me.”
I glance up at her. “What?”
“Holy shit, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
“What?” I squeak.
“Your skin is glowing, your knockers are more massive than usual. Damn!”
“Shut up.” I glance nervously at the entrance to the kitchen.
“Are you going to tell her today?” Rochelle whispers.
“That’s the plan.”
“She is going to have a freakin’ cow!”
“I know.” I exhale. I tried my best not to disappoint my mother over the years. I always felt like I had to walk on eggshells around her. She never agreed with my choices, and had no problem being vocal about her distaste.
“Are you happy?” Rochelle asks.
“We’re trying to get there. It was unexpected and we’re sort of ass over kettle right now.”
“I can imagine. My sister, the biker bitch,” Rochelle teases.
“You are so annoying.”
“But you love me, right?” she asks.
“Yes, brat,” I say, soaking up the familiarity of our banter.
“Whatever you decide, I’m behind you one-hundred. Mom may go off the rails, but it won’t last. She loves you, and she’ll adore any grandchildren that come her way.” Rochelle moves over and squeezes my arm. “Let’s get out there before your man loses his patience with the game of twenty-one questions I’m sure she’s playing.”
I rush through setting the table, careful to keep an eye and an ear on the conversation happening across the room in the living room.
“So, Skull. What do you do?”
&
nbsp; “I co-own the Chaos Bar and Grill with my best friend, Shadow.”
“Don’t any of you have real names?” my mother asks.
“Of course we do, but it takes respect and trust to learn them.”
Boom. Get her baby. I mentally cheer him on as the conversation goes back and forth with thinly veiled barbs.
“Respect, that’s an interesting word.”
“Hmm,” he says
“How do you know my daughter?”
“I’ve known her for years through Blue.”
Mom rolls her eyes.
I grit my teeth.
Skull stiffens.
“Of course, that’s how you met. How long has this been going on?”
“Over six months. The more important thing you need to know is it won’t be ending anytime soon. So, we’ll just have to get used to each other and agree to disagree on some things.”
My mother sputters.
“Tables set, let’s eat.” I place a gentle hand on Skull’s shoulder and squeeze.
“We’ll be talking tonight,” my mother seethes.
“Oh, I planned on it.” I fix her with a hard look. Regardless of her opinion, Skull is a guest in her house and my man. Her behavior is appalling, and boundaries are long overdue.
***
Skull
It’s a verbal duel. Shots are being fired between mother and daughter like an old spaghetti western. As I watch the interaction between Ruthie and her mother, her aversion to opening up to others is finally explained. Her mother has a, my way or the highway attitude. I get that her ex left her and it messed with her head. It doesn’t give her the right to take her issues out on her children. Or should I say, kid? I don’t see Rochelle getting any of the same treatment. I see the family dynamics. Rochelle is the baby and the darling. With her tax accountant husband and Rowan, she’s living the All American Dream. Physically, Ruthie and Rochelle are similar. They have the same dark red hair, green eyes and slight builds. Where Ruthie’s skin is all peaches and cream, her sister looks like a porcelain doll. Boring.
I reach down and squeeze Ruthie’s thigh. To show my support. She turns to me with big eyes, and I lean in and capture her lips. She moans and I slip my tongue in her mouth. If her mother is going to bitch, we’ll give her a reason for it. We part for air. “Relax,” I whisper against her lips. I pull back and nod, pleased with Ruthie’s dazed expression. Mission accomplished.
Ruthie clears her throat. “Mom, can you pass the rolls? I’m pregnant,” she blurts out.
“What?” Her mother’s knife clatters onto her plate.
“The rolls, please,” Ruthie repeats.
“You really are following in your father’s footprints, aren’t you?” her mother accuses in a venomous tone.
It’s a tone that has me reconsidering my stance about not hitting women.
“Are you kidding me?” Ruthie replies.
“You’re too young to remember what it was like being taunted by—by those damn bikers.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, lost by the quick switch in topic.
“Oh, you didn’t tell him, did you?” An evil smile curls her lips up. “I’m sure you’ve heard of my ex-husband, Gunner Gruppe.”
I go silent, as I try to place the familiar name.
“You had no right to do that!” Ruthie jumps up. Her chair slams onto the hardwood floor.
“Why? Are you worried about what he’ll do? You should know in detail after your father’s books. Those damn publications ruined us. Now, you go back to the source?”
“No. Dad’s inability to think about others, alcoholism, and drug use did that.”
Gunnar Gruppe… Gunnar—the truth hits me over the head like a sledge hammer. Gunner Greg is the writer known for getting in bed with an M.C. and writing a lengthy, detailed novel about their inner workings. “Is she telling the truth?” I ask, seeing red.
“Yes.” Ruthie hangs her head.
“Get your shit, we’re leaving.”
“The hell you are!” her mother crows.
“Shut up, Mother. You’ve done enough damage for one evening,” Ruthie says softly.
“No, if you leave here, I’ll never see you again,” her mother pleads.
What kind of man does this bitch take me for? “She just told you she’s pregnant with my child. Currently, she’s the safest one in this fucking room. So, you’ll sit your ass back down and keep your trap closed. You got what you wanted from that announcement.” I glare at Ruthie. “Now.”
She jumps up, scrambles to the side table by the couch to grab her purse and returns to my side. I can hear Rowan crying, but it sounds like it’s coming from a greater distance. My head is full. Boiling anger bubbles too close to the surface. I grab her arm and pull her away from the table. “Does Blue know?” I ask wondering how deep this deception went.
“No one knows around here. We left Los Angeles when I was ten and cut all the ties we could, changed our last name, kept a low-profile. The divorce was ugly. As you can imagine, not everyone was a fan of the shit he wrote about. It made things dangerous for us.”
“No fucking kidding. I can’t believe you kept this shit from me. That you let me sleep with you knowing—”
“I am not my father.”
“You think the club will see it that way? If you’d come out at the start yes, but girl, you kept this quiet for years.” I shake my head. “Fuck! You got us both into some shit. Give me the keys.”
She hands them over without protest.
I focus on the drive. I slam the car into park when we reach her house. Silence stretches between us. We get inside and I back her against the wall, wrapping my arm around her throat. “All this time, you got me groveling over some bitch giving me head when you’ve been hiding this? Did it get you off? Were you laughing at me?”
“No,” she croaks.
I tighten my hold in warning. “You speak when I tell you to and not before. Nod, so I know you understand.”
She gives a quick nod.
“I don’t do trust, especially not with bitches. I gave you the benefit of the doubt and my fucking seed. You got my kid inside you right now and I find out this bullshit?” I shake my head fuming. “I don’t even know what the fuck to do with you right now. If you were anyone else, you’d be dead.”
She blinks up at me.
I see the shock in her eyes. “We keep the club safe at all costs. How the fuck am I supposed to take you on now, huh? How can I trust you to keep my shit secret?” I rest my forehead against hers.
Her eyes flicker with emotions.
“Speak,” I breathe the word out with fire and venom.
“‘Cause I kept this shit quiet all my life. I’d have taken it to my grave if it wouldn’t come back on you. I been trying to tell you this entire month.”
“That’s why you been funny? Cause you knew this shit was going to be a problem?”
She nods. Tears slide down her face.
I want to choke her and comfort her in that moment. “You playing me, little girl?”
“It would be easy if I didn’t give a fuck. Can’t change my DNA, no matter how much I wish I could.”
I knew that feeling. “No more secrets?” I study her from beneath lowered lids.
“No more,” she agreed.
“My father killed himself after he killed my mother.”
She gasps as she goes pale in the face.
And I’m just proving how like my father I am. I release her, disgusted with myself. I step back and take a deep breath.
She clutches her neck. Her mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.
“Now I guess we both know each other’s dirty little secrets.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
I shrug. “You know I got to bring this to
the Pres, right?”
She closes her eyes. “W-what is he going to do to me?”
“I have no fucking idea, and that’s a problem.” I look at the woman I was so sure I knew and scowl. “I don’t trust you, Ruthie. Not fully. I will keep you safe for my child’s sake. I’m going to make you my Old Lady and vouch for you. And you’re not going to make me regret it, are you?”
“No,” she whispers.
“Good. This shit we had going on before. That’s done. I’m not bending over backwards. You’re going to learn what it is to be a proper Old Lady, and when others are around, you’re damn sure going to play the role.”
Her eyes widen. “What does that mean?”
“Whatever the fuck I tell you it does.”
“Bullshit. That’s not how Blue and Shadow work.”
“Do we look like Blue and Shadow to you?” I ask.
She looks away. “No.”
“Then stop comparing us.”
“This how it’s going to be now? You being a total ass to me?”
“Don’t turn this shit around on me—”
“You had your own secrets,” she bites back as she rubs her neck.
“I gave you a chance to get out. You got a few more weeks before it’s final.”
My head whipped to the side with her palm to my cheek. I growl and pin her body to the wall. “Do not fucking hit me again.”
“Don’t say things like that about my baby.”
“Our…”
“Not when hints about abortion roll off your tongue so damn easily.”
The pain in her voice crawls under my skin and hits the part of my dark heart she’s brought back to life. “Just stating a fact. I didn’t say it’s what I want to happen.”
“Don’t you get it? I’m in this for the long haul. I’m not going to change my mind in mid-stream,” she says.
“Don’t know what I do or don’t know about you now.”
“Don’t do this.”
I turn away from her pleading expression. “Go get changed, we’re going to see the Pres.”
“Just like that?” She snaps her fingers.
“That’s what I said.”
“We haven’t resolved anything.” She pushes off the wall shocking me as she comes toward me with fire in her eyes.
