Delight (Legacies, #1)

by Erin Osborne

  Delight

  Legacies Series

  Book 1

  Erin Osborne

  Copyright 2020© Erin Osborne

  All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in book reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Photo: DepositPhotos

  Cover Design: Erin Osborne

  Editor: Darlene Tallman

  Proofreader: Kim Richards

  Character List

  Legacies

  Strippers:

  Sydney ‘Delight’ Thompson

  Waitresses:

  Hope ‘Heaven’ Kent

  Tabby ‘Dream’ Kendrix

  Kait ‘Fawna’ Vaughn

  Emily ‘Gabby’ Vaughn

  Bartenders:

  Colt Johns

  Thorn ‘Vanish’ Alexander

  Logan Johns

  Bouncers:

  Zander ‘Breaker’ Williams

  Timothy ‘Crave’ Bennett

  Killian ‘Bounce’ Graves

  DJs:

  Trey Kingston – Day

  Kevin Edwards – Night

  Managers:

  Tonya Johns

  Axel ‘Blood’ Johns

  Kings Vengeance MC

  Officers:

  President: Axel ‘Blood’ Johns

  V. President: Timothy ‘Crave’ Bennett

  Secretary: Anthony ‘Specs’ Adams

  Treasurer: Randy ‘Ledge’ Coleson

  Sgt. At Arms: Zander ‘Breaker’ Williams

  Enforcer: Killian ‘Bounce’ Graves

  Road Captain: Lance ‘Carver’ Hilton

  Members:

  Thorn ‘Vanish’ Alexander

  Patrick ‘Digger’ Lewis

  Shayne ‘Grunt’ Carter

  Thomas ‘Greek’ Carter

  Prospects:

  Colt Johns

  Logan Johns

  Levi Bennett

  Charlie Wilson

  Ol’ Ladies:

  Tonya Johns – Blood

  Sydney ‘Delight’ Thompson – Bounce

  Sweetbutts:

  Tempest

  Ginger

  Carrie

  Needa

  Lynne

  Connie

  Delight Blurb

  Sydney 'Delight' Thompson

  I had to grow up sooner than anyone else my age. I've had more responsibility on my shoulders than anyone else I've ever known. I'm not a woman; I'm a mother without having a child, a provider, and independent because my life made me that way. Now, my life seems to be changing better than I ever let myself dream possible. Can I keep the one person in my life I want, or will he choose to walk away because life happens when you least expect it?

  Killian 'Bounce' Graves

  I'm the Enforcer for Kings Vengeance MC. I do my job and take it seriously. The club is my family and my life. I don't want an ol' lady and kids aren't even a blip on my radar. I didn't grow up with good role models and I won't bring a child up the way I was. Being a member of the club and working at Legacies, our strip club, I get all the women I want and don't need any complications. Until one woman changes the way I want to spend my life. Can I keep her? Or will someone's past rear its ugly head to ruin us before we get started?

  Dedication

  This is dedicated to Courtney. You’re more than just my editor; you’re my friend and a part of my family. I can’t thank you enough for the encouragement, friendship, talks, and support. We’re heading for big things and nothing is going to stop us. Ever! Even if we get knocked down, we’ll get right back up and take charge!

  Table of Contents

  Delight

  Copyright 2020© Erin Osborne

  Character List

  Delight Blurb

  Dedication

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Delight Playlist

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books

  Prologue

  Sydney a.k.a Delight

  MY NAME IS Sydney Thompson, and this is my story. The story of how I started from nothing and made something of myself. It’s not pretty and the beginning of my life didn’t start out how it should have.

  Instead of having loving parents that showed me love and took care of me, my dad died in a work accident when I was just a baby and I didn’t know my mom as anything other than a drug addict. Someone who chose to inject, smoke, and snort everything she could from the time she woke up until the time she passed out at night. I don’t have memories of being held or loved as a child. What I do remember of my dad is just the blubbered words my mom has said while intoxicated. My mom has done nothing for me other than blame me for the way her life turned out. I’m not sure how it’s my fault, but according to her I’m nothing and never will be. Other than a drain on her and anyone I ever meet in life.

  On top of not being able to remember anything about my father, I don’t even know what he looks like. Any pictures of him were long ago destroyed. Either by my mother in her drugged-out rages or by the men she paraded in and out of our house. These men didn’t want to see any remnants of another man ever living in the house even though they didn’t bother staying around long themselves. So, to attempt to keep them happy, my mother got rid of anything belonging to, or showing, my dad. Those were the days I hated her more than anything and I wasn’t even fully old enough to realize what the emotion was.

  Our house was in the poor section of Brighton Hills and it was the most run down house on the street we lived on. The siding was once a blue and now looks like it’s grey from the sun beating down on it and the years of neglect. It’s peeling in most places and the shutters for the windows are long gone. I can’t even remember what color they were. The grass is so high it brushes against my shins as I walk in and out of the yard. There’s no lawn mower because she sold it to get her next fix.

  More times than not, I’d get home and we wouldn’t have any power in the house or running water because the bills weren’t paid. There were eviction notices left on the door almost monthly. My mom always found a way to pay them, but I think our rent was taken care of by her sleeping with the landlord. The other bills I’m sure she conned some man into paying for her along with making sure she had her next fix. Groceries came from food pantries most of the time because there was no money for food and the food stamps were sold for dr
ugs. Yet no one ever called Child Protection Services on my mom because they just didn’t care enough to bother with a child like me and making sure I was protected and safe.

  By the time I was five years old, I had more responsibilities than I knew what to do with. No other child my age could do laundry, make simple meals without cooking, or clean an entire house the way I could. Hell, most kids my age had age appropriate chores, but not me. My mom did absolutely nothing around the house. If she could’ve gotten away with keeping me out of school year-round, she would have so she never had to lift a finger for herself.

  When I got to my early teenage years, my mom became disgusted by me. Well, first she was disgusted by me because I had school and I joined several groups just to stay away from the house as long as I could. These included cheerleading, drama club, and I did volunteer work at the local nursing home. When I was home, the men in my mom’s life started looking at me in a different way.

  These men were old enough to be my father and they looked at me as if I were their next meal. They started finding excuses to be near me or touch me. The men disgusted me, and I didn’t want to be near them at all. These were the times I was thankful I could get out of the house for my many activities. Until the day my mom caught on to what was happening and started talking about pimping me out to these very same men. This was the first time I wanted to run away from home.

  But I didn’t have any friends and I couldn’t handle living on the streets alone with no protection. So, my only option was to stay away from home as long as possible and then take whatever measures I could to ensure no one could get into my room while I attempted to get some sleep at night. This included placing my dresser or anything else that was heavy in front of the door so there would be a lot of noise to wake me up.

  My room was on the ground floor so I could always climb out of the window if I had to. But I thankfully didn’t ever have to do that. I stayed away enough, I didn’t get pimped out by my own mother and I lived my life as quietly as possible.

  With nothing more to do than study and go to the games and practices or drama club when they were putting on a play, I studied my ass off so I could get a scholarship into a college far from home. The farther I can get away from Brighton Hills, the better off I’ll be. So, my grades are exceptional and the only time I associate with other kids my age is when I’m assigned to a group project. Other than that, I’m just a girl from the wrong side of the tracks with a junkie for a mother. No one wants to associate with someone like me.

  By the time I was eighteen, my life changed once again. My mom went and got pregnant and had a son. She doesn’t even know who the hell his father is. Karson Anthony is my brother and when I’m not at school, I’m busy taking care of him. There’re not enough hours in the day to take care of Karson, do my schoolwork, and do my other activities. It’s bad enough I’ve basically had to give up volunteering at the nursing home because I just don’t have the time. And Karson isn’t my child, but you might as well say I’m his mother because I’m the only one taking care of him.

  I’ve also had to get a part-time job and limit the amount of time I’m away from the house with cheerleading and drama club. Thankfully the drama club isn’t doing any plays at the moment so that’s one less worry. Our neighbor watches Karson for me while I’m at school or at work so he’s not home with my mother. She’s never coherent enough to take care of him and constantly bitches about him crying when he’s waking up, hungry, or needs a fresh diaper. My neighbor, Mrs. Hanlan, knows this and has offered to help me out.

  Anything Karson has is bought by me. Even if it came from the good will stores, I made sure he has a crib, a car seat, stroller, clothes, diapers, bottles, formula, and every other thing a baby needs. None of this is my responsibility, but if I don’t take care of him, no one else will. He’ll end up sick or worse if left in my mother’s care.

  I’m constantly tired and struggling to stay awake at school and work because I can’t sleep at night. Karson is constantly getting up for a feeding and changing. So, I get little to no sleep and get through the day as best as I can. It’s not ideal, but it’s the hand I was dealt in this life. Karson will never grow up the way I did, and he will know he’s loved by me and only me.

  Just before Karson turned a year old, I got home to find my mother dead in our kitchen. She still had the tourniquet and needle hanging from her fucking arm. Thankfully I hadn’t picked Karson up from Mrs. Hanlan yet. Instead, I called her to let her know what was going on before calling the cops to report my mother’s death. They showed up with an ambulance following them. The cops came in and took my statement before they let the coroner in to take her body away. Now, I had to figure out how to bury my mother because there was no extra money to take care of it.

  So, once everyone vacated the house and I cleaned up the area where she died, I finally went over to get Karson. Mrs. Hanlan offered to let us stay at her house for the night, but that wasn’t possible. We needed to be in our own home, and she did more than enough to help me out to begin with.

  I took Karson in my room and put him down for bed. She had already fed him and given him a bath before changing him into a pair of pajamas I had in his diaper bag. After he was asleep, I got my homework out and got to work on completing it, so I knew it was done and that took up hours. By the time I was done, Karson was waking up for his middle of the night feeding and he didn’t want to go back to sleep.

  The next day, I dragged ass and barely made it through school awake. But I got through it, explained to my coach about the passing of my mother and left school. Instead of going to pick Karson up, I walked across town because I don’t have a car to make the arrangements to bury my mother.

  After talking to the funeral director, a creepy old man who looks like he’s on his last leg of life, we decided to go with a plain box for my mom and a simple service at the cemetery. There wouldn’t be a viewing or anything else because no one will come to it and those things cost money to do. Money I don’t have.

  After making sure everything was settled with the funeral home, I went to get Karson from Mrs. Hanlan and we made our way home. For the first time in my life, I didn’t do my homework. Instead, I got Karson ready for bed and I laid down with him. Karson is the only person in my family I have left and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. Or if someone is going to come to try to take him away from me. I won’t make it if I have to give my brother up.

  As I thought about everything I had to do, I realized there was only a week left of high school and then I was free to live my life. Thankfully, I had already turned eighteen a month ago so I can legally stay on my own. Now, it’s just a matter of keeping Karson with me. My next thought was applying to the local daycare for a job. That way I can take him to work with me and have a decent job to try to get us out of the hell hole we currently call home. And finally, as sleep was claiming me, I thought of cleaning out all of my mother’s belongings and making this place as much of a home as possible for Karson. It sure as hell never felt that way to me, but he’ll never know that kind of life if I can help it.

  Chapter One

  Sydney a.k.a Delight

  Five years later

  MY LIFE HAS been peaceful and simple with just Karson and me. I graduated high school and turned down my scholarships and college acceptances because I had to think of Karson. He’s mine no matter what anyone says. The daycare I work at knows the true parentage of him, just like they know I have full custody of him.

  After dealing with my mother’s death, I contacted a lawyer through legal aid and got one to help me follow the proper channels to make sure Karson was legally mine. The first step was graduating school and getting a job to ensure I could take care of him on my own. Then, I had to clean the house up and make the necessary repairs. My landlord had me sign a lease and didn’t ask for a deposit or anything because my mother had already paid one. So, he took the money I spent on repairs off of the rent as long as I turned in the receipts and let me have fr
ee rein on what I did to the house. Well, as long as I didn’t paint the walls too dark for when I moved out eventually.

  The landlord even brought me a lawn mower so I could take care of the yard. Once I got the grass taken care of, I planted flowers in the front of the yard and cleaned up the sidewalk. I even fixed all the loose and rotted boards on the porch so I can sand them down and refinish it when I have the time to do more work outside.

  Inside, I’ve replaced the carpet, finished the hardwood floors, painted all the rooms we’re currently using, and bought new curtains for the windows. Slowly, I’ve been getting everything Karson and I need along with everything he has to have as he grows and starts kindergarten. Yeah, I work full time at the daycare while Karson spends his days at school now.

  It didn’t take me long to clean my mother’s room out after she passed away. Honestly, instead of feeling sad or upset about her death, I felt relieved. That led me to believe I was the worst kind of daughter because I didn’t grieve my mother’s death. As far as I was concerned, she was just someone I shared a house with who beat me when things didn’t go her way. That included her not getting her fix, a man leaving her without giving her a piece of ass, or any other reason she could think up. I was able to avoid most of the abuse because I stayed away as much as possible.

  All of her possessions went in the trash; there was nothing I wanted to keep or worth saving. The only thing I kept was a box of photos I found in her closet. It contained my birth certificate, my father’s death certificate, and a bunch of pictures. Most of the pictures showed my parents when they were younger. They looked happy and in love. Some of the pictures you could clearly see my mom was pregnant with me and most of the ones containing my father showcased motorcycles in the background along with men in leather surrounding him. I’m not sure what it means unless he was in a motorcycle club. That would make sense in a way because my mom always talked about a bunch of men she used to hang around with that left her high and dry when my dad lost his life.