From the Ruins

by Janine Infante Bosco

  The decision was easier than I anticipated it would be.

  Truth, no matter how vicious it can be it also opens your eyes. It makes you see things clearer. It prevails against your doubts and we all have different truths. The ugly ones we’re ashamed of and the beautiful ones we don’t realize we possess.

  The truth is, Lee is a dangerous man who knows sin better than he knows redemption.

  He has a beautiful heart, a heart that lost its rhythm.

  The truth is, Lee is a man who believes in loyalty. He chooses who he allows into his life and decides they’re his family.

  There isn’t anything Lee wouldn’t do for his family.

  It’s those values that he holds dear that I hope my son grows to have.

  The truth is, Lee is a man who treats my children with respect. A man who respects my children is a good man in my book. A man who understands my children are my whole heart and only asks for a piece of it, is the man you choose in truth.

  Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he is a man you know has lots of love buried inside of him.

  Love that needs to be placed and trusted in people who will cherish that gift, knowing it’s taken him a long time to give his whole heart away.

  Truth is knowing he’s chosen me.

  It’s knowing that out of everyone he chose me and my children.

  Now my truth is him.

  However, Lee and I didn’t get much of a chance to celebrate that truth. Lexi woke up with a belly ache and I switched from lover to mother in an instant. Luckily, it turned out she had just eaten too much junk and upset her stomach, but by the time we figured that out Lee had already excused himself.

  I lay in bed wanting him more than ever. Not because I was horny as hell but I wanted him next to me. I miss that comfort of having someone beside me when I sleep and I want to experience that again. I want to experience everything with Lee.

  This morning when I woke, I thought of him too and how it might be to wake up with him every day. That got me thinking about morning routines with the kids and how Lee would fit right into our lives.

  My thoughts were interrupted when Lexi came into my room asking what was for breakfast. Collectively, as a family we decided to cook together, but as I reached for the pancake mix, I realized there was something missing from my kitchen. The kids noticed too and Jenna suggested we surprise Lee.

  So now here we are, our arms loaded with groceries, frying pans and eating utensils. We took everything but the kitchen sink to Lee’s front porch.

  “Ring the bell again,” I order, trying to juggle the toaster and the coffee pot.

  “This is ridiculous,” Tommy complains. “He doesn’t have one of these?” he asks, lifting the frying pan in the air. Before I can point out the man doesn’t have a coffee pot, Lee opens the door. Wearing the jeans he wore last night and nothing else, I watch in appreciation as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and blinks at us.

  “What’s all this?” he questions.

  “This is breakfast,” Lexi explains, shoving the bag of groceries against his stomach. “Do you have a television?”

  “Of course,” he mutters, watching as she storms into his house like she owns it.

  “That you have but forks you don’t?” Tommy quips.

  “Take-out sends forks,” Pipe defends, turning to me. “What’s going on here, killer?”

  “We were about to cook breakfast and decided you should be part of it,” I explain, watching as Tommy and Jenna carry some of our belongings into the house.

  “Wouldn’t it have been easier to ask me over than to bring everything here?” he questions, staring at the portable kitchen exploding in my arms. “Is that a toaster?”

  “No, it’s a rocket ship,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as I brush past him. Another truth, Lee is fucking sexy in the morning. Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes take another sweep over him. Knowing he’s wearing nothing under those jeans drives me mad and I can picture him rolling out of bed naked, pulling those pants on to answer the door. I bet he cursed as he buttoned them.

  “You should probably invest in a pair of pajamas,” I tell him, lifting my gaze away from his crotch.

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “You’re too tempting in jeans,” I answer as we head for the kitchen. Before I can walk in, he leans over my shoulder and whispers in my ear.

  “Pajamas are for pussies.”

  “When you start sleeping in my bed—”

  “I’ll be just as naked as I was the day I was born and so will you. That’s what locks are for, Layla,” he rasps against my ear as he slaps my ass and walks past me. In the kitchen, Lee starts to unload the groceries while Lexi inspects the kitchen.

  “Is this place as old as you, Lee?” she asks.

  “Watch it, kid,” he grunts.

  “Damn, Lee, this milk expired a week ago,” Tommy exclaims. Pinching his nose, he removes the carton of spoiled milk from the fridge and dumps it down the sink.

  “That’s what smelt funny,” Lee comments thoughtfully.

  “Does this radio work?” Jenna asks, smacking the top of the little radio on the counter.

  “Hell if I know,” Lee answers, turning his attention to the radio. The way he stares at it makes me think he had no idea it was there. He walks over to Jenna and the two of them start fiddling with the radio trying to get it to work.

  With everyone preoccupied I unload my arms and look around the dated kitchen. It’s clean for the most part but definitely needs a facelift. Lexi wasn’t exaggerating, the cabinets might just be as old as Lee and the floor…orange floral linoleum. It’s got to go.

  “Can I help make the pancakes?” Lexi asks, reminding me I’m not here to decorate Lee’s house.

  “You sure can, baby,” I tell her, grabbing one of the kitchen chairs. Making sure it’s sturdy enough to hold her, I pull it up to the counter and instruct her to climb on top of it.

  “Lee, do you like chocolate chips in your pancakes?” Lexi asks, holding up a bag of semi-sweet chips.

  Before you say it, I know what you’re thinking—she said she’d never do that again. But is it really such a bad thing to do something nice for someone who appreciates the little things and doesn’t expect them? For all the good Lee has done for me and my kids, I think he deserves the chocolate chip pancakes.

  However, I assure you I still believe men should not be put on a pedestal and all the golden dicks in the world won’t change my stand on that.

  “Sure, kid,” he calls over his shoulder as he and Jenna still try to figure out how to work the radio.

  “You might want to try plugging the thing in if you want it to work,” Tommy points out as he washes his hands. Lee lifts his eyes to my son and I watch as he smacks him upside the head. Tommy shrugs his shoulders and leans over him, plugging the loose power cord into the socket.

  “Well shit,” Lee mutters.

  A laugh bursts from my lips as I start mixing the pancake batter and Jenna browses through the radio stations. Finally settling on one, I recognize the familiar music.

  “It’s Mommy’s song,” Lexi exclaims as Jenna turns the volume all the way up.

  Suddenly the dance parties that have been non-existent are reinvented in Lee’s kitchen. Tommy grabs two wooden spoons from my bag of utensils and uses them as drumsticks, tapping them to the beat of Whitesnake’s ‘Here I Go Again’. Jenna shakes her hair out and starts dancing around the kitchen while Lexi pulls the spatula out of the batter and uses it as microphone to sing the opening chords of the song.

  “I don’t know where I’m going,” she sings off key and at the top of her lungs.

  “But I sure know where I’ve been,” Tommy joins.

  My smile is so big it actually hurts my cheeks and it isn’t long before I’m singing along with them. Poor Lee looks confused as all hell but he goes along with it, watching intently as we make a mess and have a blast. Amused, his lips quirk as I dance around him.

  “I’ve made up my mind, I ain’t wa
sting no more time,” Jenna and I sing, serenading Lee. The chorus plays and we’re all too preoccupied dancing and singing at the top of our lungs to notice there is another man other than Lee standing in the kitchen watching us. Lee notices though and the playful smile falls from his lips.

  Curiously, I turn around and stare into the dark eyes of a man I’ve never met but one whose mugshot I’ve seen on the front page of several newspapers, making him a household name to many.

  Jack Parrish.

  The man.

  The legend.

  The president of the Satan’s Knights.

  “Shit,” I hiss. Catching myself, I cover my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head, glancing around at all of us.

  Turning the radio off, Lee comes up beside me and stares back at Jack. I can sense the tension in the air, noting most of it radiates from Lee. In fact, Jack doesn’t appear as intimidating as I thought he would. He stares at each of my children long and hard, almost as if he’s committing them to memory before his eyes settle on me.

  “It’s a great song,” Jack says with a smile and extends his hand. “Jack,” he introduces himself.

  Wiping my hands on the front of my pajamas, I shake his hand.

  “Layla, Jack. Jack, Layla,” Pipe says roughly, before turning to my kids. “And these are her children, Tommy, Jenna and Lexi.”

  “Nice to meet you all,” Jack says, releasing my hand.

  “You’ve got a leather vest like Lee,” Lexi points out.

  “Lee,” Jack repeats, turning to look at him. “Yeah, but you want to know a secret?” he asks my daughter. “I had it first,” Jack reveals, winking at Lexi before turning back to Lee.

  “Don’t recall leaving the door open,” he replies.

  “You didn’t. I let myself in.”

  “What’re you doing here, Jack?” Lee asks roughly, forcing the two of them to engage in some silent stare off. I get lost and caught up in the exchange wondering who will blink first. Finally snapping out of it, I remember the reason my kids and I are here to begin with. Deciding to alleviate some of the tension, I turn to Jack and smile.

  “Jack, we were just about to get started making breakfast. Will you join us?”

  “Layla,” Lee snarls under his breath.

  Paying him no mind, Jack grins widely.

  “I’d love to, sweetheart,” he croons wickedly.

  And there it is.

  The sinister smile of a man who the newspapers have reported calls himself the Bulldog.

  The man I just invited to breakfast.

  Bravely, I turn and meet Lee’s glare. Shrugging, I smile innocently.

  “Gives you two time to catch up,” I say sweetly.

  If looks could kill, I’d be dead.

  “That sounds perfect,” Jack adds, menacingly.

  Rest in peace, Layla.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “If you’ve come all this way to read me the riot act, you wasted your gas,” I tell Jack once we’re seated on the back porch. “I’ve already heard it more times than I care to remember.”

  Taking a seat across from me, he reaches behind him to untie the bandana tied around his head and runs his fingers through his graying hair. Eyes as dark as the soul of the man they belong to stare back at me and the last twenty years flash in front of me, reminding me of a time when we would race against the rain. Days when he and I would ride the wind and chase the sun on our bikes. Days when brotherhood was the conditioning of a man’s soul. Days when I was proud to call the man standing in front of me family.

  “Didn’t come here to bust your balls,” he says finally.

  Curious as to why he’s in front of me but not sure if I’m ready to hear what’s brought his pipes to my neck of the woods, I reach into my pocket and pull out my smokes. Taking one for

  myself, I offer him the pack but he shakes his head and rolls up his sleeve to reveal a Nicorette patch.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” I say surprised. He was trying to quit after he found out Reina was pregnant but with all the shit he’s got going on I would have bet my kidney he’d be back at it again.

  “Nah, brother, I got an infant now. A boy,” he says proudly. “Gotta keep myself healthy enough to teach him how to run from the law and throw a ball,” he jokes.

  I’ve never been very good at hiding shit from Jack so when regret washes over me, he sees it and the smile falls from his lips. Reaching into his cut, he pulls out a photo.

  “This here is my boy,” he says, extending the photograph. “We named him Daniel.”

  Blowing out a stream of smoke, I take the photo from him and avert my eyes to the chubby baby propped on the seat of a Harley. My lips quirk as I study his face and regret hits me harder. I should know this kid. He should know Uncle Pipe, just like his brother and sister did.

  “He looks like Jack, doesn’t he?” he points out.

  “Spitting image,” I reply, handing him back the photo and meeting his gaze. “Congrats, man. He’s perfect.”

  “Thank you,” he replies, safely tucking the photo back into his pocket where I know he keeps a tattered photo of his first, keeping both boys over his heart. He stares at me thoughtfully; that twisted mind of his working hard to figure me out.

  “You came up here to show me your boy?” I ask, putting out my cigarette before looking away, knowing what comes next. I wonder how he’ll spin the same sermon the others have all given me.

  “We’re sinking, man,” he admits.

  Hearing the desperation in his voice, I lift my eyes and look back at him.

  “Got all these people I’m responsible for and I can’t keep them safe. I can’t keep them breathing because I don’t know what’s coming next. I sit night after night and wonder who’s next to die.”

  If Jack had of come to me a month ago I would have attacked him. I would have kicked him out on his ass and told him he was right. I would have reminded him my wife isn’t breathing and I would have pointed a finger at him, knowing when a brother claims a woman she isn’t just his responsibility, she’s the clubs. But I’ve healed some since her death and I’m learning it’s no one’s fault. It truly could have been any one of our women that died that day. It could have been Jack’s wife. It could have been his daughter too.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you have a God complex?” I question, leaning back in my chair. His eyes lift and he nods slowly.

  “You might’ve told me that once or twice,” he says, pausing for a moment. “You used to sit next to me and make sense of everything,” he recalls.

  He’s right about that. For years I was the man who made sense of his head. I know Jack better than he knows himself, better than any of his brothers know him. I know that bitch of a maker lives inside his head and she’s calling to him right now, looking to stir shit up for the poor bastard. It’s the reason he’s here.

  “Got yourself a vice president to do that for you,” I remind him. “Maybe you’ll listen to him one day because you sure as fuck never listened to me.”

  “Sure I did,” he argues.

  “Name one fucking time,” I dare, lifting an eyebrow.

  “I listened when you told me you needed to leave. I stood away, gave you time and respected your wishes. I heard you loud and clear when you told me I wasn’t your brother anymore. I replay that day in my kitchen every fucking time I pick up the phone to call you.”

  “And yet here you are,” I remind him, studying those eyes of his and watching the torment try to break free.

  “It’s not just us anymore,” he says after a moment.

  “It hasn’t been for a long time,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, well it didn’t seem this hard back in the day. What happened to the days of riding and partying?”

  “You went and got wifed up is what happened,” I mutter. Sighing, I roll my neck from side to side. I swore I wasn’t going to entertain this, but I also made a promise a long time ago to a little boy whose life ended too soon. The day th
ey lowered Jack’s son into the earth, I laid my hand on that little white casket and promised to look out for that boy’s father. I wouldn’t let him suffer in silence. As long as I was around, that boy’s father wouldn’t suffer another mental breakdown if there was something I could do to help him.

  “What’s going on, Parrish?” I ask, just as I have all the other times his head got the best of him.

  He doesn’t respond immediately but after a few moments pass he accepts defeat and looks away.

  “I’m losing it, Pipe,” he replies hoarsely. “Fucking losing it big time, man,” he confesses, turning his eyes to me.

  “You taking your meds?”

  “Lithium can’t make it right,” he says with a shake of the head. “It won’t help me catch the sociopath threatening to ruin the lives of everyone I’m supposed to protect. You know why it’s taken me this long to come to you? I’ve been meaning to thank you for what you did with the Brantley situation, for taking those bombs out of the garage and giving us the heads up we probably didn’t deserve. There just hasn’t been time since I’ve been locked inside my head after I rescued a woman. A woman who was ripped from the streets by a faceless man when she was fourteen years old. An innocent little girl who was raped repeatedly, drugged and sold to a piece of shit. That woman turned out to be Cobra’s twin sister and the man who took her, he took Cobra’s daughter too. He hired the men who raped Stryker’s girl and he’s the motherfucker who strapped that bomb to Ronan. That sick fuck has been fucking with everyone I care about and I have no fucking idea how to end him.”

  He's right, lithium won’t save him this time and I’m not sure I have the words to make it right for him either. Listening to him describe the brutal dealings he’s had makes my blood boil. There are certain things we can withstand, devastatingly ugly things, things that we’ll turn our backs on deciding not to get involved in what doesn’t concern us. Child abuse and sexually assaulting a woman aren’t on that list.

  “I don’t know how long I can go on failing,” he confesses. “If I don’t get this cocksucker, if he gets a chance to touch one more fucking person, I won’t be able to look myself in the mirror. Vladimir Yankovich has made me his fucking puppet and I’d rather be six feet in the ground than be the vile motherfucker’s lackey.”