by Eliza Marsh
He put a thin layer of the clear gel on her belly, and she was surprised by the warmth of it. The stuff was always freezing in the movies. Then the doctor grabbed a small hand-held device that resembled a microphone and was attached to the scanner by a cord. “The pressure might be a bit uncomfortable, but otherwise, it’s completely safe.”
Jackie nodded, her eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. She felt the pressure on her stomach but didn’t have time to think of anything else. There, on the display monitor, was their baby — her and Dean’s child. Her eyes filled with joyous tears, all thought of being on her own temporarily leaving her head. The baby was so small, barely resembling a human, but it was theirs. Hers.
She wiped at her eyes with one hand, looking to the doctor. “Is…” Her voice failed her, and she took a deep breath before trying again. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything looks fine.” Doctor Hodge smiled at her once more. “We’ll have to wait for your test results, but by the looks of it, you’ll have one healthy baby…” Trailing off, he looked at the screen more closely. “…around the end of December.”
“December?”
“Yes, December. The twenty-sixth if my estimations are correct.”
“Perfect! A Christmas baby.” Bianca’s voice startled her. The queen had been silent until now, and, being caught up in the baby, Jackie had forgotten she was there.
“A Christmas baby…” Smiling, Jackie looked up at Doctor Hodge. “Can we get a picture?”
“Of course, dear.” The older man smiled at her. “Here are some wipes so you can get cleaned up.” He handed her a box of baby wipes and brought her the sonogram photograph.
“Thank you, Doctor Hodge.” Jackie squeezed his hand gratefully.
“Yes, Christian, thank you.” Bianca expressed her own gratitude. “Not only for the exam but for making sure there are no wagging tongues.”
“You’re most welcome. Anything for my favorite lady.” He winked at Bianca, and she grinned mischievously back at him, then led Jackie out of the room.
“See, sweetheart. Wasn’t so bad.”
Jackie smiled as she looked down at the photo in her hands. No, it wasn’t bad at all.
33
Nash settled himself at the bar as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his leather cut. He smiled at the name that flashed across the screen before accepting the call. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hi, Nash. Is this a bad time?” Jackie asked hesitantly on the other end of the line, nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
“Nah, I'm glad you called. How you holdin' up?” He glanced over at the tattooed biker playing pool on the other side of the room. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine.” She paused, and Nash could tell there was something on the tip of her tongue. “I uh... I'm sorry I keep dragging you into the middle of this. I know you probably shouldn't be talking to me-”
Nash snorted, catching Dean's attention, and continued speaking into the phone. “I can talk to whoever I want. I told you to call me, and I meant it.” It didn't take the other man long to realize who was on the phone, and he rolled his eyes. These people weren't making their separation any easier to handle, especially since half the charter had been in contact with the woman since she'd left.
“Well, I had some exciting news, and since there aren't many people that know about the baby, I don't have anyone to share it with.”
“Except Bianca.”
Jackie's eyes narrowed as her suspicions were confirmed. “So, you did tell her?”
“I didn't need to tell her. She'd pretty much figured it out for herself when I called her.”
“Oh god, are you the reason she's been glued to my side all of a sudden?”
“I may have asked her to keep an eye on you.” This statement piqued Dean's interest as he lazily dropped the pool stick on the table. Arms crossed against his chest, he leaned against the wooden structure behind him and listened intently to the one-sided conversation.
“Well, that bitch dragged me to the doctor.”
“Good,” Nash replied, satisfied at the progress, but careful not to give too much away to the man staring at him intently. He only wanted to bait the trap; it was up to Dean to see it through. “And how'd that go?”
He heard her grumble on the other end. “It was fine,” she admitted reluctantly. “Great, actually. All the tests came back normal. I uh... I got a picture of the baby.”
“I can't wait to see it,” he said genuinely, imagining a little half-Jackie, half-Dean combination running around causing mayhem. “The picture and the real thing.”
“I think the fact that I'm having a baby is finally hitting me. Like I'm gonna have a child, and I'll have to take care of it for the next eighteen years.”
“You freakin' out?”
“Obviously. But I'm also kind of excited. It'll be the adventure I always wanted.”
“Not quite how you imagined it, though, right?”
“Again, stating the obvious. But what's done is done. I just have to move on.”
“That's funny. Dean said the same thing, and he sounded as full of shit as you do.” This earned him a glare from the man still watching him and probably also from the woman on the phone. These two were fucking perfect for each other.
“This is what's best for both of us.”
“Yep, he said that too,” Nash replied, smirking as Dean took a step forward. He clearly wanted to intervene and end the conversation, but he also wanted to know what Jackie was saying about him.
“Well, then I guess we're on the same page-”
“On the same page of two different books.”
He heard Jackie sigh as she seemed to give up on the argument, something that she rarely did when she'd been living in Georgia. “How's he doing?” she asked quietly, part of her wanting to hear that he'd been steadily plowing through available women, and the other part knowing that would rip her to pieces.
“Not good. He got into a fight with Murphy the other day. They're still not speaking.” Dean quickly closed the distance between them, the look on his face daring Nash to say another word against him.
“You say that like it's my fault. Dean wanted me gone. I'm not an idiot, I know he got Tyler transferred after that crap at the garage, knowing that I would go with him.”
“Oh, I'd say you two are equally to blame for all of this shit. Now one of you just needs to grow some balls and call the other.” Nash stared directly into Dean's eyes as he said this, the challenge clear in his tone of voice.
“I want to, Nash. You don't know how badly I want things to go back to the way they were before all of this started. I would give anything for that to happen – for me to never have gotten pregnant, for Dean not to kill people, for us to not be where we are. But I did get pregnant, and Dean is a killer. Nothing's gonna change that.”
“You don't need to change anything. You just have to work around it.”
She sighed again and rubbed a hand across her eyes. “Look, just work your Nash magic and tell Dean to quit being such a dick to his best friend and go deal with his shit. I'm sure he'll be just fine.”
Nash grinned and turned his attention to the still-angry tattooed man in front of him, not bothering to cover the mouthpiece on the phone. “Jackie says you should quit being such a dick to Murph and go deal with your shit.” He got the two reactions he was expecting, as Dean clenched his jaw tensely, and Jackie began to rag.;'e at him on the other end of the line.
“Has he been standing there the whole fucking time?! I can't believe you, Nash!”
“Don't worry, darlin'. As much as he'd love to know what you've been saying, he's only heard my side of the conversation.” Dean rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, storming out of the clubhouse and into the bright sunlight filling the lot. “He says hi.”
“No, he doesn't.”
Yep, like two peas in a pod.
Outside, Dean's line of sight quickly landed on the previou
sly mentioned blond, who was busy at work in the garage where Dean himself should have been. He sighed and pulled out a cigarette before reluctantly making his way over to the man he hadn't spoken to since the fight a week prior. Leaning against the set of drawers behind him, he lit his smoke as he watched Murphy fiddle under the hood of a Honda Civic.
“You come over here to punch me again?” the short-haired biker asked, his tone sarcastic but also understanding as only Murphy could be.
“Nah,” Dean replied, taking a drag of the cigarette and kicking his boot absently at the floor.
“Good, 'cause I'd feel bad kickin' your ass again so soon.” Dean snorted but said nothing in his defense of the lighthearted jest. “Pass me the socket wrench, will ya?” He complied with the man's request, and just like that, any animosity between them was laid to rest. They were quiet for a few moments, content to simply be in each other's company. “You okay?” Murphy finally asked, cutting a glance out of the corner of his eye towards the other man.
“Fantastic,” he replied gruffly, offering no details. Murphy raised a brow at him, but Dean spoke again before he could say anything. “Don't.”
“Don't what?” he asked innocently, sticking his head back under the dark blue hood.
“Don't say it.”
“Say what?”
Dean glared at the childish tactic and refused to fall into the trap of bringing up the one thing he didn't want to talk about. He tried to tell himself to walk away now before he got sucked into yet another conversation he didn't want to have.
“The only thing I was going to mention...” here we go, “...was that I think we should go out tonight. Strip joint, bar, whatever you wanna do.” Dean squinted cautiously at the man who avoided eye contact by pretending to continue his work on the car. “It's just that you haven't really been out with the guys in a while...” since Jackie, “...and you should come have some fun with us.”
He'd fucked other women since Jackie had left – blondes, Asians, even a redhead. He'd enjoyed his new single status to the fullest extent, the women flocking to him in waves now that he was once again on the market. But they had all been found around the clubhouse, women that came to him, sought him out.
Despite having nothing to stop him, Dean hadn't been out with the boys to enjoy all that Macon had to offer in the form of strippers and easy, drunk females. He hadn't walked into the clubhouse in search of anyone to warm his bed, only accepted offers thrown his way.
The one he wanted, craved, was long gone.
“I've got some shit to do tonight,” he muttered quietly, now the one avoiding eye contact. “But maybe this weekend.” Dropping his cigarette butt on the ground, he stomped it out with his boot before throwing a quick farewell over his shoulder and heading towards the office.
Murphy smiled cockily at his friend's back, glad to hear that he was still just as hung up over the woman as she had seemed to be when he'd last talked to her. Both also seemed very adamant not to mention each other if they could help it, but Murphy just saw that as a challenge.
Game on, bitches.
“Hey, Dean,” he called to the man before he exited the garage. “You should call Jackie.” Dean rolled his eyes and kept walking, hoping it would shut the blond up. “Seriously, call her.”
“No.”
“Call her,” he said more insistently, putting his tools down on the bench nearby in anticipation of this conversation heading in a more physical direction.
“She's the one that left,” Dean said darkly, pausing in between the garage bays to stare down the other man.
“You're the one that sent her best friend to another charter.”
“She didn't put up much of a fight to stay.”
“You didn't put up much of a fight to make her stay.”
“Do you want me to punch you again?”
“You mean, do I want you to sucker punch me again?” Murphy took a step closer, a smug smile on his face as he spread his arms at his sides. “If you think that's gonna solve anything, go for it, bro.”
Dean continued to glare at the man for a minute before huffing and walking off, frustration coursing through his body.
34
“So… what are we doing here?”
The exasperated groans of his companions followed Tyler’s question as they parked their bikes.
“Jesus, prospect…” Lincoln rolled his eyes and sighed. “Stop asking questions. Some fresh air will do you good. As your friend put it, you need to get out and have some fun.”
“Yeah, come on, Tyler.” Finn clapped the younger man on the back as he walked behind him. “This fine establishment serves the best beer and pussy in town, second only to our very own clubhouse, of course.” Finn made his way to the door, followed by the rest of the boys. “We need variety.”
Tyler looked at the building in front of him and sighed. Last week, Jackie had once again found them all passed out in the clubhouse. She had taken one look at them and asked if that’s all they ever did 'down here' and how boring and unadventurous it all was. The woman suggested they do something to bond, sort of like a team-building exercise. Even though they laughed off her idea, Tyler was sure this was the guys’ attempt to show him how exciting life in their charter was.
Earlier that day, he’d promised Jackie he would be home in time for dinner, just the two of them. However, Benz had caught up to him when he was on his way out of the garage at closing time and told him to be back there by nine for some important club business. So, cutting his night with his best friend short, he’d shown up at the clubhouse at eight-thirty sharp, ready for whatever grunt work he was going to get slapped with.
Instead, to his surprise, the boys all got on their motorcycles and told him to get with the program quickly, or he’d be left behind. A confusing fifteen minutes later, he found himself in the middle of Main Street, parking in front of an old beat-up building. A green sign hung over the door proclaiming the place as Jimmy’s, and loud music was audible even outside. He shook his head and followed everyone through the door.
Immediately to his left was the restroom, a big red door with both the symbol for a man and a woman. There was a long wooden bar right after that, and the bikers had immediately taken up the free bar stools in the middle. On the right side of the room were eight tables, all strewn about without any thought put into it. Four of them were occupied, mostly by quiet, older men nursing beers. Women were few and far between, and Tyler really wasn’t surprised. In between the bar and the tables, there was a stage with a microphone, presumably for karaoke night.
All in all, in his humble opinion, the place was a dump.
“Tyler!” Jagger’s voice floated over the music. “Don’t just stand there, come on. You’re buying the first round.”
Picking a barstool off to the side, the young blond man sat down and nodded to the bartender. “Just a Red Oak please.”
“And shots for everyone, B!” Vic proclaimed from beside him. “Tyler, this is Barry, we go way back.” He gestured to the older man that was currently serving their drinks. “He owns the joint.”
“Barry?” The prospect looked confused. “I thought the owner’s name was…” He trailed off under the scrutinizing gazes of the men around him. “Well, you know… Jimmy.”
“Nah.” Barry put a beer and a shot of whiskey in front of him and shook his head. “What kind of name would Barry’s be for a bar? I’d never get any customers.”
Two hours in and Tyler had to admit, it wasn’t as bad as he first thought. He had just bought their fourth round of shots when a group of girls in their early twenties had wandered in and taken up two tables directly in front of the stage. Most of the older patrons had left and had been replaced by kids from the local college, which wasn’t necessarily good, but it was definitely more interesting. The drinks were flowing, the music was blaring, and the girls were dancing and well on their way to getting hammered. Overall, it was not a bad night for the group of bikers.
“Oh, boy…” Li
ncoln’s voice came from his right, and Tyler looked at where the man’s attention was focused. “Get ready, prospect. You’re getting the full experience tonight.”
“Ready for what?” Tyler looked on in confusion.
“For what?” Lincoln looked at him with one eyebrow raised, smirking as he pointed to a table towards the back. “Hurricane Finn is about to blow through.”
The young brunette playboy was seated smack-dab in the middle of a table full of college girls, flirting for all he was worth. He had been on them since the moment they stepped foot in the bar, taking special attention to a busty blonde. At the moment, he had a lock of her hair wrapped around the index finger of his left hand while his right one inched slowly up her thigh. He was completely oblivious to the angry, drunk man headed his direction — definitely the boyfriend. His shoulders were squared, his face was red, and he had a few roid-raging goons to back him up.
“Ready boys?” Benz stood up and downed another shot of whiskey as several of the other bikers did the same. “Shit’s about to go down.”
Just as the words left the older man’s mouth, the kid reached the flirtatious biker and shoved his shoulder roughly. When Finn turned at the disturbance, he was met with a swift fist to the face. He wasn’t expecting it, and the force knocked him back, sending the drinks on the table crashing and his ditzy audience shrieking as they fled the scene. Johnny was already half-way to the table, and with two more long strides, he laid into the cocky son of a bitch, giving Finn enough time to collect himself.
Vic handed Barry a wad of cash for the inevitable damages and shook his head, getting another beer. By that point, it was a full out brawl, and Tyler couldn’t make out bikers from college guys.
“You're not gonna go help, prospect?” Tyler looked at the usually refined charter president, mouth gaping open like a fish as he tried to process the rapidly escalating scene. “Don’t just stand there and stare.” Vic pushed him off the barstool and toward the melee. “Go get ‘em, tiger! Show us what you got.”
