Raising Riker (Hells Saints MC)

by Paula Marinaro

  Then there was Riker’s cell mate, Skippy.

  If you looked up lifer in the dictionary, it would have a picture of Skippy Zanovich posted front and center. Skippy, who was on the wrong side of eighty years old, was serving his second term of a two consecutive life sentence conviction with no chance of parole. Almost forty years ago Skippy had been convicted of killing his wife and the guy he found her in bed with. He hacked the shit out of them both with a pick axe. Because that wasn’t enough, Skippy sliced off the guy’s cock and then decided to shove that cock up his wife’s ass. According to Skippy, it was the overkill that ended his chances of ever seeing the outside again.

  Ya think?

  “So, your bike club sent you support, heh?” Skippy asked. However, it sounded like Tho your bike club thent you thupport. Skippy had a shit load of teeth missing.

  Riker shrugged noncommittedly.

  “You want some advice?”

  “I got a choice?” Riker grunted. At that point he had had just a couple of days in, and Riker had a constant headache. Old mother-fucker never stopped yapping.

  “Cardinal rule–do your own time.” Skippy had continued on. “Mind your own damn business. When you hear something, see something–you don’t say nothing. You can spot trouble a mile away in the joint if you’re observant. Be damn observant. Don’t ask for things, don’t take things, don’t lend things–that way you got no problem with collecting. Not you owing them or them owing you. Each fucking day brings ample time for you to react without thinking to an asshole inmate or guard who gets off on pushing buttons. Learn to filter that shit out. Keep your head down, your nose clean and your eyes open and you’ll do fine. Like the saying goes do the time, don’t let the time do you and with any luck the trial will go your way and you’ll be outa here with time served before you know it.”

  Riker did not take the well- meaning advice lightly, and he managed to do exactly what Skippy had advised him to do. Riker was big enough, well connected enough, and tough enough so that after a minor incident in the dining hall over an extra chocolate pudding cup in the very beginning, no one messed with him.

  Riker’s biggest problem was time. Or more accurately, the way he felt it ticking away. Every minute he thought about Gia and the baby. His wall was covered with cards and letters and pictures she had sent him. He called her once a week, but true to his word he hadn’t let her come visit him again. Prosper and one of the other boys made the trip once a week.

  Riker spent his days fighting the boredom and tedium. He spent his nights drifting in and out of various states of sleeplessness. If Skippy wasn’t talking in his sleep, snoring in his sleep or farting in his sleep, he was jerking off before he fell asleep. By the sounds of the grunts and the groans and the frustrated sighs, Skippy was not too successful at getting himself off. But hey, the guy was about a million years old and Riker had to give props to Skippy for giving it the old jail-house try.

  Besides, who the hell could be expected to give themselves a satisfactory hand job when the sounds coming from the rest of the cells were real cock blockers. Riker didn’t know how anyone could think of beating off . Prison nights were like an audio horror show. A weird orchestra of sound bounced off the concrete walls like demonic rubber balls.

  There was one sound that was off the charts on the creep scale. For a period of two weeks at exactly three a.m., the whole block would be woken by the high careening, desperate sound of a grown man screaming and crying. The inmate who was responsible for the disturbance was a new detainee. Seemed the big ass baby-man liked to beat up on and then stick his dick in little girls. Fourteen days after he was brought in the midnight howling stopped. The next morning during security check he was found with his throat slit.

  Jail house justice had prevailed.

  Gia had worked tirelessly with her father’s team of attorneys to find a loophole, a gap, an inconsistency, or any sort of vague legal ambiguity.

  But there was nothing.

  Absolutely nothing, that a whole very expensive, very capable, and morally compromised legal team could find. Not a thing that would even come close to being enough to get the charges against Riker dropped or even reduced.

  The case against him seemed air tight and increasingly hopeless. It was now at the point where they were trying to work out a plea deal, but every deal they came up with involved Riker giving information on the club, so Riker wouldn’t even consider it. After a while communication broke down between all parties and a court date was set.

  In the meantime, Riker remained in that concrete coffin, living a life that was no life at all. And Gia was finding it harder and harder to be without him.

  In her best moments, she missed him until her heart ached.

  And in her worst moments, she blamed him.

  The best that Gia had begun to hope for was that after sentencing, Riker would get transferred to the state penitentiary located about an hour away. She didn’t know what the future held for them, but Gia knew she was not ready to abandon Riker–not yet. However, she was honest enough with herself to admit that she didn’t know how she would feel after the baby was born and she faced raising the child on her own. She had been counting on the two of them to do this together. Although a fierce protective instinct had grown in her over the course of the pregnancy, Gia was still very uncertain about her mothering skills and was worried to death that she would mess it all up without Riker by her side.

  But there had been bright spots along the way, too. Dolly and the girls had thoughtfully given Gia a baby shower. It was a complete surprise and the women had gone to a lot of trouble for her. The gifts were incredible–strollers, and baby baths, and cute little outfits with tiny socks and shoes, baby lotions and monitors and lamps and mobiles and diapers, and diaper bags…the list went on and on. Although the presents were unwrapped and the thank you cards had all been sent, the items lay untouched in the middle of the baby room floor. The crib was still in its crate, the gallons of paint were standing at the ready and the little clothes were folded neatly in their gift bags. Gia had been determined to wait for Riker to put the nursery together, but common sense had been whispering in her ear lately that maybe it was time to move ahead, move along without him.

  To that end, Gia had just finished cutting away the bubble wrap on the changing table and was ready to start filling it with sweet little baby clothes when a forceful knock sounded out from the door. Then without waiting for anyone to open it, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps enter the kitchen and stop at the bottom of the stairs.

  Prosper. It had to be him. There was absolutely nothing subtle about that man.

  “Gia? You up there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” Gia called out and groaned inwardly.

  Since their trip to the prison, Prosper had made a habit of coming around three or four times a week to check in on her. Gia really wished he wouldn’t, because the sight of him made her blood boil with anger. Gia blamed Prosper for the whole mess. She knew her feelings of animosity towards him were misplaced because Riker was responsible for his own actions. But Gia found that she couldn’t bear to sustain any kind of meaningful anger directed towards her husband. Not when he was paying such a huge price for something he had done for the club.

  Gia knew through Dolly, who had heard from Pinky, that Prosper was fully aware of the animosity she felt toward him. He knew, that given the choice, Gia would just as soon put a bullet in his head then serve him coffee. The visits were uncomfortable for him too, but he had made a promise to Riker and he intended to fulfill it. After every visit to the prison, he would make sure he stopped by Gia’s house that evening on the way home and fill her in on how Riker was doing. He took care packages from her to him, and notes and pictures.

  “You’re early. I don’t have anything ready yet to send to Riker.”

  “Not here for that, darlin’.” Prosper told her.

  Then he smiled. Not just any kind of smile either. It was a Cheshire cat sort of grin. Wide and full o
f self-satisfaction.

  “What’s going on with you?” Gia asked him with suspicion.

  “Me? Nothing. Got a little bit of good news to share, that’s all.” Prosper leaned against the kitchen counter with his ankles crossed. That cat who got the cream expression still all over his face.

  She looked blankly at Prosper.

  “I said good news.” Prosper repeated.

  Gia scowled in response because the last thing she needed at this point was false hope. She looked at him warily. “Good news? I doubt you and I share the same definition of what we consider good news.”

  “Yeah? Well you might just be fucking surprised.” Prosper continued to grin.

  He deserved all the shit she wanted to give him. Because Gia was damn right, what had happened to Riker was a shit storm, and the club was at the center of it. He had tried his best to reassure her over the past months, but really? This one could have gone either way. The situation had cost Prosper plenty of sleepless nights, countless favors turned in and more owed out, and close to a hundred grand in bribe money. But as stressful as it had been for him, Prosper knew that it had been much worse for Gia. And if he forgot for even one moment that Gia was suffering great pains over this fuckup? He could count on Pinky to remind him.

  “You want coffee?” She sighed and began to fill the pot with water. There really was no point in being mad at him, Gia just couldn’t help it.

  “Sure.” He nodded.

  “So, are you going to tell me about this good news or not?” Gia placed a couple of coffee cups, some pie plates and a pie on the table. “I made cherry this morning. Have a seat.”

  Prosper sat down and began to talk. “So, as you know, they got the case wrapped up tighter than a cat’s ass underwater. They’ve been working this one hard, hoping that our boy will flip.”

  “Yeah, well that’s what I heard.” Gia huffed sardonically. “So, what’s the good news? That he won’t flip and you and your club will be safe and sound while Riker will spend the rest of his days languishing behind prison walls?”

  “Well, I don’t know what the fuck languishing means, but I can tell you that it’s gonna be real hard to convict a man when the chain of evidence is broken. Broken to the point where the shit disappears completely.” Prosper’s Cheshire cat grin was back.

  “What? What are you talking about?” Gia felt a small ray of hope, because if Prosper meant what she thought he meant… “What about the evidence?”

  “Gone without a fucking trace.” He nodded happily.

  “How is that possible?” She whispered as the tiny ray of hope expanded, fanned out and had begun to warm her.

  “Well, I can’t tell ya, because then I’d have to kill ya.” Prosper chuckled at his own joke. He was in a very good mood.

  “So… no evidence…?” Gia let the unfinished question hang in the air.

  “No case.” Prosper finished smugly.

  Gia let out a small cry of incredulous joy. Then she looked at Prosper with caution. “Prosper, if I get my hopes up and this doesn’t happen, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle the disappointment.”

  “Done deed darlin’. Feel free to hope your little fucking heart out.” He smiled at her.

  “When? When! When does he get released?” Gia felt a burst of unmitigated joy and smiled for the first time in forever.

  “Well, I’m not exactly sure, but it won’t be long.” Prosper assured her. “The motion has already been filed. Now the court has to approve it. In the meantime, they are turning that evidence cage upside down looking for something they ain’t never gonna find.”

  “You sure?” Gia held her breath.

  “Yes, ma’am. There’s nothing there to be found.” Prosper grinned again. “Now how about givin’ this old man some love and a huge ass piece of pie.”

  Gia gave him a big kiss on his scruffy cheek. “Thank you, Prosper. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

  “Ah shit, darlin’. I can do anything. Some things just take a little longer than others.” When Prosper saw Gia’s shoulders began to heave, he stood up and pulled her into his big, strong arms. Gia Bonzoni’s body let out a great shudder just before it released a pent up torrent of warm, wet tears. Then she cried a river right in the place over Prosper’s heart.

  About a week later, Gia sat in Doctor Gideon’s office after a routine examination.

  “The baby is fine, growing bigger every day. You’re doing a great job, Gia.” Doctor Gideon smiled at her. Gia loved him. With every beat of her heart she loved Doctor Gideon. She loved his waiting room with the strangely cute and comforting collection of Disney’s 101 Dalmatian’s puppy memorabilia. She loved the yellowed pictures of the babies born a million years ago in his office. She loved that his hands were always warm and his eyes were merry.

  Gia also loved Doctor Gideon’s wife. Khrystyna was a tall, regal looking woman with skin the color of toasted cinnamon. Her almond shaped eyes were a rich, deep brown. They sparkled and warmed when she smiled–and she did that often. The good doctor’s wife wasn’t always in the office, but when she was there she always took a moment to talk to Gia. Khrystyna Gideon looked to be in her early seventies, and Gia knew from conversations with Doc Gideon that they had been blissfully married for over fifty years. To be in the presence of a love like that, even for only a few moments, gave Gia hope.

  “Gia?”

  “Oh sorry, doctor. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, zoning out. Except for the annoying swelling in my feet and some wicked backaches, I feel pretty well.”

  “Are you getting help?” He asked her. “With lifting groceries and things like that? Your back is carrying a lot of extra weight and your balance is off. A warm compress on your lumbar area at night will help your back and limiting your sodium will help with the swelling.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. But Riker will be coming home soon, so things will be back to normal!” Gia delivered the news with more enthusiasm than she felt.

  “Is everything alright, Gia?”

  Gia slumped and sighed. “Ever since I’ve gotten the news about Riker’s release, I have been having bad dreams. I should be happy, I should be on cloud nine, but I just feel out of sorts. It’s like I try to stay positive, but I have this gray cloud over my head that I can’t seem to shake.”

  Doctor Gideon sat down on the little rolling stool next to Gia and took her hands in his. “You’ve gone through a lot of changes in the past few months. Your hormones and entire system is out of kilter. Try and relax and don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it. You are going through a normal kind of funk, and small wonder with all that has happened. Things will be fine, just remember to breathe deep, get plenty of rest and think happy thoughts!”

  Gia tried her best to follow Dr. Gideon’s advice, she really did. She rested and limited her salt intake. She practiced taking long, deep, cleansing breaths, and keeping good thoughts. But still, despite her best efforts, Gia felt disaster moving towards her slowly but surely. It was like a giant tsunami was heading her way, one wave at a time. She just couldn’t escape the feeling that something bad, something terrible and final was about to happen. There was a nervous energy about her, a hollowness in the pit of her stomach that would not let her sleep. She told herself it was just anxiety, an irrational but justifiable fear.

  Because, let’s face it. Prison was not a safe place.

  What if, in the little time that he had left in that hell hole, another inmate started a fight with Riker and in defending himself he had new charges levied against him? Or even worse, what if he was killed by a prison-made razor shaft? What if a riot broke out? What if a guard pushed him beyond the point of his tolerance? What if? What if? What if?

  Gia found herself to be hypervigilant watching for signs of things that could go wrong. The week before his release was worse for Gia than the whole time combined. She felt as if she were at the edge of a brewing storm, but the storm never came. She had the creeps, the jitters, and a coldness
deep in her soul that she could not quite shake. She shared her fears with Riker when he called.

  “Be careful, Riker.” She said to him.

  “Always careful, Gia.” He assured her.

  “But be especially careful. I know it’s just silly hormones, but I just can’t shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong. That something is going to stop us from being together from being a family.”

  “Baby, nothing and I mean nothing is going to stop us from being a family. Six days, Gia.”

  “One hundred and forty-four hours,” she said to him.

  Then on impulse and because she had never said it before and he had never said it before, and somebody had better say it soon, she blurted out, “I love you, Riker.”

  After a brief pause where Gia pictured Riker’s look of surprise, he answered her. His voice deep was husky and filled with longing. “I love you too, Gia. A whole fucking lot. Just a few more days, baby, and I’ll show you how much.”

  It was now three days before Riker was due to get released and he couldn’t wait. In the chow hall, Skippy sat down next to him, and put a piece of extra cornbread on his tray.

  “Know how much you’re gonna miss the stuff.” Skippy cackled with his usual good humor, then lapsed into a long spasm of coughing fits.

  “You gonna make it without me, old man?” Riker clapped the shit out of Skippy’s back. It was the only thing that seemed to help him, and somewhere along the way Riker had gotten fond of the salty old dog. So, if thumping Skippy on the back now and then gave him some relief from whatever the fuck was gumming up his lungs, then Riker was happy to do it for him.