Betting on Stocks (Dead Presidents MC Book 7)

by Harley Stone

  Evoking my middle name meant business. My lack of initiative had nothing to do with her, but she made it out to be a direct attack against her parenting. Still, the hurt in her voice made me feel like shit. “It’s not a big deal. Just an appointment.”

  “Just a… Monica, in the thirty-two years you’ve known me, have I ever given you the indication that I took on freeloaders?”

  Mentioning that Uncle Taj had been the definition of a freeloader would have probably gotten my teeth knocked out, so I wisely came down with amnesia. “No ma’am.”

  “I don’t know what in the world makes you think you’ll be able to lie in bed all day while living under my roof, but that’s a lie from the Devil himself.”

  I needed to get my own place, but that involved getting out of the bed and changing my aforementioned relationship status. Preparing to argue, I threw back the covers but the tears in her eyes gave me pause. I wasn’t the only one irreparably injured in that accident. My parents were suffering too, and I sure wasn’t making it any easier on them. “I’m sorry. I just… I need more time.” I needed to rally and snap out of this funk, but no amount of positive thinking would grow my arm back. Knowing that I’d never pilot another jet was slowly killing me inside, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I wasn’t playing when I said I was married to the cockpit. My dream had died. No, worse, it had been captured in combat and now reality kept torturing it and there was nothing I could do to save it.

  “No, baby, you need more than time. You need help.” She looked away. “I know I promised not to call her, but—”

  Knowing what Mom was about to suggest, I bolted upright. “No. We’re not calling her.”

  Mom patted my leg. “Baby, I already did.”

  Shocked, I stared at her. “You promised you wouldn’t. How could you do this to me?”

  Raising her chin, she met my gaze. “Queens shine each other’s crowns, and right now, yours is about as tarnished as they come. I can’t reach you, so I’m bringing in someone who can. You promised you’d go to your appointment today. I guess we’re even.”

  “Two wrongs don’t make a right. You taught me that.”

  “Don’t mess with your mama. I also taught you that. And after thirty-two years, you should have learned better than to lie to me.”

  “Mom, she has her own sh-stuff going on. She doesn’t need my drama.” I glanced at the neglected cell phone on my nightstand to confirm what I already knew. I had fourteen missed calls and 24 texts, all from the same person. “Goddammit.”

  “Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain in my house, young lady. I don’t care how grown you think you are, I’ll still wash your mouth out with soap.”

  “Sorry, but this is a swear-worthy situation.” I pulled the blanket back over me, wishing it could hide me from what I knew was coming. “Naomi is going to kill me.”

  “I tried to tell you not to play with me, Monica, I will always win. Especially when it comes to doing what’s best for you. That girl is your friend and has always had your back. I still don’t understand why you insisted on keeping this from her, but I’m not enabling you to give up any longer.”

  I’d already explained my motivation. Several times. But none of my bullshit excuses would matter to Naomi. She was going to be so heated. “When will she be here?”

  “In about an hour. You should probably get to packing. After you take a shower, that is.”

  “Packing?”

  “She’s taking you up north.”

  “No. I’m not going.” Even in my own ears I sounded like a spoiled little brat, but I didn’t care. As my best friend, Naomi would insist on kicking my ass into gear while all I wanted to do was coast.

  Mom’s eyebrows rose in question. “You’re fixin’ to be homeless then, because you’re not staying here. Seattle has resources for veterans that we don’t. Naomi said her brother’s club is full of veterans, some of whom know what you’re going through. They can help you.”

  “I don’t need help, Mom. All I need is time.”

  “This is new territory for me and your dad, and we messed up by thinkin’ you could handle it alone. You’re going north if I have to throw you out of this house myself.”

  Dad would never agree to such drastic measures, and clearly I needed him to be my lifeline. “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Working late.” She gave me a tight smile. “If that man knows one thing, it’s when to disappear.” She pulled an envelope out of her pocket and held it between us. “He won’t rescue you from Naomi, but he left this for you.”

  I took the envelope with my name scribbled across it as she stood and went to my closet, retrieving my luggage. Unzipping the entire six-piece set, she left them open beside my bed. “There’s a box of plastic sleeves in the bathroom so you can keep your wound dry while you shower. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need help packing.”

  Mom left, closing the door behind her. The sudden silence of my room was stifling, making me feel like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t belong in my childhood home anymore, and now I was effectively being booted out. And it wasn’t like I could blame my parents… they were right to evict me. I would have done the same in their shoes.

  But I still didn’t want to get out of bed.

  So, I opened the envelope and unfolded Dad’s note.

  Baby Girl,

  I couldn’t be more proud of you and all you’ve accomplished. You’re a fighter… a champ. Now, life has knocked you down and the ref is trying to count you out. You’re bloody and hurting, but you have what it takes to get back up. I know you do. You stopped believing in yourself, but we’ve never given up on you. Your mom and I won’t sit back and watch you quit. Go to Seattle. Find your fight again.

  I love you!

  Dad

  He’d retired from boxing when Mom was pregnant with me to find a job that paid better and would guarantee he’d be around to raise me. Tears burned my eyes as I thought about all the times my parents had sacrificed time, money, and their own dreams to help me achieve what so many had claimed to be impossible. They’d believed in me and pushed me to succeed, and it had to be killing them to watch me self-destruct. More than anything, I wanted to lie back in my bed and sleep forever, but I refused to do that to them. They deserved more from me.

  It took every ounce of strength I had, but I peeled my stinky ass out of bed and headed for the shower. Washing my nappy, matted hair with one hand was a frustrating exercise in patience and an extender of my vocabulary, but I somehow managed to get it and my body clean without God sending fire down to purge my filthy mouth.

  After dressing and blowing out my hair, I felt almost human again, so I returned to my room to pack. I was kneeling on my floor and pulling clothes from the bottom drawers of my dresser when Naomi stormed into my room looking like she was about to send my ass into orbit. Marching over to stop in front of me, she rested her hands on her hips and fixed me with one hell of a glare. My friend had lost the rest of her baby weight, but her body was clinging onto the massive boobs she’d gained with pregnancy. From my position on the floor, I got an eyeful of them.

  Needing to diffuse the situation before her head blew off, I smiled. “Hey. You look good, Nae. Still nursing, I take it.”

  Steam rolled out of her ears, billowing into a cloud of angry above her head. “Fuck you. You look like shit.”

  Apparently we were skipping the pleasantries and hopping right in the ring. “Gee, thanks.” Mentally putting on my boxing gloves, I braced for her attack.

  “I talked to you three weeks ago and you told me you were being deployed. Imagine my surprise when your mom called today to inform me that you lost your arm—and clearly your fuckin’ mind—in a car accident over a month before we spoke. I knew she had to be mistaken, because there’s no way in hell my best friend would have been in so much as a fender-bender and not called me, because we’re tight like that. So, when I couldn’t reach you to confirm, I called down to the base and threatened to ma
im and kill a few people until I found out the truth. Several of our mutual friends admitted they’d been specifically asked—by you—not to tell me you’d almost died and were out of the service.”

  “Almost died is extreme and dramatic. The doctors had it under control.”

  Her gaze dropped to my arm and tears flooded her eyes. “Trust me, Monie Love, your near-death experience has only just begun.”

  Stocks

  THE CLOSER WE got to Portland, the more Naomi fumed. As she drove, we barreled down the freeway at speeds ranging from seventy to ninety depending on a fury level that seemed to be washing over her in waves.

  “Can you believe this bullshit?” she asked me for the umpteenth time. “Her arm, for chrissake. She lost her arm and didn’t bother to call me. This isn’t some minor wound or a bullshit assignment, all of which she’s told me about, I might add. It’s a… a fucking body part! You don’t understand, Stocks, we tell each other everything. Everything. I can’t even tell you how much shit she flicked me because I waited a few weeks to tell her I might be pregnant. I didn’t even know for sure and she was pissed at me!”

  No response seemed safe, so I took another sip of my coffee to buy a few more precious moments of my silence.

  “Try her again, please.” Naomi pointed to the phone on her dashboard.

  Swiping the cell on, I hit the phone button, tried the last dialed number, and put it on speaker. Five rings, and then the call went to voicemail where Monica’s recording informed us she was unavailable and requested we leave a message. I looked to Naomi, and she nodded for me to let it play. The tone sounded.

  “I don’t know why you think you can ghost me, but I would drive to the ends of the earth to kick your ass at this point, Monie. Portland is nothing. I’m comin’ for you, and when I get there, you’re going to regret not making me your first call after the accident.” Naomi gestured at me, and I pressed the end call button. “I’m going to kill her. No, I can’t kill her because I fuckin’ love that crazy, stubborn, shady-ass bitch. You know, it’s not even that she didn’t tell me about the accident, it’s that she flat out lied! She told me she was being deployed. Oh, I’m gonna deploy her ass, all right. I’ll kick it from here to Iran, then she can tell me how deployed she is. We don’t lie to each other. What the hell was she thinking? She had to know I’d find out eventually. Did she really plan to keep this from me forever?”

  I was only half paying attention to her rant, occasionally nodding, or shaking my head where a response seemed required so she wouldn’t turn her ire onto me. Truth be told, I was still in shock about Monica’s injury. I wouldn’t wish an amputated limb on my worst enemy, but Monica…. How could such a terrible thing happen to someone so… perfect? She was amazing. Why did fate have to go and fuck with her?

  Remembering what I’d gone through when I lost my leg, I couldn’t help but wonder how she was coping. What kind of support was she getting? Had she gotten fitted for her prosthetic yet? Was she experiencing the weird phantom itching that often plagued me? I had so many questions.

  More than anything, I was worried about her. The Monica I’d had the pleasure of spending the night with was beautiful beyond belief and unshakable in her confidence. She made me laugh, she made me come more times than I ever thought was possible, and she was the only woman I’d been with that didn’t seem to give a fuck about my prosthetic leg. That was probably the best night of my life. I’d thought about her often over the months, wondering if I’d ever see her again. I’d even considered asking Naomi for Monica’s number, but didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

  Deep down, I always knew I’d see her again, and the next time we connected, I wanted to have my shit together. Never having considered myself to be king material, I wanted to be the kind of man a queen like her deserved. Maybe a consort? It would be nice to take our relationship beyond one night.

  I’d wanted to relate to her, but on her level, not on mine.

  Now we’d have lots in common and it fucking sucked.

  Reflecting on how hard it had been for me to come home wounded, I was anxious to check up on her. Since Monica hadn’t told Naomi about the accident, she was distancing herself from the friends who’d keep it real with her. Never a good sign. “You think she’s okay?” I asked, unintentionally interrupting Naomi’s tirade.

  Naomi’s mouth snapped shut, and she stared at me, making me nervous as hell since she needed to keep her eyes on the road. Just when I was about to point out that she needed to watch where we were going, her shoulders slumped, and she looked forward. “No. If I thought she was okay, I wouldn’t have brought you along. She’s most definitely not okay, but as soon as I kick her ass, we’ll get her the help she needs.” Naomi chewed on her bottom lip, looking every bit as worried as I felt.

  We’d both lost people. Hell, I knew a guy who ate a bullet during basic. Life sometimes felt like too big of a burden to carry, no matter how strong a person was. Tense silence filled the space between us, making me sorry I’d said anything at all. By the time we parked in front of a gated beige-colored bungalow in northeast Portland, my asshole was clenching and Naomi’s fingers were white from gripping the steering wheel. She slowly unclenched them and climbed out of the car, stretching as she eyed the house.

  “What’s the game plan?” I asked, joining her on the sidewalk.

  “Honestly? I’m probably gonna walk in there and lose my shit, and then you’re gonna have to come in and deescalate the situation.”

  Chuckling, I nodded. “So… bad cop, good cop?”

  “More like triggered inmate, reasonable warden. Just don’t let me end up in actual jail. I have a baby to take care of now.”

  Glad to see that her priorities were still in order, I followed her up to the door and waited as she knocked. A gorgeous woman who looked like she had to be Monica’s older sister answered the door.

  Naomi embraced the woman and turned to face me. “Mrs. Johnson, this is Stocks, a… friend of Monica’s.”

  Mrs. Johnson looked me over. “I bet he is. It’s nice to meet you, Stocks,” she said, pulling me in for an unexpected hug.

  “Mrs. Johnson? As in Monica’s mom?” I asked, stunned. “Not her sister?”

  She smiled. “Oh, honey, I think you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

  I wasn’t trying to flatter her, I was serious. She looked like she might be in her late forties at the most. “But you look so young.”

  Patting my arm, she ushered us inside. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you black don’t crack? None of us age.” While I was thinking back to every black person I’d ever met and trying to figure out if she was fucking with me, she asked, “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”

  Still practically buzzing with tension, Naomi shook her head. “No thank you. Is she in her room?”

  “Yes. She’s expecting you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Naomi stormed off, and Mrs. Johnson put her arm up to block me from following. “Stocks, why don’t you come with me so we can give those two a little privacy. I have a feeling they’re about to throw down, and we don’t need to witness their drama.”

  Relieved, I let out a breath. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She led me into a modest kitchen. Painted in a cheerful yellow with a well-worn table, the room was clean and smelled like home baked cookies. I took a big whiff and smiled. “Something smells delicious.”

  Smiling, she grabbed an oven mitt and retrieved a sheet of cookies, setting them on a cooling rack. “I bake when I’m worried.” Gesturing at the filled Tupperware containers resting on the countertop, she added, “I’ve been worried a lot lately.”

  I could make out muffins, cookies, brownies, and bread, and the smell was making me salivate. “If I grew up here, I would have been five hundred pounds by the time I graduated high school.”

  “You must have been one of those worrisome kids.”

  Realizing how my statement could be misunderstood, I chuckled. “That came out wrong.
I don’t think my parents worried about me at all, but I have quite the sweet tooth and everything in here looks amazing.”

  She perked up at my compliment. “Have a seat at the bar and I’ll get you a plate. Coffee?”

  “Yes please.”

  She poured us each a cup and I doctored mine with cream before digging into the goodies she set before me. “Tell me about yourself, Stocks.”

  Baked to chewy perfection, chocolate melted in my mouth and sent me right to heaven. “Mm. I’ll spill every last secret for another one of these cookies. What do you want to know?”

  Laughing, she grabbed another cookie from the sheet and set it on my plate. “How do you know my daughter? Were you in the Air Force as well?”

  “No ma’am, I was in the Marines. I met her at Naomi’s housewarming party.”

  She leveled a look at me. “You picked her up at a party?”

  “Uh…” Suddenly uncomfortable, I had no idea what to say.

  Mrs. Johnson cracked a smile. “I’m messing with you. Monica is a grown woman. I stopped worrying about her conquests long ago. Although, you better believe I’m praying for that girl.”

  Conquest. That was a good word for it. “She actually picked me up.”

  Mrs. Johnson stared at me for a second before shaking her head. “Of course she did.” Her smile faded. “She always knew exactly what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to get after it. I miss that dogged determination. Are you a part of this military biker club Naomi speaks so highly of?”

  Swallowing, I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And do you think your club can help my daughter?”

  Strangely enough, I’d been thinking about that question during the drive down. “We help veterans all the time. Link, our club president, has offered Monica a room for as long as she needs it. She’ll be safe there, surrounded by veterans who can relate to her. We have a counselor who seems to know his stuff, and a service dog who can sense when people get elevated and knows how to calm them down.”