Demented Sons Series Volume One: Books 1-4 (Demented Sons MC Iowa)

by Kristine Allen

  Why their response surprised me, I’m not sure. It seemed I was one disappointment after another to them. It was no secret my dad had been brokenhearted when he never had the son he was so hoping for. I’m not saying he didn’t love me, because he did and does. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a little disappointed I wasn’t a boy. My next disappointment to them was my choice in careers. They had aspirations of me taking my artistic flair in a different direction than I had, that’s for sure. Being a graphic designer just didn’t do it for me, though. My passion was sharing my gift with children and watching their faces light up when they created something beautiful of their own.

  My mother had gone on and on about how little teachers made and how there would never be any advancement, nor recognition. Honestly, I felt like my mom was trying to live vicariously through me because, when she got pregnant with me, she married my dad and dropped her entire life to be a stay-at-home mom. It was great growing up, but that had been her choice. It wasn’t my fault she didn’t go to school or develop her own career.

  It was obvious I wasn’t going to get the support I wanted and needed from my parents. “Thanks for dinner and dessert, Mom, Dad. But I better get moving.” My dad laid a beefy hand over mine as I made to leave the table. I plopped back in my seat from my slightly raised position.

  “Sunshine, we just want what’s best for you, and we want you to be happy. Trevor can provide a good life for you. We hate to see you making any rash decisions, is all, baby girl.” My eyes closed as I tried to gather my thoughts and calm my temper. Deep breathing wasn’t working tonight. Rising from the table, I cast a hurt look at them both. My head shook back and forth in disbelief that they would so blatantly disregard my feelings like this. It was my life, not theirs.

  Noisily, I placed my dishes into the dishwasher before turning back to them both as they sat quietly at the table.

  “If you like him so much, maybe you should move in with him then. I’ll see you both later.”

  When I stormed out of their house, my mom told me I was being an immature child and a fool. That was just icing on the cake. The look of pain in my dad’s eyes when he tried to hug me before I left and I just brushed him off, felt like I had stabbed myself in the heart. I rarely did anything to hurt my dad, but he had never really taken sides like this before. He’d never had to. It hurt that he wouldn’t stand up for me, even a little. Without looking back at the house, I got in my car and peeled out of the driveway.

  Pretending I didn’t care how my parents felt was a farce, but it was the only way to keep myself from totally falling apart. Being with Trevor had left me feeling bogged down and restricted. It was like I was suffocating and no one could see it but me. My own parents didn’t support my decision to move on. How insane was that?

  The back seat held my gym bag with extra workout clothes, so I drove to the gym to work off some of my frustration, hurt, and anger. After about an hour of sweating to some Avenged Sevenfold, Five Finger Death Punch, and Metallica, I calmed down and felt like I had my emotions somewhat under control. The important thing to remember was I knew I was doing the right thing. That was what I told myself over and over.

  Thankfully, when I got home, Trevor was in bed. The part of me that had invested over a year into this relationship couldn’t believe he never called, waited up for me, or even texted me to make sure I was okay. Shit, what if I had gotten in a car accident? You know what? It didn’t matter. Screw him. I was out of here on Monday anyway. There was no point getting upset over his disregard for me.

  Monday morning dawned, and I reluctantly woke, going through the motions of getting ready for work, knowing I wouldn’t be going anywhere but to Josie’s after Trevor was long gone to work. He ate the breakfast I made, filled a travel mug with coffee, and rushed out the door telling me he wanted me to make salmon, vegetables, and rice for supper. Yeah, screw you, buddy. Make it for yourself.

  After I was sure he was well on his way to work, I began to stuff the rest of my clothes in a couple of large army duffle bags that had been my dad’s. My furniture didn’t consist of much more than a dresser, the kitchen table, and a few lamps—pretty much things I could replace without feeling much of a loss financially or sentimentally. The duffle bags both fit in my trunk, and I stuffed the random blankets, picture frames, and knick-knacks I had inherited from my grandmothers in around the duffle bags. Satisfied I had everything I needed, I reset my cell phone to factory settings, since he bought it and paid the bill, and left it on the table with a note explaining to Trevor that I needed to leave. Further explaining I had tried, on several occasions, to talk to him and tell him this, but he wouldn’t listen and I couldn’t stay with him. In the note, I tried to be tactful, despite wanting to tell him what an asshole he was. A smile crept across my face when I signed the letter:

  After climbing in and buckling my seat belt, I started my car and pushed the button to open the garage door. My heart stopped as I saw Trevor’s car coming up the road as I backed out of the driveway. When I realized it just looked like his car, a relieved laugh slipped out and I scolded myself for being paranoid. Shit. It wasn’t like I was robbing the man! I hadn’t done anything wrong. The prepaid phone I had grabbed at Walmart last night went off, and I noticed a text from Josie.

  Josie: Hey, girl! Started a roast in the crockpot but think I forgot to turn it down to low before I left. B home around 5. So excited to have u moving in!! See u then!

  Her text made me smile. I started to feel that weight lift off me, and it actually felt a little easier to breathe. If I had only known things wouldn’t stay that way…

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in months, I didn’t have a date, and I use that term loosely, for the weekly BBQ and get-together at Reaper and Steph’s. It was actually nice to just sit and bullshit with the guys and not worry about someone hanging on me, demanding something, or pissing me off. Lounging like a serious lazy ass in a chair, I nursed my single cold beer for the night and laughed with everyone.

  When I felt the hard belly push against my shoulder and soft hands cover my eyes and heard a whisper in my ear, I knew it was Steph before she even offered the requisite “Guess who?” Grinning, I said, “Unless someone else is suddenly growing a watermelon in their belly, it must be my beautiful Steph.” Yeah, that earned me a playful punch to the damn arm and then a grouchy-ass look from Reaper that his woman was touching another man. So just to fuck with him, I pulled her around and into my lap. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and smiled at her.

  “Hey, baby, how’s that old man of yours treating you? You ready to leave his cantankerous ass and be my girl?” I winked at her and cast a sly grin toward Reaper. He growled, and I swore the shithead was grinding his teeth. Laughter burst from me before I could hold it back. Steph laughed and hugged me.

  “Hollywood, honey, you couldn’t handle me and my pregnancy hormones. Reaper can barely stand me, and he loves me and is married to me.” Her grin spread even further as she kissed my head softly, ruffling my hair like the mom she was. We weren’t that far apart in age, but she totally treated me like I was her little brother. Not complaining, I liked her spoiling me.

  “Now, that is a true statement, baby. Damn, I feel like I’ve been in the dog house so much lately that when I meet new people, I don’t know whether to shake their hand or sniff their ass.” Reaper gave a cynical smile with his statement, and everyone busted a gut laughing. Reaper came over and kissed his wife before asking her if she needed a bottle of water. As he walked toward the cooler, he shouted over his shoulder, “And keep your hands to yourself with my wife, Hollywood, you fuck!” Laughter bubbled up from Steph, and I couldn’t help joining in.

  “Now, tell me about what happened in Vegas with Becca, lover boy.” Steph caught me totally off guard with her softly spoken statement. Fuck! How did she know? I was gone before anyone knew I had been in her room that morning. Did she actually tell Steph? Wait. When did she tell Steph? My expression closed off as my jaw clenched.

  “What the
hell are you talking about, Steph? Who’s been telling stories? I rode with her back to the hotel and left her in her room. That’s it, end of story.” My face remained neutral as I tried not to give her anything to go on. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about the one woman I obsessed over day and night. I was pretty sure it wasn’t healthy.

  “Oh, come on! Let’s just call it a pregnant woman’s hunch. Becca got all quiet—totally out of character for her, by the way—when I mentioned you. She tried to sound all nonchalant, but she forgets I know her too well. She finally caved, so there is no use lying to me.” Steph appeared smug. Little shit.

  My heart raced a little just from the sound of her name on Steph’s lips. One thing I tried to avoid was even thinking her name. It was like, if I could just not speak or think her name, it would prevent my traitorous mind from conjuring her memory up every waking fucking moment. My dick was wanting to stir, which, by the way, was extremely awkward considering my best friend’s wife was sitting in my lap. Too weird. Uncomfortably, I shifted in the chair to move Steph farther from my faithless dick that was ready and eager at the mere mention of that cheating, unfaithful bitch.

  “Steph, it was nothing, really. Okay, yeah, we had a good time, and that was that. End of story. So, she doing okay? I mean, I’m just wondering because she’s your friend and all. She told you about that night, huh? So, what did she say?” Okay, yeah, my worthless attempt at nonchalance was pretty sucky, I know. Hey, I tried. Shut up and get out of my head if you don’t like it.

  “Mmm, she said you are off the charts, big boy. So why didn’t you ever say anything? She’s a nice person. I would love to see the two of you together.” The wheels were turning in her head, that was obvious. Oh hell no. No scheming woman was going to go matchmaking with me. Besides, didn’t she care that her friend was in a relationship when she screwed me? Fuck that. No, I didn’t need that crap in my life. Uh-uh! So, I carefully removed her from my lap as I felt my face burn up.

  “Hmmm, look at that, my beer is empty. I guess I need to go get another one.” Total lie, because I tried to keep my drinking to a minimum. A quick peck on the cheek, and I hauled ass away from her inquisitive mind and probing gaze. Shit, that conversation had gotten way too uncomfortable. Becca was going to become even more of a thorn in my side if Steph didn’t drop this. Fuck! There I went and thought her name. Damn it all to hell.

  TREVOR HAD COME BY the school for me several times since I moved out over three months ago. It had been easy to avoid any phone calls because he didn’t have my number. When flowers started arriving at the school, I couldn’t help but read the cards. Initially, I wasn’t sure who they were from because it was so out of character for Trevor. It had me briefly thinking maybe he could change. Each card was a progressively more ardent request to come “home” to him. Some of the girls in the office thought it was so sweet and told me I should give him another chance. Not wanting to put my business out there, I just smiled and shook my head. Starting any kind of conversation would have just kept them going.

  When he followed me home from school one day, I told him to stop sending me flowers, that he was wasting his money and his time. Once again, I told him I didn’t love him and I was moving on. He didn’t take that well.

  “Becca, you will regret not coming home. You belong with me, and you’re being childish and foolish. Even your mom thinks we need to work things out.” Oh my God! He was talking to my mom about us? That was going too far.

  “Stop talking to my family! Stop sending shit to me at school! Quit stopping by the school! Trevor, we are through. Done. I moved out and it’s over! You have no business talking to my family and friends. Jesus, what is wrong with you? You know what? Never mind. I don’t care. Leave!” He was seriously pissing me off. Planting my fist in his arrogant nose was becoming more and more appealing.

  He glared at me and slammed the door of his car after getting in. He revved the motor and peeled out in a screeching of tires, leaving behind the burning smell of rubber. Curtains moved at the house across the street. Great. Fricking nosey neighbors again. My shoes got kicked across my room as I entered and slammed my door. Then I felt guilty for slamming the door until I remembered the girls’ cars were not parked outside, so no one else was home.

  My hands held my head as I plopped on the edge of my bed. All I could think about was how Steph’s ex had gone crazy and almost killed her. Deep inside, I knew Trevor wasn’t capable of that though. He was too passive aggressive. He preferred manipulation and belittling. Prick. I said a small prayer that he would give up and move on soon. My arm rested over my eyes after I flopped back on the bed. Tears leaked out of my eyes at the spiraling feeling rushing through me. It began to feel like my life was never going to be stable again. Packing up my bags and hauling ass to Timbuktu sounded more and more appealing every day, I thought, as I felt myself doze off.

  A knocking on my door woke me with a start. It was dark out already, and I certainly hadn’t planned on sleeping that long—not that I was really even hungry or worried about sleeping through dinner, mind you. Josie poked her head around the corner of the door and looked abashed about waking me.

  “Hey, Becca. I’m so sorry to wake you, but I think there is something you need to see.” For fuck’s sake. What now? How could my life get any worse at this point? Boy, was I about to find out.

  Following her out to the dining room table with my slippers shuffling, she led me to her laptop, and I noted her social media account was open to the school’s page. What I saw on the screen had nausea building in the pit of my stomach. What the ever-loving fuck?

  Is this who you want teaching and influencing your children? The post read. Attached to the post were pictures of me in various poses at bars and parties. If someone didn’t know better, they would think they were recent. Of course, I knew they were from the summer after I graduated, before I was ever hired at the school. It was my last summer of rebellion and living my party days, I remembered telling myself. There were pictures of me doing body shots, having random guys in the bar taking shots from my cleavage, me dancing with guys holding my boobs from behind. Oh sweet Jesus, there was even one of me competing in a wet T-shirt contest. Thank God for small favors that my nipples were fuzzed out where I knew they would be showing through my white tee.

  Good God, these were all taken in Des Moines with my friends from college on the weekends I had stayed with them. That was the exact reason I hadn’t want to party around home. Who the hell would do this? And why? And how did they get them on the school’s page? My mouth was hanging open, and I knew I looked like a goldfish with it opening and shutting without words. My eyes felt like they might pop out of my head. Josie rubbed my shoulder and looked at me with sympathy.

  “Becca, you need to talk to Nancy at the school ASAP to get those removed. I’m sure this will blow over. But I have to ask… uhh, when was this? I mean, we’re elementary school teachers, and I guess I didn’t think you, well, I guess… Ummmm, well.” The more Josie said, the redder her face got. Poor girl. Did she grow up in a convent? She must be pretty embarrassed at seeing me like that, but I didn’t really think the pictures were any worse than the things other people did in college. It wasn’t like I was nude or having sex, thank God.

  I had really tried to be a model teacher and to restrain my wild tendencies, so this was a bit of a blow to the gut, especially considering the pictures were several years old now. And how did someone get access to those pictures? They were all on my computer and a few were actual photographs that someone took a picture of, or uploaded. Something like this was simply an utterly hateful act.

  “Jesus, no, Josie. These were all taken the summer after graduation. Before I ever got my formal offer of employment. I haven’t changed much, so I guess it was easy to imply they were recent.” My mind was running at 300 mph. It was hard to keep a coherent thought in my head.

  “I just don’t understand why someone would do this!” The nausea continued to build until I ran to th
e bathroom and vomited. I heaved until I had nothing left to vomit except my stomach lining itself. Tears poured down my face as I sat on the floor, leaning against the tub with my head resting on my knees.

  Just when I thought I was gaining control of my life….

  It looked like Josie’s optimism was shot to shit, when a week and a half later, I was called into the superintendent’s office. Mr. Strankowski was a kind, but stern-looking, fatherly type, and he did look truly sorry when he told me I was being put on temporary administrative leave due to the number of calls from concerned parents. The school had removed the post, but not before they were seen by every sanctimonious parent in the district, it seemed. As I left his office, my heart was heavy and I was near tears.

  When I approached my house, I could see signs in the yard and papers flapping from the side of the house and front door from about three blocks away. What the heck was that all about? As I drew closer, my heart started pounding and my face felt like it was flaming. This was insane! What the hell? Were we in the middle ages or something? The amount of signs proclaiming me a slut, whore, and a “naughty teacher” was overwhelming. Are you serious? Someone had even spray painted “tramp” on the picture window. Oh my God, this wasn’t even my house!

  The nerve of whoever did this was over the top. They had done this in broad daylight, because it wasn’t there when I left this morning. My mood alternated between anger, shock, hurt, fear, and embarrassment.