She is ...: I Ain’t Ya Mama Collab

by Chelsea Camaron

  For him to make me pancakes, he has something on his mind. He may be my step-dad, but he’s been a daily staple in my life since I was six-years-old. My mom was and is the best mom and puts her heart and soul into being a mom to all her kids. The oatmeal, the healthy food, well that shit sucked ass. It was life, though, and Mom was doing her best for me and for her back then. Then Shooter came into our lives. Shooter would wake up before Mom to make me pancakes or something other than oatmeal. The sticky warm breakfast is something I can choke down on occasion but after all those days of it being a main meal, it isn’t my top choice. Saving me from the oatmeal became our thing. I looked forward to it. Him making pancakes now, yeah, shit is about to get real. Shooter is trying to prepare me, soften the blow with this breakfast and I want him to cut to the chase. I’m not a little kid anymore.

  My dad stares at me, our eyes lock. Shit is serious. Drexel “Rex” Crews isn’t known for being serious. He’s come a long way though over the years. We’ve come a long way together as well.

  Of course, my dad wasn’t in my life in those early years so the struggle for my mom to provide for a growing boy was real. My dad didn’t know about me and if he had, well, everyone tells me so much would have been different. In the end, though, I think my life turned out fucking grand so you won’t hear me complaining.

  The fact that the two of them sit at a table together regularly surprises most. We don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. My dad is Drexel “Rex” Crews, Catawba Hellions MC President. After his cousin Talon “Tripp” Crews took over as the Haywood’s Landing Pres, Dad stepped up and he named Andy “Shooter” Jenkins as his VP. I remember when I was little being confused by some of it. Now, though, no one questions either of them because the loyalty and respect they have for one another knows no bounds.

  Family isn’t always blood, and the Hellions MC are fucking family through and through.

  Shooter has been my mom’s rock since he came into our lives. While Rex had time to sort out his own, Shooter was there for us. I know now the fight that ensued when Rex learned that Shooter was hiding me from him to help my mom. How my dad got over the betrayal of his motorcycle club brother I don’t know, but they worked shit out for me and my mom. The mix-matched family we have is one I wouldn’t trade for the fucking world.

  “Ain’t shit wrong with anyone,” Shooter says taking a bite of his own breakfast.

  I look him in the eye, “If you tell me we got another baby comin’, I might have to stab you with a fork. Seven kids is enough, don’t ya think?”

  Shooter laughs as does my dad. “No more kids, your mom threatened to cut my cock off if I didn’t get fixed after Acadia.”

  “Thank fuck!” I retort. “Then why the pancakes?”

  “Been talking,” my dad speaks. “Need you to take a run to Chicago. You don’t wanna do it, say the word, Son, we drop the client.”

  I set my fork down to study the men. Their features give nothing away so I’m more confused with each passing moment. “I’m twenty-five years old. I went to college like y’all asked before I came back and earned my cut. I prospected a solid fourteen fuckin’ months. I handle Crews Transports regular business just as good as either of you. I can take a fuckin’ run.”

  My aggravation isn’t held back. How can they think I would turn away a run? This is what the club does for income. These side runs. This wouldn’t be my first or my last. There isn’t a job I would turn away. This club is my life. If the club needs the transport I’ll step up, no questions asked.

  “Not a doubt in our minds about that, Axel,” Shooter explains. “Gotta say it, though; we’re your parents and it ain’t easy to let go sometimes. This run, you take it alone.”

  “And I needed pancakes for this why?” I pushed the plate forward letting my irritation win. “Last time I checked, my patches were equal to everyone else’s. Last time I checked, I had completed more than one run for this club. Last time I checked, I knew the fuckin’ risks and took them proudly. So, last time I checked, there would be no reason to question giving me an order or a reason to give me the information like you’re prepping me for a damn funeral.”

  “The package isn’t one contained in a crate. It isn’t even a product we can replace,” my dad tells me in this serious tone I have never heard from him before.

  “It’s a person?” I ask, sorting through what it could be and that’s the only thing that popped into my mind.

  “It is,” Shooter replies setting down his fork and taking a drink of water.

  “Male or female and why alone?”

  “It’s a paid run to transport a female,” my dad explains and I can’t stop the laugh.

  “This shit sounds like Tripp and Doll. Don’t tie me down, Pops.” I joke but they don’t take the bait. I want to lighten the mood. No matter the package, I’m taking the run. I don’t give a fuck that it’s a person. Sure, that’s a different responsibility, but I’m not the kind of man to shy away from my responsibilities ever.

  “You were requested specifically for the job by the client,” Shooter says looking to Rex as they silently communicate something.

  “Who wants to play matchmaker?” I again try to maintain nonchalance.

  Instead, both men shake their heads and look at me sternly.

  “Why me, then?”

  “You know the girl and the requestor thinks she will be soothed in your care,” my dad tells me.

  “I’m a Crews, we aren’t known for being teddy bears. Again, why me?”

  “The client feels she may offer some resistance but with you she will decide to come along. They only want you.”

  My decision is easy. “Then when do I ride?”

  “You leave in twenty minutes. This chick is untouchable. The man requesting her transport is not the kind of guy to fuck with, Axel,” Shooter explains with dread in his tone.

  “Who is she?” I wonder why the Hellions MC has even been asked to be involved.

  “Yesnia Dominguez.”