Because He's Perfect

by Anna Edwards

  He walked around the kitchen counter and pulled his sister into his arms. Like him, she had dark brown hair and brown eyes. In her mid forties, she was in better shape than most women in their twenties, keeping her mind and body fit was her way of saying fuck off to her ex. “I don’t question your motives, sis. I just hate seeing you upset like this. Where’s CJ at?” His nephew was Carl Junior, but he hated when people called him that. Why his sister had married the douche Carl, making them that couple with matching names, he would never know. Their twenty year marriage had fallen apart three years ago, after Carly found out he’d been screwing around on her for the last five years. He wondered if the man had never not cheated but didn’t say that to Carly. After all, Carl Senior was now spending a fifteen year jail sentence, thanks to his fall from grace and into the arms of a junkie who set him up. Karma was a bitch, but when she came calling, snaring Carl in a sting operation, nobody in his family cared.

  “He’s in his room sulking. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t open the door, and he’s not returning my calls or texts,” Carly said, hurt filling her tone and demeanor.

  Back when he’d been a teen, throwing a hissy fit like CJ would’ve been the last thing he would’ve done. He made his way down the hallway after assuring his sister he’d talk with her son. Shit, he wondered when he’d become the wise one, then gave a chuckle. At CJ’s door, he could hear the pounding beat of heavy metal. Two sharp raps on the door didn’t elicit a response, but unlike his sister, he wouldn’t allow a little thing like that to keep him out. Reaching above the door to his sister’s room he found the key she kept there. “I hope you’re decent and not jacking off to online porn,” he muttered as he opened the door.

  “Hardy har har, Uncle Tymber. What did my mom do, call you in for reinforcements?” CJ asked, without turning to look toward the door.

  “Something like that,” he agreed. Never would he lie to the boy, if he could help it.

  “Well, you can go on back to her and let her know I’m being a good little boy. See…” He moved aside to show Tymber what was on the screen. Not that he’d actually thought the kid would be watching porn…but seeing some document he’d been working on had him relaxing.

  Tymber walked the few feet from the door to where his nephew sat. Leaning against the desk, he faced CJ. “You know your mother only has your best interest in mind when she gives an order.”

  “Well my best interests weren’t to be kept from going to Dillon’s party just because his parents weren’t home. It’s like she doesn’t trust me.” Sadness wafted from the boy. Having your dad locked up for drug trafficking and a mother who kept the apron strings too tight had to be hard.

  He spent a half hour with CJ, looking over his paper and explaining what could happen if the party was busted. Even though he was sullen, he agreed he didn’t want to be anywhere near the police, especially with his father’s name still floating in the air. His sister had been lucky when she’d finally divorced the man, or he would’ve drug her and their children down the rabbit hole he was in.

  The kitchen was empty, but he knew where he’d find Carly, by the pool with a book and a glass of water with lemon in it. He shook his head as he stepped out the patio door, taking in the serene picture of the sun setting and the crisp clean air.

  “I just got a text from CJ. I guess your talk did him good?” She lifted the glass and took a sip, laying the book down on her lap.

  “Yeah, he’s still mad but he understands you were only looking out for him. You might want to talk to him before the yelling, you know.” He sat on the lounger across from her, his elbows resting on his thighs, waiting.

  “Tymber, you can’t always be their friend when you’re the parent. I guess I could’ve talked him through my reasoning instead of grounding him, but damn, the boy knows how to push my buttons,” she growled.

  Oh, he knew all about pushing a parent’s button, especially a mothers. Before they’d lost their mom to breast cancer, he’d always pushed buttons or envelopes, whatever he could, to get his way. Hell, at thirty-two, there wasn’t much he hadn’t done that he wanted. “You don’t owe the kid a reason. A little respect goes a long way. Remember, he’s a straight A student and has goals. Trust him enough to talk with him before you start the yelling. And while I’m doling out advice, may I suggest you not do it via text?” He lifted his chin toward the pink phone on the table.

  Carly blinked, her eyes swimming with tears. “It’s hard, Tymber. I only want what’s best for him, but he acts like I’m the worst mother in the world when I don’t let him have his way. Throwing up his grades doesn’t make it okay for him to go to a party with no chaperones.”

  Tymber agreed with Carly. He hoped his nephew truly did acknowledge his mom only did things for his wellbeing. “I gotta go.” He stood up, hugging Carly as she too stood.

  “Thanks for coming up and putting out my fires,” she joked.

  Seated on his Harley as he headed toward his own home, he thought of Ivy and her reasoning for being outside a meeting but not going in. All through their little coffee…he couldn’t really call it a date, but it was something, something he wanted to explore further.

  Ivy recognized Darian’s car outside the flat she shared with him and Luke. Her heart twisted in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Get your shit together, girl,” she muttered then winced. Whenever she’d been nervous or upset, she’d always talked to herself, except when Luke had been there, which looking back, had been almost her entire life. Now, he was gone, and there was this huge hole where he had been in her life, making her feel as though she were swimming against the current. The saying about life isn’t finding shelter in the storm, it’s about learning to dance in the rain flittered into her mind. “That’s what I’m going to get inked on me.” It felt as though all she’d done is let the rain that was her shitshow of a life wash her away, instead of standing tall with an umbrella over her head telling the storm to do its worst.

  She shoved the door to her Bronco open, making her way to the entrance of where her life seemed to be left hanging. Inside, she climbed the steps to the upstairs apartment. Her boots sounded loud in the empty hallway, but she’d never been one to walk quietly. The sight of the door left ajar sent fear down her spine. With her phone in one hand, she pushed the door open with her foot. “Darian, you home?”

  A noise from the living room had her moving as silently as she could. “I’ve already called 911,” she lied.

  Darian lifted his head up from the leather sofa, his hand holding his nose that looked as though he’d been in a fight. “You’re such a bad liar, Ivy.” His words were muffled by the towel he held to his face.

  Bruising around both eyes had already appeared. “What the fuck happened here?” The apartment seemed to have been trashed, like those after a weekend bender. Not that she or Luke had ever had one of them at the apartment, but she’d been to enough parties the Royal MC had thrown. Only the damage looked more deliberate than what would happen during a party.

  “Some of the Royal Sons showed up and didn’t like to see me here. Shit, this is the last thing I wanted or needed in my life. Luke—” He choked up.

  Moving to sit next to him, she paused and retraced her steps and shut the door, swearing when her eyes landed on the busted door. “Those fuckers broke the door down?” she asked, sitting down next to him.

  “I came home to find them already here. I guess they wanted inside enough, even a locked door wouldn’t keep them out.” He pulled the towel away from his nose.

  “Good lord, you need to get that fixed. It looks broken.” Her hand reached for the bloody towel.

  “Aren’t you scared I’ll infect you with my gay blood?” Darian let her take the towel away. “I now understand why Luke didn’t want to come out to the club. Fuck, if I could’ve, I’d have walked away from him years ago. I loved him, Ivy. Why wasn’t I enough to keep him from…” His words that were left unsaid broke her heart.

  “Darian, listen to m
e. You weren’t the problem, and neither was Luke. The MC may accept many things, but he didn’t think they’d allow him to come around, even though his brothers are the Prez and his VP. Hell, the entire MC was created by his family like a hundred years ago. Luke was scared to lose his brothers, whether they be of blood or cut.” That was one of the reasons she’d agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend all these years. Luke thought he’d only be accepted if he had an old lady. He didn’t want to be a full-fledged member, not like his brothers, yet he didn’t want to be cut off from them either. Life had really fucked with him, but she’d loved him.

  “I’m moving back home,” Darian whispered.

  She jerked back, taking in her best friend’s boyfriend’s appearance. He was a blond Adonis, with his blue eyes and muscled physique. “You mean, home to Iowa?”

  Darian nodded, tossing the bloody rag onto the leather ottoman that served as the coffee table. “Are you being rash? I mean, yeah, this place is a mess, but I’m sure they won’t be back.” If the MC wanted to make a statement, beating the shit out of Darian was it. She hoped. Damn, she hated the uncertainty her life had become.

  “I came out here for Luke. I like my job at Pump, but it’s not what I planned for my life. Look at me. I’m a twenty-five year old, living with my boyfriend’s supposed girlfriend, in the place he took his life. Every day I wake up, wishing it were a bad dream, a nightmare that I could wake from, only to find it’s my new reality. I can’t stay here and keep my sanity. I was actually packing before I went out to grab something to eat. When I came back to find two men in leather vests tearing shit up, I yelled at them. How stupid was that?” His blue eyes implored her to understand.

  “Did they ruin any of your stuff?” she asked, not wanting to get into what had happened. Luke’s death was too fresh of a wound for them to talk about. However, she thought at least one person would be able to understand what she was going through. An image of Tymber appeared, his openness made her wish she had met him before.

  “Nah, nothing that can’t be replaced. Ivy, it’s not safe for you here. I think I was a warning to you.” He reached for her, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a firm shake. “Are you listening to me?”

  “I know the MC, unlike you, Darian. I grew up with them, had my first beer with them. Trust me, they’re just blowing off steam. It’s been over a month since Luke—since that night. When do you leave?” she asked changing the subject. Her internal alarm for danger was blaring. If the MC decided she were to blame, her very life could be on the line.

  “I already booked my flight. There’s nothing here except my clothes I want. I’ll help you clean up.” He stood abruptly, picking up the bloody towel and swore. “I get why he didn’t want to tell the entire club, but why not his own brothers? For that matter, how the fuck didn’t they know he preferred dudes to women?”

  Ivy knew how, and that was why she felt so much guilt. Maybe if she’d encouraged him to be honest with King and Duke, they might’ve accepted his sexuality. She pictured King Royal, the president of the Royal Sons MC. Her hand flew to her chest as an image of his angry face came to mind. “I should’ve made him tell King.”

  “That would’ve been fun to see, Ivy Girl. Listen, why don’t you come with me? My family would welcome you with open arms, and you could start over.” He didn’t look up as he spoke, his intent to clean up the mess left by the assholes making him grunt in pain from their beating.

  “Yeah, that would be the day. Imagine me on a farm in the middle of Iowa. I’m pretty sure the place would flip on its head if I went with you. Besides, this is my home.” She gestured toward the mess. Yes, Luke and she shared the place, but it was her name on the lease. “Plus, I just graduated. How many jobs do you think are in Iowa waiting for the likes of me?”

  Darian looked her up and down, stopping once he met her eyes. “You could tone down the badass biker chick. You’re gorgeous, smart, and way too good for the jerks who did this.”

  “Let’s just clean this mess up. I’ll help you get your stuff together.” Her mind already on the tasks at hand. Replacing some of the broken pieces would be put on the back burner. Her fingers flew to her mouth. “Did they go into the bedrooms?” Her body jerking as she walked down the hallway toward her room, the one across from Luke’s and Darian’s.

  “No, they must’ve just gotten in before I walked in on them. At first I thought you’d come home, so I yelled for you. I think that was a big fat match to their flame. I didn’t have time to do anything except yelp when one of the big fuckers grabbed me by the neck, shoving me inside the door.”

  Ivy and Darian worked through the rest of the evening, filling five large garbage bags with trash and things Darian said he no longer wanted or needed. Her hand brushed over the clothing left in the walk in closet, the familiar scent of Luke’s cologne tickled her nose. When Darian sighed, she’d looked up to see the pain he couldn’t erase from his busted up face. “I’ll see you again,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if she meant Darian or Luke, only knew her world was being rocked again. Fucking Royal MC and their bastard ways.

  It was close to midnight. The apartment was silent, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. Her mind wouldn’t settle. Fear no longer something she seemed to feel. Everyone she’d cared about was gone now that Darian had left. “How pathetic, the only men in my life had loved each other, leaving me on the outside looking in.” That had been her life growing up. Luke was her angel when she’d needed him. His loss had a sob escaping before she could quell it. Her body moved on autopilot, making sure the newly replaced door was locked with three sets of deadbolts. It would be a hell of a lot harder for the Sons to break down a steel door with deadbolts like she had installed. Luckily, she knew of a locksmith who also replaced doors, his grey hair had looked like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket, resembling Albert Einstein, but he’d been fast and efficient, everything she’d needed. He’d looked at the door then her, shaking his head, but didn’t say anything more until the new door was in place. She had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him to mind his business, only holding the sharp retort in because he truly appeared genuine in his comments and suggestions.

  Like she needed him, or anyone, to tell her to lock all three locks and to not open the door unless she knew who was on the other side. Now, hours later, that same door taunted her. If she and Luke would’ve had the door a month ago, maybe just maybe, he’d still be alive. Instead, he and Darian had been making out on the couch when King had strolled in. She shuttered imagining what the big man had looked like in that moment. Luke said he and Darian hadn’t been caught outright, but he worried King or Duke would find out. “Why didn’t I convince him to come out?” she asked, banging her head against the wall. The pain from the impact didn’t stop her from doing it again.

  Getting up, she triple checked the locks, then walked down the hallway, hating the emptiness of the apartment and her heart. Tomorrow, she’d see about a new place to live.

  Chapter Four

  “What do you think?” He held a mirror out for King to take. The big son of a bitch didn’t have a lot of open canvas on his body, but Tymber had taken the art already there as a layer beneath what he was putting on him. The end result was kickass, in his opinion. Luckily the president of the MC agreed, his dark eyes taking in the two clasped hands holding a rosary with the words Brothers Forever. Even In Death, written along the cross that hung from the praying hands.

  “Looks great, man. Thanks for getting me in at the last minute.” King shrugged into his leather cut, his dark eyes not missing anything. “If you ever need anything, give me a holler.” He held his hand out, shaking Tymber’s.

  “I appreciate that. I don’t need to give you aftercare instructions, do I?” he asked, shaking his head at the absurd notion. The other man had almost as many tattoos as he did.

  “I’m good. See you around,” King stated, his hand releasing Tymber’s. “Remember what I said. You need anything, give me a
holler. The Sons will come without a question.”

  Tymber agreed to call if the need ever arose. In the back of his mind, he contemplated what could happen that he’d need the help of the club. He knew about patches and their significance, which was how he knew King was the president. Not seeing a 1% patch on the cut didn’t mean they weren’t an outlaw club, it just meant they didn’t announce it to the world, or he missed it. Nobody could ever say he was a fool, and only a fool would’ve asked a member of the Royal Sons MC if they were or not. He preferred to keep his head attached to his unbeaten body, thank you very much. Not that he was scared to take on any of the club members one on one. However, he was pretty sure if you fucked with one, you fucked with them all. He hadn’t survived fucking breast cancer, only to get his ass handed to him by one of the brothers.

  “You look like your contemplating a big problem. Want my advice?” King asked from the doorway.

  He had to shake himself to pull his mind back to the present. “Hit me with it.”

  King chuckled. “Never tell a brother to hit you, he just might. Whatever is bugging you, don’t let it consume too much of your time,” King warned.

  Tymber watched through the window as King got on his Harley, the bike rumbling to life seconds before he pulled out into traffic, several other bikes falling in line behind him. Yeah, he wouldn’t forget the other man’s words.

  A text dinged from where he’d left his phone. Tymber ignored it while he locked up the front of the shop. He cleaned up his station, then gazed around at the space. Besides him and his two partners Ember and Lincoln, they had three other artists who worked for them plus a receptionist. This late at night, it was just him, and he could appreciate all they’d achieved, the three of them, after leaving the military. None of them left the place dirty or cluttered, something that had been drilled into them while in bootcamp. However, he wasn’t a fresh faced eighteen year old with a chip on his shoulder. After five years, he’d known the life of a soldier wasn’t his. Between the three of them, they bought the location where their shop was located, creating a business he was proud of. There was an apartment above the shop that each of them had used at different times, like tonight when he didn’t feel like riding the fifteen miles to home. Bone tired was what he felt.