Morris turns, eyes finding Mammoth and me, and backs away a foot. “Hey,” he says casually, arm still resting on the bar as he tips his chin upward like his ass wasn’t just busted.
“Hey,” I say, drawing out the word.
Mammoth squeezes my fingers, and I know he wants me to shut up and not be nice to Morris, but…it’s Morris. Then there’s the fact that I don’t really love being told what to do and I’m shit at following directions.
“Whatcha two doing?” I ask, being nosy and filling the silence as Jessica stares at Mammoth, and Mammoth stares at Morris. “Can we join you?” I twist my body a little, knowing full well I’m stirring a pot I shouldn’t be stirring.
Jessica’s eyes finally move away from Mammoth and meet mine. “Please,” she says, pleading with her eyes as she says the words. “We were just talking about you.” Those words, she says to Mammoth. When he doesn’t respond but just stands there hard as granite, glaring at Morris, she says, “I’m talking to you. Are you listening to me, Jo…JD?”
Holy shit. She almost went there and used his real name. She almost outed him to the entire club, something he’s never done in all the years he’s been here. That would’ve added insult to injury, ratcheting up the tension even higher than the blistering level it is already at.
“I love your hair like that,” I blurt out, because it’s different from the last time I saw her when we video chatted, and I’m trying to defuse the situation and divert everyone’s attention. “It’s different, right?” I don’t wait for her to respond and keep on going. “It looks different.”
Another squeeze from Mammoth’s hand and I bite my lip, stopping myself from continuing on the verbal shitting my mouth is doing.
“We’ll sit,” Mammoth grumbles, moving me in front of him like I’m a rag doll, and using my shoulder to push Morris to the side.
Well, okay. That wasn’t overly aggressive or anything. I stand there for a moment, Morris almost pressed against me, wedged between him and Mammoth.
“Sorry,” I whisper as a hand comes down on my shoulder, almost shoving me down in the seat.
Oh boy. I don’t know who he thinks he’s pushing around, but we’re sure as fuck going to have words. I’ll bite my tongue for a little bit, hopefully until we’re in private, but if Mammoth doesn’t get his shit together, it will happen right here in front of everyone.
“It’s okay, kid,” Morris says, taking a step back so he’s not in my space. His eyes are soft when he says it, being the sweet guy I sometimes see when we are alone. “Not your fault your guy is manhandling you.”
Oh no, he didn’t. He went there. He said those words, and although they are right, they are so, so wrong.
11
Mammoth
“What’s with the face?” Ma asks, jabbing me in the ribs with her bony elbow. “And the attitude?”
Morris and Tamara are busy in a hushed conversation, ignoring my mother and me. I’m good with this. As long as she’s keeping Morris busy, he’s not trying to get in my mother’s pants.
“Morris isn’t someone I want you involved with.”
Ma jerks her head back and blinks. “What?”
“You heard me,” I mumble against the rim of the third beer I’ve had tonight. “Don’t need to repeat it.”
Her lips twist, and her blue eyes focus in on me, laser-sharp. It’s the same look she used to give me as a little boy when she was trying to calm herself down so she didn’t say something she’d regret later. “You think I’m going to date Morris?”
“Not date, Ma.” I laugh. “Morris doesn’t date.”
“How would I get involved with him, then?”
My mother can’t seriously be this clueless. She has to know Morris has been hitting on her. He isn’t just being nice because she’s my mother. The man does nothing unless there’s an upside for him, and crawling between my mother’s legs is surely that.
I raise an eyebrow, holding that bottle to my lips again, and don’t reply. I wait, staring at her until I see the moment it clicks.
She gasps and smacks my arm, eyes brimming with anger. “I’m not that kind of woman, JD. How dare you say that?”
“He’s that kind of man, Ma. Don’t forget that shit. He’d eat you up and spit you out without a second thought.”
Right now, standing next to the bar, I know the Morris of today way better than I know my mom. I knew the woman she was when I was younger. More than a decade of time passing has a way of changing a person. Sure, she hasn’t gone all “Girls Gone Wild,” but maybe she is looking to take a walk on the biker side, spread her wings a little. The one thing I know—that shit is not happening with my brother and not at my club.
“Tomorrow, you’re leaving,” I tell her, giving her no room for an argument.
“And would you like to tell me where I’m going?” She tilts her head, lips tight, blinking like there’s something in her eyes. “Or are you going to order me around like I’m one of your women?”
I grunt, studying my mother’s face, wondering what she knows about “my women.” I’ve never shared my life with her. Kept her clueless because I was pretty sure her bible study never talked about what it meant to be dominated in the bedroom. “You want to explain that statement?”
Her eyes move to Tamara and then slice back to me. “You push that sweet girl around like she doesn’t have a mind of her own. Maybe she didn’t want to sit between Morris and me, but you literally shoved her onto the stool. No asking. No wondering where she wanted to plant her butt. You just put her there like she was another thing in your life you felt you could boss around.”
“Seriously?” I jerk my head back, feeling the burning coil deep in my gut start to heat. “That’s what you think of me?”
“I know all about you, son. I know more than you ever thought I knew. I pay attention. I may go to church, you may think I’m a prude, but I’m not blind. It doesn’t matter what you do in your own bedroom—God knows I don’t want to hear about it—but you cannot treat a woman that way.” She reaches out and presses her finger into my chest. “I didn’t raise you to treat your woman that way.”
My eyes dip down to where our bodies are connected. “I treat Tamara like a queen, Ma. She’s everything to me.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“One hundred percent dead serious. Tamara is my world. She’s everything to me. I do whatever I can to make her happy. I’m giving up the club for her, moving across the state for her.”
“You shoved her on that stool like a rag doll.”
Shit. I did do that. It wasn’t my intention, but having my mother here, with the guys, has me more on edge than if someone were pointing a gun in my direction. I don’t know why. It shouldn’t matter. Ma is like Mother Teresa. I need to remind myself she’s just being friendly and nothing more. But telling myself that and believing it are two different things.
I set my beer down and sit back, letting out a long breath. “I wasn’t myself.”
“I think you were very much yourself,” she shoots back immediately, blue eyes narrowed. “You were always a bossy, cocky thing.”
My hand moves to my neck, rubbing the tight skin, thinking about my next words very carefully. “I’m not being myself right now. I’m sorry, Ma. I don’t normally push Tamara around. You have my head all twisted. Trust me, the woman is like a granite monument.”
Ma tips her chin up, throwing massive attitude as she tells me, “A woman needs to be if she’s with you.”
I sigh. “I’ll try to be a better man,” I promise her.
Ma smiles sweetly and lifts her hand to my face. “Good, baby. None of us is perfect, but that doesn’t mean we should stop trying to do better…be better.”
“I’m doing that.”
“So, are you going to tell me where I’m going tomorrow or dance around the subject?”
“I’ve got something to do.” I grab my beer, keeping my eyes trained on my ma. “You’re going home with Tamara for a few days until that som
ething is done.”
Her face, which had softened, hardens again. “I don’t need to bother Tamara. I don’t need a babysitter. The woman has a life and doesn’t need this old lady in her space.”
“She wants you to go with her,” I tell her.
“Tam,” Ma calls out, glancing over my shoulder to where Tamara and Morris are still shooting the shit, giving us time to talk.
“Yeah, Jess?” Tamara says into my back.
“You want me at your place?”
“Sure do, Jess. I’d love to show you around my town and for you to meet my family.”
I can’t stop the smirk from spreading across my face. If I were younger, Ma would’ve told me to wipe it off.
“Well…” Ma pauses, gaze moving to me, narrowing, and then going back to Tamara. “Okay.”
“Do you not want to come home with me?” I can hear the sadness in Tamara’s voice. She’s putting on a show, though. She’s playing on my mother’s guilt and need to please. It’s something she learned from her family. Any type of pushback is met with guilt and usually works. I know it will work on my mother, and so does Tamara.
“Don’t be silly, sweetie. Of course I want to go home with you.”
“Good,” Tamara replies, swiveling around on her stool and wrapping her arms around my middle, plastering her chest to my back. “This is going to be the best time ever. You can tell me everything about JD when he was little.”
“I have so many stories I can tell you,” Ma teases, eyes dancing with humor as I groan. “He wasn’t always this grumpy, big guy.”
“He’s not so bad. A little testy at times and bossy the other times.” Tamara’s warm breath skids across the skin of my neck as she speaks, and I turn my head, eyes meeting hers, and our mouths are so damn close, I could kiss her without moving much. “And yet, I love the big lug.” Her eyes dance as she looks at me.
“You wouldn’t love me if I weren’t all those things, princess. Not to mention, I could describe you the same way. Plus, you’d destroy a weaker man.”
Her eyebrows rise. “I’m never bossy.”
I bark out a laugh. “You are so bossy.”
“Am not.”
“Are,” I say, smiling as I soak in her beauty.
“Tamara is the sweetest woman you’ve ever been with,” Ma replies, even though we’re no longer talking to her.
“Bullshit,” Morris coughs, earning him a glare from me.
“How many have you met?” Tamara asks, opening the can of worms my mom decided to throw on the bar.
“A few,” she tells Tamara as I turn my body, giving my mother a hard and somewhat cautious stare.
“Ma, I was a teenager the last time you met a girl—and I mean, a girl.”
She shrugs and moves her front toward the bar, reaching for her drink. “They still count.”
“Was he into the cheerleaders or the band girls?” Tamara asks against my ear. “I need to know all the things.”
“Oh, honey.” Ma gives her a devilish smile. “I’ll tell you all the things.”
“No. No, you won’t,” I tell her, pointing my finger at my ma. “The past is in the past. Leave it there.”
Tamara presses her tits against my back. “Don’t worry, sparky. Your mom and I will have plenty of time to talk the next few days.”
“Fucking fantastic,” I mutter under my breath.
“We’ll save the good stuff for when we’re alone.” Ma nods, smiling so damn big she’s almost laughing. “I got you, boo.”
Tamara chuckles. “There’s something so wrong with those words coming out of your mouth, Jessica.”
“Ma,” Ma corrects her, almost knocking me backward.
“Ma?” Tamara asks.
“It’s time, honey. We both know where this is going. Might as well get used to it now.”
“Ma,” Tamara repeats. “I like that.”
In all honesty, I do too.
I don’t care Ma is going to tell Tamara all about my ex-girlfriends and the weird phases I went through in high school. The only thing I care about is the fact that my ma is smiling and laughing after all the shit she went through. Whatever makes her happy and keeps her smiling, I am all for, even if it is at my expense.
“Jessica, you want a new drink?” Morris asks, making his way around the bar and planting himself right in front of my mother.
“I could use something a little more…” She trails off as he reaches underneath, but his face moves closer to hers.
Never gonna happen, man.
“Stiff or soft, sugar?” he asks her, and I growl.
Her eyes widen, and every muscle in my body stiffens at the sexual innuendo.
“Ma, you want liquor or pop?”
“Pop,” Tamara snorts. “It’s soda.”
“I think I could go for some Johnnie Walker.”
Morris blinks. “Sugar, we have scotch. Johnnie Walker is a bit beyond the club’s budget.”
“Whatever you have, Morris.” Ma smiles, watching him as he moves, looking at him in a way I’m not liking much.
He pulls down the bottle from the shelf behind the bar, grabs a fresh glass, and pours her more than necessary. “Now, if you let me know the next time you’re coming, I’ll be sure to get some Johnnie for you.”
Ma’s smile grows, and her cheeks turn this shade of pink that’s clear as day even in this shitty lighting.
“She’s not coming back,” I tell Morris, setting the record straight.
Ma turns her face slowly, glare firmly planted. “Zip it, kid,” she tells me.
I jerk my head back, shocked at my ma’s ability to still want to put me in my place, and the speed at which she did it.
“She told your ass,” Tamara whispers in my ear.
Morris laughs, the small lines near his eyes deepening. It takes everything in me not to haul my ass over the bar and punch him in his goofy-faced grin.
“Don’t listen to Mr. Crabby,” she tells Morris, leaning forward, placing one elbow on the bar, and reaching for the glass he placed in front of her with her other hand. “He’s protective. He never grew out of it.”
“A man should always protect the women in his life,” Morris replies, leaning forward too, like they’re old chums.
Tamara squeezes my middle. “Relax. You’re so fucking tense.”
“How can I?” I whisper, keeping my eyes directed at the two flirting with each other, not giving a single shit I’m here.
“Because they’re just talking and flirting. No harm. No foul.”
I turn my face, meeting Tamara’s gaze as I do. “No harm? No foul?”
She nods, splaying her hands across my stomach. “Do you honestly think Jessica would sleep with him?” she whispers in my ear.
“No.” My answer is immediate. “First, because she just beat the shit out of her boyfriend, and second, because Morris isn’t her type.”
“Then calm the fuck down,” she bites out and hardens her stare.
I stare back, blinking. “What?”
“What? What? You heard me.”
I blink again. “I did hear you. Heard every short, sharp word, princess. Just surprised.”
The music in the room shifts to “Wonderful Tonight” by Clapton, and Ma straightens her back. “Oh. My. God. I love this song so much.”
“It’s a good one.” Morris nods, smiling.
“Dance with me. Will you, Morris?” she asks, giving no shits I’m sitting right next to her, pissed as hell about their flirtation.
Morris’s eyes come to me for a second but then immediately go back to my mother. “Whatever makes you happy.”
The burn deep in my gut grows into a raging inferno as he rounds the bar and holds out his hand to her.
“We don’t really dance here…”
Tam squeezes me again with her silent shut the fuck up.
“There’re no rules,” Morris informs my ma as he pulls her away from the stool, ignoring me.
“Let her have some fun. She’s been th
rough enough without your bullshit on top of it,” Tamara tells me as my mother stands, her hand in Morris’s.
I stare at my ma, watching as she moves toward the middle of the floor. My body tightens as Morris wraps an arm around her back, and she curls into him, head on his shoulder.
“She needs this. She needs the comfort right now.”
“I can comfort her,” I tell Tamara, watching Morris’s hands and the way he holds my mother carefully.
“It’s not the same. You’re her kid. She needs to feel the safety of a man who isn’t her blood wrapped around her.”
I grunt, hating every second of the way they’re moving to the sweet words being sung.
“You don’t have to like it, baby. But for the love of God, give her tonight to feel at peace.”
My face softens with her words. Ma has been through enough. Probably more than I even realize, seeing as she took a sledgehammer to a man’s body. Something I never thought she’d have in her, no matter what anyone did to her.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Tomorrow, I’ll take care of him.
But tonight, I’ll let her take care of herself.
12
Tamara
I tip my head back, soaking in the sunshine as I stand outside the compound, waiting for Mammoth’s mom. “I wish you weren’t going out of town, but coming home with us instead.”
Mammoth slides his arms around my waist and pulls me closer until he blocks out the sun. “I’ll be at your place tomorrow. We don’t plan on sticking around.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” I whisper as I stare across the field, no longer feeling the warmth of the sun but the heat of his body. “You’re still not healed.”
“I promise,” he says softly.
“Promise me you’ll come back.”
“I promise that too.”
I relax against him, loving the way his arms feel wrapped around me and the hardness of his chest. He grunts as the door opens and his mom saunters out wearing the most adorable pink sundress with white flowers. Morris is right behind her, hands to himself, not crowding her personal space.
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