A Very Christopher Christmas (A Death Dwellers MC Novella) (36 page)

Thirty minutes later, Christopher led his family downstairs to the den, enjoying their screams and squeals as Megan put Ryder in his baby bouncer. After four fucking kids, Christopher knew all about baby shit.
 

He smiled as his children dug into their big red sacks, each one bearing their names. They ignored the presents under the tree to search inside their bags.
 

“I got one too?” Diesel said in awe, forgetting about being the cool sixteen-year-old and reverting back to being a kid. He ran to his sack.
 

“I smell coffee,” Megan said happily. “Bunny must’ve brewed some before she headed to the club. I’ll get us both a cup.”
 

Awaiting her return, Christopher snapped pictures of his joyful kids, their excitement contagious. He didn’t remember ever being so happy and carefree. He never, ever wanted his fucking kids to feel less than any-fucking-body.
 

Megan held out a steaming cup of coffee to him and he set his cell phone aside, his picture taking over for the time being. Kissing his girl, he touched his mug to hers. “Merry Christmas, baby. I love you more each fucking day, Megan. Don’t stop being as happy as you are right now.”
 

“Never, as long as I have you and the children.” She thumbed his lips. “Nothing will ever dampen my love for you,” she said, ending her statement with a deep kiss.
 

And Christopher knew their special love held them together with an unbreakable bond. It had been years since he’d felt so at peace.
 

Diesel ran to them and hugged first Megan and then Christopher. “Aunt Megan! Uncle Chris. Look! I have a brand new computer,” he called in awe. He also had a bunch of other shit, including a box of condoms from Christopher, but he didn’t mention that.
 

“Well, Merry fuckin’ Christmas, assfuck.” Christopher slapped him on the back.
 

“Thank you. I-I really like it.” His voice cracked and his eyes watered.
 

Megan hugged him again. “It’s our pleasure, Diesel,” she said, smiling at him. “One more surprise for you. We have some documents for you to sign.” She made a face. “Only if you want to.”
 

“Sign what?”
 

“Fuckin’ adoption papers, Oil Change,” Christopher inserted, trying to keep the moment light so the kid wouldn’t burst out in fucking tears. “We givin’ you a choice. You can be part of my family fuckin’ legally or you can stay a permanent fuckin’ guest.”
 

“B-but how? I-I mean wouldn’t you have to declare my parents dead?”
 

“They fuckin’ abandoned you. They gave up all fuckin’ rights when they did that dirty shit.”
 

“That’s how you did it?”
 

Christopher glared at him. “Don’t fuckin’ worry ‘bout how. I got fuckin’ lawyers. I pay them motherfuckers a lot of money to get me what the fuck I want.”
 

More tears filled Diesel’s eyes. Christopher knew he carried deep emotional scars from his fuckhead parents. The first woman in his life had betrayed him. Because of his mother, it would be hard for him to trust women. He wasn’t giving his old man a pass, but kids learned how to interact with the opposite sex based on how they related to their mothers and fathers.
 

Try as he might, a tear slid down Diesel’s cheeks and he bowed his head.
 

“Oh, Diesel, it’s okay,” Megan promised, looking as if she wanted to cry cuz tears had a fucking way of being contagious. One motherfucker boohooed and all the motherfuckers started in.
 

He had to turn this shit around. “Gasoline,” he said with a straight face.
 

“It’s Diesel, sir.” He backhanded a tear away. “I m-mean, Dad.”
 

Christopher frowned. “I aincha fuckin’ dad cuz that mean Megan your ma. And
that
mean she was fuckin’ seven when she had you, and that bullshit ain’t even something I wanna think the fuck ‘bout, so she your fuckin’ Aunt Megan and my ass Uncle Chris.”
 

Megan smiled at Christopher, then turned her attention back to Diesel. “You want to become a Caldwell?”
 

In response, Diesel embraced Megan, not attempting to halt his flow of tears now.
 

CJ yanked on Megan’s pajama top. “‘Law ashfuck, Mommie. He make Dee-Sell cry.”
 

“CJ!” Christopher snapped.
 

“Listen, buddy. Diesel’s fine. He’s just happy. Now, remember when I told you not to use bad words?”
 

“Uh-huh. What bad words?”
 

Megan cleared her throat. “Well, um, what you just said.”
 

“What I say?”
 

“You call your old man a assfuck,” Christopher supplied.
 

“‘Law always say it.”
 

“Don’t give a fuck if my ass say it. It ain’t nice words, son.”
 

“Christopher!”
 

“It’s true, baby.”
 

“Mommie?”
 

“Tell you what, CJ,” Megan said, kneeling so she’d be eye-level with CJ. “Instead of getting upset with you and giving you timeout for your naughty words, I’ll reward you for
not
using any?”
 

“What rewards?”
 

“For every bad word you don’t use, I’ll give you great big hugs.”
 

Well, fuck. She did that anyway. Maybe, she could allow CJ extra cookies or staying up an additional five minutes. Christopher would mention it to her later tonight.
 

“Hugs?” CJ asked after thinking about it a moment.
 

“Yes.”
 

“Okay. What bad word?”
 

Christopher grinned at his son’s insistence and the blush it caused on Megan’s beautiful face.
 

“Tell him, baby,” he challenged.
 

Megan glared at him, then got to her feet and shifted. “When you say words like, um, er, ash fuck or fucka mudna…” Her voice trailed off at Christopher and Diesel’s loud laughter. She threw both of them sour looks. “Shut up, you two,” she demanded. “CJ, sweet potato, promise me you won’t use those words again. Like Daddy said, they’re not nice words. Try not to use them to your cousins today. It’s Christmas.”
 

“Okay, MegAnn.”
 

“That’s good enough for me, buddy. As long as you try.”
 

CJ and Diesel went back to opening the rest of their gifts, joining Rebel and Rule, who’d already began playing with some of their new toys. They were very fucking easy to entertain.
 

“You ready for our family to arrive in a little while?”
 

“Always.” They’d be there by noon. They always spent the morning at their own houses, then descended soon after. “We got a lot to celebrate. We made it through another year,” he said, settling his arm around her shoulders.
 

“Yep,” she agreed. “Although we have a week left to this year.”
 

“Ain’t fuckin’ nothin’ happenin’ this week but holiday shit. You can take that shit to the bank.” If one motherfucker approached him with bullshit, he was fucking them up. Period.
 

“This has been an interesting holiday season.”
 

“Ain’t nothin’ but a thing, Megan.”
 

“Yep, and that’s a very Christopher Christmas time,” she giggled.
 

It could be whatever the fuck she wanted it to be, as long as she was happy.
 

 

 

Dear Reader,
 

As incredible as it seems, the Monday before my youngest daughter was born I went to a scheduled OB appointment. While there, the monitors picked up on contractions. I felt as if I were having contractions, but, in the hospital, I was told it was a false alarm and was sent home. I wasn’t dilated and the baby wasn’t in position. This happened on a Thursday. By Sunday night, I was in terrible pain. Not wanting to bother anyone, including my doctor, I didn’t go to the hospital.
 

By four in the morning that Monday, I knew I had to go somewhere. Still I was afraid this was another false alarm and hated the thought of getting any of my family up only to be sent back home. I drove myself to the hospital and was subsequently chastised by my high-risk doctor, who wheeled me in for an emergency C-section almost immediately. Due to a heart condition I have, my obstetrician and cardiologist determined I couldn’t endure the stress of labor. The tear in my mitral valve had the chance of bursting and smothering me in my own blood. That was the reason I wanted to be monitored in a hospital the day of my appointment. However, I left there feeling paranoid and overly dramatic. Besides, the C-section was scheduled to take place in 14 days.
 

By the time my daughter was born, she’d passed a small bit of meconium and had dangerously low oxygen levels. It was suspected but never proven that I’d been in the early stages of labor that Thursday. I was lucky and both my daughter and I survived.
 

For many, it will be hard to believe with today’s technology that Meggie could go for days without her OB discovering any problems. However, I lived it. :)
 

Love always,
 

Kat
 

P.S. Many of you want to know
why Kendall’s happily-ever-after is so elusive. The answer is simple.
 

Love or hate her, you must admit, Kendall is a work-in-progress. To me, it doesn’t seem realistic to have her get magically better once she starts treatment. Keeping herself together depends on following her plan of action. In real life, a bunch of variables are always at play to effectively manage mental illness. One small change can throw someone’s life back into chaos.
 

 

‘Twas the night before Christmas
 

When all through the club
 

Motherfuckers were dreaming of pussy and bud.
 

The condoms they hung right from their dicks
 

In hopes that the Bobs were cock-riding chicks.
 

Megan was comfortable, all snug in our bed.
 

My girl is a beauty and give the best head,
 

While visions of her cunt danced right the fuck in my head.
 

She was fucking naked and my dick swung free
 

as CJ screamed, he had to pee.
 

When outside my goddamn window,
 

there arose such a fucking noise
 

That I jumped from my bed
 

to see what the fuck was going on.