Long Ride The Slayers MC #3) (4 page)

His face blanches. His eyes freeze. The woman sitting next to him, I’m guessing she’s his wife hits his shoulder, not liking the attention he’s earned them. My message is read loud and clear.

He sits back and stares forward to the stage curtain and shuts his fuckin’ mouth.

And I didn’t even have to say one word to get him to do it.

Haven’t lost my touch.

~*~

Applause breaks out for the second time, demanding an encore of the pint-sized cast. They file out in a single line to the middle of the stage, link hands together and bow over and over again.

Whistles break out in the crowd. Cameras flash. People wave.

Another year, another successful show by Trix and her crew.

When the woman herself finally takes the stage Uno rushes up to give her a huge bouquet of roses. She blushes and accepts them with a kiss, just like she does every year.

Atta boy. He’s definitely gonna get some tonight for this. I mean, roses are pretty much a guaranteed blow job at the very least.

“Thank you so much for coming to our little production to support your sons and daughters that have worked so hard in preparing this for you.” Trix’s speech doesn’t change much year to year, but it don’t matter. It’s sincere. “I want to thank all the parents for all your hard work in making the costumes and sets. I also want to remind you that this weekend is our fundraiser carnival to help raise scholarships to cover tuition costs for children next year. Please remember to buy your tickets at the door on your way out and we’ll see you then. Now, let’s give one last round of applause for our little actors before we enjoy some refreshments made by some very generous parents.”

Sasha beams with a wide grin waving to us as if she were accepting an Oscar. For the last couple of weeks she’s been reciting her few lines over and over again around the house, terrified she’d make a mistake.

I’ve been helping her with her part to the point where I knew the entire play by heart already and even found myself mouthing along to the dialogue as she spoke her part. She got every single word right. Perfect. Just like I knew she would.

“Dawson!” Sasha leaps off the stage just as they are collectively dismissed by their teacher and runs into my arms. “I did it! Did you see? No mistakes!”

I laugh as I scoop her up high. “I saw! I told you you could do it! We’re so proud of you!”

Angel reaches up to remove Sasha’s princess crown.

“No! I want to leave it on! I’m a princess!” She swats Angel’s hand away.

We’ve come to learn which battles are worth fighting with this little girl. And this one, is definitely
not
one either of us are willing to push. It’s late. She hasn’t gotten much of a nap on these days, with all the rehearsing they’ve been doing.

She’s just about ready for a meltdown now that all the excitement is about to wind down. Angel nods to me, admitting defeat. If Sasha wants to be a princess for the rest of the night, then she’s gonna be a princess.

“Sasha!” A similar dressed little girl around Sasha’s age comes running up to us dragging who I’m guessing is her mother by the hand. “Mommy! This is Sasha. My friend.”

The straight-laced looking woman trying to keep up with her precocious child begins to slow down as they approach.

“Hi Abby!” Sasha wiggles out of my arms and lands on the ground with barely any effort before running to her little friend.

The two of them begin to giggle and share notes on how nervous they were during the play.

“Hello. I’m Abigail’s mother, Laura. You must be Sasha’s parents?” The woman is older than Angel by nearly a decade.

Angel looks to me out of instinct and I know it’s because she doesn’t know how to answer the question. She’s Sasha’s aunt and I’m her man. That doesn’t exactly have a place in the cookie cutter storybook version of the kind of family
this
woman obviously appears to have, with her pearl necklace and grandma looking shoes.

“Uhm. I’m, uh,” Angel isn’t the type to stumble on her words. Ever. In fact, she’s the type to ram them down your throat if she feels she needs to.

I know what she’s got to be feeling right now. Sasha is young enough where she hasn’t come in contact with any of these Stepford moms before. It’s just feeding into any insecurities she already has about losing Sasha one day.

“Yes. We’re Sasha’s parents. I’m Dawson. This is Molly,” I use Angel’s real name, the one most everyone not in the MC calls her.

“Very nice to meet you Molly. Your daughter is just terrific. I know she and Abby would just love to have a play date. Let’s set something up soon,” she smiles. “Abigail? Come now. We need to find your father and your brother.”

Nodding to each of us, the woman leads her daughter off.

“Why did you say that? Tell her that?” Angel whispers in my ear so that Sasha doesn’t overhear.

I wrap my arm around her waist. “You love her like she were your own kid. So do I. We take care of her when she’s sick, we make the costumes for her play, help her memorize the lines, know when she’s about to have a tantrum, put her to bed every morning, argue with her about brushing her teeth… Face it, babe. We
are
her parents.”

“I want ice cream!” Sasha wiggles her way in between Angel and I. “Miss Trixie said we could have ice cream!”

I can’t let the opportunity pass. “And we are the ones who will have to deal with her sugar high when she eats ice cream. That makes
us
her parents in my book.”

CHAPTER FOUR

MOLLY

“Babe,” I wiggle my way into the tight knit group of bikers standing in a sort of huddle in the corner of the makeshift auditorium. “Sasha’s out cold. I’m gonna take her home.”

Although she was bouncing off the walls no less than twenty minutes ago, my niece is now dead weight in my arms. I can hear her gentle, even breathing on my shoulder and know she’s sleeping with her mouth open just like she always does.

Dawson is mid-laugh with his men, coffee in hand, but turns to me. “Yeah? Okay.”

He moves from his perch against the wood paneled wall and rummages deep in his pocket for the keys. “No. You stay,” I stop him. “Cat’s gonna drop us off. I’ll put
her
,” I chin toward Sasha, “to bed and then take a bath. You guys have fun and I’ll see you when you get home.”

Dawson’s been home more than usual lately and I haven’t had a night to myself in weeks. I’ve been daydreaming about this bath for days now.

“If you’re sure?” He asks, feeling out the situation. I’ve never passed up an opportunity to spend time together.

I shift the little girl dressed as a princess in my arms and stand on my toes to reach his cheek. “I’m sure. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Uno moves aside Sasha’s falling crown for me before it topples to the floor. “She did real good tonight, Angel. You two should be proud.”

Sasha stole the show, just like the little ham she is.

“Hey Angel,” Gryff holds up a paper plate. “The cake’s damn good.”

All of the refreshments laid out buffet style were either baked or bought by the parents. I’m not much of a baker, but my Aunt Nelly’s pineapple upside down cake is always a hit. I even let Sasha put the cherries on it.

“Good. Go eat another piece so there’s none left for Dawson to bring home. He already ate an entire cake last night.” I bust my man’s chops a little more in front of his brothers.

I
had
made
two
cakes, one for the show tonight and one for the house. Well… I guess when you have a two hundred and thirty-pound biker looking for a snack at night, he doesn’t really get the whole concept of moderation.

“You stole cake from a pregnant chick?” Esè gasps. “Man, that’s cold.”

I smile smugly. “That’s okay. He’s gonna pay for it.”

Dawson reaches around and cups my ass. “Baby that’s one bill I don’t mind payin’.”

~*~

Caterina is flipping through a magazine on the kitchen island by the time I tiptoe down the stairs.

“She’s out,” I give the update on Sasha. “Want some wine?”

Cat’s eyes look up from behind the gossip rag. “Uhm. You serious?”

I nod and bounce my way over to the small wine fridge under the cabinet. “Yup. I’m going to enjoy watching you drink it for the both of us. White?”

I don’t even wait for her to answer as I don’t really care for red wine, and even if I’m only living vicariously through her, then I’m gonna do it all the way.

My fingers blindly reach for the bottle opener and push them both toward Cat while I retrieve two wine glasses from the top cupboard. Their stems echo as I place them down on the countertop with an almost musical ringing.

There’s the hollow popping sound as the cork is released and the gentle splashing of the liquid against the sides of the goblet. While Cat’s busying herself playing bartender, I withdraw the cold jug of apple juice from the fridge and use it to fill the empty goblet perched next to hers.

“Cheers,” Cat toasts, holding her drink up and waiting for me to clink.

The rims of our glasses kiss each other before parting. “No homework tonight?”

Cat’s in the thick of a busy semester, having transferred schools locally. “I can’t stare at another textbook right now.”

I remember those days. “Chase holding up well with it all?”

The two of them are like a puzzle I’m trying to figure out. He’s crazy about her, she’s definitely got a thing for him, yet the two of them are either on fire one minute or like oil and water the next.

I think half the reason I like spending so much time with her is because I get more insight into what the hell is really happening over there.

“He says he is. I’m not really sure, though. Time will tell. I mean, he knows where my priorities are right now.” Cat sips her chilled cabernet.’

I follow suit with my juice. “And where exactly are your priorities?”

She must be tasting the flavor of the wine, because her mouth moves and swishes as she buys herself some time before answering. “School. Family. Then him.”

“I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that these men aren’t used to being anything but number one on someone else’s list. It’s not something they know how to deal with. But, they can learn, and he’ll
have
to. If you two really want to be together, you’ll figure out a way to make it work. Just… screw his brains out and give him a reason to want to keep coming back. The rest will all fall into place.”

Cat laughs, nearly spewing her drink. “Trust me. That’s one area where we are
definitely
both on the same page. We’ll see if sex is enough to carry us through the next few years until I’m done with med school. If not, well, then it might just turn into a friend with benefits situation.”

I wince at that term. I’ve always hated it. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. But, a word of advice… These guys only know two speeds when it comes to women. They either fuck ‘em and leave ‘em, or they make them theirs. It’s about time they realized there’s a whole lot of room in between those two possibilities.”

It’s a lesson that I’m going to sit back and enjoy watching Cat teach her biker.

We toast again, with our nearly empty glasses to the challenge of modernizing this somewhat archaic group. If anyone can do it, I know Cat can.

Our drinks are finished, some more girl talk and chit chat and glasses put in the sink about an hour later, when Cat yawns while taking her exit.

Dawson isn’t home yet and probably won’t be for another hour or so. Sasha’s sleeping through the night peacefully, which is a blessing in itself. Her nightmares have become few and far between, but just when we think they may have disappeared for good, she wakes us up in the middle of the night screaming and crying.

That poor girl has been traumatized, more so than any child should be. I know she was young, not much more than a baby when her mom split, but it definitely left its impression on her.

I’ve done my best to make up for everything my sister had done to her little girl but shit like that leaves scars. Deep down. Hidden. I’m just hoping I can give her enough good in her life to outweigh whatever sense of abandonment she must feel.

My palm rests against the flat switch on the wall and slides the plastic knob down to soften the overhead lights just enough for Dawson to see when he comes home later, and make my way up the stairs, stopping every few feet to pick up some random toy left behind during the day.

I’ve been dreaming about a nice warm bath for hours now, not entirely sure I’d be able to do it, but with the house quiet and a little bit of energy left, I force myself to follow through. I’ve been so busy with doctor appointments, making costumes and baking cakes these last two days, I haven’t had any time for myself.

That’s about to change.

While the tub is filling in our bathroom, I quickly get rid of my clothes, throwing them into a pile nearest the hamper in the corner of the master bedroom. I look at the jeans crumpled on the floor longingly, knowing it’s probably the very last time I’ll wear them until after the baby is born.

I’ll miss them. Especially the way they make my ass look.

Dipping my big toe into the water, I test it and turn the large silver knob on the wall to add just a touch of cold so I don’t burn, letting another moment pass before submerging myself.

The wall of mirrors on the wall nearest me is calling to me, begging me to glance over and take stock of what my body is changing into. I know I can’t obsess over it. It’s just going to happen anyway.

The small bump near my belly button looks about what it did yesterday if only maybe a little rounder on the sides. I skim my fingers over it and feel the firmness to it. My hips are a little bit more plush than they used to be, but I actually like it. The femininity of them is remarkable, with the sleek lines and tight curves appearing almost overnight.

Next… my boobs. God I really don’t think they can get much bigger. I know Dawson loves them, but, at this rate, I’m going to topple over.

I shake my head while gathering my hair into a large fist and twisting up to clasp with a plastic clip holding tight up high enough to keep my hair dry. The tub is almost full and the little sanctuary is just what I need right now.

Why not go all the way? I ask myself, rummaging through the large drawer of the vanity to find the small book of matches we keep in there for times like this. I strike the first stick, watching the flame appear and use my palm to huddle around it, keeping it alive as I walk from candle to candle, lighting the wicks.

A soft amber glow lights up the room, dancing on the walls and adding instant calmness. I take a deep breath, shut the lights off and use only the flickering candlelight to lead my way over to the deep tub where I step in carefully and lower myself inch by inch until everything is submerged except for my chin.

My body feels weightless, my stress instantly relieved as my toes stretch and wriggle under the surface. A deep breath releases and I imagine all of my tension escaping with it. I feel lighter and do it again, hoping for the same effect.

My mind has been a crowded place the last few days, rarely quieting down and often causing me to have to ignore the thoughts that keep bubbling to the surface. Sure, they must have always been there, but I’m not sure why they’re relentless lately.

Sasha has been my responsibility since she was nearly a year old, the first time her mom dropped her off in my arms and promised to be back. I believed her then, even though I knew never to believe a junkie.

I wanted nothing more than for my sister to be different, to change, to take care of her own baby. It never happened, though. At first, she would come back for short stretches, convincing mom and me that she was clean, that she was going to shape up and do the right thing.

Sometimes it was a couple of months. Sometimes a few weeks. Near the end, it was only a couple of days at a clip. No matter what she said or tried, she could never run from her demons. They always seemed to find a way back to her and she’d slip into the same old things she always did.

Lying. Stealing. Manipulating.

It was excruciating to watch that downward spiral, especially for my mom. She was dealing with her own health issues and the stress of having to worry about my sister was too much for her. Every time she landed in the hospital, I would curse my sister, convinced it was her who had really sent Mom there.

I was trying to juggle school back then, coming home for semester breaks and vacations to help Mom as much as I could. It was clear it wasn’t enough though, so I packed up right after graduation, moved my ass back home and picked up the pieces as best as I could.

The first piece to be picked up was Sasha. That poor little girl was being shuffled back and forth between Tina and mom. Every time Tina would play her sober card long enough for Mom to believe her as only an enabler can, she would hand the baby over.

Every time Tina would show her true colors and go back to using, the baby would go right back to Mom.

Well, no more.

Not once I stepped in to clean shit up.

There was no way in hell I was letting Tina get her track marked arms on that sweet little baby ever again. Sasha deserved to be safe. She deserved to be loved and made a priority. And, I did it.

Looking back now, I’m not sure how I survived those couple of years. No money, as I could never seem to hold onto a job long enough to really count. Between Mom going in and out of the hospital and Sasha to care for, it was too difficult, nearly impossible, to work a steady nine to five. Especially with anything having to do with my college degree in math.

I struggled. I cried. I prayed for someway to be able to pull together the rent money. I did it, though. We may have lived in a shit neighborhood, but Sasha always had a roof over her head.

Then I met Dawson and everything changed. In a lot of ways you’d think it would have become so much easier for me not having to worry about money or having to handle things by myself.

In some ways, it was actually scarier for me than being broke in a drug infested neighborhood, though. I had to learn to rely on someone else, to trust someone else enough to lean on them.

That, above all else, was the hardest thing for me to adjust to.

People leave.

That’s what I’d always believed, always felt. My dad had left, well died, actually. Tina had left. Any punk ass boyfriend I’d ever had had left. It’s just what people did, I’d convinced myself.

Dawson made me see things differently, though. I had to take a look at how I felt for Sasha. I could
never
leave her. So, I guess not
everyone
leaves. Dawson proved to me over and over again that he wasn’t going to leave either.