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I swear I hear Pixie do a little cutesy squeal under her breath, and Jezebel doesn’t even try to hide her attraction when she blatantly licks her lips.
“I dunno. What’s shakin’ with you?” Jezebel purrs.
“Don’t even think about it woman,” Bulk, her old man, gruffly demands from across the room, a hint of smile in his voice. He obviously knows his woman well enough to know she crushes on a lot of men. Big used to be one of them until she realized how much of an ass he is. Then there was a brief stint with Viper and then Tripper, which Candy Cane found hilarious. She even offered Jezebel a ride of her own. I heard all about it over one of our expensive phone calls when I was living with Marshall in Chicago. Needless to say, it didn’t take, which I’m happy about. It was funny to listen to though. Jezebel’s just a damn flirt, and I gotta give Bulk credit. He handles her perfectly.
Deke plays into her game and grabs her hand to kiss it like a gentleman. She blushes before he lets go.
“Deke,” Bulk warns, “Don’t give her any more ammo, or you’ll never get rid of her. Fuck, I couldn’t if I tried.”
Jezebel flips with attitude, tossing her long hair over her shoulder, to sneer at her old man. “Whatever,” she snips. “You’re the one who made me marry you. I didn’t do that, you did.”
“Damn straight,” he brashly announces, bouncing their son on his knee and smiling at his old lady like she’s the most amazing woman he’s ever met. In reality, I think he feels that way about her, and she returns the sentiment, even though she’s a harmless flirt. “You’re mine, whether you like it or not.”
This makes her turn into goo. I know because it makes me want to turn into goo. Shit, I’m not even a girl who wants to turn into that stuff. I just can’t help it. I told ya, I’m chicking out, and that’s not a good thing.
Jezebel advances on Bulk and pulls her son from his arms. Hooking Gabe over her hip, she leans over, giving Bulk a sweet kiss as payment for his comment.
All of us stand around shootin’ the shit. The club continues to refill with wedding attendees, as they filter in from the estate houses and rooms in the back. Soon the room is loud and roaring with life. People migrate in and out of the kitchen, grabbing leftovers for lunch. I too get a little to snack on.
Gunz waltzes in a little while later and gets his grandbaby fill, which is him rubbing my belly affectionately until I get tired of it or he does.
I get a chance to speak with Brew and Dixie and congratulate them properly with lots of hugs. The beer starts to be passed around; nothing like getting drunk before dinnertime.
I feel at ease, flitting about the room and chatting with all of my extended roughneck family, both local and distant. I even meet a few old ladies from other chapters I’d yet to be introduced to. Apparently they’ve heard of me though, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Mickey does a kiss Bink on the cheek fly by, as does Blimp and Jizz, which surprises the hell outta me, ‘cause Jizz isn’t much for lovey-dovey shit.
I’m standing here gnawing on a carrot like a horse and listening to Dallas ramble on about Punta’s next litter of puppies that are due to be delivered any day now. Punta is Pretzel’s mom, just in case you forgot.
Debbie lapses into a plan of attack with her old man, her arm curled around his backside, hand stuffed in the back of his jeans pocket. His does the same, stuffed into the back of hers. You can definitely tell they’ve been doing this for the past umpteen years.
A frail body bumps into me from behind.
“Sorry,” the tall, old, lanky biker drunkenly mumbles. I spin around and grab his wrinkled and heavily tatted forearm in attempt to help him sit down, so he doesn’t hurt himself or somebody else.
The man whose name patch says Jonesy doesn’t seem to mind when I guide him through a sea of bikers, over to the corner of the room, which is obstructed from prying eyes, to the brown 1970’s threadbare couch that’s well past its prime, and regularly used for wild nights of sex.
Using my chin as a way of communicating for her to get the hell up so this man can sit down, I jerk my chin at a young blonde woman who’s sitting on it, playing with her phone. She squints at me in agitation for just a moment before she grabs her beer off the floor by her foot. She stands, making room for him, but not before she snaps her gum in my direction and makes a snotty ‘hmph’ sound in her throat.
Bitch.
Ignoring the bitch, I help the man sit down and hold him upright so he doesn’t topple over. He’s that drunk already. I glance over my shoulder and spot some young hunky biker with big beefy arms, a baldhead, and a baby face. He is wrapped up in some sort of conversation with a cute, curvy brunette. Or she seems cute; I can only see her juicy ass.
I snap my fingers in his direction and wave my hand trying to get his attention.
“You who!” I yell over the loud music.
I know they both can hear me, and he can see me; they’re only a few feet away. None of my other family is nearby to help. I left them clear over on the other side of the room, and this place is packed. It’s him or nothing.
The man sees me, stops talking to the woman, gives me a once over, and then his once friendly face turns predatory. Dammit.
“Can I help you?” he asks, striding over to me like his shit don’t stink.
Motherfucker. Not another cocky ass, newbie biker. I really think Big needs to run a class on how to act, and the way this man’s eyes travel my body is not the appropriate way. It makes me shiver with revulsion.
“Yeah,” I state, bent in half, using both hands to stabilize a wobbly, close to passing out, frail man, who’s mumbling to himself. All the while my ass sticks straight out and my head’s turned to the side, glancing over my shoulder at this cocky SOB.
“I need you to stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like a damn piece of meat, and go find Big Dick,” I command, using my badass biker bitch voice.
“Now why would I do that?” his eyes travel down my legs and glue to my ass, his voice smooth as silk.
“Because!” I snap, on the verge of seeing red. “I’m his old lady, and I need him.”
Okay, my first mistake is that I’ve just claimed myself aloud to a fellow Sacred Sinners brother. Now, if you don’t tell Big, I sure as hell won’t. My second mistake is telling this man, whose name is Hammer, according to his name patch, that I’m his president’s old lady, and I’m not wearing a property cut at an official party. All the other old ladies here are wearing their cuts.
By the way he smirks, he thinks I’m both cute and full of shit, and he doesn’t know any different because he’s new. Maybe I should start rethinking this whole old lady business.
“Listen,” I start and am cut off, just as the man in front of me lumps forward. I catch him before he falls to the ground.
I’m afraid to lay him down because I won’t be able to get him back up, and I don’t want him puking and inhaling his vomit or having some kind of medical problem. He’s so old. He’s like a damn dinosaur, which means he probably has a butt load of medical problems. It doesn’t help that he kind of reminds me of Larry, and I wouldn’t want someone leaving Larry by himself. I need Big or Gunz or someone other than this Hammer guy, who’s a waste of flesh.
“Jonesy,” I speak to the old man. “Jonesy, are you alright? Do you need me to call a doctor?”
He mumbles something in retort, but I can’t make it out. It’s too loud in here, and he’s too drunk.
I look to Hammer again, only to see that he’s already left. Suddenly the music is cut off, and the room goes quiet.
“Where the fuck is Bink?” Big’s voice booms.
Dear God, thank you!
“I’m back here in the corner!” I yell as loud as I can.
“Which corner?” Big replies, a sound of relief etched in his voice. I have a fleeting thought that Big was worried I might have skipped town again.
“She’s over here,” a gruff manly voice says.
I hear a bunch of mumbling people, feet moving, boots scuffing
, and finally feel a sense of relief when his deep voice sighs. “There you are,” as he strides the last few feet to me.
I glance over to him, both of my hands still holding on to Jonesy’s upper arms for dear life. This isn’t the most comfortable position to be in, especially when you have big boobs and a big belly to help weigh you down.
“What are you doing?” Big kneels beside me.
I look to him and back to Jonesy, whose eyes are now closed, head slumped forward, pale as a ghost. He looks dead. I shake him a bit, and he sucks in a breath. Okay, not dead.
“He bumped into me drunk, so I led him over here to rest. I was afraid to leave him, and I tried to get help but a brother wouldn’t help me when I told him to get you. I’m not in a cut. Jonesy’s got to at least be in his seventies, and he’s drunk,” I explain to Big as fast as I can using all my air and then suck in a breath. He smiles at me. I mean really smiles. This is not a time to smile like that. So I frown, furrowing my brow at him.
“Don’t smile at me like that,” I chastise.
Big keeps on smiling, then says, “I know Jonesy. He’s gotta be in his eighties. Occasionally he rides in with some of the other brothers for a good ol’ time. Didn’t know he was still kickin’. It’s been ten years since I last saw him, and he was an old man then.”
“Eighty-nine,” Jonesy mumbles, splattering spittle over his jean covered legs.
“What?” I whisper to him, keeping my hands planted on his biceps.
“I’m eighty-nine,” he repeats louder and looks up with some major effort. Then he softly smiles, showing a mouthful of false teeth, and shifts his eyes to Big. “Hey Big,” he inhales deeply. “You’re getting old, boy,” Jonesy teases.
“So are you,” Big kids right back, returning a smirk.
Jonesy makes a raspy tsking noise and shakes his head slowly. “Boy, I’m in my prime. I’m about to be ninety in two weeks, and I’ve still got it.” He ratchets his head to look at me, “Don’t I, beautiful?” His wrinkled smile grows wider, all the way up to his heavily aged eyes. He’s adorable.
I can’t help it; I smile right back, “Yep, Jonesy, you’re givin’ Big a run for his money.”
“I knew it,” he jokes enthusiastically, or what I would call enthusiastically, considering he’s drunk, old, and on the verge of passing out. Lightheartedly, I laugh in return.
“Jonesy, where’s Beth?” Big asks, apparently knowing a helluva lot more about Jonesy then I thought.
“She’s at home,” he mumbles, as his cataract fogged eyes glitter with amusement. This man is a naughty one.
“How’d you get here?” I ask, looking to Jonesy.
“A car,” he says, and his head drops again, chin to his chest.
I glance back over to Big. He’s on the phone. “Yeah, he’s here,” I hear him say. “I didn’t know he stole your car. He’s drunk. We’ll keep an eye on him until you get here,” he pauses to listen to the person on the other end of the line. “No problem,” he says, ending the call and shoving his phone back into his jeans pocket.
Big pulls my hand off Jonesy’s arm and helps me lay him down on his side to rest. I open my mouth to protest because I don’t want anything to happen to the poor man, but Big’s look of determination and authority shuts me right up.
I slide onto the floor exhausted, my back to the couch. Big drops down beside me; the chain on his wallet making a loud noise smacking the hard floor. Big lays his hand in my lap. Threading my fingers through his, we hold hands, and I lean over, resting my head on his cut clad shoulder and sigh.
“Beth’s his granddaughter,” Big explains, “who takes care of him.”
“Okay,” I reply.
“She didn’t know he was here. Seems as though he snuck out. Brew apparently sent a wedding invite to them not thinkin’ about it. Beth and he argued about him comin’,” Big tilts his head back, gesturing to Jonesy, “And this old man is biker, through and through, so he ain’t gonna listen to his granddaughter, even though he should. She’ll be here in a bit to pick him up and take him home,” Big says, then turns his head and kisses my forehead. “You did good, Sugar Tits. Just like I thought, you’re already turnin’ out to be the best old lady a club president could ask for.”
Don’t ask me why, but this makes me blush and go instantly shy. Maybe it’s because it’s his sweetness or because that is the biggest compliment I’ve ever gotten. I can’t be sure which. I just know how it makes me feel, and it makes my heart sputter in my chest.
We sit on the floor with the room back in full swing without music. Some of the brothers make their way over to make sure we’re okay, which we are. Big orders Runner to make sure Beth gets through the gate before he asks me about Hammer. I’m honest and tell him the whole story. This makes him mad, like I knew it would.
“Time to clear this up now,” Big stands up from the floor, clearly pissed off.
I grab onto his pant leg to stop him. It doesn’t work, and he offers me his hand. I smack it away. “Stop, don’t do this now,” I order, and like I thought, it does me no good. The behemoth control freak isn’t going to listen to me.
“Listen up!” Big yells standing beside me, his worn Harley boots touching my sock covered feet. “Hey!” he booms, louder.
The club goes silent.
“We’ve gotta problem here,” Big announces and looks down at me glaring up at him. He smiles and offers his hand to me once more. This time I take it, and he pulls me to my feet, instantly curling me half in front of him, one hand on my hip, the other on my belly.
He kisses my hair before continuing. “We’ve got a brother here who doesn’t know who my old lady is. If you don’t know who I’m talkin’ about, then ya better listen up because I’m only gonna say this one fuckin’ time. My woman -- she’s blonde, big boobed, gorgeous, and goes by the name Bink. Oh yeah, she’s pregnant, carryin’ my daughter,” he rubs my belly with affection and kisses my head again. “And she’s not wearin’ a cut because she don’t need to. Most of ya know who I’m talkin’ about, and for those who don’t, you best remember. If I hear any of ya disrespectin’ her or not listenin’ to her like a brother did tonight, you’ll have me to answer to. And I won’t be nice,” Big finishes and nearly everyone in the room starts to look around for the man Big’s talking about.
I’m relieved he didn’t call Hammer out; that was decent of him. God knows calling out Hammer’s name will put Gunz on a murdering spree.
Speak of the devil. “Yeah and that goes for me too. Don’t fuck with our girl,” Gunz retorts.
“Yup, that’s my sister,” I hear Brew say.
“And my daughter,” Daddy adds.
These damn men and their over protectiveness.
The club remains silent, as if they are waiting for Big to announce they can speak again, which speaks volumes about the respect they show him. This is one of the main reasons I love being a part of this giant biker family.
“Alright, now that’s settled, carry on,” Big orders, and the room erupts in chatter.
Big turns me around, my belly brushing against his belt buckle. His arms loosely envelop my shoulders, as my arms wrap around his middle, my chin on his chest, glancing up at his face.
“See, I can be nice,” he expresses with a cocky smile, bouncing his eyebrows. Wispy pieces of his hair fall around his face from his loose man bun.
“Was that your way of givin’ a brother a pass and at the same time letting the whole damn room know you’ve claimed me?” I perk up a brow, trying not to smile. “You do know that I have not agreed to be your old lady,” I add for measure. I realize this is a losing battle.
He shakes his head, amused. “Yeah, I know, but you’re still mine, and you’ll agree to be my old lady soon enough. They still gotta know who’s who.”
“People already know I’m off limits.” Everyone has known this since the dawn of time. It isn’t some secret.
“Hell yeah they do, and now they know why.”
Sheesh, there is no
getting through to this man. I’m royally screwed.
Fifteen minutes later, Beth, a beautiful, leggy brunette, shows up, following Runner inside.
Stopping next to her grandpa passed out on the couch, she shakes her head. Runner and Big help carry a passed out Jonesy outside to Beth’s other car. I follow them out.
“I’m sorry,” Beth apologizes to me, standing outside her Ford Focus, shaking her head, clearly worried out of her mind, while we watch Big and Runner tuck Jonesy into the backseat.
I place my hand on her shoulder. “It’s not a problem. If you ever need any help with him, call the clubhouse and ask for Bink.”
Then for no apparent reason, she hugs me. So I don’t seem like a bitch, I hug her back.
“Thank you,” she says, sounding like she’s on the verge of crying.
“It’s okay,” I pat her back and release from our hug.
She goes to her car.
Runner says something to her before he shuts her in. Big claps Runner on the shoulder and heads towards me. Runner heads in the opposite direction of us, jogging around the building just as Beth starts to pull out of the compound.
“Runner’s gonna follow ‘em home and make sure she gets him safely inside,” Big explains, cuffing his arm around my neck and pulling me into a hug. His lips press to my hair.
I wrap my arms around his torso, stuff my nose to his chest, and take a deep breath, relishing in the comforting scent of Big. My body goes lax in his arms, and I smile, feeling fully myself for the first time in a very long time. It’s great to be home.
Minutes pass as we embrace, before the sound of screeching tires coming to an abrupt halt yanks me out of my Big’s bundle of love.
Big’s body suddenly goes rigid in my arms, as a car door opens and the sound of heels rapidly click-click-click on the blacktop. Shit, this isn’t good.
“Bi—,” I open my mouth, only to be cut off when the dreaded sound of my mother’s voice cuts through the air, making me want to vomit.