I managed to sneak out of bed without waking him, and I sent a text to Dad.
'Are you drunk?'
It was Friday, after all, but he let me know he wasn't, and he'd meet me outside in ten minutes. I got down on my knees next to the bed and stroked Mac's cheek, the bridge of his nose, and finally tugged his beard.
“Hey, tease,” he mumbled with a smile. “Come here. Get that nice ass back into my bed.”
“I can't.” I gave him a kiss. “I have to go.”
He sat up and started rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“Fuck. Sorry, I fell asleep. Give me five minutes to wake up. We got that?”
“It's okay. I texted Dad, he's coming to pick me up. You can go back sleep. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
He looked at me with a sigh, pulled me onto his lap. Slowly, he kissed my jawline, gave the dimple of my chin a lick, and finished with a kiss on it. I used to hate that dimple, but I was starting to like it now. Simply since I liked how he often did that.
“Work tomorrow?”
I nodded. I was really looking forward to work tomorrow actually. Once that henna tattoo was done, Sami'd revealed it was sort of my final test, and I'd be allowed to take on customers,
and
one of the guest stations was going to be my own. My own station! That was really cool.
“Call when I can pick you up,” Mac said.
“Okay.” I kissed him again.
He looked at me with a big grin, gathered two fistfuls of my hair and gently pulled me closer. That's when my phone rang.
“It's Dad. I have to go.” He was still holding on to my hair and gave me one last kiss.
“Call me tomorrow.”
When I came outside, Dad eyed me.
“Trouble?”
“No?”
“Then why am I picking you up instead of your main squeeze taking you home?”
“Main squeeze?”
“Isn't that what you kids call it?”
“I don't know what kids call it. He fell asleep.”
“Fell asleep, uh?”
“Shut up, Dad.”
He shook his head with a smile, and once I was on the bike he took off. When we came home he made me tea; he obviously wanted to talk.
“Fill me in,” he said when he'd put the cup in front of me and took a beer from the fridge for himself. “What's going on?”
“I'm getting my own work station tomorrow.”
“One of those cubicles?”
“Yeah. And he'll let me take customers. Really small things, probably just flash and... you know, Chinese symbols, and shit like that. But still...”
“That's great, baby!” He had a big smile. “Fuck, I'm so proud of you. And all is good with you and Mac?”
“Yes. I think so. It feels like it is.”
“Good. Listen,” he took a deep breath and leaned forward. “I have some bad news, but I don't want you to freak over it, okay? I'll handle it with just a little help from you. I talked to your mom today.”
I felt a chill run down my spine, and I tensed.
“She's pissed,” he continued.
“About what?”
“You know her, about everything. She's still pissed about you working, and she heard about Mac.”
“How?”
“My guess would be Mel, but I'm not sure. Could just as well be one of the strippers gossiping.” He ran his hand through his beard and twisted it. “She wants you to come and visit her.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“She hasn't seen you in almost a year, honey. She's your mom.”
“I'm not going there. She can come here, and I'll spend time with her, but I'm not going there.”
I'd been to visit Mom twice; it had been horrible. It was strange, I didn't remember her being such a bitch when I lived with her, but she sure had been on my visits.
Lisa'd sort of adapted into the Cali style fashion, and so had Mom, which meant that everything about me was completely wrong. My clothes were wrong, my hair wasn't just the wrong color, it was unruly and far too long, I wasn't wearing enough makeup, and... on and on forever.
When she'd nagged about how I always had a frown on my face, I bit my tongue before I snapped that I had some good reasons to pout.
I didn't want to go there. I was feeling good about myself. Or better, at least, and I didn't want all the ways I was wrong shoved in my face again. By my own mom!
“You need to at least talk to her. She's threatening to press charges against Mac.”
I stared at him. No woman formerly married to a Marauder was stupid enough to press charges. Ever. At least not that I'd heard of. If they left without making too much of a fight about it, they got what they deserved. If not... it got nasty.
“For what?”
“Statutory rape.”
“But I'm eighteen.”
“Yeah. I pointed that out.”
“Then why is she pressing charges?”
“She was rambling, kept yelling about shit, and one of the things she yelled was that she'd press charges against Mac for having had sex with you while you were underage.”
“But... we didn't. I mean... we still...” I really, really didn't want to talk to Dad about this. “We didn't start seeing each other before I turned eighteen.”
“I know.”
“Is she insane? Like, for real?”
“Yeah, but listen honey, she's won't do anything if you just call her. Talk to her, and then I'll take care of the rest. It'll be fine.”
“Okay.”
I felt like crying. I should've seen it coming. When things were too good, something always came along to fuck it up. This move from Mom just felt so damn stupid. What did she think she would accomplish besides pissing everyone off?
Dad stood up and walked over to me, and gave my forehead a kiss.
“Go to bed, love. I'll take you to work tomorrow. Don't worry about your mom, call her and talk to her, let me know what she says, and I'll take it from there.”
Of course he would. Dad always did what he could to fix things for me, but I was still scared. I went into my room, and after some hesitation I took my phone and called Mac. I didn't want to worry him, but I wanted to talk to him.
“Babe,”
he mumbled when he answered. It sounded like he'd been sleeping.
“I'm sorry if I woke you up again.”
“No worries. You okay?”
“It's Mom, she's... being Mom.”
“Yeah? In what way?”
“I don't know. She called and yelled at Dad. Said she'd press charges against you.
“For what.”
“Statutory rape.”
He was quiet and then started laughing.
“Are you sure she's your mom?”
“What?”
“Well, she obviously doesn't know how old you are.”
“She might say we had sex before I turned eighteen.”
“Baby, this is so stupid. Don't worry about it. Your dad'll take care of it, and she was married to your dad for more than a decade, there's no way she'd be that stupid.”
“It could mean a lot of trouble for you, though. Even if we didn't do anything it could—” He wouldn't let me finish.
“She won't press charges against me. Promise. Don't worry, Katze.”
“Okay. Miss you,” I mumbled. “See you tomorrow?”
“You know you will. And don't worry about your mom. Really don't. Get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow.”
I was glad he seemed calm about it, and he was right. We hadn't done anything wrong.
Mostly I was pissed she'd managed to mess things up for me again. Making me feel bad. I hated how she always knew how to do that, and I knew she'd be a bitch when I called her. She'd start out by being angry about how rarely I called—then continue with the nagging. This time, I'd start out with being angry. I was going to make a few things very clear to her.
-o0o-
Bear was in the clubhouse and nodded at Mac when he came and sat down next to him. He was still adjusting to thinking about Mac as a guy who... did things to his daughter. That didn't work all that well, so instead he preferred to think about him as someone Vi liked, which made him slightly more accepting of Mac. It was still hard to think about Vi as old enough to have a boyfriend.
When Vi was around two years old, her two favorite toys were a red plastic fish that had once contained bubble bath, and a stuffed dog he'd bought her on a whim at a garage sale to keep her occupied while he searched through bike parts.
The plastic fish didn't bother him much unless she brought it to their bed in the middle of the night, and he accidentally slept on it, squashed it, and had to spend a lengthy time trying to restore it.
The stuffed dog on the other hand—it
reeked
. And it didn't fucking matter what they did with it—washed it, aired it, or kept it in the freezer for a week—it still reeked. The stench was unbelievable. He still had no idea how the fuck his baby girl could sleep with her nose tucked into it, but she did. She carried the stinking dog with her everywhere, and the only reason he tolerated it was simply that she loved it. Vi didn't love all that many things even back then, and if she loved it, he'd figured he could stand his truck stinking like an outhouse during indian summer.
While Mac didn't stink all that bad, the thought of what Mac did to Vi gave him the same nauseating feeling as the smell of the stuffed dog. But she obviously saw something in him, which made Bear decide he could stand him being around until he got used to the idea of Mac and Vi... doing things.
“She's worried,” Mac said as he sat down. “What did Ella say?”
“Nothing important. She's got nothing, she knows it, and that pisses her off more than anything.”
“Still don't get it. Vi's eighteen.”
“Yeah. Think she just wanted to prove she knew what was going on here. I'm not worried about what she says about you and Vi. I'm more worried she's talking about cops at all.”
Ella'd been a fully informed Old Lady. She knew everything about the club and what they'd been up to. If she went to the cops, it wasn't what she'd say about Mac he was worried about.
“She wouldn't be that stupid,” Mac said, but didn't look convinced.
“Don't worry about it. She's my crazy ex-wife bitching about my daughter. I'll handle it.” He waved to get one of the girls to bring him a beer. “Vi's calling her today, then Ella'll call me and bitch, I'll yell back, and it'll be calm for now. We do this dance on a fairly regular basis.”
“Why do you want Vi to call her?” Mac asked, and when Bear glared at him, he continued. “I'm just asking.”
He could see why the kid was asking, and he didn't miss the protectiveness his asking implied, but there was no easy way to explain. Vi needed to fight her own battles to a certain point; he couldn't let her shy away from everything, especially not her own mom. Ella had a way of getting to Vi whether he wanted her to or not, and this way he at least knew when the battle took place.
When Vi finally called him, she was angry. Really angry. Which was better than sad.
“She's coming here for a weekend.”
“When?”
“In December.”
“Honey, what else did she say?”
“Loads, nothing important. I'll talk to you later.”
Then she hung up.
“Fuck!” He didn't even bother to put the phone down in his pocket because he knew Ella would call next. And she did. “Ella.”
“I hope you're happy. Obviously you're serving your own daughter on a plate to your brothers, and now she's threatening me.”
“She threatened you?”
“Yes. Fucking little brat.”
He didn't have the energy for this. “She said you're coming here for a weekend.”
“I don't know if I want to. She said if I so much as mention going to the cops about that fucking pedophile, she'd never talk to me again. Ever.”
“Jesus. She's eighteen, and he's not
that
much older than her.”
“Can't fucking believe you just... hand her over and let her be a part of that shit life, become a tattoo artist and just be... trash.”
“You were happily a part of it yourself for over ten years. Didn't hear you bitching back then.”
“Maybe I know better now and want her to have better.”
“Maybe you should let her chose for herself.”
“And like she's gonna get away from it now. She's gonna be stuck with that molester, all doe-eyed. She's been in love with him for years.”
He thought that was the nice part, that Vi'd been in love with Mac for a long time, but obviously Ella had a different view of it.
“Who told you about Vi and Mac?”
“That's none of your business.”
“Darlin', if you wanna leave this town with the tits I paid for intact, you tell me who told you.”
She was quiet for a while, but she knew he meant business. In general, he didn't give a shit about gossip, but if this wasn't Mel, then some other bitch was gossiping about things she shouldn't.
They had learned the hard way what sweetbutts and the girls at the strip club could do. It had caused a member's death a few years earlier.
“Nikki,”
she spat out before hanging up.
“Nikki.” He looked at Mac who shrugged. “Never had anything going with her?”
“No. She might've just been gossiping.”
“Yeah. I'll go and talk to her about gossiping,” Bear said and got up. “Want in?”
Mac looked at his phone and shook his head. “I'm picking up your girl. Either way, this is your thing.”
“Okay. One o'clock.”
“I know.”
He watched Mac leave to pick up Vi and went to find Bull. After explaining the situation, Bull didn't growl much about having been interrupted with his dick hanging out and simply left the sweetbutt in the hallway. Since his divorce, Bull practically lived at the clubhouse, and he tended to have at least one girl in his bed at all times. Missing out on one fuck couldn't possibly bother him all that much.
They went around the corner to the Booty Bank. Nikki wasn't on stage, and after asking the club mama, they found out she was in the back getting ready, but she would rearrange the schedule if they wanted to talk to her.
Nikki smiled when they walked into the changing room, but the smile faded when Bull ordered the other girls to get their asses out.