Floating (21 page)

Priss still works at Mo’s, but added doing the books for all the MC’s legit holdings on top of her shifts there, making her busier than ever. I honestly don’t know how she fucking does it. Priss makes everything look effortless, in the sense that she can juggle six things, never dropping the ball. I have enough trouble corralling one fucking eight-year-old, let alone what she does.

Kendall went back to work part-time at Skin Fusion six months after Wheels was born. Ronnie had been gone three months, by then. She joined Adelyn, who is still working as a full-time artist, evening out the numbers of men versus women.  There was still some weird vibe coming from Reaper about Adelyn’s presence at the shop. Most days he looked either ready to throttle her or himself. Reaper’s honestly acting like a fucking menopausal woman over this chick. I’m in fucking good company with him.

Brenna keeps all our shit together, as usual. The woman is relentless when it comes to keeping us in line. Priest still works with Vengeance, in an effort to uncover whatever the fuck Satan’s Sons are up to. Glock became a fully patched member a month ago, which brought about an epic fucking party that I couldn’t even bring myself to enjoy. That is pretty much all there is, when it comes to MC news. I know, it’s fucking sedate around here. Boring almost.

Tank took off suddenly a couple of months ago and hasn’t been right since he got back. I don’t even want to hazard a guess at what his fucking damage is. Chances are he’d rip my fucking head off in the mood he’s in, if I even mentioned it, so I leave it alone. He’ll come to me when he’s ready, and if he’s not, I’ll be here anyway when he needs a smack in the fucking head to pull him out of it.

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot the thing that has all the brothers, family, and friends the most baffled. Tank and Priss haven’t spoken since Tank’s little trip to fuck knows where. Like, not a single word. It’s fucking strange and isn’t sitting well with me. One minute, Tank’s giving her a hug goodbye before he gets on his bike, the next, he refuses to be in the same fucking room as her. He dodges her calls, doesn’t answer her texts, going as far as to drop Tilly off curbside, waiting in the car until she makes it safely into the house.

There’s something brewing there. The shit storm Tank has created for himself is going to be like nothing he’s ever experienced. My guess is Priss won’t let this go on for much longer. It won’t be long before she storms his room at the clubhouse and reams his ass. I can only hope I’m around when she does. That shit is going to be explosive and make for an awesome fucking show. Tank will deserve every bit of her wrath, too.

Kellen started junior league football, a few months ago at his request. I’m sceptical whether it’s a good idea after the major surgery he’s undergone.  Doctor Bellingfield gave his assurances that it is perfectly fine for him to resume normal activities, so I relent, as my son knew I would. So far we haven’t had any issues, and his team, The Blackwater Eagles, have won every game. Kellen beams with pride, and comes out of his shell at the accolades he receives after each game from his friends; him being the quarterback and all, doesn’t hurt. This is exactly what I want for him when I say he needs to make friends his own age. Being on the football team is giving him that.

And me? What am I doing? I make it through each day. Just, but I do. There was one last person I didn’t cover…

Verity. I think it’s better if she tells you her side.

CHAPTER TEN

Verity

              I know what you’re thinking. I’m a horrible person: awful, hateful, vindictive, and to a point, you may be right.

No debate required, I’d openly admit I’ve made some bad choices. I got myself into some situations, one in particular, that I had no idea how to get myself out of safely. Let alone my son, too.

Most of you will have formed opinions of me already, based on what my sister, or Nathaniel has told you. You will have decided that I’m a poor excuse for a mother, that I don’t love my son, or I would never have left him in his time of need. Maybe you’ll think that I neglected him, and kept him from his father to be spiteful.

You would all be wrong. Dead wrong.

I love Kellen as much as I’m capable of loving another person. That might not be enough for your liking, but it’s all I’ve got, and I gave it to him freely. I have sacrificed more than you will ever know to keep him safe, alive, and I hope, whole.

You’re probably plagued with so many questions. I don’t know if I have enough time to answer them all. You’ll have to make do with what I can tell you for now.

Patrick McMillan is not the man he portrayed himself to be when I met him. Back then, he appeared debonair, handsome, wealthy, and I suppose outwardly he is still all of those things. None of that was the problem. The problem is what’s underneath the façade. What he works tirelessly in public to conceal. Patrick built circles of friends that benefit him. He makes nice with politicians, and congressmen to advance his career. Jesus. He plays golf with the goddamn governor of Texas. All this is a ruse to shield him, if any of his “extracurricular activities” come back to bite him in the ass. He is an egotistical, self-centred asshole, and that’s putting it nicely.

My first mistake was meeting Patrick. My second was allowing him anywhere near Kellen. My third mistake was marrying him. My biggest mistake; bigger than marrying a closet wife beater, rapist, and sadist was to ask for help. Maybe I should rephrase that…

My biggest mistake was WHO I asked for help.

I had no one to turn to. My parents wouldn’t be able to help me. My sister hadn’t spoken to me in nine years. I had no friends to speak of, and relatives were out of the question. Patrick knew where they all lived, and I highly doubt any of them would have taken Kellen and I in, anyway.

Yes, I’m fully aware I sabotaged myself from the beginning. My selfish, cruel, and hateful behaviour isolated me. It is nothing less than I deserved. I honestly believe that and could live with it, but my son? No. He shouldn’t have to live with my mistakes. Kellen deserves better. Better than me. Better than the situation I have put him in. Better than all of it. I just had no idea for a long time how to make that happen, how to give him all of those things.

The smart idea would have been to go to Nathaniel. I knew where he lived the entire time. Yes. I told another lie to add to the running tally, when I told him that I had no clue of his whereabouts for all those years. Keeping tabs on a man in a motorcycle club is easier than you think. Once Nathaniel became a member, I knew he was permanently rooted to wherever the chapter he was patched into was located. I wanted, no, I NEEDED to know where he was at all times. Not for my sake, but for Kellen’s.

He will need his father soon. I could feel it before I knew it to be true. I can only hope Nathaniel will take him in, bond with him, learn to love Kellen how he deserves to be loved. How I can’t. That is my one wish. Kellen needs to know a love that isn’t measured or restricted. A love that is unconditional, free, all encompassing. I want my son to grow up with someone to hold him when he’s sad, pick him up when he’s down, and enjoy the beautiful, sweet boy he is every day. That isn’t me. I KNOW I can’t do that. I can’t be that person for him.

When I learned Veronica ended up in Blackwater, as well, the first thing I thought was its poetic, in a sense. The way they ended, the reason why would be the thing I’m sure would bring them back together. I couldn’t have been happier for them. Ronnie is capable of everything I’m not. It makes her the perfect choice to help raise Kellen.

We look exactly the same, but that’s where our similarities end. We are each other’s exact opposite: black and white, chalk and cheese, oil and water. All are apt descriptions of my sister and I.

The only reason I pushed Veronica away, hurt her on purpose, was spiteful and malicious was to keep her away from me. My darkness couldn’t infect her light. I wouldn’t LET it. Veronica is all that is good with the world. She’s a bright, talented, loving, sweet woman.

Do I hate myself for what I did to her? Yes.

Do I think back now I am where I am, and wish it could have been different? Yes.

None of that matters now, though. My son is safe with his father. Kellen is surrounded by a motorcycle club filled with men equally as dangerous as the man I was married to, if not more. Most of all he’s happy. From what I saw the last time Nathaniel and Kellen were together, Kellen is blissfully happy.

Back to Veronica, though; knowing she’s my opposite, knowing the size of her heart, and her ability to forgive. The fact that she is now in Blackwater, the same town as my son’s father, I decided it was time. Time to get the help I spoke of before. Time to escape my vile, cruel husband. Time to set my son free.

This is where I made my biggest mistake. The one I will take with me to the grave. Be that tomorrow, next month, a year from now, or in old age. This is one that will haunt me forever, until it eventually catches up with me and brings about my destruction with it. I met a man…

Not my best move, going out after midnight, my son asleep in his bed, alone at home because Patrick was away on a business trip, or a fuck fest which ever explanation you prefer. I was desperate, and desperate people do stupid things.

I was wet, cold, and had reached my breaking point. It had been raining all night, and the chill in the air made it feel like it was at least twenty degrees colder than the temperature gauge in my Mercedes said it was. Not to mention, what I was about to do chilled me to the core way before the sudden temperature drop.

Downtown Indigo, Louisiana, is NOT a safe place to be after dark. Crime rates are high, murders go unsolved indefinitely, and I was standing in the middle of what was considered its worst neighbourhood within Indigo’s city limits. Regardless, I have a plan. I was going to carry it out no matter the cost to me, or my safety.

I drove from Austin earlier this evening, after coming by some information a few weeks ago that would lead me to the man I was now waiting to meet. I won’t tell you the specifics; they’re irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Needless to say, if I’m in an area with a reputation like the one I just described, you know this man isn’t a good man.

Steam, or so I’m told the name he goes by, is a beast of a man. At least six foot four, I would guess weighing somewhere around three hundred pounds, he wears a scruffy unkempt beard covering his entire face. Its coverage is so full you can’t make out any discernible features; probably a good thing in his business. His eyes are the only exception to that. His eyes, I can tell even in the dark are black and cold, dark like he is. That doesn’t matter to me, either. Actually, that’s exactly what I need right now, someone as dark as my husband, if not more so.

The plan is relatively simple. Pay Steam to procure his protection to transport my son out of state, away from the monster we live with. Hopefully after that, I’ll find somewhere to settle after I make sure Nathaniel will take Kellen in. Where I’ll head, I’m not sure yet. All I know, is wherever I go it has to be far, far, away from Kellen and Veronica.

Here’s where my relatively simple plan gets shot to hell. I made it back to Austin, with Steam in tow. I had his agreement that for 100K he would travel with me to pick up Kellen, and safely escort us to our final destination. I really wish people, namely Steam, would be specific in their requests for information. It would have made this whole thing a lot less of a clusterfuck, in the end. Honestly, he never asked where I was going, and for 100K I didn’t think it was pertinent. I’m paying the man goddamn it. He can drive to fucking Timbuktu, if that’s where I need him to go. Sadly, regardless of the fact he didn’t ask and I didn’t tell, the second we crossed the county line into Blackwater, Colorado Steam immediately freaked the fuck out.

Now, if you don’t know as I didn’t then, MC territories are sacred. Like an illegal Holy Grail, I suppose. You may never be able to see it, touch it, hold it in your hand, but you know it’s there, and the rules governing it are set in stone. According to the hairy, overweight, supremely angry, hired goon Steam, I have unknowingly caused a shit storm strong enough in its severity to rival hurricane Katrina. Biker law states you need prior permission and/or notification to/by the MC holding controlling interest in the territory you are wishing to pass through before a rival MC is allowed passage without ramifications. As I said, THIS is where everything gets fucked up the ass sideways with a rusty chainsaw…

Steam is a Satan’s Son.

Yes. Unwittingly, I’ve hired Devil’s Spawn MC’s most hated rival, Satan’s Son MC, and their Road Captain, to boot. I still have no clue what THAT means, but apparently it’s a big deal in the hierarchy of it all.

I would love to tell you I pay the man his money, receive a warning, and am told to fuck off, continuing on my merry way. That’s not quite how it plays out. Of course it doesn’t, it is me we’re talking about.

The paying him, being told to fuck off, and continuing on my way, for now, parts are all true. The variation on the aforementioned is me being made aware that Steam will now have been tagged by Devil’s Spawn crossing into their territory. Worse, Steam will have to inform his president, Marcus Givens, or Lucifer, cliché much, of the problem in case there’s blowback. Again, I have no idea what that even means. I’ll admit when it comes to MC’s; I’m naïve. I have no idea about their rules or laws. If I had, I would never have indebted myself to one of them for a favour. It wouldn’t have mattered how desperate I was. Unfortunately, that isn’t the last I hear from Steam. It certainly isn’t the last I hear from Lucifer. I didn’t know this then, it’s only now I’ve realised my error in judgement.

Everything was going fine, Nathaniel accepted his Kellen. I ensured his and Kellen’s bond, by forcing them to spend an uninterrupted three months together. When it came to Veronica’s part in all this, I was able to see with my own two eyes that she will make the perfect mother to my son, once I’m gone. She’s still as caring, sweet, loving, and passionate as she once was. Now though, there is a fire inside her. Veronica has grown a backbone. It is a pleasure to see, and I couldn’t be more proud of her for it. She will be strong, and fierce when it comes to protecting Kellen, even if it’s from himself. That is precisely what he needs.

After three months I signed the joint custody paperwork. The lawyer I found drew up the documents with one hidden caveat. Thankfully, Nathaniel won’t find out until, much, much later. The caveat states that after six months of joint custody my rights as Kellen’s mother will be terminated with prejudice. They will never be allowed to be reinstated, regardless of change in circumstance or change of mind. If Nathaniel is unable, for any reason to continue Kellen’s care, custody will be automatically granted to Veronica.

Now do you see?

Without a shadow of a doubt, I love my son. I did that FOR him. I will never be able to take back what was done to him. What he felt. What he saw. What he endured. All I can give him is a chance.

It was bad luck or karma, I’m not sure which, that the day Kellen was admitted to hospital where his diagnosis of KPD would soon be discovered, I got a phone call from Lucifer. This was not the first one, but it was the most final. I had twenty-four hours to meet him at the location he gave me, or Kellen would take my place. There was no choice to be made. Of course, I agreed.

I would love to tell you that all stories have a happily ever after, even mine. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

I remember a story our mom read to us, when I was a little girl. Every night when we were safely tucked in our twin beds, under our opposite coloured comforter sets. We were on our opposite sides of the room, with opposite our outlooks on life. OUR mom, the only thing other than our dad we had in common, would read us this story. It’s strange how this is the only memory I’ve clung to after all this time.

It won’t make you weep. It won’t make you forgive me my sins. It sure as hell won’t make you like me. I don’t expect it to. This vivid memory is all I have left to share. It’s the only thing that might make the slightest difference in how you perceive me.