Holy fucking shit. Her waterworks just came out of nowhere. I swear to Christ she was just giving as good as she was getting. I mean, the little vagabond wasn’t missing a beat, and it was as fascinating to witness as it was to participate in. Such a solid debate, and with someone who could hold her own against me and my wit? I’ll admit. It was alluring, to say the very least.
But what the motherfucking hell? I asked one simple question. And this is her reaction? I told her to her face I am not raising the kid she’s carrying. I pretty much called her a whore and a liar for saying that I was the only one she’s ever been with. And she stood her own. Every step of the way. Then I mention her tripping and she loses her shit?
Pregnant bitches must be crazier than regular bitches. That or I’m missing something. Big. But that doesn’t explain my knee-jerk reaction to her tears. Nor does it explain why my arms tighten around her waist for the second time before I nod at Dreads then the exit of the garage and mouth at him, “Give us a minute, bro. Don’t ask.”
When he smirks, I cut my eyes at him. Once he’s left, I shush her and try and comfort her with words.
“Shh... Hey, you. Let’s not cry. This is kind of an MC, and I’m sorta the president. I have a reputation to uphold, and you’re killing it with these tears, Pipsqueak.” I chuckle against her hair, squeezing my eyes closed as the headache finally diminishes behind them. Then I tighten my arms around her.
When she shudders around trying to gain control of her tears and breathing, I pull my face away from hers and look down into her dark-brown eyes.
Once she’s shuddered in a stable breath, I say, “I just want you in the room upstairs because—”
“You remember me?” she whispers, and it somehow breaks my heart. The one I assumed I wasn’t born with. “You said Pipsqueak,” she explains, blinking up at me. “And, earlier, when you called me Vagabond, you sounded... It sounded familiar. Not like at the hospital, when it was forced…”
Shit. No one knows how to answer that. Not if they’re in my position. How the fuck am I supposed to? I came up with a valid yet ridiculous reason for wanting her so close to my room, and besides...haven’t I already fucking answered this question?
Yeah, I have. “I already told you, Eve. I don’t have my memory. It’s called retrograde amnesia. Fucking Google it. Shit.” I shake my head before taking her hands in mine and separating us. Then I glance up at the ceiling of the garage. “I can only take it one day at a time. I can’t rush anything. Nor can I force anything. It’s business as always. Same shit, different day. Otherwise, the added stress triggers the migraines and the migraines trigger the insomnia, and the bitch nurse—or doctor—cut my script short this month for my pain meds, so...yeah.” I cough to clear my throat and move back towards the bike, trying to find something else to do with my hands—something besides touch her. Again.
“And I’m supposed to what? Just wait? Hope you’ll remember me one day?” Her words... She must have found some anger underneath all of those tears. That’s all I’ll say.
Her tone was just as vicious as the look across her face when I glance up over the bike to where she’s standing, glaring knives at me.
“No. I didn’t ask you to wait. Actually, I don’t think you can afford to.” I nod at her...condition. Or the telltale sign of it: her baby bump. Yes, probably because I’m an asshole. “I’d never ask anyone to do anything like that for me. Life’s too short, Eve. Don’t fucking wait on me. But I do want your little ass in the room on the top floor. And yes, that’s the one that’s connected to mine. I like to keep my friends close…” I let my words trail off.
But she doesn’t pick up what I’m laying down. That or she blatantly allows it to go over her head.
“I’m not your fucking friend.”
I point in the direction of the door Dreads exited through five minutes earlier, making no bones with my tone. I let her know just what the fuck is going on. “No, you’re not. And, until you are, you’re considered an enemy. I keep my fucking enemies closer, Pipsqueak. And, as of right now, with all this shit that’s been going down, the only person I know for certain who’s had contact with Ben in the last twenty-four hours is YOU. And you have reason or motive to have been in New Orleans around the time my uncle was killed. So, until I figure out just exactly what fucking role it is you’re playing in all of this too... Because you for damn sure aren’t ratting on your first scapegoat, Roxy. Not since I answered your fucking questions wrong. So, until I know just where you stand, I want you close. No, scratch that—I want you closer than close. Don’t expect that fucking door between our rooms to be closed when I come up and turn down for bed. Is that understood, Eve O’Malley?”
I jerk my hand in the direction of the door leading from the garage again, and this time when I speak, I do so with even less charm and a little more bark. “We’re done! Just keep in fucking mind that we ain’t friends. Dreads’ll show you to your room. Now, get going. I’ve got a bike to take apart and dismantle piece by piece. This shit’s gonna be all night.”
Although she hesitates for a moment, she thankfully doesn’t contradict me or try to return another round of debating words. She quietly turns around and makes her way towards the garage door.
I’m a holy hell sweaty mess when I finally climb the last few stairs and unlock my bedroom door at nearly midnight. I’ve already kicked my boots and my socks off, and I’m shucking my pants down my legs and tugging my sweat-soaked T-shirt over my head when I hear her gasp before something crashes to the floor.
Fuck. And did I mention it’s laundry day? Meaning I’m commando, flashing her at the moment. I struggle with the T-shirt I’m pulling off for a second too long then yank the shit the rest of the way over my head.
When I’m finally able to look at her, it’s through my much-more-salt-than-pepper hair falling into my face and around the exact moment I realize I’m as bare as the day I was born, not that I care. “Hey. Sorry.” I shrug before beginning to pick up the clothes I just tossed on the floor with my feet. “I didn’t realize you’d still be up.” I duck into the bathroom and start the hot water before grabbing a towel from the bathroom counter.
After I have it hooked around my waist, I stalk back out to where she’s standing, her hand still over her mouth and her bottle water rolling away from her feet. I scoop down and pick it up before handing it to her, but she doesn’t take it. She just keeps her wide eyes locked on me.
“Not used to visitors in here when I get off. Rox is—”
Shit. It’s probably too soon to mention Rox. Much less the odds and ends of our even odder relationship. There’s no way in hell I’m mentioning Roxy’s current location.
“Rox usually works. She doesn’t get off till seven or eight.” I nod. then hook my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m gonna go hop in the shower. You didn’t rummage through any of my shit while I was gone, did ya?” I chuckle and head towards the bathroom, highly doubting she’d be so ignorant.
Puffing her chest up, she crosses her arms over it in my peripheral as she steps forward, ignoring the bottle of water. And then she does the stupidest thing she possibly could. She tattles on herself.
“As a matter of fact, I did. I want my necklace back. Now. I realize, by all rights, it’s justifiably yours. But I’d like you to take into consideration that, in this life, there’s very little I place much value on. And the number of things that I have from my past are very few and far between. So, before you directly disregard me and my request, please keep this in mind: I cannot name the number of times that necklace has been my saving grace over the years of my life. I know you don’t remember me. I know you don’t remember shit, much less a knobby-kneed little girl who had the proclivity of running her mouth and climbing fucking trees, but I’ve been here. And, right now, I’ll do just about anything if you’ll give me back that necklace. I swear I won’t lose it. And I promise, cross my heart, that I’ll give it back. I just…”
“You need to learn about Jesus,” I taunt her. Sort of on purpose, I guess. I’m maybe trying to get her to smile.
“Yeah. You’ve said that before too.” She smirks, and finally, the tension between us releases its hold a little bit.
“I’m gonna go hop in the shower. You mind eating supper with me? Or, if you’ve already eaten, sitting with me while I do?” Changing the subject, I try to put some much-needed space between us. I’m not sure how I want this to play out.
But, if I can gather intel and gain some answers from her, that’ll fucking work too.
“No, I haven’t eaten. Actually, I’m starving.” She smiles, and when it falters, I hurry to clear her concerns.
“I’ll text Dreads. What do you want to eat, a burger? I think the grill was still lit on my way up.” I drop the towel, and when her eyes go as wide as saucers, I know she sees I’m still packing. I may not remember her, but I want to make fucking sure she remembers me.
“Y-yeah...a burger’s good,” she stammers before snatching her water bottle off my bureau, where I set it on my way into the bathroom. Then she hightails it back to her side of the threshold.
Figures. I chuckle before heading under the showers spray and shutting the curtain. “Just about figures. The little pipsqueak,” I mutter around the warm water flooding my mouth.
“I heard that.” Her voice, though it’s small, is mighty as it courses through the small room and echoes off the walls. “And I want that necklace, Jacques. I’ll fucking play nice...for as long as I have to. You want me close ’cause I’m an enemy. Fine, whatever. I can be good. Just give me the cross, okay? I can’t—I don’t know how to explain it. I just need it. Please.”
“Dinner first. Then we’ll see. Deal, Eve? I’m dirty, and I want some peace and quiet while I shower. Okay?” I grunt, grabbing the shampoo bottle and squeezing some out into my palm.
As I lather the shit in my hair, her calm words ring out through the shower curtain.
“Fine. Dinner with you...is fine. But I’m serious about the necklace. And I won’t let the subject go, either. As long as I’m close enough to hear, I’ll be bitching. I want the necklace. I’m serious, Jacques.”
After I’ve stepped from the shower, I hook my towel around my waist and dry my hair with a smaller one. Then I head from the bathroom. When I find Eve curled up on my bed, passed the hell out, something inside my rib cage hammers against it. I curl my hand into a fist before shoving it against the ache in my chest, and for reasons I can’t explain, I hurry to cover her the rest of the way up with my comforter. Then I tuck her in.
Once I’m dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt for the night, I slip my feet in my house shoes and quickly text Dreads.
Me: Hey, man. Bring up two burgers and fries. Don’t fucking ask. Has King said anything?
I set my phone on the bedside table. Then I ease next to her on the bed. Like I said, I can’t fucking explain my actions. They’re just happening. And I just fucking let them, for lack of a better goddamn idea of what to do.
When my phone dings, notifying me of an incoming text, it startles the little vagabond in my bed. She sits up before stretching her arms over her head and smiling.
“Sorry. I’m so tired lately,” she mutters as I glance down at my phone.
“Don’t worry about it,” I reply.
Dreads: Nails is headed up with two well-done burgers. And no. King’s not back in town yet. Tomorrow morning.
I hold my phone up before returning her smile. “Supper’s headed up.” I stand from the bed and head in the direction of my bureau. There, I shoot Dreads a text asking for Eve’s father’s ETA and then chunk my phone on top of my dresser. After I open the top drawer, I grasp the silver chain as soon as my hand feels its coolness. Then I curl it around my fist and pull my hand out of the drawer before slipping it into my pocket.
“I assume you like your burger well-done. I hope that wasn’t wrong on my part?” I ask, raising my eyebrows and allowing the smirk to slither its way across my face. And my dimples make their appearance.
She’s fucking cute as shit. And I don’t remember tapping it… So that makes her a virgin to me. Sue me. I’ve never dipped into a pregnant chick before, and from what I’ve heard...it’s much wetter. And worth every effort.
“Well-done’s fine. Why are you suddenly being so nice,? You want more answers? Don’t you?” she asks, her tone laced with suspicion.
“Of course. But I also figured maybe hanging out with you wouldn’t be so bad. I’m not going to regret that though. Am I?” I chuckle and almost go to settle beside her on the bed. But someone knocks, interrupting my movement. “Shit. Hold on a sec. It’s Nails. He’s bringing our dinner.”
After Nails has made several sideways glances towards Eve, I shuffle the trays away from him and slam the door shut behind his intruding ass a few seconds later.
Once I’ve set her plate next to her crossed legs, I settle on top of the bed with my legs in Indian-style too. Facing her. Then I set my plate on my lap.
“So…” I begin out of pure boredom. “Six months, huh? You didn’t even know? Never crossed your mind you were pregnant? Not one time in the six months Ben held you captive in his basement? It was his basement, right? That’s what Dreads said Philip said.” I make sure I’ve got the story correct, making eye contact with her.
“Yes. I’m six months pregnant. And yes, believe it or not. Mention it or not—the baby is yours. As for where your sick psychotic cousin held me against my will, I’m not certain. I just know there were stairs leading up to a house. A house I never saw past the first room of, which was a kitchen—in case you were wondering.” She spits the last few words at me.
“Okay. Cool your jets, Momma. I’m just making small talk. That’s all.” I’ve learned over the past few months that, if you can keep a calm resolve, almost anything—nine times out of ten—works out more in your favor. I plan on seizing this opportunity to do just that.
Remain calm. And remember, as far as she needs to know, there’s no rush. There’s no threat.
Not to her. And not to her baby.
She can’t fucking know the shit that was in the letter that came with the last No Name No Colors bike. Not yet. She can’t know me and the brothers just held a vote and lives are about to be lost. Not hers though—at least not yet. The lingering thought quickly enters then leaves my mind. No, not hers…but definitely Roxy’s.
If Eve had any idea how unstable our current foundations are right now, she would more than lose her shit. She’d fall the fuck apart. I may not know her, but I’m not dumb. That’s for damn sure.
Yeah, we’re just gonna talk. About the easy shit. But that’s it.