Rough & Real
NOTORIOUS DEVILS #7
It is official.
I’ve let myself go.
I know it. My husband West knows it. Hell, the entire Notorious Devils club, including the whores, know it, too. I see the way they dismiss me as their eyes always lock onto my husband’s.
My Old Man is hot. He’s been mine since I was twenty-one years old. Now, fifteen years later, I think he looks even better than he did the day I met him. Unfortunately, time hasn’t been as kind to me. Three children, twenty pounds, and the overall mom-look isn’t a gorgeous sight to see when you look at yourself in the mirror.
It doesn’t help that I’d overheard West talking about me just last night. I guess he didn’t realize that the bedroom window was open. He was outside talking to one of his brothers, a newer guy they call Tinker, who had been telling West that he was thinking of making some girl his Old Lady.
“Don’t do it brother,” West chuckled.
“Why’s that? You got an Old Lady,” Tinker points out.
“Yeah, few years down the road, after a few kids, they let themselves go, man. That sexy as fuck bitch that’s on the back of your bike, now? She’s gonna be a member of the PTA in mom jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, carrying around an extra thirty pounds from kid number three that she’s too fuckin’ lazy to lose,” West states.
I sat in our bedroom, the bedroom where we made our three children, and I cried. That was last night. Today, I make a change, and not for him—for me.
I didn’t know he thought of me that way. How could I? Certainly, not when he told me more often than not that he loved the curves of my body, knowing his babies put them there, while he fucked me.
West and I aren’t perfect. We’re married. We argue. We’ve gone through weird moments off and on throughout our marriage, but what we never have done is go through dry spells. I’ve never once worried that my husband is fucking whores at the clubhouse, not once.
We have sex almost every single night of the week. Exhausted or not, I always make time for my man. After hearing him talk to his brother last night, now I’m not so sure. That conversation alone makes me question everything about us.
“Finley is picking me up and we’re going to the mall,” Rosalie, our thirteen-year-old daughter states from the doorway.
Finley is the president of the Notorious Devils’ sixteen-year-old daughter. “Is Bailey joining you?” I ask, speaking of the youngest Duhart, a thirteen-year-old boy—a boy my daughter is very much in puppy love with. She blushes slightly and nods. I sigh, knowing this day was coming, yet never truly ready for it. My brown haired, blue eyed daughter is growing up.
“Have fun. Be home by dinner time,” I murmur.
“Thanks mom, you’re the best,” she squeals as she runs in to give me a quick hug.
A few minutes later, Remi, our ten-year-old son, and Reid, our eight-year-old son, come rushing into my bedroom. They ask if they can go two houses down to their cousins to play legos.
One of West’s sisters, lives two houses down from us. His other sister lives across the street, and his mother lives three houses down in the opposite direction.
Some days, I enjoy his family being so close, especially since my only family is my brother, Barry. Other days, I want them to stay out of my business.
With the children out of the house, I decide to go online and research gyms and trainers. No more feeling shitty about myself. No more hearing my own husband tell his friends about my supposed thirty-pound weight gain, even though it’s only twenty—no fucking more.
I call the gym and the trainer has an opening right away, so I text my sister-in-law to let her know that I have an errand to run and I leave. If I’m going to do this, I need to just go and handle it immediately. If I wait around, I’ll over think it and avoid it.
Once I arrive at the gym, I let the front desk know that I’m here and wait for the trainer. He arrives, and I try so hard to keep from letting my mouth fall to the floor. He isn’t much younger than me, maybe five years, but he’s ripped, totally and completely ripped. Immediately, I want to turn and run.
“Ivy?” he asks, his voice softer than I imagined it would be. I stand and take his outstretched hand. “I’m Chad.”
He tells me to follow him into his office and we talk. He asks me about my health, about my fitness level—which is pathetic—then he weighs and measures me. When I see the numbers, it makes me sick to my stomach.
How did I let this happen?
“Don’t stress, Ivy. You are not in bad shape. I’ve seen so much worse. I predict in just a few weeks, if you follow the plan we set forth today, you’re going to see a drastic change. Let’s talk about your goals,” Chad smiles.
I leave the gym with a workout schedule and a food plan. Our first session starts at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, when the kids are in school and West is gone, doing whatever it is he does all day long.
This is the chance for me to better myself, to change my body and to love myself. Maybe my husband will look at me the way he did when we first met each other all those years ago, when I worked in this little dessert bar downtown. Carlotta’s.
I lift my chin to Tinker, who is curled on the sofa in the bar with his woman. I shake my head, knowing he’s going to make her his Old Lady. She’s a nice girl, but I can tell that she’s into him for one reason, and one reason only. For a brand.
After fifteen years in the club life, I can spot the girls like her from a mile away. I tried to warn him off of her the only way I knew how. I told him she was going to get fat and lazy if he branded her. She probably will, too; she’s the type. I curl my lip and make my way toward the Prez’ office.
“You are absolutely not going to that college. It’s nothing but a party school,” I hear him growl.
I can only imagine he’s talking to his oldest daughter, Riley. She’s got it in her head that she wants to go to Chico State, and no way in fuck is her father gonna allow that shit.
“Daddy, all my friends are going, and I’ll be so close to home,” she whines.
“No, and that’s final,” MadDog’s voice booms.
A few seconds later, an emotional teenager flies out of his office and past me.
“Don’t laugh. You’re fuckin’ next,” MadDog growls as I walk into his office and close the door.
“Don’t I know it. Rosalie is already all starry-eyed over Bailey. I’m definitely not ready for that shit.”
“Fuck,” MadDog grunts. “I don’t know what’s worse, trying to keep all the dicks away from my girls, or trying to keep my son’s dick from going after all the girls,” he rumbles.
“He better keep his little pecker to himself,” I state, giving him a hard look.
MadDog laughs and shakes his head. “Kids, man, who the fuck said we should do this shit? I’m too goddamn old,” he murmurs.
“I recall you telling Mary you wanted one more after Bailey was born and she put her foot down,” I say, arching a brow.
“Bullshit,” he barks. I can’t help but laugh.
We shoot the shit for a while and then we stand and head to church together. We have a meeting today. As a group, we have some important decisions to make about the future of the club.
Unfortunately, there have been murmurings of another club trying to start shit and hone in on our territories, a new club that we don’t know much about. Hopefully, Soar and Torch have some more information about it, since they’ve had a week to dig some shit up.
I pass by Grease, my brother-in-law, who gives me a chin lift. I grin at him as I continue on my way. I’ve been in love with his sister for fifteen years. Though he hated me for it at first, we’ve handled our differences. Now, we’re not just brothers, we’re friends.
My mind quickly drifts to my wife. She’s not the same person now as the day I met her. Time has changed her, it’s changed us. She’s a mother to three kids, and she’s damn good at it. She handles our house, the kids—and at night, she handles me.
But lately, I feel like we’re in a complete rut. I don’t know how to change that. We aren’t spontaneous, we can’t be as parents. And our sex life, while it’s consistent, it’s a little boring. It fucking kills me to even think that.
I pass by the free-for-all room and I pause. There’s a couple prospects fucking one of the whores, together. She’s on her hands and knees, sucking one cock, while another fucks her from behind. I watch.
This seems to be where I’ve been finding myself more often than anywhere else. I shouldn’t even look, but I can’t fucking help myself—it’s sexy as shit.
“Let’s get this meeting started,” MadDog announces breaking me of my thoughts.