Tori

 

     I took a cool shower, my body deliciously sore from three days of Trench’s body taking me over the edge. I toyed with more makeup than usual, dressed, and fussed with my hair more in the last forty minutes than I remembered doing since high school. Trench was awakening parts of me that had been buried and hidden for too long.

     Trench was nothing like I expected and probably far more than I deserved considering what I’d brought to his doorstep. I was going to go stark-raving mad if I didn’t get out of this room soon. We’d been going at it like teenagers the past few days, taking pleasure from each other every opportunity we got, but it was time to come up for air and face reality. The Disciples were still a real threat and Trench was still the President of an outlaw motorcycle club that needed his leadership and attention.

     I opened the door and froze. The gun Trench left me was loaded and ready on the dresser. All I had to do was pick it up and put it in my waistband and be on my way. The same thing I’d done every other day. Except, I wasn’t entirely sure I needed it anymore. My hand hesitated, hovering over it for a minute longer, before I left it and went in search of something to drink. I sensed Trench wanted more than a temporary fling, but I still had my reservations about the rest of the club. I had not met half of the members yet and to them, I was nothing more than trouble for their President. We were having fun for now and I didn’t want to jeopardize what we had. Defining it, labeling it, might only push him away.

     I took my time walking downstairs and used the first free chance to look around while it seemed deserted. New trash and bottles littered the room and Jinx was working on wiping down the bar top. I’d tried to help a few days ago, but she’d been less than grateful for my interference. Trench told me the club was all Jinx had. No family, no friends, that she could trust anyway, and no real place to call home. The club was it and she felt it was only fair to work to pay her way here. Even the air smelled cleaner when Jinx took on the task, no longer reeking from secondhand cigarettes and cigar smoke.

     Jinx caught me watching and offered a quick sneer. I didn’t take it personal. I’d noticed she acted the same way to all the women. She only really smiled for Trench. That stung a little more than I wanted, thinking of the very real possibility that Jinx and Trench had been intimate before. He’d never claimed to be a saint. I’d probably be snarky if the roles were reversed and Jinx had been the one keeping his bed warm over the last few days. Trench had that effect on women.

     As I stood in the middle of the room, I noticed the pictures on the walls nearest to the pool tables. I walked over and studied them quietly. Most of them were older shots of men straddling their shiny motorcycles in their trademark Pandemonium cuts. It was the club’s history. I searched the photographs and finally found one of Trench’s father, proudly displayed in the center of the rest. Duke Hadden had a genuine smile as he stood next to his bike, one arm hooked around the tiny waist of a busty brunette and the other sitting on top of a little boy’s head as the lad scowled for the camera. I imagined Trench to be no older than five or six at the time the photo was taken, but he was already trying to prove himself to be tough.

     I smiled to myself that such a family could exist, even if only for a short time. I wished Preacher had been the kind of father who’d tried. I moved to the next grouping of images along the wall and gasped at the picture in front of me. I leaned in closer to the frame and blinked several times to make sure my eyes weren’t betraying me. At first glance, the photo seemed normal enough, a throng of people laughing and drinking outdoors while a plume of smoke from the nearby grill captured the scene. None of that was particularly eye-catching, but my mother in the background, standing next to a small group of women with Pandemonium garb, was enough to shock me. She was young, late teens or early twenties, but she seemed so at ease in her surroundings.

     “Hey there, beautiful.” Trench’s voice purred next to my ear as his hands wrapped around my waist from behind.

     “Shit!” I jumped in his arms, nearly headbutting him in the jaw. I was so engrossed in the picture that I never heard him walk up.

     “Easy, babe. Everything okay?” Trench chuckled at my surprise and I turned sideways to point to the image.

     “That picture. When was it taken?” I couldn’t hide the fact that my hand was shaking. Trench noticed too. His eyes regarded me and then the photograph.

     “I don’t know exactly. Before I was born, that’s for sure. I recognize Mama Jo, Clutch’s dad, Branson, and Pops.” He pointed to each of them as he spoke. He reached out and pulled the frame from the wall, turning it over in his hands to reveal a date. “Summer Barbecue, 1989,” he read.

     “Why? What’s wrong?”

     “Turn it over,” I said and waited until he had. “This woman,” I pointed, “is my mother.”

     “Are you shitting me?” Trench brought the picture closer and looked back at me. “Damn. I see the resemblance. You two could be sisters.”

     “They knew each other, Trench. They were friends, your father and my mother.”

     “Sure as hell looks like it. Let me talk to a couple of the older brothers. See if they recognize her. What was her maiden name?”

     “Donohue. Carmen Donohue.”

     “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t pull these old things down for the remodel yet.” Trench bent down and kissed my lips. “I called Aimee. She should be here in a few minutes. Are you good for a bit?”

     “Yeah, of course.” I smiled back. The trembling had subsided, but I had to admit I was curious about my mother. God, it was beginning to feel like I never really knew her at all.