Epilogue
Van
Standing near the fence running along the back of Pendleton Correctional Facility, I look up at the full moon and pull in a deep breath. It’s been damn near three months since I’ve been able to see Dad. I try to get up here at least once a month, but shit has been too fucking crazy lately for that to happen.
This isn’t going to be a normal visit, not in any fucking way. It’s going to be private—private enough to let us talk freely. It took some talking, a few threats, and a shitload of cash, but I finally found a guard dirty enough to make it happen.
The sound of crunching gravel draws my attention. I turn my head and watch my dad walking my way. Every time I see him, I get a glimpse of myself twenty years from now. His deep auburn hair is the same color as mine, without even a streak of grey in it. I’ve got his build, his nose, his mouth. The only thing I got from mom is my blue eyes. Even they are shaped just like Dad’s.
“What the fuck, boy?” he asks as soon as he gets near. “How the hell did you get some guard to drag me out here in the middle of the night?”
“I can’t tell you all my secrets, Dad.” I pull a joint and lighter out of my pocket and hand them to him.
Even with all the money I gave the bastard, the guard made it clear Dad would be swimming in shit if he came back in the jail with any drugs or weapons. He never said a fucking thing about him enjoying a little recreational weed while we were talking.
“I come up for parole in two months, so I hope you aren’t planning to break my ass out tonight.” He lights up, giving it a long hit and passing it my way. “We should wait and see if the hearing swings my way.”
This is his third time in front of the parole board. Both of the other times, his lawyer told him his chances were slim. She ended up being right. This time, she believes Dad is going to get it. I hope like fuck she’s right again.
“Not tonight.” I take a quick toke before handing it back. “We need to talk.”
“Then talk,” he orders in a way only a father can.
I take a deep breath, knowing what I’m gonna say is going to gut him. Not that he will give a shit Mom is gone, but he’ll hate I was the one to take her out. I lay it all out, tell him about killing Mom and why. He asks a few questions, but he mostly just listens. When I start talking about Brass, he drops his head. By the time I’m done, he is vibrating with anger.
“Did she touch you, Van?” he growls, his head still hanging. “Did that cunt try that shit with you?”
“No, she never tried,” I assure him, disgust filling my body.
For the first few days after this shit went down, Ronni watched me like a hawk. Most of the time, her eyes were filled with fear. It was like she was waiting for me to break and lose my fucking mind. Other times, they were filled with worry. It took me awhile to figure it out, but I finally understood she was worried Mom had done the same shit to me. When I finally told her it didn’t happen, she relaxed.
He finally looks up, relief filling his face. “She was fucked up, son. I’ve never seen a person so full of demons. It was like she lived every minute fighting an unwinnable battle. I tried, tried like a motherfucker, but I could never help her.”
“Why the fuck did you ever claim her?” I ask, needing to know the answer.
“I won’t tell you I loved her because I never did,” he states, taking another toke deep in his lungs. “I married her, gave her my cut, because she was pregnant with you. I kept her around because she had you. Then, I asked my best friend to take her on because I wanted him to take care of you.”
I can understand that. I almost did the same thing with Regina. If it hadn’t been for Tito, she’d probably be wearing my ring right now. I didn’t love her, didn’t even like her after a while, but I didn’t want to be a part-time dad. I wanted to be in my daughter’s life on a daily basis, and I thought the only way to do it was to marry the bitch.
Thinking of Cline, I pull a picture out of my back pocket. I took it with my phone not long ago. The two of them were in the kitchen, making a cake and laughing their asses off. I stood at the door watching them and knew I wanted to remember that moment forever. The very next day, I printed it off, knowing I wanted my dad to have a copy.
“Here you go,” I say, pushing it through the chain link fence.
He takes it, using the moonlight to study it. “Fuck, she is getting big.”
When Cline was a baby, I used to bring her to see him. At the time, she had no fucking idea where she was. She won’t ever even remember being inside the prison. That stopped when she turned three. Neither Dad nor I wanted her to have memories of her grandfather behind bars. Now, he gets pictures and the occasional phone call.
“Veronica grew up well, really fucking well,” he adds with a half-grin on his face.
I chuckle because he is telling the damn truth. “She’s already wearing my cut, my ink, and she’ll be wearing my ring soon.”
“Good,” he mumbles, taking one last hit and tossing the roach on the ground. “Has Gillespie been dealt with yet?”
Even being inside, Tito keeps Dad current with everything that concerns the club. Like me, he pays guards for the privilege of private chats. Tito has always said that it was money well spent, saying my father was fucking brilliant. He could find the answer to any problem, even if that answer meant bloodshed.
“Brass is in Vegas right now. The bastard will have his money by the end of the day tomorrow,” I explain with a nod.
Ronni’s inheritance was released a little over a month ago when she turned twenty-five. It took fucking forever to get the money transferred to her account. Then, she had to jump through a million hoops to actually get her hands on the cash. Erin had to do her magic, setting up multiple accounts all over the country then transferring the money in small chunks. Even then, Ronni ended up giving the IRS more than their fair share.
“Are you sure that’s smart?” he asks, looking me in the eye.
“Not sure there was anything else we could have done,” I admit with a shrug.
He doesn’t reply, knowing I do not want to hear what he has to say. He and Tito talked about it, and my dad wasn’t happy about paying the man off. He thinks it will only lead to more problems in the future. Tito and I discussed it, and we both agreed with his reasoning. We just didn’t have any other choice.
He also didn’t like the idea of Ronni giving the rest of her money to charity. He understands why she wants to, just thinks it may be safer to put that shit up for a rainy day. With the lives we live, you never know what is going to happen next. Again, I agreed, so much so that I ended up talking to Ronni about it. It took a while for her to see the light, but she finally decided to hold on to it. The money won’t be touched unless life throws us another curve ball.
“I’d kinda like to be there when you get hitched,” he says, changing the subject. “Do you think you can wait a few more months to make your old man happy?”
“As long as I don’t knock her ass up before you get out, it shouldn’t be a problem,” I tell him honestly.
Just yesterday, Cline asked me when she was going to get a little sister. She made it clear; she wants a sister, not a brother. I laughed it off, but the thought stuck in my head all fucking night. As soon as I got up this morning, I told Ronni I wanted her carrying my baby by the end of the year. Surprisingly, she agreed instantly. She made an appointment to have her IUD removed next week. After that, I’m going to do my damnedest to plant my baby inside her.
“Well, if it gets me another grandkid, I guess I’m okay with that.” He chuckles. “Hopefully, I’ll be around to see this one grow up.”
Before I can say anything, a sharp whistle fills the air. My eyes search for the guard, knowing he is somewhere close but not close enough to hear our conversation. I finally find him standing about forty feet away.
“Guess that’s my cue,” Dad states, lifting his chin. “Love you, son.”
I nod my head, hating that our time is over already. “Love you, Dad.”
He walks away without another word. I watch until the guard leads him back inside then head back to my truck. As soon as I open the door, I see Ronni sleeping with her head leaning on the window. A smile spreads across my face as I climb inside.
She jerks awake when the engine starts. “How’s your dad?”
She wanted to come with me, but I refused. We fought like hell until I finally gave in. I agreed she could ride along but refused to let her go talk to him with me. I’ll bring her back in a few weeks to let her meet my dad. The conversation we had tonight was not one I wanted her to hear. She lived through that shit; she’d didn’t need to hear the blow by blow.
“He’s doing good, really good. Looking forward to his parole hearing,” I tell her, pulling onto the road. “He’s ready to have another grandbaby.”
She scoots closer and runs her hand up my thigh. “Sounds like we have some work to do.”
I smile, not taking my eyes off the road. “Baby, that’s not gonna be work. It’ll be pure fucking pleasure.”
The End