Chapter 14

 

 

 

Bellamy

 

The past two days lapsed without any interruption from the Blue Enigma. The days were filled with peace and eye-opening pleasure spent with Banshee. He hasn’t left my side or second-guessed his decision to stick by me. Waking up curled in his arms and lazily laying on the couch watching mundane TV, not remembering what the program was about because we were so frenzied with touches here and kisses there.

 

Today’s Sunday, and we promised we’d take Granny to Sunday Service at the local Baptist church. Granny said we need to repent our sins with the events that seemed to be tacked to our asses this past week and come tomorrow; we’d be washed of our demons. We’ll see. I’m dating a Devil and plan to have him tacked to my ass for years to come.

 

Arriving at the church with mere minutes to spare to find a pew and ask for forgiveness, I can’t help the impure thoughts clouding my mind. Banshee is sexy in his kutte, snug-fitting jeans, and motorcycle boots, but today, he’s scorching in his black dress slacks, tight long-sleeved forest green button-up that brings out the green in his eyes and his hair slicked to the side. Taking a seat in between him and Granny, I can’t help but calculate the best way to hop up on his lap planting my feet on either side of his hips and taking him for a joy ride until the preacher disrupts my dilemma with a loud ‘amen.’

 

Twisting my hands in my lap, Banshee snatches one and places it on his thigh with his other hand covering it. A constant circle rubbing lightly sending tingles through my arm to my core definitely isn’t any more appropriate than my daydream. Looking into his eyes, he leans closer to me brushing his lips to my cheek.

 

“Ask for forgiveness, and you shall receive.” The preacher crows on.

 

I flip my hand over and slide my fingers through Banshee’s. Turning my attention to the congregation, I see my dad and momma across the aisle a few pews ahead of us and settle. My mom tilts her head and winks at me with a small smile before turning back. That one smile is the assurance I need that I’m not going to explode into a ball of fire and be removed from this pew with a broom and a dustpan.

 

I’m going to be completely honest, and it has nothing against God and the church, but I’m not particularly fond of church. It’s not because I’m a full-fledged sinner, but I never made a choice myself to go. When I was little I enjoyed the activities, and when I was a little older I enjoyed the youth group, but when I became a teenager and would’ve rather slept in a few more hours than put on a hideous dress and be forced to sit in a pew and listen to the same words I heard my entire life, I began to resent it.

 

I wasn’t exactly forced today, but I’m still uncomfortable and having the plaque of Jesus being crucified staring back at me makes me want to fall to my knees crying and pleading with God that from this day forward I’ll live a life that shines and makes the angel’s breakout in song. But seriously, I know I’ll never be able to commit to that even in the littlest degree, so I’ll just continue to sit here and keep an eye out for the lightening bolt that will probably land between Banshee and me any second.

 

The next forty-five minutes goes by slow as molasses and me surveying the congregation like a nervous Nellie. Jumping out of the pew like my ass is on fire and dragging to Banshee to the doors, I’m stopped by Pastor Donovan.

 

“God as my witness, Bellamy Mae, it’s been a coon’s age since the last time I’ve seen you at church.” He holds my hand in his and pats the top of it. “How are you?” He cocks his head at Banshee. “How are you, young man? I’m Pastor Donovan. I’m happy that you could join us on this fine Sunday mornin’.”

 

“Good morning, Pastor.” I stammer. “We’re doing just great.” I slide my hand from his and loop it into Banshee’s arm. “We must be going, so that these fine people have a word with you. Have a wonderful Sunday.” I scoot around him with a chuckling Banshee.

 

“Damn, Sweets, you wouldn’t even let me talk to the man. What’s the hurry?”

 

Studying the clouds and not finding any indication of a torrential downpour with sparks of lightening and bellows of thunder, I answer. “Just making sure that we’ve got some time before God decides to send down his wrath from the sky.”

 

He grips my arm and drags me into him as he hides his laugh in my hair. “The chance of wrath in today’s forecast is ten percent, so I think we’re safe.” He leans back and cups my chin. “Bellamy, you’d have to go on a killing spree in ten states before you should be fretting over being struck by lightening. You’re too good to be taken from this Earth before it’s your time to help all those people you’re destined to touch.”

 

Before I can respond, Granny’s rushing our way with her floppy purple hat and matching handbag swinging in the breeze. “Let’s go. I feel refreshed, and now I can cuss for another seven days before the guilt sets in.” She says in passing to stand by my car. Banshee unlocks the car and Granny rips open the door and plunks her ass in the seat. Banshee pulls up his seat so I can slide in and then takes his place behind the wheel. “Now we got that shit over with today, let’s go to Cumming to Moe’s for brunch. Your daddy can pay, and I don’t have to wash a damn dish afterward. Hallelujah.” She praises.

 

I don’t have to worry about a downpour following because the fucking storm is in the passenger seat of my car.

 

***

 

The drive to Cumming is full of Granny entertaining us with her singing and humming as she says the wrong words to almost every song that comes through the speakers. But she has no shame, she answers that she sings it like she hears it and if it ain’t right, fuck it.

 

Can’t argue with that.

 

We pull up to the 50’s style dinner, and Banshee helps me out of the car placing his hand firmly on my back as he steers me toward the door. The parking lot is full of motorcycles, and I have a feeling it’s not just the Chaotic’s enjoying Sunday brunch.

 

My family pulls up in my dad’s oversized Chevy pickup and all file out. My brothers have unbuttoned their shirt collars and rolled up their sleeves. My mom’s chastising them for looking like a bunch of unruly teenage boys because they’ve replaced their dress shoes with scuffed up cowboy boots.

 

We enter to a hoard of leather. It seems to be rally day at Moe’s with the Devils, Chaotic’s and Pinks crowded in the back corner with empty seats at one end. Banshee leads us to the table and pulls out my chair, and Granny’s as my dad pulls out my mom’s. We settle, and conversation flows around us about the new nightclub and its grand opening in a couple of weeks. The mood changes after we order and Brute fills in the Chaotic’s on the Blue Enigma.

 

“You can’t trust them. You need to cut that apron string.” Brute informs Rudy.

 

“They ain’t done nothing to me and mine, so why should I up and start a retaliation war against them.” Rudy growls.

 

“Bellamy didn’t have to come to your Clubhouse to take care of your fucking Prospects, but she did. Some fucking man of his word you are.” Banshee bellows hands fisting on the table.

 

Rudy slams his hand on the table in anger. “Watch how you talk to me boy. They ain’t done nothing but stalk her, and you can’t start a feud over that. If that’s all it took, we’d have had plenty of battles against stupid fuckers who want what they can’t…” Rudy doesn’t get to finish as the proverbial shit hits the fan.

 

Pings ricochet through the splatters of glass as everyone hits the deck. Screams of pain and worry echo in my ears as I’m crowded under the table with Banshee. Peering through, I see Granny struggling to crawl to safety. Her hand reaches for mine as the blood smears behind her. My mind struggles with fight or flight for a split second before I maneuver Banshee off my back and meet her halfway.

 

“Babycakes.” She sputters. I watch as the light slowly leaves her eyes.

 

“Granny,” I yell. “Stay with me. Let me take care of you.” I flip her onto her back and take in her wounds. The hole where the bullet passed is a few inches away from her heart and red is spreading through her dress. I stick two fingers into the hole and rip it as wide as I can. Her chest is gradually rising. I frantically look around me for something that I can apply pressure to her chest with. My brother, Travis, is huddling over my mom. “Travis.” His eyes meet mine, and he takes in Granny. “I need your shirt. NOW!” He strips it off and tosses it too to me. I press it firmly against the bullet hole as the sirens breach the chaos surrounding us. I hover over her face as her eyes flutter open. “Come on, Granny. You can’t let a little old bullet take your ornery ass away from us.”

 

Tears drip from my cheeks to hers. “Girl, my ornery ass is ready for the fate that is placed in front of me.” She stutters. “Your dad is one of my greatest accomplishments, but you are my biggest prize.” She falters, and her eyes close. “You are my light, love, and gift to that man-meat. Cherish him.” She faintly speaks and then she’s gone.

 

“No, no, no! Granny!” I quickly glance to the people surrounding me. “Maggie,” I scream, and she edges towards us. “Hold this.” She places both hands on the shirt and applies pressure while I tilt Granny’s head and start CPR. Every breath in and every compress of her chest doesn’t generate a return breath for the infinite amount of time I go back and forth. “Come on Granny. We need your stubborn ass. Breath.” I coax.

 

Strong arms surround me and pull me from under the table. “Sweets, let the paramedics take over.”

 

I take in every touch, poke and lift as the EMTs try to bring my grandmother from the depths that have taken her soul from us. I follow them along with my family as we watch her be loaded into the back of the ambulance. They ready the paddles without success, and I watch as they cover her face with the white sheet.

 

I collapse to my knees. I cuss and pray for God to bring her back. She’s my confidant, my shoulder to cry on and the biggest pain in my ass, but she was my pain in the ass, and I need her.