Misha
Being back in town was strange. Most people who came through Ace of Pride knew my face— thought I had just run out of town like a wild child. Daddy apparently hadn’t told anyone but the Pride what had happened. Hadn’t wanted the cops involved, it seemed, as he’d trusted them less than he’d trusted his daughter to make good choices with biker boys.
Well. Daddy had always been a smart man who knew what he was talking about.
I spent my days at the bar. Things were a little boring during the day, but I would take boring over anything that the Jackals would have been doing, and I found things for Rose to do. I had packed her coloring book and crayons, as well as a couple little books that Holland had gotten her. I never let her think that man was her daddy, and hadn’t let him pretend like he was, either, but I couldn’t say he hadn’t at least tried to make her as happy as a little girl should be.
She liked the boys. She hadn’t gone a day in her young life not being around men in kuttes, drinking and swearing and doing questionable things to women in broad daylight. Oddly enough, the Pride boys were a little more put together than the Jackals; they kept that wild stuff to a minimum when I brought Rose up front. Travis taught her how to play pool, holding her up so she could reach the table. The DeVos twins tried to teach her darts, but there was something about pointy, flying things in my daughter’s hands that made me hesitant.
“We’ll teach her when she’s older,” they’d laughed in unison.
Trip was the only one that hadn’t made a real effort to get to know her, and after our fight or … whatever that had been, I didn’t know if he was half as interested in her as he should have been. Or as I’d hoped he be. It wouldn’t have been so frustrating, but even Brig, who eyed me suspiciously like he knew I had something to hide, had taken to her.
So, it was the boys, pool, and darts, that watched over my little girl, and the handful of coloring books that were almost all full of color. But pool and darts and coloring books weren’t enough for a five-year-old girl.
I sat in Trip’s room, watching her take her afternoon nap as I dug through the duffle bag that I had brought with us. It had been all that I could think to pack. Clothes for a couple weeks—now running low—the things to entertain Rose, some hygiene products—also running low— and some other things that I had thought would be good to bring at the time.
Down at the bottom, and probable the most important thing in the duffle, was a baggie, almost like the ones used for banks. It had a few hundreds in it, about thirty thousand in cash that I had been saving over the last five years between getting it from Holland, skimming the minimal I could get off Jackal profits, selling a few things here and there. It had been a miracle that I had managed to keep such a thing from Holland, and even more of one that I had managed to keep it from Rigger.
Caught up in the thought that I could use some of it to buy Rose some more clothes, maybe a few things to keep her entertained while I worked out the logistics of getting a cheap little car, something I could drive away with her, I didn’t realize the door had opened. I jumped when a hand came down on my shoulder.
“Woah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Packing a lot of cash in there, I see.”
I hastily piled the clothes that had been in our duffle on top of the money, and looked up at Trip.
“It’s security,” I said.
“Mm.”
He didn’t look like he believed me, but that was more his problem than mine. Before he could ask about it, I decided to ask my own question.
“I need to go into town and buy a few things for myself and Rose,” I said. “Just a few things, nothing drastic. You think I could call a cab or something?” I didn’t have my own phone to do such a thing, but I didn’t want to assume I could just use whatever was in the bar, either.
“No,” he said. I frowned.
“What—”
“Come on. I’ll drive you. Don’t have anything else to do right now anyway.”
“You don’t drive, you ride.”
“Yeah, but unless you’re buying a whole store full of girly clothes and princess playhouses, I’m pretty sure whatever you get will fit under the seat. Come on.”
Trip left no room to argue as he slipped out of his room. I sighed, casting a look down at Rose. I followed Trip out.
“What about Rose, Trip?” I asked. He looked back at me with a somewhat puzzled look before it seemed to dawn on him.
Oh, the ease of being a new parent and being able to forget just like that.
“Hey, Trav!”
“Huh!?” Travis’ voice came from somewhere in the bar, though I could tell where he was as we passed through.
“Gonna take Misha to the store. Watch Rose for me, okay?”
“You got it, Boss Man.”
Trip held the bar door open for me.
“See? Easy. Travis won’t let anything happen to her.”
I nodded, though it was strange to think of leaving her behind. I never left her behind. I didn’t step through the door even as it was held open for me. My heart beat fast in my chest; it felt like I was abandoning her –
“Hey.”
Trip’s hand came to settle on my lower back, his fingers splaying over my spine in a caress. I sucked in a breath; I hadn’t felt his touch like that in so long, and hadn’t been expecting it, either. He used that hand and maybe my distracted state, too, to nudge me from the door before pulling his hand away.
Part of me was grateful; the other part hated the feeling of him not touching me anymore.
We said nothing to each other as he brought me over to his bike. She was still a looker, shiny black and chrome, and I remembered all the long rides in the night that we had had on her. From under his seat, he pulled his spare helmet; he was still a rebel and didn’t wear one himself.
“You remember how to ride?” he asked, and I pretended like I didn’t hear the double implication in his voice.
“I never stopped.”
That surprisingly drew a smile to his face, the first that had broken over it since I got back. He slid onto his bike, and I, after, sliding the helmet onto my head, got on behind him. There was a faint hint of sugary sweet shampoo that lingered on the helmet; reminding me of the waft of it I had gotten from Trixie when she had stormed from his office.
But we were pulling out and peeling off before I could really let it sink in that there was another woman who hadoccupied this space behind Trip that I always used to. I wrapped around him snug and tight. He was still so built, perhaps even more. He was solid beneath my arms and I shuddered at the feeling of him.
“You good back there?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
I was … blissed.
I couldn’t help but snuggle against his back, cheek right between his shoulder blades. I’d ridden with Holland and Rigger a lot. But they never felt as good as Trip, and I was beginning to remember why. He felt like home. Dangerously, wonderfully, like home.
He rode us through town, and I knew he was taking the leisurely route; it didn’t take forty-five minutes to get to the department store from the bar. Maybe he wanted to show me everything that I had missed over the years of being gone. Maybe he felt as good to have me on the back of his baby as much as I was happy to be on it.
When we got to the store, I dismounted with shaky legs that I tried to hide. I was made aware of the fact that that warmth had returned to me. I felt it all the way between my legs. If Trip noticed, he didn’t say anything, but his eyes did linger on me with a raised brow and a knowing smirk.
“What?” I asked. He shook his head.
“Nothing. I was just thinking that with everything that has changed, there’s at least something that hasn’t.”
I raised my brow at him, but all he did was laugh. With a roll of my eyes, I walked forward, toward the store, showing that I was all too willing to leave him behind. He laughed.
Another first since I’d been back.
He caught up to me before I got to the storefront, throwing his arm over me before we got through. I shouldn’t have, but I pressed to his side. Again, he felt like home.
We walked through the store. There was a silence, and I didn’t know if I should fill it or not. More than once I looked up at Trip, and he looked like he was in deep thought. After piling some necessities into my basket, I headed over to the clothing section, wanting to get Rose a few things. Trip stopped shy of it, veering off down a completely different aisle.
“Trip, what—”
“What kinda toys does Rose like?”
He brought us down a toy aisle. It was full and bursting bright with pinks and purples, dolls in pretty dresses, and Barbie cars. Oh. That’s what he wanted to do.
I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, staring hard at the selection of dolls in front of him. He seemed lost, and I found that adorable.
“Well, one, the assumption that Rose likes to play with dolls. She’s actually a Hot Wheels girl herself.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
Trip continued to stare at the dolls, before heading to the adjacent aisle, the one with all the cars and trucks and Nerf guns.
“Don’t know shit about dolls, anyway. This is a hell of a lot easier.”
I pushed the cart behind him and stood back, watching as he perused the selection of toys before him. He plucked various items from the shelving, popping them into the basket. He was about five toys in before I pulled the cart away, preventing him from putting in a sixth. He looked at me with a raised brow.
“What are you doing?”
“You know you don’t have to get her all of this, right?”
“I have five years to make up for, and she doesn’t have any toys.”
Insistently, he pulled the cart back toward him, placing the toy into the basket. My brow was raised, but I allowed him this one thing. I supposed that I couldn’t blame him; he had just found out that he had a daughter.
“She talks about you, you know,” I said. We moved from the toy aisle back to the clothes. I started picking things out for her that I knew she would like, within the limited of the money that I brought with me. “She thinks that you look cool in your jacket, but she thinks you don’t like her.”
He rounded on me.
“What?”
“Well, it’s not like you talk to her,” I said simply. “Not a lot. I could probably tell her Travis is her daughter and she’d probably believe me—”
I stopped when I felt his hand on my arm.
I looked back. He didn’t hurt me; he didn’t even look angry. He was frowning.
“I don’t know what to say to her.”
Ah.
I smiled at him, though I pried his fingers from my arm. Oh, I knew what those strong, deft fingers could do and I wasn’t afraid of them holding me—that’s why I needed them off me.
“She’s five,” I pointed out. “You don’t have to give her a dissertation on your life or a huge spiel on the birds and the bees. She likes you. She just thinks you don’t like her.” I frowned a little. “You do like her, don’t you?”
“She’s fucking amazing; I don’t know how I couldn’t. Travis says she was working in a little workbook the other day; she can already do small multiples!”
I chuckled. I turned my attention back to the little girls’ clothes, plucking a shirt I knew she would like.
“Holland didn’t think letting her go to school was a smart idea. So I taught her how to read when she got old enough and started buying those little schoolbooks for her, too, once she got good at writing. She’s very good at math. And reading. She’s a smart little thing. I wanted to make sure that she didn’t fall behind or anything, even with the circumstances.”
“That’s amazing.”
I caught his eyes, and he was looking at me, almost mesmerized. I couldn’t help but flush at the intensity of the gaze, couldn’t help but feel like I used to when I came to him.
“I was just trying to be a good mother.”
“Rose is lucky for that.”
My heart skipped, and it took everything in me to not cry. Instead, I finished with the clothes.
“I think this is all we need for now.”
“You’re not gonna get yourself anything?”
“I got some hygiene stuff that we were both needing, but all I need to do is wash clothes and I’ll be fine.” I didn’t want to blow too much of the money too soon.
“If you say so.”
Seemed that that was the only thing that Trip was willing to compromise on. When we got to the counter, he got in front of me, pulling out his wallet.
“I’m going to pay, Trip,” I said. I’d brought money for that!
“You’re staying under my roof, and while you’re under my roof, you’re under my responsibility. Besides, most of that in there is for Rose, anyway. Isn’t a father supposed to provide for his child?”
He had me there.
Begrudgingly, I let him pay for everything, figuring that I could pocket the money I would have spent and put it towards something else. We grabbed the bags, just a few, and headed out.
“Hey,” he said. “You want to grab a bite to eat? We could hop over to Flagler—”
“That’s an entire county over, Trip.”
“We used to go all the time.”
“Rose is still at the bar, though …”
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go. It was that this was starting to feel too familiar and good. I was supposed to be getting on my feet so I could take Rose and leave properly, for good. That meant the Jackals and the Pride.
And Trip.
We got to Trip’s bike, and he started loading up the under seat. He took my hand when I went to set the last bag into it. I tried to avoid his gaze, but I couldn’t. I looked up at him with a nervous, bitten lip.
“I don’t know what more there is to you and the Jackals,” he said. “You’ve changed. I get that. I have too. I’m not like I was back then. But just let’s do this for old time’s sake while we’re out.”
And just like that, I couldn’t possibly tell him no.
# # #
It was an hour’s ride from the department store into Flagler. I knew exactly where he was taking me without him even having to say what he was doing. It was this little family diner, one of those old-time kind of places. They still had a jukebox, and they made all their home-style Italian from scratch to order. It was where we had had our first date. He’d snuck me out when I was just fifteen and he was seventeen, for a spin on the brand-new bike Bobby’d bought him.
We arrived, and I wondered if this was right. I had no intention of staying. Trip seemed to have some sort of idea of that. It didn’t seem to matter when we sat across from each other, however, and I started to look at the menu, feeling more and more like my teen self than I did the adult woman that I was today.
Feels like a date. I haven’t gone on a real, right date in ages …
“Nothing’s even changed,” I murmured in awe, looking over the menu after our waitress took our drink orders. I ignored the lingering stare that the girl gave Trip and the way she leaned all the way over so that a peek of her chest was visible for Trip’s obviously wandering eyes in favor of paying attention to the abundance of food that I hadn’t had in forever. Trip laughed.
“You gonna huff and puff over the little waitress like old times, too?”
I looked at him over the menu.
“I was referring to the food.”
“Mmhm.”
“I was. You’re not that much of a problem stirrer, you know.”
“Is that so? I remember back in the day you liked showing pretty, interested waitresses just who was going home with me. Marked your territory real good.”
I stuck my tongue out him, and hoped that my blush wasn’t too prominent.
“Look, see! You’re red as a popped cherry, Mi.”
“Fuck off, T.”
Mi. T. What were we, teens again?
The waitress—Candy, it said on her nametag—came back around to take our orders. She ignored me in favor of asking Trip what he wanted.
“Is there anything good I can get you?” she asked. Once more, she leaned over more than necessary. Trip smiled up at her.
“I think my girl here is ready to order.”
I raised my brow at him calling me his girl, but I wouldn’t deny the satisfaction in how quickly Candy snapped up straight and turned to me instead. Of course, the look on her face wasn’t particularly pleasant.
“What do you want?”
Someone’s got an attitude.
“A large Italian sub and a loaded Stromboli, please.”
“Hmm, big appetite,” she commented; it was far from complimentary.
Candy turned back to Trip, and her tone immediately changed back.
“Now, what can I get you, honey?”
Trip ordered, though I didn’t pay much attention. I kept my eyes on the back of Candy’s head, mouth in a deep grimace. Seriously? Trip didn’t even go for blonde bimbo waitresses
“You know, green was always a good color for you.”
I looked away from a retreating Candy to turn to Trip.
“I’m not jealous.”
“I never said you were jealous.”
“You said green was a good color on me.”
“Your shirt’s green,” he said with a grin. “Take the damn compliment.”
I knew that Trip was playing with me, but I let it go. I was definitely, one hundred percent, was not jealous. It was just rude to ignore fifty percent of your table, that was all! I huffed and took a considerable sip of my soda, looking anywhere but at Trip and his stupid, smug, handsome face.
“Though, it’s kinda nice you still puff up over me. I wonder what else hasn’t changed about you.”
I inhaled through my nose. So, he was going to keep playing this game, was he?
“Not so much that things have changed, but I’ve probably learned a few things that would put you to shame, Trip. So I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”
He laughed.
“Oh? Have you? I bet it’s nothing I can’t handle. I bet whatever it is, I can give you a run for your money.”
“I bet you’re full of shit.”
“Oh, language!” he said, throwing my words back at me.
“Rose isn’t here.”
“I wonder what she’d say if she knew her mommy cursed like a sailor.”
“She’d probably think that it was daddy’s fault for being a bad influence.”
“Oh. Kinky. I didn’t realize you’d be fine calling me daddy.”
I nearly choked on my drink.
“Trip!”
He let out a roaring laugh, and I threw my napkin at him.
“You haven’t changed one bit, have you?”
“Nah, I’ve changed. It’s just been a long time since I’ve been able to have this.”
“Yeah … I can understand that.”
We were silent for a moment before he spoke up again.
“You and Holland … You ever do shit like this?” he asked. He sounded somewhere halfway between curious and not wanting to know.
“Shit like what, Trip? Dates? He took me out from time to time, yeah.”
“Did you like it?”
I stared at him.
“It was better than being holed up in his house all day, or at the shop.”
“I see.”
“It’s not like I looked at them like dates.”
He stared at me for a bit, head tilted.
“Would you consider this a date, then?”
Was he serious?
“I was considering it dinner, to be honest. You never said that it was a date.”
“I didn’t think I had to.”
I scoffed, though I wasn’t mad. It was more to hide the fact that I liked thinking of it as a date a little more than I should have. I was caught somewhere between disbelief and amused … Maybe a little pleased that he would have thought of this as a date to begin with. Hell. There I went again, thinking about this … this … shit again! I took another drink of my soda, as if that was going to help the situation in the slightest.
“What about you and Trixie?” I blurted out.
“What about me and Trixie?”
“It’s obvious that there’s something going on there.”
“She’s a club girl.” Well, I figured that much out. I wasn’t born yesterday. “Not much to go on. Besides, like I told you, that’s not happening anymore.”
“Hmm.”
He said it with such conviction that it was hard to not believe him. I honestly hadn’t when he had told me they were done during our fight. I figured they would still screw around—at least a little, because it wasn’t like there was a huge thing about fidelity among the clubs. Not like there was fidelity to be had between me and Trip!
Still.
I knew club girls. I’d never been one, but if you lived life around bikers, you lived life around club girls. You knew what they were for. You knew what they were worth—at least in the eyes of the boys. I’d always been friends with the girls that hung around the Pride; they also tended to titter on and on about me and Trip.
“You know,” I said, “we’re talking an awful lot about other women, to say that this is a date—”
“It’s a date now, is it?”
“I’m calling it a date.”
He seemed pleased by that, and grinned.
“Well, good. I like the sound of that.”
Our food came out then, Candy swaying her hips this way and that way. Trip didn’t pay attention to them, though. He kept his eyes on me and I couldn’t help but squirm; his stare had always beenneedlessly intense.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I rolled my eyes. As we continued to eat, I felt myself get more and more … open to this. Eating here with him. But yet again, I found myself wanting to clear the air on something.
“About the other day—”
“You don’t gotta apologize. I think it’d probably be better if we didn’t try this whole apology thing, considering where it gets us,” he said. I nudged my foot at him under the table.
“I’m sorry,” I said anyway. “You have to understand things are just—”
“Different.”
“Yeah.”
“You know,” he said. “I don’t think they’re as different as you’re making them out to be. But that’s all right.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. Like you said, it’s been five years … But there is something that I want.”
Of course there is.
“And what would that be, Trip?”
“Well, if this is a date,” he said, digging into the fourth massive slice of his pizza, “I think we should treat it like one. All the way through.” He grinned at me, and my heart fluttered. “You wanna have some fun after? To make up for time lost and … all this shit the last few days. We were always good at making up, you know.”
The air seemed to snap with the release of the tension that had been around us all day—hell, since I’d gotten back—with his brazen, bold words. I knew exactly what kind of fun he meant—and exactly how we used to make up back in the day. It was obvious in the way he looked at me. I had to wonder if that was the only reason he’d brought me out here with him today. I had to wonder even more if I actually cared—I knew that I should, but this was Trip; I’d always been weak for him.
I decided to play it cool, even though I felt my resolve slipping and slipping hard, right between my legs, where the memory of having him there was far too in the distant past. I wanted to make up. I wanted him, too, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to have him for long.
“Depends on the kind of fun,” I said, sipping at my drink. “I don’t want Rose waiting up or thinking that something’s happened to me. Besides. If it’s making up, we should be thorough about it.” I nodded, and Trip matched mine with one of his own.
“Well, I was thinking something quick, but good. I can make up for being an ass when you’ve just gotten back.”
There was that phrase again, and the implication of his words was still there. I couldn’t pretend like there wasn’t one way that this was going to end. I should have been more opposed, but …
“Quick fun, you say?” I took a bite of my food, watching him. His eyes never left my mouth. When I flicked my tongue over my lips, he bit his own. The reaction made me feel powerful.
“Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun if it’s gonna be quick, Trip. And I don’t know if you can make up in such a short amount of time.”
“If I recall, it never took me too long to make you accept my apologies back in the day. Let me take care of you, Misha.”
It was a bad idea. I reminded myself—I wasn’t here for Trip. I wasn’t here to relive our younger days. Hell, I didn’t even know if there was a me and Trip to speak of. The boys at the bar could look at me and treat me like I was still his old lady all they wanted; didn’t mean that I was.
If I recall, it never took me too long to make you accept my apologies back in the day. Let me take care of you, Misha.
I’d missed it so much. Hadn’t realized how much until I’d come back and seen him again.
Maybe that’s all it was to him. Quick fun. If that’s all it was … just fun … Just making up.
It was a bullshit excuse, but I would take it and pretend like it was true nonetheless.
I sipped at my drink. I found myself a little too hot for my jeans, and I knew that there was something nagging between my legs and it was easy to pretend that if this was just for fun then it would be easy to treat it like that when it came time to snip Trip loose again when I left. But there was a reason that I had gotten involved with him in the first place. Trip was a hard man to resist, and I’d never been very good at telling him no. I might as well have been a horny teen again, not caring about caution all for the sake of the pretty boy across from me.
I wasn’t going to forgive myself, but if it meant sating part of this tension, then I would take it with a grain of salt and consider it my earned dues for the shit I’d had to go through.
“Five minutes,” I said, standing up. “We have to get back before sundown and you have work to do.”
I finished my drink and stood up, heading outside. But instead of going to Trip’s bike, I rounded the corner and went toward the alley beside the diner. Trip and I, when we were teens, had made use of that alley more often than not. We’d been stupid back then—apparently, we were still a little stupid.
It’d barely been two weeks, and I was already running back into Trip’s arms after having made the choice five years ago to leave them.