Page 98 of Savior
Besides Dean? Diesel... Dozer... Daniel?
“None that make any sense.” I say. “Maybe they mixed up the messages at the florist? Addressed the wrong name? I’m certainly not the only pregnant woman in town that had a birthday recently.” And Dean’s entire MC was happy for us. Nobody was less than enthusiastic about our happy news.
“I suppose that’s possible.” Ethan shrugs. “What a weird mix-up.”
I glance at the flowers once more. As beautiful as they are, something feels a little ominous about them now.
“Very weird.”
Cherry and I are restocking the shelves behind the bar, when the steel door of the Twisted Throttle swings open. Viking enters, slamming it behind him before he realizes we’re both here.
“Sorry.” He grunts.
Cherry and I exchange glances, before she goes back to restocking. I step up to the bar as Viking takes a seat.
“What’s eating you?”
He seems to glare at me for a moment, as if he resents me for something I’m not yet privy to. I wait him out.
“I should punch you.” He finally mutters. “Wreck that fucking face all these bitches swoon over.”
“The fuck did I do to you?”
“You hexed me, bro!”
It only takes me a second to comprehend what the hell he’s talking about. And as I clamp my mouth shut, pressing my lips together as I stare at him, trying not to laugh, his scowl intensifies.
“Don’t, Dean. I’m warning you. I will fuckin’ knock that smirk you’re fighting off your damn face.”
Oh, how I’ve waited for this moment! But I retain my composure, taking in a deep breath that seems to annoy him further. Just in case, I step back from the bar, beyond his immediate reach, and ask, “What’s her name?”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s off limits. Belongs to another crew.”
“A sweetbutt, or an Ol’ Lady?”
He glares at me, as if he’s waiting for me to really start breaking his balls. He knows he’s more than earned it. “What did I just say?”
“A sweetbutt, then. Well, that’s nice of you.” I grin at him.
“Fuck you, Dean!” he takes a swing at me over the bar counter, but I easily dodge him, laughing as I jump out of range.
“Fuck, I’m only joking with you.” I tell him. “You know I don’t judge them. You’d be better off with a lay girl than having a thing for someone else’s Ol’ Lady, anyway.” I shoot him a slight glare. I’d be a little surprised if that is the case, after what happened between Lucinda and I. Viking was around for all of it. “That would be a pretty monumental mistake, no?”
“I know what you’re thinking, dick. No. She ain’t an Ol’ Lady. I’m not stupid. That’s your department when it comes to bitches, bro. Losing your mind. You’re the idiot that fell for a stripper called Calamity Jane!” Viking scoffs at me. “Bitch was waving red flags in your face the moment you laid eyes on her. Fuck, man. She was even wearing little red flags on her tits before she tore ‘em of and threw ‘em at you!”
I fight the urge to scowl at him. That was over twelve years ago. I was in my mid-twenties, living the wild, free-lance biker life. Lucinda was a hot and willing piece of ass that sank her claws in me. There’s no denying she’s always been a looker. Legs for days on her, too. But red flags, there were plenty. From her stripper stage name, to the song playing that she was dancing to, eye fucking me from the stage. Aerosmith’s, What Kind Of Love Are You On… Should have asked her that question my damn self.
At that time in my life, a smoking hot chick with Daddy issues was tough to pass up. We had the whole fucked up father thing in common. Though fortunately, Lucinda’s father didn’t beat on her. He simply wasn’t in her life. Really never had been.
Lucinda was raised in the MC life style, though. Her biological father and uncles were all bikers. The wild type, like I’d been. We had that in common as well. Perhaps the lack of positive, consistent male role models in her life growing up, skewed her over all view of men in general.
She grew up fairly destitute. Watching her single mother struggle to make ends meet. I suppose that’s why designer labels hold the appeal they do for her. Provide her that temporary high she gets, flashing that shit around as if it actually means something.
As far as men in her life, by the time her mother re-married a decent guy, the damage was already done. Lucinda views men as replaceable meal tickets. Stepping stones. She learned to use her looks as a weapon early on, and damn did she master that. Over the years, I tried to be good to her, but it was never enough. We were a toxic combination from the start. Calamity Jane… Damn, was I a fool.
I sneer back at Viking. “Whatever. You’d have gone for her too, if she didn’t favor me, first.”
Viking chuckles, though it’s with an edge. “Thanks for taking that bullet, jackass.”
