Fool's Claim on April

Chapter 1

APRIL

“Daddy is going to lose his mind.” Mercy giggles, piling even more shaving cream into the shopping cart than we already have.

“Well, they should know to expect it by now,” Kayla says without giggling, though she’s smiling and trying hard not to laugh. “I mean, they’re the ones who let it happen growing up. They have to know we’re not going to stop just because it’s become a tradition.”

“Exactly.” I laugh, push the cart, and move away from the shaving cream. “It’s not like they don’t know that with the three of us home, we’d end up doing something.”

Everyone in town who knows Mercy and Kayla knows who they are.

They are simply two daughters of the Devil’s Riot MC.

Mercy, which is actually her middle name, is Twister’s, the club President’s, daughter.

Horse is Kayla’s dad and the club’s VP. I am not a daughter of anyone in the club, but I am considered family by Twister and Horse since we were kids.

I am just the closest friend of Kayla and Mercy.

There are a few other girls, but the three of us are the tightest. We do everything together.

Growing up in the club made things tougher for us as we got older. We all ended up in what we call the no-touch zone when it came to any guy, whether in the club or outside of it.

Twister, Horse, and the others made sure it was well known around town. Also, Logan, JC, and the other boys we grew up with would not let boys we went to school with mess with any of us.

Kayla and Mercy hated it because it interfered with their dating lives.

However, I didn’t mind. It meant I didn’t have to deal with boys I didn’t want messing with me.

While my best friends were boy-crazy, I wasn’t.

Sure, I’d join in on conversations about how hot a guy was, but I’d never really been into the dating scene.

Probably because I saw how my mom acted, screwing up her life by going from one man to the next.

She wasn’t exactly mother material, but she was still my mom.

Growing up, I spent most of my time at Kayla’s or Mercy’s houses.

I’d spend so many weekends at one or the other that they ended up buying a bed just for me.

I thought that was awesome. Izzy, Mercy’s mom, told me more than once that I didn’t have to go back home and that they could work something out with my mom so I could stay.

I couldn’t do that to them. Dealing with my mom as much as they did was already more than enough.

Plus, when my dad was in town, it wasn’t all that bad.

Sure, Mom would freak out, lose her mind, and rant, but Dad was all about spending time with me.

See, my dad wasn’t exactly a biker, not like the guys in the club, but he was still a biker.

He just didn’t belong to a club. He stuck to the roads more often than not.

While he jokes and calls himself a road warrior, to me he is my dad.

He shows up when he shows up. Spending time with him was always a break from Mom, but that’s all it was.

A break. It never lasted long. Sometimes he’d be around for a few days; other times, a few weeks.

He’s never around for more than a month at a time.

Once I graduated from high school, I was lucky to get a full-ride scholarship to college.

Now, I’m finishing up my last year, and then I’m out in the real world.

I have a plan, or at least a rough idea, for my next steps.

I want to run my own business, a bookstore.

I’m a total book nerd and could lose myself in any book.

From romance to sci-fi to historical, even documentaries.

Kayla and Mercy think it’s a great idea.

Others, though, don’t agree, like my mom.

She thinks I’m an idiot, throwing away my life for a stupid dream.

She’s not the only one who thinks that. In fact, a lot of people think this way about me, but it’s something I try not to think about.

I also don’t talk about it. Ever. Not even to my two best friends.

“What are we thinking about doing with all this shaving cream?” I ask, looking between Kayla and Mercy. The two of them might be cousins, but they could totally pass for sisters. They look so much alike.

“I’m thinking we fill balloons with it and stuff several of the guys’ rooms with them,” Kayla suggests.

“Better yet, let’s fill the beds with them under the covers. You know, put the shaving cream under the covers. We’ve done the balloons thing several times already.” Mercy giggles at her own suggestion.

“Isn’t there another club coming to the clubhouse to visit?” At their nods, I shrug. “Why not fill those confetti cannons we bought with shaving cream and hit a couple of the guys with it when they open the doors to the rooms?”

“Genius. I love it!” Kayla giggles. “That would be even better than the balloons.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Mercy shouts. “We should add something else too. You know, make them slip and slide.”

“I like it.” I laugh, shaking my head. Since we were all staying in one of the clubhouse rooms, it would be easy enough for us to set it up.

When we’re all on break, they typically hold our regular room, which makes it easier for us to have our catch-up sessions.

During summer break, I mostly stay with one of them at their house because I no longer go home.

I don’t even keep anything at my mom’s place.

Twister and Izzy let me store my belongings in their backyard shed.

“We better hurry. Our moms are waiting for us to get back, and we’ve got to help prep for tomorrow. Uncle Thorn and Badger are manning the grills, but we’ve got to prep all the burgers and steaks, and Mom’s personally taking care of the pork butt,” Kayla announces.

“Your mom’s making a pork butt?” I loved Kenny’s BBQ. She smokes it low and slow for hours on end and even makes her own sauce to drizzle over it. It’s the best.

“Yeah, she’s making like five butts. That’s why we better hurry.”

“Then let’s get the rest of the items on the list and get back to the clubhouse.”

The three of us finish gathering everything we came for and head to the checkout. As we place our items on the conveyor belt, we struggle to hold back laughter at the cashier’s expression. Task one complete, we leave the store and load our items into my car.

She’s definitely a sweet ride, and one I take great pride in.

I worked hard to save up for her. Dad made me a deal that if I held up my end, he’d help me get my dream car.

A beautiful yellow Chevy Camaro with a black racing stripe.

I call her Bee because, you know, Bumblebee from the Transformers movie with Shia LaBeouf.

I absolutely love Shia LaBeouf. If I had to pick my dream man, he would be it.

Growing up, I had a hard crush on him. I even watched the show he starred in, Even Stevens.

As we head back to the clubhouse, most of the conversation is between Mercy and Kayla. I listen and contribute occasionally, but my mind is elsewhere, filled with the anxiety of going back to school in a few days.

I thought school would be amazing, and it is, to an extent.

There are parts of it no one knows the truth about because I hide them.

I don’t want anyone to know how hard it’s been.

There have been more than a few times when I thought about quitting, giving up, and saying, screw it all.

But I didn’t work hard through high school, taking not just my regular high school classes but also being part of a dual enrollment program, taking college classes as well, to give up what I’ve been working toward.

“So, after tomorrow’s party, why don’t the three of us go out to celebrate your birthday?” Mercy suggests shifting the conversation.

“We don’t have to do that,” I mumble. I hate my birthday. My mom named me, but she wasn’t very creative. I was born in April, specifically on April Fool’s Day. People who thought it was a joke found it funny. However, for me, it was so irritating that I grew to despise it.

“You know we do. You’re turning twenty-one, and we’ve got to party for you,” Kayla says.

“What if we skip the celebration? We’re already attending the party tomorrow at the clubhouse, and another club is coming too, so we can ignore my birthday completely. Plus, we can celebrate all our achievements later, after finishing school. That would be much better.”

If I finish, I’m almost there. Just a little longer and I’m done.

“Fine,” Mercy mutters, though I know she dislikes it.

“Thank you.”

Reaching for the radio volume, I turn it up. One of our favorite songs blares through the speakers. It’s an oldie but a goodie. You can’t go wrong with Hinder’s “Lips of an Angel”.