Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Legs
I sit on the bed in Del’s spare room and stare at the bunny in my hands, lost in a fog of doubt and confusion.
How did things come to this? I get that I’ve made some stupid choices, but this is beyond anything I could have predicted.
Did I cause this? Did I do something that led to this, or was it just dumb luck?
Tapping at my door has me looking up.
“Cops are on their way.” I open my mouth to protest. It’s ingrained in me to be wary of cops, but I shut it again when she shakes her head. “We talked about this. The club will cover their backs. You have to cover yours.”
“You think it’s Midas, don’t you?” My voice sounds hoarse, as if I have to force the words out.
“I don’t know what to think. I’m not a cop, and know I’m beyond biased in this scenario.
” I look at her as she sits beside me. “From my point of view, all I see is my pregnant friend going it alone, living in a shitty apartment, working full time in a diner even though this pregnancy is kicking your ass. You know what I don’t see?
A single person checking in on you. I’m not talking about a text or a phone call.
That shit is easy. I’m talking about turning up with a casserole so you don’t have to cook.
Or someone to curl up, eat junk, and watch movies with, like you did with me.
Where are these people that love you, Legs? ”
A tear slips down my cheek from the impact of her words. It’s more complicated than that. There is a bunch of shit going on that Del knows nothing about, and it’s not my place to fill in the blanks. Even if it does give her a skewed view of the MC.
“How did Midas find you and take one look at where you’re living and not throw you over his shoulder?”
“It’s not so bad.”
“It’s not so great either.”
I don’t have anything to say to that.
“Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch here. I’m really not, and I hope I’m wrong about everything. But if I’m not, then you need to do this so you’re safe.”
“Not sure how much contact you’ve had with the police over the years, but they’re not exactly known in these parts for keeping people safe, especially people like me.”
She scowls at me. “People like you?”
“Ex-club girls. It’s like the prostitute working her corner and getting attacked, so she goes to the police station to file a report.
How seriously do you think her report is taken?
She sells her body, right? So why should they put police hours into finding the guy when all he did really, was get a freebie?
They assume that’s why she’s pissed. They don’t see her as a valuable citizen anymore because value has always been decided for a woman by a man, and mostly based on her purity and her pedigree. ”
She sighs, taking my hand with one of hers.
“I know. Do it so you feel like you’re doing something.
Feeling helpless and small is the worst feeling in the world.
If you can take some of that power back, it may make getting through this a little easier.
You’ve already admitted you have the deck stacked against you, so you gotta do what you can to feel strong again. ”
Maybe she’s right. Ever since I left the club, I’ve been in a weird sort of limbo, going through the motions while trying to figure everything out. And yet here I am, months later, with no more clarity than I had before.
“Alright, I’ll talk to them. But I’m not pointing fingers at the MC without proof, and that’s not just because I’m protective of them.
If I imply it could be one of them, the police won’t look anywhere else.
You know how it goes. They’ll make sure all the evidence fits the scapegoat.
Chances are it’s linked to my neighbor. The photos are in his place, after all.
If it’s not him, then maybe he’s not working alone.
I don’t have all the answers. I’m just not ready to assign blame. ”
“I respect that. Trust me, there’s nothing worse than people making up their minds about you when you’ve done nothing to deserve their scorn.”
I squeeze her hand before standing up and placing the bunny on the bed. “I’m going to shower quickly and freshen up before they get here.”
“Alright, I’ll go make some coffee.” She heads for the door, pausing to look back at me, worry clear on her face. I’m thankful that something positive came out of this whole mess because I’m not sure I could do this without her.
“I’m okay, Del. I’ve survived worse, and I’ve got you, so I don’t feel like I’m facing this all alone. Thank you for everything.”
She waves me off. I’m used to it now, knowing she’s not great with affection. “Anyone would have done what I did.”
“No, they wouldn’t. But I’m fortunate that I stumbled upon your diner that day. It feels like a small world sometimes.”
“Girl, you have no idea.”
Del closes the door behind the cops and turns to look at me, her hands fisted at her sides. “Those motherfuckers.”
“It’s okay. I expected it.”
“That doesn’t make it okay. They treated you like it was your fault someone broke into your apartment and trashed it. They might as well have said you caused this because of the company you keep.”
“Maybe there’s some truth to that, at least if it’s linked to the MC in any way. I’ll always be a second-class citizen to the police. I’ve made peace with that. Those attitudes make people gravitate toward MCs in the first place because they offer a sense of belonging, but solidarity, too.”
She sits in the chair opposite me with a grunt. “Well fuck them. We don’t need them. I have a gun and know how to shoot. Just in case, I’ll start carrying while we’re at work.”
I bite my lip. “I don’t like the thought of bringing trouble to your door.”
“You didn’t. I had to practically drag you here, so it will be on me, not you if trouble arises. I’ll be fucking damned though, if you think I’d let you face this alone.”
“Hopefully, now that I’m not there, they’ll get bored and move on. I’ve had no issues at work so far. No familiar faces have come looking for me, and I don’t think they will. The time for that has passed.”
“Never underestimate a person’s actions when they’re desperate. Either way, I’ll feel better about protecting us both if I’m armed.”
I sigh but nod. “Okay.” I look around at the time and wince. “Do you want me to cook?”
“You can cook?”
I look at her and chuckle. “I get by.”
“I mean, I’m happy to order in, but if you want to cook, have at it. The fridge and cupboards are stocked. I’m going to take a shower and get changed.”
“Works for me. Anything you don’t like?”
“Cucumber. Otherwise, I’ll eat pretty much anything.”
“Perfect.”
I head to the kitchen as she walks off to take her shower.
She wasn’t kidding when she said she was fully stocked.
Given the time, I opt for something simple.
I do twice-baked potatoes with sour cream, cheese, steak, and salad.
I also whip up a quick dessert using store-bought meringue nests and the fresh strawberries that are calling my name.
I flip the radio on and lose myself. I’ve missed this. Cooking was part of my regular routine at the clubhouse, but it’s something I’ve not done much since I left. Cooking for one is not fun, and by the time I’m finished working, I’m exhausted.
I’m dishing up when Del walks out in loose sleep shorts and a baggy T-shirt that slips off one shoulder. Her damp hair hangs down her back as she runs her brush through it. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you started cooking. It smells great.”
“Thanks. You want to sit at the table or on the sofa?”
“Table. I like to pretend I’m a lady, but I’m a messy eater,” she admits, making me laugh. I carry the plates to the table as she grabs us both bottles of water from the fridge. We dig in, putting the events from before behind us temporarily while we devour our food.
“God, that was good. I’m stuffed now.”
“No room for dessert?”
She sits forward. “Dessert?”
“I made an Eton mess. It’s got whipped cream, meringue, and strawberries in it.”
“There’s always room for dessert.”
I grin and take the dirty plates to the sink before grabbing the desserts from the fridge. I slide one of the filled glass dishes to Del and hand her a spoon before sitting down and digging in myself.
“Dear god, this is better than sex.”
I freeze at her words, a sense of Deja Vue washing over me as I remember a similar conversation in the clubhouse. A sense of melancholy has me blinking back tears, but I keep my head down and keep eating.
By the time I’m finished, I have composed myself. I lift my head and see Del watching me. I know she didn’t miss the change in my mood, but thankfully, she doesn’t call me on it. My feelings are a little too raw right now.
“You cooked, so I’ll wash up. You wanna find something to watch on TV?”
“Sure, I don’t mind helping, though.”
“Hush, woman. Learn to take a break when offered one.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I tease before taking a seat on the sofa. I tuck my legs underneath me and flick through the channels before settling on a true crime documentary.
“Oh, I love this channel,” Del states as she plonks herself down on the other end of the sofa.
“I wonder what men would think if they knew just how much we learned from these shows.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Right? They act like we’re fragile, but they have no clue what we’re capable of.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve seen that kind of thing play out in an MC. I will say, though, that they tend to underestimate a woman only once. The smart ones do, at least.”
“Amen to that. Though being underestimated is a handy tool to have in your arsenal. When you live in a world of dicks, it’s nice to have an Uno reverse card in your back pocket.” I giggle. She’s right, but I’ve never thought about it in quite that way before.
We lose ourselves in the show, pointing out all the parts where the killer fucked up, and figuring out who the bad guy was almost immediately.