Polly
“Curious the Prez hasn’t stocked us up again,” Fizz told me. “Never known him to go so long without a new club bunny.”
How many women did Abraham usually have sex with? I didn’t know whether to be a little hopeful that maybe he actually liked me, or nervous because usually he had a whole room full of women.
“I have an aunt,” I said impulsively before thinking twice about it.
Would my sweet little retired librarian aunt, who had always gone by BonBon, actually be interested in a tall, rangy MCer who specialized in explosions and munitions?
“I am very open to being introduced to your aunt,” Fizz said eagerly, twirling his moustache. “I need to get a porkpie hat, though. Ladies love a dapper porkpie hat.”
“I’ll have to ask her first,” I added hastily.
“I’ve always loved the nice girls,” Fizz added, but it reminded me that soon it would be Thanksgiving break and I needed to ask permission for Laurie to come visit.
And was my aunt going to be all right coming here for a big holiday meal? It wasn’t like Legends MC had the best reputation, although of course it was completely undeserved, since these were the best men I’d ever met.
“Is it all right if Laurie comes to stay here?” I asked Abraham a bit apprehensively. “I’m sure he’ll want to split his time between his dad and me.”
Abraham didn’t say anything for a moment.
I watched as his big, deft fingers worked in the gnarled insides of the motorcycle.
He was such a genius with any mechanical thing. But I knew now not to rush into any of his silences. They always meant he was thinking.
“Your son? Sure. Not particularly entertaining around here, though.”
I said nothing, but privately I thought living at the Legends MC was the most fun I’d ever had in my life.
“Fair. I won’t expect you to entertain him. I think I’m going to start prepping for Thanksgiving dinner.”
I started rooting around in my purse for my keys when he spoke.
“Don’t drive that anymore,” Abraham said, jerking his chin sideways.
“What, my car? How am I going to get places?”
“Use the truck,” he said, pointing an oil-stained finger in the other direction.
I looked over but all I could see was a shiny new Dodge Ram truck, its sides still gleaming with new-car sheen.
“That one?” I asked, horrified. “But it’s brand new.”
“Needs a woman’s touch,” Abraham said, tightening a bolt with his wrench. “Needs you to hit a few curbs and break it in a bit.”
“Oh you jackass,” I couldn’t help laughing, and I could have sworn I saw his lips twitching up, too.
Since Perry was busy at work, I picked Laurie up at the airport to bring him back.
“Wow, mom,” he said. “Sweet truck. Did—dad get this for you?”
I always hated to make my son think less of his dad, because they had a hard enough time getting along as it was.
Perry was always trying to pressure Laurie to be something he wasn’t—change majors, care about status and wealth, meet the right people to advance his career.
Laurie didn’t care about any of that. He wanted to work on his art projects and teach others how rewarding art was.
“No, I have a new job,” I said pleasantly. “Working at The Legends Motorcycle Club.”
“Wow, Mom, I’m really glad you’re enjoying it. See, you barely even missed me.”
“I always miss you,” I smiled. “But yes, I’ve been keeping busy.”
However, when I dropped Laurie off, Perry wasn’t impressed with my new ride.
“Where did you get that truck from?” he demanded, stalking up to it with his floppy hair and tight-ass khaki pants halfway up his butt cheeks.
“Nice to see you too,” I replied politely.
“That’s a-a-a- $80,000 truck!” he said.
“Is it?” I asked.
“Did you go that deep in debt? You need to be better with money, Polly.”
“It’s none of your business,” I retorted. “But I’m not in debt for it at all.”
He stared agape at me.
“Did-did that motorcycle gang member buy this for you?”
“It’s actually none of your business, Peregrine.”
My ex-husband looked frustrated as hell, but he was beginning to bore me, and my eyes roamed over the house. Weirdly, for once it didn’t give me a little pang to see it. Maybe it had never been my perfect place anyways.
Irritated at my lack of caring what he thought, he moved on to Laurie.
“So when are you going to choose a grown-up major?”
Laurie gave me a silent appeal with his eyes, and I took a deep breath.
“Perry, he’s wanting to become an art teacher, remember?”
Sometimes it felt like my cheerful personality had been a defense against my ex and the way he was so serious about everything. Total whimsy-destroyer. And I had been determined to be happy whether my husband was or not.
He began to launch into a rant about stock options. God, I was so sick of Perry sometimes.
As soon as I could, I tried to head him off and change the subject to take some heat off my boy, but I wasn’t surprised that Laurie texted the next day asking if he could stay with me a few days earlier.
Of course he could, and any apprehensions I had about how he’d fit into Legends MC was instantly dissipated.
Fizz immediately took a liking to him and began to show my son around at top volume. Laurie seemed to enjoy the tour, even though he knew nothing about motorcycles, and I shook my head but smiled to hear the words “fireworks” as they drifted off into the backyard.
Abraham wasn’t particularly friendly (he never was), but when Laurie was hanging indecisively around the Shop later, the Prez asked if he wanted to learn anything. I was delighted to see Laurie sidle in and ask about how to change the oil himself.
I felt my heart crack open just a little bit more.
Abraham might be rough and grumpy, but inside he truly was a good man.
He was so patient with Laurie, who knew absolutely nothing about cars or motorcycles. And Perry wasn’t the kind of dad who thought it was necessary to learn .
Maybe he didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he must care about me to be so kind to my son?
The little spark of hope inside me was such a strong, sturdy little blaze that it surprised me. How much had I been secretly hoping that he cared for me? How much did I care about him, and didn’t want to admit it?
The day before Thanksgiving Laurie came out in slacks and a polo shirt.
“I think Dad feels bad about nagging me to change majors, he’s been texting and wants to take me out to do some golfing, but I’m going to come back and sleep here later, if that’s OK?”
“Of course,” I said. “Meatloaf tonight.”
There was always the chance my ex-husband had realized he was going to ruin his relationship with Laurie if he kept pushing and pushing him to do something he didn’t want to.
But the moment Perry got out of his BMW, I could tell he was spoiling for a fight.
Laurie and Fizz had been setting off firecrackers in front of the clubhouse, whooping louder with each explosion, while I cleaned some corn for dinner. Abraham sat smoking beside me in a chair with a piece of tangled metal in front of him.
It was amazing how such a rough, hard man could be so careful, his big fingers deftly probing through the mangled engine, figuring out what it needed to become whole again.
I wasn’t looking at him too much, was I? My. . .crush wasn’t too obvious, was it?
I don’t do relationship shit, he had said.
And what had I gone and done? Fallen for this man like a lovesick fool.
And I was always terrible about hiding my emotions.
It was unseasonably warm for Thanksgiving Break, and I was wondering if we could get away with putting a table out under the apple tree tomorrow when Perry and Bridget pulled up.
His lip curled as he saw Fizz with firecrackers in his pants pockets and Laurie with his salmon pink golf shirt all dirty.
And I knew my ex was going to blame me for the fact that Laurie was here learning how to do an oil change instead of meeting with Perry’s stupid lawyer friends about an internship he didn’t even want.
The door slammed shut and Perry stared at me, his fingers tapping impatiently on his arms.
“What the hell are you doing here, Polly? I’ve asked around about this club. They don’t just hire 42-year-old women who don’t know how to fix a bike here. Are you whoring yourself out to this motorcycle club for money?”
My face flushed in humiliation.
“Perry, please, stop—"
How had he managed to make something I felt so happy about seem so wrong? There was nothing shameful about what I was doing, but now I would have to talk about my damn sex life in front of my college-age son.
Abraham’s busy hands froze, and in the dead silence I heard him set the engine down on the concrete.
“She’s our club gardener,” he said in a low, harsh voice. “The rest of it is none of your damn business.”
“And who are you to talk to me like that?” Perry blathered on at Abraham, jabbing his finger in the air. “Polly is my ex-wife, so I think I have a little say in how she spends her time and what sort of immorality she brings around our son.”
“Her son is grown,” Abraham said coldly. “And you are making a damn fool of yourself.”
“Dad, come on,” Laurie started anxiously. “Stop, let’s just go.”
But Perry was still determined to humiliate me, and he walked officiously over, Bridget trailing along behind with that little smirk on her face.
“Polly, you need to come with me. Stay at your aunt’s house or something until we can decide what to do with you that doesn’t shame the whole family. You’re too old to be acting like a slut.”
I could feel my cheeks turning red at his shameful judgment. How could I ever explain to someone like Perry that for the first time in a long while I felt wanted and needed here? For something other than just being a mother? That I was happy?
He would only outargue me like he always did, filibuster all the reasons a 42-year-old woman should not have anything to do with a rough, dirty motorcycle club.
But before I could get a word in edgewise, Abraham stood and unfurled his big body up to his full height, Perry’s eyes widening at every single inch until his tongue was lolling out like a dog’s.
“Because your son is here, I’m going to give you one chance to apologize to Polly.”