Chapter Eleven
Sage
“It’s because she can’t torture people at the moment,” Rhodie grumbles in his voice that sounds like the man gargles rocks. “She’s been hitting the books hard. I blame Jules.”
Jules just raises his brow and ignores Rhodie, which seems to piss the DRMC VP off even more. He flips everyone the bird before he scoops up their daughter and their gator and tries to distract Chewy.
“I don’t know why he just doesn't leave her be,” Pops bitches beside me. Yes, my bachelorette party is being attended by Rhodie, Jules and Pops. Something about needing to keep an eye on us.
“Because boys are dumb. But they’re also super pretty and let you do bad things to them,” Mom says, her mouth agape, tongue searching lazily for her straw which fell out of her oversized martini glass about three gulps ago.
“I’d rather not hear what you and Tav get up to,” I grumble, watching as she shrugs and then tips the whole glass back.
It’s nice to see Mom enjoying herself, almost black out drunk. She doesn't get to do that too often, but Tav has promised that he’ll take the kids out for pancakes tomorrow morning so she can sleep in.
An image pops up of Chef, a kid in each arm, walking out the door to give me a peaceful morning after drinks with my Girl Gang and my chest tightens a little.
As much as I want to stay mad at him and his stupid decision, I find I can’t.
Not when he spends every waking moment doing little things that make me smile.
And that dress? Holy fucking shitballs. That dress is exactly what I would have picked had I gone shopping myself.
Every little detail, every scrap of lace, every button is perfect for me.
And he knew. Just like I know him. I know how he feels about himself.
Deep down there's a little boy who learnt he wasn't good enough.
“Ohh girl, you look like you’re thinkin’ too much,” Joe says, huffing and puffing after sliding off the giant dick ride.
“Cold feet?” Loyal asks.
“Why do they say that?” Chewy asks out loud, ignoring Rhodie looming over her. “What does that have to do with anything? Put socks on if they’re cold.”
Mira stifles a snort and smiles lovingly at Chewy. Who ignores the look and instead frowns down at her orange juice.
“This party sucks. No offense, Sage. I don’t think it’s because of you,” Chewy says hastily. “It's your last night of freedom until this gets sorted and you divorce Chef.”
“Or murder him,” my mom mutters before beaming at me, “But you probably won't do that because he’s trying really hard. Even I can see that. And my leg has stopped twitching and trying to kick him in the nuts when I see him, so that's a good sign.”
I roll my eyes and then pat Mom on her silky dark head. “Thanks, Mom.”
Chewy huffs and then slides to the edge of the couch before rolling back and using her legs to cause enough momentum to help her into a standing position. It doesn't work. She just rolls back and forth like a turtle on its shell.
“Need help there, preggo?” Nat snorts.
“No! I am a capable woman!” Chewy barks.
Rhodie rolls his eyes and leans forward, gently helping Chewy roll off the couch and into a standing position.
“I could have done that myself. Probably,” she mutters with a frown. Then quick as lightning she jumps into Rhodie’s arm and kisses him. With tongue. That we all see.
“Stop mauling my sister,” Jules growls.
Rhodie gives Jules a shit eating grin, then lets Chewy slide down his body.
“I’ve got three dozen frozen chickens in the trunk. Let's go feed some gators.”
I cheer with the rest of the women. I never realized that perhaps I’m not a bachelorette type of gal. Going to visit my uncle's gators and feeding them chicken carcasses sounds way better.
“Why can't you women just stay put and do normal shit? Why does everything have to be an adventure?” Rhodie whines in his manly voice.
“Because normal shit is boring, Rhodes,” Ana says, all us women nodding in agreement.
“I mean, we have gators right there. Seems rude to ignore the obvious fun they will provide. We get to feed them chickens. Chickens!” Mira’s excitement is infectious and I lead the way, like some type of Pied Piper as Jules drives the SUV slowly behind us. Presumably bringing the carcasses.
“Wait, are we sure this is going to be OK?” Loyal asks, chewing on her lip.
“Psssh, course it is. First off, there is no way my brothers would ruin Sage’s bachelorette party by not letting her feed the gators. And second, I’m the eldest.” Mom leaves it at that, flinging the doors of the gator barn wide open and swanning in.
“Well, you heard the lady,” Joe says, wagging her brows at us.
We pile inside and the DRMC women all remark on how much bigger the gators have gotten since the last time they saw them.
I leave them to their cooing and cackling and head for the back area where my favorite little gator has been hanging out.
He came in the day after I arrived, so I feel some type of connection with the little thing.
Saint seems to think he was in a fight with a much larger gator which is why he’s looking all scarred and gnarly.
He’s also missing part of his front foot but he’s a tough little critter.
“Hey, Glen, how you doing, buddy?” I softly call to him. I pat the side of his enclosure with my hand, hoping the vibrations will draw him out.
He peeks out at me with his elongated pupils, and I smile, waiting patiently, resting my cheek on the cool metal of the gates around him.
“Those women and Pops are crazy.”
A smile breaks across my face at Loyal’s words and Rhodie and Jules’ grumpy growls. “What are they doing?”
“Chewy wants to have a photo with Cupcake and is trying to climb over the fence. Your mom went to take a selfie with one but her frozen chicken somehow popped out of her arms and hit Jules in the face. Violet laughed so hard that she fell into the baby gator enclosure. Mira thinks that she’s the gator whisperer and now that huge gnarly one keeps following her along the fenceline. ”
I turn to stare at her with a “what the fuck?” look. Like, I mean, I know what the DRMC Girl Gang is like, but this seems crazy, even for them.
“Why is there a foot in that enclosure?” Chewy asks, pointing right at Glen.
“What?”
“Right there. There’s a foot. Why is that there?”
“Is it a left, or a right?” Mira asks, Pickles, the monster fucking gator standing on the other side of the fence to her.
“Why the fuck does that matter?” Rhodie growls.
Ignoring him, I look where Chewy is pointing. “It’s a right foot. Um, whyyyyy?”
“Oh, because there’s a left foot over here.”
Pops whoops, and throws his hands in the air. “Body part scavenger hunt! Everyone who finds a body part gets to drink!” From out of nowhere he pulls out a bottle of champagne, pops the cork and then shoves a straw in the top for “hygiene.”
“Fuck this, I’m calling the Prez,” Rhodie grumbles.
Pity we don’t really hear him over the whooping and hollering of body parts being found and drinks being taken.
Chef
“Do you think the girls are having more fun than us?” Tav asks, taking a pull of his beer.
“The girls are in the clubhouse off their tits on fruity lady drinks riding that obscenely large inflatable cock. We,” Rider swirls his finger around in the air, “are in Chef’s cabin, crammed into the lounge.
I can guarantee they’re having a better time,” he grumbles.
“I don’t see why we couldn't have stayed in the common room.”
“Because I want Sage to enjoy her night with her girls without us all up in their business,” I reply, taking a drink of my beer, kicking myself that I invited the men here. There’s too many of us in a small space and at least one of the fuckers smells.
“We can’t even call in any strippers either,” TumTum whines.
“There’s no way I’m disrespecting my woman by looking at a stripper’s tits,” Marx grits out.
“Besides, the nearest stripper is my maman,” Damian shudders.
Flack slowly turns to look at Damian. “Aren’t you the only male stripper in this town?”
“Hell yeah,” Damian grins.
“So not only are you and your mom the only strippers in town, but you own and run damn near half of it?”
“Jack of all trades, mon cher,” Damian replies, holding his beer up as a toast.
Marx’s phone goes off and we all go quiet.
Is it bad that I hope Rhodie is calling in reinforcements and I get to see Sage?
Yeah, that’s probably bad. She’s like a fucking drug to me.
That kiss earlier? That was the worst thing she could have done because now she’s sealed her fate.
That kiss told me everything I already knew. She’s mine.
“Yo, Saint, you been feeding the gators people again?” Marx barks.
“What the fuck? No! We haven’t fed them people since, shit, since Dima and La Strega were last here.”
“Well, then why are there fresh body parts floating around your rehab barn?”
We all move to stand, except Jay and Theo who remain seated and ask “How fresh?” It’s kinda creepy when they do that twin shit.
Marx barks down the line, presumably to Rhodie, his eyes narrowing. “Chewy and Pops can’t tell because they’ve been in the water and chewed up pretty bad.”
“I’m calling Maman,” Damian says, slipping his phone out of his pocket, Marx’s shocked gaze on him.
“Why the fuck is he calling his mom?”
My prez’s lips start to twitch. “Don’t worry, Marx. You’ll soon find out.”
***
“Evenin’ darlings! Mon petit chou said ya’ll need some help?”
Damian’s mom looks around at our rag tag bunch with a wide smile on her face and not a hair out of place in her tall, blonde hairstyle.
"That's right, Maman. Ain’t nobody better at death business than you.”
“Thank you bebe,” Nancy murmurs, kissing Damian on the cheek.
Marx clears his throat and Dex steps forward. “Good to see you again, Nancy. Everyone, this is Nancy Devereaux, Damian’s mom. Nancy, this is the Mother Chapter of the DRMC, and Marx is the president.”
Nancy gives everyone a regal wave and I bite my lips when Mira gasps dramatically and then murmurs how cool she is. Any moment now her notebook is coming out.
“Nancy, we were wondering if you could assist us with a time of death?” Marx asks.
“Of course, sweetpea. Point me to the body.”
I have to give Nancy credit. She keeps her brows perfectly in place when Chewy Vanna White’s her way to the random bits of body on a steel table in the middle of the room. To make it extra creepy she’s smiling wide right under the spotlight she set up.
“Well, okay then, let's take a peek.”
Nancy pulls on some gloves, snapping them into place, causing Mira to gasp out loud. Aaaaand there goes the notebook.
“Hmmm, judging by the swelling in some of the surrounding tissues, I’d say he’s been in the water at least 12 hours,” Nancy murmurs.
She mutters something in French before pulling a pen out of her beehive and using it to poke around at the tissue on a severed hand.
“Defensive wounds, no doubt about it. And this here? Means he was still alive when he hit that water. Unfortunate way to go,” she says, clicking her tongue as if it’s a real tragedy.
“It’s only 10pm. Twelve hours ago means he went in this morning,” Jay mutters.
“That’s a weird time to be killin’ someone,” Chewy says around a fucking Twizzler.
Nancy smiles warmly at her with a slight pinch between her brows. “You’re unusual.”
“You have no idea.” Flack grins at her, a twinkle in his eye.
“Well, bonjour to you,” Nancy says, eyeing up Flack.
“Theo, Jay, pull up video footage. I want to know who the fuck this is and how they ended up in our gator enclosure.” The twins nod in unison, all creepy like. “Nancy, thank you for coming, perhaps stay and enjoy a drink? We’re celebrating Chef and Sage’s wedding tomorrow.”
“Or,” Sage cuts in, “We go back to the clubhouse and eat TumTums leftover barbecue and chill out? I don’t mean to be a whiny baby, but whatever buzz I had kinda disappeared when we found all this.” She waves at the various bits of person on the table in front of us.
“Really? My night got infinitely better,” Chewy says.
She swallows the last of her Twizzler before looking at the Matrix twins.
“Let’s go do some terrible things on our computers.
Might be able to find a clue.” She wags her brows and I notice Rhodie’s shoulders finally relax.
It must be damn hard keeping an eye on that woman.
Speaking of, I look around for my woman and she’s already out the door, arms linked with Loyal and Joe as they follow behind her uncles.
“This place is good for her,” Tav says, stepping up beside me.
“You think?”
“I know. She never managed to quite settle into her skin. A few weeks here and she’s a new woman.”
“I think maybe she was always this woman, we just didn’t see it back home,” I reply, eyes still on Sage.
“Maybe.” Tav shrugs. “Oh, yeah, fuck her over again and I’ll let Pops have you.” He gives me a crooked grin, flips the bird and then follows behind the rest of the crew.
“Right kid, crash course on romance.” Turning, I’m met with a wall of men. “You got the big guns. Love Prez, Love VP and -”
“The Love Chaplain.” Rider grins wide.
Fuck me. “This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?”
“In a good way.” Pops smirks. “Buckle up kid, a few hours with us and you’ll be shitting so much romance Sage won't be able to help falling in love with you.”
Here’s fucking hoping.