27. Squeak
Nearly three weeks later…
“Well, hello, daughter. It's nice of you to show your face around here,” Mom says when I enter the living room, where she and Dad are watching TV.
Sighing, I make my way to her, kissing her cheek lightly, but she pulls me into an awkward position due to her sitting and my standing.
“I’ve missed you, Janelle,” she says in a tear-filled voice, which causes my chest to pinch.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t been over. I’ve been trying to fly under the radar,” I say, sitting next to her, allowing us to be more comfortable embracing.
“Not under the radar completely since there’s chatter about you being at some party with that gang,” Mom says, and a low chuckle sounds in the room pulling my attention from Mom to where Dad is sitting in his favorite recliner.
“It’s not nice to judge a book without knowing its interior, honey,” Dad says.
“Why would I need to when they’re nothing but a bunch of thugs and?—”
“None of the members of Baxtown Iron are thugs, Mom,” I say, cutting her off while rolling my eyes at the far-fetched judgment she’s spewing.
“Your cousin?—”
“Is only mad because none of the men in the club will allow her to throw her loose cooch on them. You’ve gotta stop listening to Tolanda, Mom. What about the fact that you’ve met Deacon, and he hasn’t given you a single reason to believe he’s a thug?” I ask with my brows hiking while disconnecting our embrace.
I love Mom, but sometimes she can be na?ve and judgmental toward other people, and it irritates me. Nothing makes me madder than false information about a topic without doing your due diligence to fact-check. It’s also crazy that Mom can allow me to be under Deacon’s protection with this Boogeyman situation but then judge Deacon in the same breath. Like, pick a damn side and stay there.
“If we want to tell the truth, I will never have a problem with a man whose sole purpose is showing me the man seeking my daughter’s heart. Deacon hasn’t given me any red flags where that’s concerned, so him being a member of one of the local motorcycle clubs doesn’t mean a hill of beans to me. Does he care about my daughter? Does he do what’s necessary to love her without abusing her? Do I have to put my size thirteens up his ass because he mishandled her? Those are the only relevant questions I have for Deacon. Short of that, who fucking cares,” Dad says deadpan.
“You don’t understand, Marvin. My niece is lying in a plot over getting involved with a man?—”
“Who isn’t Deacon. Listen, I know Chelsea’s death hurt and put fear in your heart, but it's not fair to punish people who had nothing to do with it,” Dad interjects.
Facing Mom, my face falls at seeing the slow tears easing down her cheeks, and I pull her into my body, rubbing her back.
“I know it's hard, Mom, but you’ve gotta stop looking at everyone suspect. Baxtown Iron nor its members deserve your anger or hurt,” I say.
Mom has never gotten over Chelsea’s death, and I understand, but it's not fair for her to assume that every person who wears a motorcycle club vest is bad. It makes sense to me why since I now know that Chelsea’s killer is in a motorcycle club. Over the years, Mom and my aunt assumed that the person responsible for her death was part of the group she’d been hanging around with. Until now, I didn’t understand because the trauma of witnessing Chelsea’s murder somehow blinded me to everything about the man except his eyes. I was fourteen, and mentally, it had been more than I was able to comprehend despite being old enough to identify the man.
“I know. I just miss her so much,” Mom cries.
“So do I,” I say.
Grief has no timetable, and although Mom has been projecting hers onto innocent people, I understand some of her reasoning. At the same time, I want her to judge Deacon and his club members only for the actions they give her firsthand.
“Maybe it's time for me to find someone to talk to,” Mom says, pulling away from me with her watery eyes shifting from me to Dad.
“Whatever you think will help, honey,” Dad says lovingly.
“I have a way for you to see Baxtown Iron in a better light,” I say, biting my lip.
“Oh, Lord. What do you have in mind, little girl,” Mom says, rolling her eyes.
“Will you agree to go somewhere with me tomorrow, no questions asked?” I ask.
“I don’t know if I like the sound of this, Janelle,” Mom says hesitantly.
“I’m in,” Dad says, smirking, although he doesn’t know what’s going on.
Silence stretches like a rubber band around the room, and my heart is thumping wildly while I fidget with my fingers.
“Fine, but it better not be no mess, Janelle Capri,” Mom says in a chastising tone that matches the serious expression in her eyes.
“Oh, this might be fun,” Dad says when we pull into the parking lot at Gripley Park.
Under Deacon’s suggestion, Baxtown Iron is hosting a community day at the park; all members must be in attendance. Also, the members are working the concession stands, games, bouncy houses, and dunk tanks rented for today’s event. The conversation Deacon and I had the day after the cabaret, where he told me his plan had me falling hard for him.
“Aye, Squeak, are you sleeping?”
Sincerity and bliss are the two things I’m experiencing while lying in Deacon’s arms, attempting to go to sleep despite the heaviness of his dick moistening my panties.
“Not yet,” I whisper.
“I’m gonna plan a community event hosted by Baxtown Iron. I need you to convince your mom to come through. It’s important that she sees not only Baxtown Iron but me in a light that frees her from the lie she believes about us. You will be my wife, and I don’t want us to have any division in our family. Your mom is key to me getting an opportunity to fully love you. Can you do that for me, love?”
Oh my God, now he wants to woo my mom.
“I love you, Deacon.”
“Mhm, answer my question. Can you get your mom to come?”
“Dang, you’re dismissing my decree?”
“I didn’t need your words to confirm what your eyes have already told me, Squeak. I love you too.”
“Ooh, there’s a dunk tank. This is nice,” Mom gushes when we exit the car and walk further into the park.
There are kids and adults all around the area, with one of the local radio stations playing family friendly music. A wide smile upturns my lips at seeing who I’m assuming are members of Baxtown Iron from the vests I can see in the distance. While the community will benefit from this event, I know that Deacon will accomplish what he’s setting out to do due to Mom's grin and happy expression.
“Oh shit! They got Evie’s Table out here. Come on, Patricia,” Dad says, pulling on Mom’s arm, causing me to laugh at the giddy look on his face.
“All right. I’m gonna find Deacon. Have fun,” I say, walking away, although I can’t confirm that they heard me due to Dad’s insistence on moving Mom toward the food area.
An undetermined time later…
“You know you don’t have to do this, right? I’m already in love with you, and you’ve made some great progress, so let’s take the win,” I say, looking at Deacon in his T-shirt and ball shorts.
“Nah, all the officers agreed to sit in there. I won’t be the bitch that backs out no matter who is waiting for their shot at me.”
Deacon’s parents are here; ironically, Mom and Mrs. Redmond have easily hit it off. They have been dragging Dad and Mr. Redmond to every game available. Mom and Mrs. Redmond are now standing in front of the dunk tank, where Deacon is about to take a seat. The grins and giddy expressions on their faces have me chewing a hole in my lip because I’m not sure Deacon truly knows what’s coming from our mothers. I’m not sure whose mother seems to be taking pleasure in the opportunity to dunk Deacon from the stars dancing in both of their eyes.
“Are you sure? Tag Shadow in to take your place. He didn’t seem to mind,” I say, pleading.
“Nope. Give me a kiss and be here with the towel because I have a feeling I’m gonna need it.”
Sighing, I lean in and peck Deacon’s lips twice before he opens the door to the tank and walks in, taking his seat. My heart is beating erratically, and my pulse is rising uncontrollably. Walking to the front of the tank, I watch with rapt attention when Mom tosses the ball in her hand in the air a couple times.
“All right, one for the Father,” Mom says, throwing the ball with the speed of a baseball pitcher, hitting the target effortlessly.
*dush*
Deacon drops in the water, and my eyes bulge from the smirk on his face when he pops back up, nodding at Mom.
“Good shot, Mrs. Stephens,” Deacon says.
“One for the Son,” Mrs. Redmond says giddily, taking the ball from a grinning Shadow.
“Man, they’re acting like you killed their prize-winning roses. This is wild,” Shadow says.
“Hush, nigga,” Deacon grumbles.
“I’m sorry, Prynce,” Mrs. Redmond says, throwing the ball, and it hits faster than the one Mom threw, causing Deacon to drop down in the water again.
Like the sport he is, Deacon pops back up, nodding and winking at his mother before looking over at me.
“I’m good, Squeak. Love will wi?—”
“All right, this one is a joint effort,” Mrs. Redmond’s voice cuts off Deacon’s words, and my eyes immediately shift to the front.
“Oh God,” I say.
Mom and Mrs. Redmond walk to the button and interlock their fingers before pushing the button without a ball, and Deacon drops into the water.
“One for the Holy Ghost.” Mom and Mrs. Redmond laugh before high-fiving each other and walking away without looking back.
“Hold up… Did they just baptize bro in this unclean water?” Shadow asks before laughing hysterically, and I shake my head, walking to the back of the tank to help my man dry off.