Chapter 15 #2
Her expression brightens once more. “It’s the nickname Rock gave me when we first got together, long before we ever thought about starting an MC.
My real name is Victoria. Rock used to call me Queen Victoria because I liked having things my own way.
Over the years I ended up being called Queenie for short. ”
I catch sight of Silver carrying a load of laundry upstairs. Unlike when she was arguing with Jasper and myself, the round she had with Queenie took all the fight out of her.
Queenie catches me looking at her and asks, “Are you scared of Silver?”
“Not really. She’s good at pushing my buttons. I wish I’d stood up to her more forcefully.”
She nods, “Good. Don’t ever let them smell your fear. They thrive on it.”
“Is that what you told yourself when you first took in your first club girl?”
She chuckles. “Hell no. I was so naive. Thought I could save them all. But I learned fast that making progress with them is slow going and some have no intention of changing. You have to pick your battles. In order to do that, you have to figure out what your strength is, then sharpen it until you can use it as a weapon.”
There’s something about the way she says it that’s not the least bit boastful.
She’s just telling the truth as she sees it.
She takes another sip of her whiskey and glances at me again.
“Whether you see it or not, you have the same kind of strength I have. Most girls cringe when Silver lays into them. You not only didn’t flinch, you didn’t buy into her lies and manipulation. ”
“Her lies weren’t remotely believable,” I admit.
“And you saw that right away,” she reminds me. “You have mental fortitude. It’s an admirable quality to have.”
The compliment feels strange because I’ve never thought of myself that way.
“I wasn’t sure I belonged here,” I admit before I can stop myself. “Still not sure about it.”
“Do you think any of us did when we started?” She replies with a knowing look.
“Rock built this place with his own hands using a borrowed truck to haul supplies and rode a busted bike until he could afford to fix it. We had nothing but grit and the ability to outsmart our enemies and find lost souls who needed us as much as we needed them.”
She sets her glass down, folds her arms on the table.
“Belonging doesn’t come first. You prove to yourself and others that you’re smart, loyal and are value-added to the club. You gonna take hits, but the goal is to keep showing up until people stop asking why you’re here.”
I look down at my drink, watching the last few bubbles float to the top. “I don’t want our baby to grow up feeling like an accident. I want them to have a mother, father, and family they can count on.”
She’s quiet for a second or two and then responds, “My grandchild, your child, is not an accident. He or she is providence.”
I think about that for a moment.
She continues, “God knew what he was doing when he put my son’s baby in your womb.
He knew you were right for our family. You carried this child when you didn’t have to.
You could’ve taken the money and vanished.
But you didn’t.” Her voice is low, steady, “You came to dinner. You came to the bar. You faced Silver. All of that is not an accident.”
My throat tightens, and I hate how much it means to hear her say these things to me.
“I miss my grandmother,” I say softly. “She raised me. And I did this for her, to help take care of her. But sometimes I think... I also did it to feel that kind of love again. That presence.”
Queenie’s gaze softens, but her spine never slouches. “Well, honey,” she says, “you just might’ve found exactly what you were looking for with our family. Only time will tell, but I’m rooting for you.”
The emotion tightens my chest. I blink fast, then push a smile to the surface. “Am I just another stray for you to rescue?”
“No,” she says. “I didn’t pick you. You came to us. Always remember that, honey.”
I hear the footsteps of all the brothers walking out of the meeting room before I see them and hear low male voices. The bar’s atmosphere changes slightly as they reclaim their space.
Queenie stands as soon as Rock comes into view. She doesn’t say anything. They walk towards each other and he wraps his arm around her, like they’ve been doing this for decades. His fingers curl at her hip.
She leans into his embrace just slightly, chin lifting as she murmurs something near his ear.
Rock’s eyes flick in my direction, then back to Jasper. Rock says something under his breath.
Once they’re out of sight, I ask Jasper, “What’d she say?”
“Silver,” he mutters, voice tight. “Ma told him what she did, and he was cursing about her driving you off before you got settled in with us.”
“It would take more than Silver to run me off.”
“Thank God,” Jasper replies as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “You ready to get outta here?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
We step out into the darkness together. The bikes are still lined up in a straight line, chrome catching the moonlight.
Jasper helps me onto the back of his bike and then checks the straps on my helmet, brushing his thumb over the visor before he hands it to me.
Then he climbs on and we head back to my house.
The wind does the thinking for us. I hold on tight, the warmth of his body under my palms is a grounding point in a world that’s still shifting beneath my feet.
When we hit a long stretch of empty road, he slows just enough to speak without shouting.
“Did you and my mom have a nice talk?” he asks.
I rest my chin near his shoulder. “Yeah, she’s amazing.”
He doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he just rides. And then he responds, “I think both my parents like you.”
I smile behind the visor. Not because anyone needs to like me but because it’s just nice when they do.