Chapter Twelve—Christopher #2
Anyfuckinway… Megan needed to listen to him and bar Rebel from ever dating and back off CJ.
Let Christopher handle him. If she hadn’t been concerned about whether their boy fucked or finished high school, she would’ve recognized Rule needed her more.
But, no. His woman was stuck on stupid shit.
Rebel. CJ. The Triplets. Motherfucking Torie.
Making Christopher pay for the sin of trying to protect Megan from a situation that made him look guilty as fuck.
That bitch hadn’t even told the truth about her man’s name!
What happened to Megan’s goddamn trust in him?
Her understanding that what he did, no matter how fucked up it was or looked, was for her fucking good?
His entire fucking existence was dedicated to her.
Torie could’ve grinded her naked pussy against his cock and stuck her tongue down his throat.
Christopher expected Megan to use logic and looked at the situation before jumping to conclusions.
Hadn’t Kendall did something similar and Christopher knocked the fuck out of her?
Hadn’t those cunts Derby tried to set him up with?
If his cock wasn’t in a bitch, if he wasn’t returning a bitch’s kiss, then Megan should’ve checked herself and sat the fuck down. She should’ve trusted him. Fuck Torie and every other bitch who wanted him or his dick.
Megan knew better than to turn. First into a whiny jealous cunt who looked at him with suspicion. Then into a cold-blooded bitch who didn’t call him down and looked at him with suspicion.
Little motherfucking pain in the motherfucking ass motherfucking motherfucker!
Jealous little bitch.
Cold hearted little witch.
Well, fuck her. Two could play her fucking game. Cuz she fucking knew no matter what another bitch did, he only wanted Megan.
Yeah, fuck her! He loved her, and if her brain had frozen the fuck over and made her forget that…?
He didn’t know.
He just loved her. Case fucking closed.
If she’d believed him, believed in him, Rule might not have broken so completely.
Scratching his jaw, Christopher swigged from the bottle again.
A quick knock came on his door before Digger opened it and walked into the office.
“Just checking on you, Prez.”
“Waitin’ for CJ.” Christopher tipped the bottle back but found it empty. Scowling, he set it aside. “I’m gonna call him soon.”
Digger, Mortician, Johnnie, Stretch, and Cash had escorted him and CJ to the rectory, though Val caught up to them right before they headed to the club. “John Boy said he got the figure for the damages you and Mort caused at the hospital.”
Christopher shrugged, as happy he hadn’t killed Rule as he was he hadn’t shot Mort. He would’ve missed the motherfucker.
“You okay?”
“What the fuck you think? Would you be okay, assfuck?”
“I guess not.” Digger shifted, a look–guilt?--on his face.
Christopher had to be mistaken. He’d just dealt with Digger, even overlooking whatever Digger said to Megan when she’d been in the hospital after her collapse. The motherfucker couldn’t have fucked over Megan again. Something else Christopher needed to monitor.
“Never congratulated you on your winnins at Boy’s poker table a few weeks ago,” he said calmly, watching Digger closely.
Motherfucker lost his fucking mind once before because of money. “75Gs nothin’ to sneeze at.”
Pursing his lips, Digger tugged at his collar and nodded. “Bunny already spent it.” He laughed, not the normal carefree one, but one of a pussy running scared. “Bitch run through money like it’s fucking water.”
A pussy running scared and a lying motherfucker. Bunny handled their fucking money because Digger was so fucking irresponsible.
“It sound like your bad habits rubbin’ off on her.”
“Yeah, bruh. Uh, Prez. “ Digger fanned himself, allowing another nervous laugh. Even more high-pitched and yellow-bellied than the first one. “Goddamn, bruh—Prez. It’s so fucking hot in here.”
What the fuck was going on? Christopher wasn’t sure, but he’d bet it had something to do with his attitude toward Megan.
Maybe, he’d asked Megan for a loan and she’d rightfully turned him down?
Christopher would’ve had to kill the motherfucker when he took his woman’s money and didn’t pay her back. Cuz he fucking wouldn’t have.
“So, uh, Prez, uh, you need me to talk to little bruh? Just a few weeks ago, he called for my help ‘cause Mort wasn’t available. It was the night of Meggie’s release. I got good advice to offer and I’m a good fucking listener. Bunny say that all the time.”
“Never knew your woman to lie, motherfucker.”
Digger made a face at him, a little hurt mixed with a lot of annoyance.
Shaking the empty bottle and hoping for an errant drop, Christopher shook his head. “You really don’t like your fuckin’ eyes, huh? Knockin’ you the fuck out and burnin’ you with a cigarette ain’t cured you. I have to move to the next step.”
“You turning into a hybrid,” Digger grouched. “Half Outlaw, half human. At least when you talk one way at a time, I know who I’m dealing with.”
Mortician stuck his head in, preventing Christopher’s response. “Johnnie headed home, Prez. He said to hit him up if you need him back at the hospital.”
“Didn’t need him outside the fucking church,” Christopher replied. He didn’t need that motherfucker anywhere.
“Go back to the hospital to be with Meggie girl. I’ll make sure CJ gets there.”
“Thanks, Mort.” He left it at that, until he got control of his unfair anger. Megan had been through enough.
“He don’t have to ride bitch,” Digger said. “We have a couple loaners in the parking garage. He needs to graduate from that pussyped anyway, since he’ll soon be a Probate.”
Christopher rested his arms on the desk and clasped his fingers together. “CJ not joining the club.”
He’d pulled back on that decision at CJ’s pleas and Diesel’s suggestion. But the latest incident proved that Christopher had been right all along. CJ couldn’t handle the stress and upheaval of constant bullshit. He felt things too deeply.
The idea of CJ not following in his footsteps devastated Christopher. From the moment his boy was born, he’d dreamed of the day CJ became Prez. Maybe if he’d stuck to Megan’s plan…
No!
Fuck her!
She didn’t know enough to keep herself alive for Christopher. She certainly didn’t know the importance of club politics and optics. If Christopher had begun giving CJ odd jobs around the club when he turned fifteen, as Big Joe did with him, CJ would’ve had an easier time now.
Instead, they’d both ceded to her wishes and it fucked everything up cuz girls, even his, didn’t know how to run the fucking club and nurture younger members.
She was the reason CJ couldn’t join the club, too.
All cuz she was hating on Christopher.
“Prez, you not serious.” Mort’s devastated voice broke through Christopher’s fear that Megan was pulling away from him and his anger at her.
His heart hurting, he scrubbed a hand over his face, ignoring the shock on Mortician and Digger’s faces. Ignoring his own pain, but he would be less than a man—less than a father—if he forced his vision on a boy who’d grown up so privileged.
Mortician sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, so Digger took the other one. If anything ever happened to Mort, motherfucker would be lost.
“CJ know?” Mortician asked gravely.
“We talked about it a few days ago. Ain’t brought it up again.”
“Outlaw,” Val called as he walked into the office. “I told Puff you’re here. She wants to know if you need her to bring you dinner or if you plan to eat at the hospital.”
“I’ll eat with Megan and Rebel,” Christopher said. He needed his wife. He was so fucking lost. He…fuck he needed to take care of club business to focus on his family with a clearer head.
Val nodded and fired off a text. “I told her to bring me a meatball sandwich and a ten pack.”
Digger leaned back in his chair and tipped his head back to look at Val. “What the fuck is a ten-pack, bruh?”
“Beer,” Val answered. “What the fuck you think?”
“You stupid,” Digger replied. “That’s what the fuck I think. They got five packs and thirteen packs. Never heard of a fucking ten pack.”
Christopher searched Digger’s face to see if he was joking. Nope, motherfucker was serious.
“You don’t get a baker’s dozen for beer, fool,” Mortician said.
“What’s a baker’s dozen?” Val asked.
“Fuck all,” Christopher said, not interested in explanations that would drag on. Stupid motherfuckers required details explanations and a lot of fucking patience, which he didn’t fucking have.
“You right, Outlaw,” Digger said. “Ten beers or twenty not important when your announcement just shifted the entire fucking world.”
Val glanced between them. “What announcement might that be?”
“CJ.” Christopher might as well rip the band-aid off and reveal the news. “I ain’t lettin’ him join the club.”
Val’s eyes widened. “You’ll break his heart, Outlaw.”
“But save his fuckin’ sanity,” Christopher replied. “He been flounderin’ since his overdose. This latest shit not helpin’. If he can’t look at shit without his emotions interferin’, he can’t fuckin’ lead.”
“All your fucking mirrors broke, Outlaw?” Digger asked.
“Shut the fuck up,” Mortician warned his brother, then looked at Christopher. “Prez,” he said carefully. “You do remember all the times you fucking lost it?”
“You talking in past tense, Mort,” Digger said. “Motherfucker still lose it over his wife.”
Untangling his hands, Christopher frowned. “What the fuck you said?”
“Now, Prez. I didn’t mean to call you a motherfucker but remember it don’t count since it is just us.”
“Ain’t givin’ a good fuck if you fuckin’ callin’ me an ass monkey. I ain’t liked your fuckin’ tone when you said wife. Repeat it to me just how the fuck you said it.”
Horror washed over Digger’s face, and he gulped. “You misheard, Prez,” he said faintly. “I was talking fast.”
“Fuck him, Outlaw!” Val said. “Beat his ass another time. We got to talk about CJ—”
“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about—”