Chapter Twenty-One—Meggie
By the time Christopher walked into Meggie and Rebel’s room, CJ was with the Triplets, Rebel had fallen asleep, and Diesel was MIA. Fine with Meggie. Judging by Christopher’s downturned mouth and distant expression, his mood hadn’t improved.
Scowling, he glanced at her then sat in the chair on the opposite side of Rebel. Meggie resisted pointing out the rocking chair’s comfort.
“How’s Rule?” she asked. “Has he touched down in LA yet?”
Christopher didn’t glance up from his phone. “Landed and settled in his room.”
Meggie nodded, unsure what to say. Telling her husband she hadn’t wanted Rule to go out-of-state wouldn’t go over well.
But he was almost a thousand miles away, where she couldn’t hop in her car to visit him.
Even if he didn’t want to see her, she could take Father Wilkins with her, so she could talk to his care team.
Six hours away could be a day trip. Leave early in the morning, spend an hour or two at the facility, and return home by 10PM. But fourteen hours?
“Did you see him before he left?”
Christopher lifted his head long enough to glare at her. “Don’t act like you give a fuck now.”
“Right.” She pretended his words didn’t hurt. “I wish he was closer.”
“You don’t get the fuckin’ right to wish anything,” he snapped, not looking at her again. “You failed him as his ma, so let someone who give a fuck take care of him.”
Meggie flinched. Christopher was still processing Rule’s actions. With their son going to LA, her husband’s pain matched hers. Once she and Rebel were released, Christopher would calm down and see things differently.
“I did fail him,” she said softly. “But I have so many responsibilities.” A stray tear escaped and she swiped it away. “I think if I had help—”
“You got Bunny. That’s enough.”
“I thought it was. Obviously, it isn’t.”
“No. I told you the same thing last summer when you asked me after you found out about Jo. I’m especially sayin’ it now.”
Meggie wished she was home to throw a pillow. She didn’t want to risk the one she had landing on a hospital floor. “You keep telling me to get over Torie and yet you keep bringing her up.”
Jumping to his feet, he stormed to her and leaned in close. Alcohol, cigarette smoke, leather, and marijuana wafted from him. “You keep bringin’ that cunt up, Megan. Not me.”
She shoved his shoulder. “When I asked you last year, you said you’d only trust club girls to help out and you didn’t want me to get the wrong impression if I walked into a room and found you laughing with this mystery girl.
Why else would you say you won’t do it especially now, if it isn’t because of Torie? ”
“She is the fuckin’ reason, but it ain’t cuz of her. It’s cuz of you and your fuckin jealousy. I was gonna get her to help you, but look how the fuck that turned out,” he yelled.
“We could’ve hired Gypsy! Danicka even offered to help me.”
“Fuck no to both those bitches. Gypsy cuz she always puttin’ you in the middle of her and Derby shit.
It’s why I ain’t wanted her around Rule.
Danicka can’t help you cuz she might give you ideas to fuck another motherfucker.
” He stomped back to the chair, sat, and glowered at her.
“You ain’t gettin’ no more fuckin’ help.
You been makin’ it work all these fuckin’ years.
Continue to make that motherfucker work. ”
“When Jo gets home—”
“Oh, so you remember her now? I bet you ain’t even seen her since you been here and she right around the fuckin’ corner.”
“How do you know who I’ve seen since it hasn’t been you.”
“I’m here every fuckin’ night, so shut the fuck up.”
“You’re acting like a moron, Christopher. I need help. You don’t want the club girls? Fine. You don’t want outsiders for obvious reasons? Also fine. I have the perfect solution.”
He picked up his phone again. “Still fuck no.”
“I want to hire Bishop as our cook, even part-time, and Kaia Riggs to clean the house. They’re young, so I’m sure they can help with the Triplets, too.”
“This a fuckin’ joke, huh, Megan? Cuz I fuckin’ know you ain’t thinkin’ my ass agreein’ to those two under my goddamn roof around Rebel. If it ain’t a joke, then you’ve lost your motherfuckin’ mind.”
“I’m not joking,” Meggie said through gritted teeth. “Nor am I asking you. I’m telling you I’m hiring them.”
“Bishop follow my orders. He ain’t acceptin’ the position if I tell him fuck no. We wanna start trainin’ him to become an enforcer anyfuckinway.”
Meggie settled back against the pillow—that she still wanted to throw at Christopher—and stared at the ceiling. Bishop and Kaia would work for her. Christopher couldn’t stall her request at every turn, then make no move to lessen her workload.
She cleared her throat. “I talked to Roxy.”
“Ain’t wearin’ no fuckin’ monkey suit if you not goin’ to the ball and since the motherfucker less than a week away, I know you ain’t.”
“You’re in luck. Roxy postponed it. She’s looking at the summer. If we can’t do it then, we’ll just make a big donation to the charity.”
“My fuckin’ preference.”
“Harley’s play is at the end of the month. We’re attending, so make sure your calendar is clear.”
He grunted. He was softening.
“By the way, we have to find another cabin for our anniversary. I don’t like the way…Tabitha keeps bringing it up.”
Most recently, it was Johnnie. Kendall was the reason Meggie didn’t name him. With Christopher’s mood, he might kill that idiot for what might be a coincidence.
“You still want to go away and celebrate the sixteenth anniversary of our church wedding, don’t you?”
“We already had a fuckin’ sixteenth anniversary. Seven months ago.”
“I was lost in morning sickness. We didn’t really celebrate.”
“Don’t give a good fuck. We been married sixteen years. Congratulations.”
Meggie blinked away her tears.
“CJ almost died. Reb almost died. The church anniversary days away. You probably going to be fuckin’ dead by then. Three fuckin’ times the goddamn charm. He ain’t got you in November. He ain’t got you a few days ago.”
“You’re such a psycho, Christopher,” Meggie said, not expecting him to respond as normal.
“Yeah, but I’m your psycho,” he said angrily. “Remember that the next time you try to die. Remember my fuckin’ life ain’t nothin’ without you. Stop tryna fuckin’ die, pay attention to my goddamn children, love me, take care of the fuckin’ house, be happy, and shut the fuck up.”
Snapping her brows together, Meggie lifted her head. Christopher wasn’t only angry, he was livid. Furious green eyes, brimming with accusation, burned into her.
He looked away first. “I’ll find another fuckin’ cabin for us one day. Just not fuckin’ now.”
Meggie rested against the pillow again. “I have a question, Christopher,” she said after a beat. “About Bishop. And Kaia.”
“What, Megan? What, you lil’ pain-in-the-ass motherfucker? What?”
“Will you actually deny Kaia and Bishop the chance to make the type of money I want to pay them? You know all the family responsibilities Bishop has—did you know he once wanted to be a chef? Kaia’s plans for college ended with his injury.”
“If they look at Rebel, I’m pluckin’ their fuckin’ eyeballs out.”
“They are her friends. Of course, they’ll look at her,” Meggie said calmly. “Talk to her, too. Remember, you and the boys returned those privileges to Bishop and hand selected Kaia?”
He gave her another glare.
“It can be a trial. Remember the account you opened for me to pay Bunny and the household expenses? I won’t use it, since it’s your money. I’ll use one of my personal accounts. Besides, I haven’t looked at any of the expense accounts in weeks. A six-month trial.”
“Three days.”
She’d listened to Christopher bargain on many occasions, so she purposely didn’t start with days. Now, she jumped at the chance. “One hundred twenty.”
“Ninety,” Christopher returned.
Meggie smiled. “Deal.”
“You fuckin’ played me.”
“Nope, my love.” He’d wanted to best her and was still too angry to even think about what he threw out. “You played yourself.”