Quinn 4.
“Sal, dude, give me some space.” My middle son, Salvatore, glances up at me, giving me some serious side-eye.
“Mom. Don’t say dude.”
“Why not? That’s all you three call me. I want one of those t-shirts that says, ‘Mommy, Mom, Bruh, Dude’.”
“We’ll get right on that.” Marco mumbles, yet neither of them moves from my side. They don’t know the details, but they’ve figured out that something happened at the clubhouse, and they are wary. We haven’t been here in over a week, which is completely unheard of since we came for Enzo and Sammy’s first playdate.
Around the back of the massive clubhouse, my lips twitch with the urge to smile, seeing pretty much the entire club outside enjoying the nice day. Of course, it dies when I remember what happened the last time I was here.
“Nope. Where’d that smile go, young lady?” I chuckle as Madison walks toward us, beer in hand. He wraps his free arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side. I’ll admit, only to myself, I missed the President. He’s gruff, most of them are, but he has always been soft and sometimes sweet to me, plus he and I share a love of inappropriate humor. “Happy you’re here, Quinny.”
“So far, so good.” I shrug, stepping away when he releases me.
“We’ll talk later.” I nod, knowing I don’t have a choice. I’m not a member, but he is still the club president, and I’m on their turf. He walks back toward the grill, and I spot Betty and Stacy waving at me from a couple of long tables where they are putting out enough food to feed a small country.
“Take those over to Betty and Stacy.” I point the boys to the first lady and her bestie. “Make sure they put the Italian pasta salad on ice.” Marco and Sal trudge off, and I spin in a circle when I realize Enzo is missing. That little scamp.
“Quinn.” With a sigh, I slowly turn around to find Ford standing a couple of feet away. He frowns at my impassive expression. “What are you doing here?”
I glance around for anyone to save me. Fuck it, I’m Quinn fucking Palomeni, I don’t need saving. “I was invited,” I reply civilly.
“This is bullshit. You fucking punched me; you shouldn’t be here.” I open my mouth to respond, but he keeps going. “Look, I apologized to Adams for what I said, I shouldn’t have implied that he would be interested in you.” He leans in closer, offering me a condescending smirk, “Tell them you forgive me, and I can be reinstated.”
“Forgive you? For what? I don’t remember hearing an apology of any kind.”
“Don’t be difficult. Let’s just forget all that shit before and go back to being friends again.”
“Friends? Really?” How delusional is he?
“Yes?” He really isn’t getting it.
I close the distance between us, rising on my toes to whisper in his ear. He leans down, his smile growing thinking he’s won. “You won’t fuck fat pussy, and I won’t be friends with fucking assholes.”
“Quinn!” he snarls. “You punched me, disrespected me in my own clubhouse, and I’m the one who got in trouble? This is bullshit.”
I decide to speak to him as if he was one of my children, since he’s acting like a spoiled child. “Hunter Allen, I suggest you take a good hard look at your life, your choices, and the effects of your actions. And then ask yourself if you would be friends with that person. Because I’ll tell ya, the man you are right now, the man who ripped me apart in his room…I don’t like that man. Do you?”
“Hey!” Marco comes running over, his face red and fists clenched. “Get away from my mom!” Oh, dear Lord.
“Marco, it’s—”
My brave, stupid boy steps toe to toe with Ford, no fear, just anger. “My mom is awesome, and weird, and beautiful. She plays video games with us even though she sucks at them, and cooks us food, and I always have clean clothes because she washes laundry constantly and they smell nice. And you’re an asshole!”
“Marco—” I step between them, placing my hands on Marco’s slender bony shoulders.
“What? Are you defending him? It’s true, if there was ever an asshole walking upright among us it would be Ford!”
I loosen my grip. “Ok, that’s fair.”
“Quinn!”
I glare at Ford over my shoulder, “What? He has a point.”
“Like mother, like son.” Adams muses, standing at my side, his arms across his chest, staring down Ford. Something brushes against my other side, and I nearly swallow my tongue when I find Polk mirroring Adams’ stance.
“Got a problem, prospect?” Adams asks harshly.
“Quinn, we’re friends. Best friends. Please?” I shake my head at him. He’s not sorry for his actions or words, he’s sorry that he’s being punished for them. I stare at him until he raises his hands up and walks away, but not before looking at Marco. My son scowls, breathing hard and looking close to tears. My heart hurts at the confused and wounded expression on Ford’s face, yes, but it nearly breaks when I realize how much my boys have come to love the Congressionals MC and Ford. In that one look from Ford, it might be wishful thinking, but I think I saw the first cracks in the narcissistic obliviousness with which he surrounds himself.
I’m just not sure if it’s too late to salvage a relationship with my boys.
“Come on, Quinny,” Adams drops his heavy arm across my shoulders and leads me to one of the picnic tables. I glance over my shoulder, expecting my boys to be following me, instead I find Polk staring at me with an odd expression. When I raise my eyebrow in silent question, he smirks, shakes his head and addresses my boys.
“You wanna help me at the overnight kennels? I’ve got to check on the dogs before I start chowing down.” Sal starts nodding before Polk is even done speaking. Marco’s eyes light up with excitement but he plays it off with a casual shrug.
“Yeah, I guess.” Can’t wait for his teen years to begin, should be so much fun. Adams tugs me toward the table while Polk leads Marco and Sal around the sitting area like the Pied Piper. We’ve never had pets, not because I don’t like dogs or cats but because I would have been the one taking care of them and I was busy enough with three boys and very little help from their father. It was a headache I wasn’t willing to deal with, but they are older now…
“Shit,” I mumble to myself, swinging my leg over the bench where Adams indicates.
“What?”
“Sorry.” I chuckle, “I just realized I’m probably getting a dog soon.”
Adams’ laughs heartily, “We’ve all been suckered by Polk at one time or another.”
Barkley slams a plate down across from me, the club enforcer scowling at Polk’s retreating form. “Had me playing fucking nursemaid to that damn pig a few years ago.” He sounds so grumpy, but I squeal at the mention of a little piggy.
“Awww! How cute! Why haven’t I met this little piggy?” Everyone around us starts laughing, Audrey and Tilly setting their own plates down to sit near me.
“He outgrew us.” Barkley snarls at me.
“No!” Buchanan yells out, his voice rising in pitch, “He had a damn sidecar built for it and it got too big to be his travel buddy!”
“Shut. The. Front. Door.” I bounce in my seat, hands clapping, picturing the big bad enforcer cruising down the highway with a little piggy in a sidecar next to him. “When you went riding…. did it cry ‘wee, wee, wee’ all the way home?”
“Fuck off,” Barkley snaps, holding up a juicy rib and savagely tearing the meat off it with his teeth.
“I will not,” I reply primly, settle my chin on my folded hands and blink owlishly at him. “Where’s Wilbur?”
Barkley mutters, “Wilbur is a dumb name.” He drops the empty bone to his plate, wipes his hands and takes a long pull of his beer. “My youngest gave him a proper name.”
I lean forward, eager to know, “What, pray tell, is a proper pig name?”
“Chris.” I sit back, stunned. I was not expecting that…such a normal name. I’m a little disappointed.
“Bark.” Buchanan nudges the older man expectantly.
“Chris P. Bacon.” There it is! The girls and I howl with laughter until Barkley takes it to a deliciously upsetting place. “He got too big for the sidecar, couldn’t take him for rides anymore. Then he got too big for just about anything. So, I gave him a sendoff befitting his station.” So dramatic for a dude who communicates with his fists.
“You’d appreciate it, Quinn, having been married to an Italian…” Barkley’s youngest son is 16. You would never guess he was that young since he has a full beard and is an inch or two taller than his dad, who is 6’5”. Jamie smirks at me, patting his dad’s shoulder before stealing a rib off his plate. “Best prosciutto I’ve ever had!”
“You ate him!” Audrey screeches a second later, her mouth dropping open, the color draining from her face.
Jamie shakes his head, “No, we turned him into a delicious, aged meat…then we ate him.”
“What is wrong with you people?” She stands up and stomps off, her hands gesticulating wildly as she mumbles to herself. The rest of us watch her leave, chuckling at how easy it is to rile her up.
“Honest Keen.” I wave down her ol’ man. Lincoln scowls at my nickname for him and it makes me smile. “When are you gonna toughen her up?”
“Never. She’s perfect the way she is. Pure and sweet.”
“You mispronounced na?ve again.”
“Hush it, woman.” Lincoln chases after his girl, no doubt to corner her somewhere and taste all that pure sweetness. Horndogs.
“Pres!” Enzo comes running out of the clubhouse, tears streaming down his face. I’m on my feet in an instant, my heart in my throat as I look him over for injuries. I don’t see any blood and no bones poking out of his skin.
“JP?” Enzo comes to an abrupt stop in front of the club president. It’s silent in the backyard as we wait for him to explain why he’s upset.
My heart lurches when my baby boy starts ripping his cut off and holding it out in front of Madison, his little hand trembling. “I don’t wanna prospect. I don’t want to be a part of this club anymore!”
“American Standard.” Now is not the time to laugh, but I love the new nickname Buck gave to Enzo after the toilet incident. He drops to his knee in front of Enzo, wrapping his hand around Enzo’s and pushing the cut back against my son’s heaving chest. “That’s a serious thing to say. What happened?”
“He’s mean! He said mean things about my mom! And he made Chastity cry!”
“Motherfucker!” Langley roars and rushes into the clubhouse. Tears sting my eyes, not because Ford is complaining about me, but because my little boy had to hear him and somehow Chastity got caught in the middle again. This is between Ford and I.
I glance at Madison and nod my head toward Enzo. Madison looks between us, then gives his approval for me to handle it.
“Enzo.” I walk over to him and kneel next to Buck. “When you or your brothers get in trouble, what happens?”
“You make us sit in timeout.”
Nodding, I confirm, “I do. And are you happy when I do that?”
“No.” His tone indicates he’d like to add “duh” but wisely keeps it to himself.
“Do you or your brothers whisper about how mean I am when you’re in timeout?”
“Noooo.” That was a bold-faced lie, and I stare at him until he squirms. “Ok, yes.”
With a heavy sigh, I sit back on my butt. I can’t believe I’m about to defend this asshat. The things we do for our children. “Ford is in timeout. Madison and the club do not like his behavior, and he has to repeat his time as a prospect as punishment. They are giving him a chance to correct his behavior because they love him and do not want him to leave the club. Just like I put you and your brothers in timeout so you can learn from your mistakes.”
“JP. Giving back your cut is a very serious choice.” Buck stands up, dusts off his knee, and grips Enzo’s bony shoulder. “When I was a prospect, I didn’t like any of the others I had to prospect with.”
“Bullshit.” I bite my lip with the urge to laugh at the muttered curse from a few of the guys, no doubt, the prospects Buck didn’t like.
“You have to decide if the people you don’t like are worth giving up your dream. Are you gonna let some chump like Ford keep you from becoming a Congressional?”
Enzo looks at me, then squares his shoulders, and faces Buck and Madison. “I am a Congressional. As a prospect, it is my duty to tell you that someone needs to get inside before Langley hurts Ford too bad. Ford pushed Chastity to the ground and started opening his pants, even though she said ‘no’ like a bunch of times.” I gasp in shock, my hand going to my mouth as my heart starts racing and bile churns in my gut.
“Pres?” Madison remains while most of the brothers run inside. Everyone is yelling but I can’t make out what’s happening inside the clubhouse and I’m more concerned with my boy. “Something is wrong with Ford,” I whisper hoarsely. Pres eyes me with a narrowed glare before his nostrils flare with a deep inhale. He nods curtly once in agreement. “This isn’t like him. Something…he needs help.”
Hayes joins us, his arms crossing over his chest. “Madison. I think I have an idea where Ford can go.”
“We’ll discuss it at church. Round everybody up, I’m not waiting on this shit. Church in 15 minutes.” Madison stomps off.
“PROSPECT!” Betty yells once Madison is inside. “Stacy and I will put plates together, take them to the officers in church.” Cask, Wheat, Barrel, Enzo, and Sammy rush to do their bidding.
“Quinn.” I spin on my heel to find Tilly sitting at the picnic table. “Come eat, they’ll be a while.” I nod absently, sit next to her and shovel food into my mouth, not really tasting much of anything. I can’t make heads or tails of what’s happening with Ford. The man I’ve become friends with is nowhere to be found. Instead, some pod person with a serious attitude problem has taken over and I’m not the only one reaching the end of their patience with him. “Let the guys deal with Ford, Quinn.” She bites the inside of her cheek, clearly holding something back.
“Go ahead, I won’t break.” She chuckles but turns on the bench to face me.
“You don’t need to tell me what’s happened between you two, it’s clear something has. And it’s also clear it wasn’t a positive experience. Do you think…could you be triggering for him?”
I rear back in shock, “What?” She shrugs apologetically but doesn’t backstep. She meant what she said and now that the thought is out there it sort of makes sense. “Maybe. How could I…?” I don’t want to relive my confession in his room, but maybe there’s some truth to her theory.
Audrey sits down again at the table, glancing over her shoulder at the clubhouse, “He wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine before you showed up today, but he was behaving at least.”
I laugh humorlessly, “Wonderful! I bring out the worst in him.”
“Quinn, he brings out the worst in himself. But I do think something about you, perhaps what you represent, causes him to…act out.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have come today. Polk said Madison—”
“My ol’ man demanded your presence today, Quinn. I don’t want to betray club secrets, but…”
Stacy interrupts Betty, “You are loved, sweetie. By members and ol’ ladies alike. You belong here.”
“Thank you.” I blink back tears. They can have no idea how much those words mean to me.
“You can properly express your gratitude by agreeing to the blind date I set up for you.”
“WHAT?” I stare at Betty with my mouth wide open, my eyes practically bugging out of my skull. I can’t have heard her correctly.
Stacy, Aud, and Tilly cackle while Betty simply loads up her fork and takes a bite. “Friday at 7, I’ll text you the details. Audrey will bring Enzo, Marco, and Salvatore here after school. Pack an overnight bag for them, just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” I ask dumbly, how did…why did…what’s happening?
Stacy giggles, “Oh, honey, if you have to ask, it’s clearly been too long!”