Chapter 10 #2
Almost submissive.
“How can I help you?” Carlos asks with a friendly smile.
I see the brothers in front of us exchange confused glances. They don’t know what a manipulator he is.
“It’s my sister, Rebel. She said some things…
about your relationship, and some money she took, and we heard that you tried to kidnap her…
” Sly trails off, looking flustered, then clears his throat before continuing, “We’d like to pay back the money my sister took, and we ask you to please put this behind us, for the sake of our professional relationship. ”
The Preacher narrows his eyes at him. “I’m sure darling Rebel has spun her usual tales, and I will not attempt to convince you otherwise.
I’m not some sentimental fool who’s going to put a personal grudge before business.
.. Even if I was, my bosses wouldn’t look too kindly on it,” he adds with a blood-curdling smile.
“Give me my money back, and we’ll call it even. ”
Prez nods at Truck, who hands the suitcase to the man standing closest to the Preacher.
“And is the lovely Miss Marissa Johnson feeling better?” The druglord asks Prez, but looks straight at me.
I cross my arms over my chest, feigning indifference.
“She’s alright?” Prez says uncertainly.
“Please send her my regards,” the Preacher says nonchalantly before putting his sunglasses on. “Remarkable woman. Goodbye, Wolves. I’m looking forward to doing more business with you.”
What the fuck was that? I think as I drive over to my house to see DJ.
Rebel never told me her ex looked like a fucking GQ model.
Fucking asshole, mentioning Marissa like he knew a secret about my son’s mother that I didn’t.
I don’t know what Rebel saw in that guy.
Aside from power and his millions, a hateful part of me whispers, and I shake my head as I walk up to my house.
That doesn’t matter. She’s with me now. We’re meant to be. Who cares about the past?
“Hey,” I tell Marissa when she opens the door.
Her long hair is gone. That doesn't bother me; it's just surprising. As are the dark circles under her eyes. What the fuck is she doing with all this time off work if she isn’t resting?
“Hi,” she says and goes towards the kitchen.
My stomach growls at the delicious smell still lingering in the air.
“Have you guys eaten lunch?”
“Here,” Marissa says as she hands me my son, ignoring my question completely. “Have fun, I’m gonna take a nap.”
“A nap?” I ask as I glance at the clock. “What are you, 60?”
She makes an irritated face, which makes me want to annoy her even more.
“It’s your time with your son, no need to worry about what I’m doing.”
“Silly me, you already live like you’re 60. No fun whatsoever.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She takes the bait.
“Life with you was always the same boring shit. Every fucking day. Work, eat, sleep, repeat.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. What did you think a life with a baby was going to be like? A 24/7 party?” She asks me in a tone that one uses for children and the mentally disabled.
“Don’t use him as an excuse! Other people have children, too, and they manage to live their lives and have fun every once in a while. Look at how Angie is with Ryder.”
Marissa closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“Okay, then. Sorry for being a responsible parent instead of an immature asshole. Tell you what, when you and Rebel have a baby, you can drag him around the clubhouse as much as you want, give no fucks about his routine, make sure to damage his hearing with the loud music, and his lungs with all the smoke. Maybe then you’ll be happy and faithful. ”
Even though she doesn’t know about it, the thought of what life might have been like with my unborn child wounds me. And her sanctimonious tone rubs me the wrong way.
“You’re such a bitch,” I spit.
“Eat shit, Dylan,” she retorts, so I shove DJ back into her arms and get the fuck out of there.
“How did it go with Carlos?” Rebel asks me when I arrive at work.
“He’s a sleazy motherfucker.”
“Told ya,” she says as she works on a guy’s shoulder. “Master manipulator.”
I look at my schedule for the day, and the date catches my eye. Rebel’s birthday is a little over a month away. I should do something special.
Back when we were together the first time, I didn’t have the money I have now. I’m sure her tastes have changed, too, I realize as I remember the Hawaii comment.
A weekend in Vegas, I think as I stencil another generic butterfly on another generic blonde. Yep, that’s it. I’ll splurge and get us a suite. Fuck that guy and his 100K.
*
Five weeks later, we return from Vegas, hungover and married.
And in my case, around eight thousand dollars shorter.
It was worth every cent, I think every time Rebel’s ring catches the light.
I still cannot believe it. She’s finally, legally mine.
My wife, Mrs. Barnes, I repeat to myself as Rebel tattoos my ring finger.
She looks up at me and gives me the biggest, happiest smile. I didn’t even know my heart was capable of this much love.
We’re now a family in every sense of the word. I imagine us spending time with Junior and his siblings down the road, but that thought sobers me. I still have to talk to Marissa, and I’m dreading it.
“Babe,” I say as I think of something to get me out of it. “I have to stop by the bank.”
“Were you gonna take the earnings from last week? I can run out after this if you want.”
I’m thrilled to see that she’s already stepping up to take more care of the business. After all, we’re married now, and the shop is ours.
“You’re the best, babe. Thanks for taking things off my plate.”
She gives me a kiss. “You’re welcome.”
I’m gonna text Marissa that I’ll be coming over tomorrow. I want to enjoy this feeling for at least one more day.
*
“I don’t know why you have to explain yourself to her at all,” Rebel says as I park in front of the house.
I’m happy she’s jealous of Marissa, but I still try to reassure her. “It’s not about explaining myself, it’s about informing her that you’re Junior’s step-mom now, that’s like, basically his third parent.”
Rebel looks away, and I can tell that she’s hurting. I put her hair behind her ear and turn her face to me. “Bell, I know it’s still hard sometimes. But we’re a family now, you and I and DJ, and we’ll soon have more babies of our own. We have to look ahead, okay?”
“Okay,” she says quietly, and I exit the car.
I can do this, I tell myself as I walk to the house.
Marissa will probably lash out again. But there’s also a tiny chance that she’ll finally get it into her thick skull that this isn’t some cheap fling. Rebel’s here to stay, and we all need to figure out a way to communicate better, for DJ’s sake.
She lets me in, and as she’s fixing herself some lunch, I carefully say, “Listen, Riss, there’s something I need to tell you.”
She looks up from the deli meat. Her skin looks dull, as does her expression.
“Rebel and I went to Vegas this weekend, for her birthday.” I want to make it clear that this wasn’t premeditated or intentionally hidden from her. “And we… got married. Spur of the moment. It was funny, actually… Well, never mind, I just thought you should know.”
I anxiously look at her, and she is watching me impassively.
“Good for you,” she says, very slowly, and goes back to assembling her sandwich. “While we’re sharing about big life events and plans, you should know that DJ and I will be moving out of the house soon.”
I frown. “What? Why?”
“It’s time. I’ve been thinking about a fresh start for a while now.”
“You don’t have to... I mean, it’s your house.”
“No, it’s your house,” she tells me pointedly. “Besides, you and your wife are probably tired of living in the clubhouse and would like to have your own home, now that you’re newlyweds.”
The truth is, Rebel loves the clubhouse and never mentioned moving. But Marissa is right. We need our own space. We’re adults, for heaven’s sake.
Besides, things have been tense with the Wolves lately. After everything that happened, Truck’s ol’ lady refuses to set foot in the clubhouse again, and he’s been mentally checked out since we gave Preacher the money.
And Prez can’t even say anything. Truck is still doing the things that are his duty as VP, but he’s stopped picking up Sly’s and everyone else’s slack, so things have been falling through the cracks, especially on the business side.
“I don’t know what to tell you. Where are you moving?”
“I have a few options I’m considering. I wanted to give you a heads up so you can plan.”
“Okay. I don’t like it, but okay.”
I go kiss my napping son and walk back to the car in slow motion. I’ve always envisioned Junior growing up in this house, but maybe this is for the best.
“How did it go?” My wife asks.
“Better than expected. She said she’ll move out so we can start our newlywed life in a house.”
Rebel’s face scrunches up. “Just like that? That’s suspicious.”
“Nah, she’s not like that. She knows it’s my house and she’s ready to move on.”
“Hm.”
“Aren’t you happy we’ll have our own space?” I inquire, annoyed by what she’s choosing to focus on.
“It’s a bit weird moving into a house you shared with another woman,” Bell pouts.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet. “Here’s my card. Change whatever you want. Sheets, carpets, plates, whatever, okay? I want you to feel like it’s your home and to enjoy living in it.”
A smile overtakes her face as she reaches for the card. “Alright.”
*
It’s been a depressing two days. My boy is further from me than he’s ever been in his short little life. The day after they leave for Phoenix with that annoying fucker, I go back to the house by myself to check on the state of things and to change the locks as Rebel insisted.
The first thing that hits me is how empty it all looks without DJ’s colorful toys everywhere. I walk around for more than twenty minutes, trying to find an item they forgot to pack, so I could have something of his.
Fuck, why didn’t I think of that earlier?
I don’t want to remember the last fight Marissa and I had in this room or the fact that she’s filing for child support, so I throw myself on the couch and grab the laptop, hoping to distract myself by replying to a few email inquiries while I wait for the locksmith.
The browser opens to Marissa’s email. I guess she forgot to log out before she left. One of the email subjects catches my eye, and I start reading.