Chapter 15
Marissa
“Is this okay?” I ask Hawk as I carry DJ towards the stroller.
I wanted to look nice but not like I was trying too hard, so I opted for my Docs and a plaid dress that (hopefully) masks my lack of a defined waist. Some mascara and lip gloss, and I think I’ve nailed it.
The hair and jewelry aspect is the only thing that gives me pause, but until my hastiness with scissors can be professionally fixed, I’m forced to wear my hair up, and until my son is old enough to know that yanking earrings can rip off Mommy’s earlobe, I’m limited to wearing studs.
Hawk’s eyes are appreciative. “You look great. Red suits you.”
“Thank you.”
Instead of basking in the warm glow of that compliment, I finish buckling my son in.
“The cake!” I exclaim and smack my forehead for good measure before running back into the house. “Why didn’t you remind me?” I scold Hawk, and he shrugs.
“Do you want me to carry the cake or push DJ?”
“Cake, please. Thanks.”
On foot, I can observe the clubhouse better. It’s painted a bright yellow color, with two sets of stairs winding around it and several small balconies.
The words “Rat Park” are rendered in bold black letters under a huge, winged, flaming skull above the main entrance.
I brace myself for the stale smell of beer and cigarette smoke, but there is none. Only the faint smell of food and lemons.
“This is the diner where you’ll be working in a few weeks.”
Calling this place a diner feels wrong. On the right, there’s a coffee bar with tall stools and a pastry display counter, similar to a fancy cafe.
There is an abundance of natural light in the dining floor area, thanks to the tall windows on the left wall.
The yellow chairs and the large potted lemon tree in the middle of the floor complement it perfectly.
The walls are covered with framed photographs of smiling club members at various get-togethers and rides, along with club paraphernalia and inspirational quotes such as “Ride together, thrive together.”
Hawk leads me through the diner and into a large room that houses a pool table, several gaming consoles, and four leather sofas. There’s a projector aimed at the blank wall across from them.
“This is the entertainment room, and on the right, through there, is the family room. Sometimes people bring children to events, or we organize workshops, so we have board games, books, puzzles, and other stuff like that in there.”
“Wow.” I can’t think of anything else to say.
Despite Hawk telling me about the Rat Park experiment, I expected this place to be like the Wolves’ clubhouse.
“The other half of the floor is just club offices and our meeting room.”
“Church,” I say with a smile, and he nods.
Before I can ask anything more, we’re interrupted by an upbeat female voice. “This must be Marissa.”
I glance at Hawk, and he rolls his eyes with no real malice behind the gesture.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, welcome. Hawk only had the best to say about you. I’m Beverly, but you can call me Bev,” the middle-aged blonde tells me as we shake hands.
She speaks with a drawl that I can’t quite place.
If I had to describe Bev’s face, the first word I’d use would be “smiling”. All the lines on her sun-kissed face and around her eyes are evidence of a joyful life.
“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for organizing this.”
“No need to thank me, it was my pleasure. I’m sure Hawk told you we jump on any excuse to have a get-together.
And this must be DJ! Aren’t you the cutest little boy, so precious,” Beverly coos to my son before shaking his little hand, and I immediately decide that she’s good people.
“My boys are grown now, but it feels like it was yesterday when they were this small,” she says with a nostalgic look in her eyes.
We’re both pensive for a moment, bound by the holy experience of motherhood that manages to be fundamentally different for each woman while at the same time being exactly the same for all of us.
“Aw, Bev. Don’t get sappy on us now,” Hawk tells her.
He looks relaxed and playful here, on his home terrain. I tell myself not to stare.
“Oh, shush, you. Marissa here knows how I feel, right?”
I nod dutifully. Mom code.
“See?” Bev tells him victoriously, then turns back to me. “Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet everyone. Come on, let’s go outside,” she says as she leads us onto a covered patio in the backyard.
There are about 15 people waiting for us. Okay, that’s not too terrible.
Some are sitting at the picnic tables, some are standing around the barbecue, and some are getting food or drinks from the long table that’s against the clubhouse wall.
I park the stroller by the door and pick up DJ to give him a few kisses. Hawk seems to remember the box he’s holding.
“Marissa brought this rum cake at Sullivan’s bakery,” he says pretty loudly.
“Oh, thank you, Marissa, that’s very thoughtful. Let me go put it by the rest of the food.”
Both Hawk and I watch Bev carry the box to the very end of the long table, write “RUM CAKE” with three almost violent exclamation points on a Post-It note, and underline it twice before attaching it to the top of the unopened box.
“Should we go mingle?” Hawk asks me, and I take a deep breath before nodding.
He leads me to three people standing with a young girl.
“Hi, everyone,” he tells them with a smile. “These are Marissa and DJ.”
I give a small wave. “Hi.”
“Hello,” a beautiful, curvy redhead replies.
This must be Red, I think. Her green dress makes her look like a character on that show about ad executives in the 1960s that Susan likes to watch.
“I’m Lucy,” she says. “This is my brother Miguel, who everyone calls Doc, and this is Megan, also known as Red.”
To my surprise, she’s indicating the shorter brunette standing between Doc and the young girl. Doc is a rugged-looking man with a nose that looks like it’s been broken and healed crooked. I shake everyone’s hand.
“And this is my niece, Isabella,” Lucy says.
The girl is a beautiful mix of both of her parents, with brown eyes and hair, and a warm smile. She’s somewhere in her early teens.
“Hi, Isabella. You have a beautiful name,” I tell her.
“Thank you,” Isabella says shyly. “What does DJ stand for?”
“Dylan Junior,” I say, and hope she leaves it at that.
Why did I name my son that? I like to think that pregnancy had impaired my brain.
“How do you like our little slice of paradise?” Doc interjects.
“God, you sound like a cult leader,” Lucy tells him. “How old is this handsome little guy?” She asks.
“He’s ten months old,” I tell her, “and I like it very much,” I say as I turn to Doc.
“My boys are eight and eleven, they’re with their dad this week. And as much as I hated it when people told me this, enjoy this stage. Before you know it, their feet start stinking,” Lucy says ruefully.
“My feet don’t stink, Aunt Lucy,” Isabella protests, and her parents laugh.
Before we can continue our conversation, I hear someone call out my name, and I turn, surprised. I see Uncle waving at me as he walks up to us.
“How are you, old friend?” He asks DJ jokingly. “Is Lucy here bothering you?”
I glance at Hawk and find that he’s already looking at me. I look away.
“Have you met everyone yet?” Uncle asks me.
“Not yet,” I say, and Hawk adds, “We’re making the rounds now.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you. I’m happy you’re here, Marissa. You’re a great addition to the club.”
“Thank you,” I say shyly.
Lucy whistles. “Straight from the VP’s mouth. No joke.”
I like her.
As we continue our little tour, I remember what Hawk told me of the club’s history.
“Uncle and Squid met each other in the Navy, and founded the club in 1998, after Squid got together with Bev. Those two originally met because their spouses were having an affair with each other, and reconnected a few years later.”
After having my mind blown by that particular bit of gossip, I inquire, “And how did Doc and Red join?”
“Uncle met Red in Nar-Anon, a support group for family members of addicts. She attended meetings because her husband at the time, Doc, was an addict, and Uncle grew up with a Quaalude mom, so…” Hawk explains quietly.
Squid is introducing me to Tank, a hulking man whose road name fits him perfectly, when I hear someone squeal, “Rissy!”
Hawk puts his palms on his ears. “Good Lord. You should come with a warning: May cause hearing loss. You saw her a few hours ago.”
Mushroom smiles like she got the best compliment. “Do you mind if I steal Marissa for a moment? I want to introduce her to some people our age, no offense,” she turns to Prez for that last part, and he laughs.
Hawk looks at me for confirmation that it’s okay, and I nod before she leads (or rather, drags) me away.
“Listen up, people,” she announces to the group, “this is our newest member, Marissa, and her son, DJ.”
“Nice to meet you all,” I say shyly.
People smile or wave. Shiner’s one of them, and he nods at me encouragingly.
“These are Subhi and Jameela,” Shroomie says as she points to a couple. “And this,” she points to the ground where a toddler is sitting and playing with a plastic bottle, “is their son Qasim.”
The man is only a bit taller than me, and the woman, who’s wearing a headscarf, is Mushroom’s height.
“Subhi works in the cybersecurity division of Blue Security, and Jameela is working on her degree in biochemical engineering.”
“The little guy kind of slowed that down for a while,” Jameela says apologetically as she shakes my hand.
The man, Subhi, waves and smiles. “Welcome. How old is your boy?”
“Ten months,” I tell them. “Yours?”
“Eighteen months,” Jameela tells me. “I’m so glad he’ll have another little friend in the club.”
Mushroom seems determined to do the same elaborate introduction for all of her friends, but it all starts to melt together after a while - real names, jobs, road names. Psycho, Kate, Eyeball, Hammer, Teach, Cotton…