Nine
Nine
GUNNER
?
Sitting with my brother after eating the delicious meal my woman and the other ol’ ladies made for us. I look around the yard as the bonfire blazes and the little kids finish roasting their marshmallows before heading off to bed. This is the life I’ve always wanted. This ease, the contentment, no one bitching at me about it being too cold, or how so and so is looking at them. No fussing and fighting, just me, my brothers, my family, and a good time. This is what it was all supposed to be about.
Standing, I find my woman near the fire with the other ol’ ladies as they talk animatedly. I’m enraptured watching as she interacts with them so easily. Watch how she smirks and grins at the stories the ol’ ladies share about their kids. I watch her eyes glitter with amusement, and my heart flutters because seeing her here is where she was always supposed to be; this was always meant to be her place. And from here on out, I will ensure she knows it.
“Stop stalking your woman, brother; if she hasn’t cut and run yet, I doubt she will. Her family is here. Y’alls grandbabies are here. You are here.” Turbo says, clapping me on the back.
Looking over at him, the fucker”s eyes glitter with amusement. Letting out a breath, I know Turbo knows what it means to me to have Savvy here. He was there when shit went down. He was there when my world fell apart, and I eventually had to pick my ass back up and become the man I am today. He was the one to call me on my shit, forcing me to make the best of a fucked up situation. Because if I hadn’t, I don’t think Savvy would be here giving me the chance she is, because that man. The man I was in the beginning of my marriage to Beverly was a piece of shit.
Those first few years after I’d married Beverly were fucked up. I was fucked up. Back then, I hated Beverly with everything in me. And I made sure that she knew it. I was a prick to her and no kind of father to Bull. In the beginning, I was the worst kind of man. I’m ashamed to say I resented him, my son. I wasn’t even there when he was born and how he got his name. Fuck. I shake my head.
I was a grade-A asshole.
Then
“Gunner, finally.”
I stop just short after entering the room when I hear her voice where my son was born only hours ago. I can’t seem to feel anything but anger since receiving the call that she was being brought to the hospital by Ma. My hand on the doorknob tightens. Taking a breath, I will my body to move forward, ignoring the tone I hear in her voice. I’m not excited about the prospect of meeting my namesake. I don’t feel the need to hold him, see him, or be near him. I don’t want to fucking be here. I shouldn’t be here because it’s her, not who it should be. Not who I want it to be.
I don’t know why the fuck my Pops made me come here. I get the bitch is my wife. Even thinking that shit pisses me off. My hands clench as I walk further into the room, avoiding looking at her. It would only piss me off more if I did. My fucking wife, fuck her. She fucked me with the shit she pulled. She fucking lied and said we were covered. Obviously fucking not, since I’m now standing in a fucking room where she just pushed out my kid. If I had known who the fuck she was, I would have sent her ass packing the second she set foot in my clubhouse. I sure as shit wouldn’t have fucked her, and I damn sure wouldn’t have let her walk away with my kid in her. And now I’m stuck with this conniving, whiny bitch.
The last few months have been fucking hell. From the minute her ass stepped foot into my house after the shit show of a wedding, she set in with her demands. Fuck, running my hand, not two steps into my home. She was on me about what she wanted to change, how she wanted me to change, what she thought of this and that. What pissed me the fuck off the most was when she started making demands of me about what I should and shouldn’t be doing in my own fucking house and with my fucking time. That’s when I knew this shit would not work. That’s when I started spending more time at the clubhouse and as far away from her as possible. As much as I hate the bitch, only when Ma forced me to bring her to the house for Sunday dinner did I even see her. Thank fuck for my Ma. She’s been dealing with her ass for all the shit I won’t. The two of them changed shit in my house, and until today Ma had been taking her to her appointments. And that was fine by me.
When I got the call last night about her being in labor, I was blitzed out of my mind after a patch in at the party for one of my club brothers, Pike. Ma and Pop agreed I should sleep it off, Pop more than Ma because he was in the same predicament as me. As the Prez, he was present and had a few, which is rare for him. Of course, Ma let me have the business about being neglectful, but she doesn’t understand what that bitch did or the situation. She knew how I felt about Savvy. Sometimes, I think she assumed things fizzled out, or maybe she thought I wanted Beverly more. Either way, she’s in the dark about what I was forced into. Even knowing that, it still angers me when she takes the bitches side on shit. Pops, on the other hand, has been with me about this shit. He told me in the days leading up to the wedding to put her up and make sure her needs were met, and that he wouldn’t get into my business as long as the mafia fucks weren’t in his ear, he didn’t give a shit how I handled my wife. I catch him looking at me in a way that makes me think he regrets forcing this farce of a marriage on me.
“Come over here, son, and meet your boy,” Ma says, smiling down at the mass in her arms. “He looks so much like you did as a baby.” She says as she continues to stare down with tears in her eyes.
My feet remain rooted in place. I know I shouldn’t feel the way I do about my kid. This shit isn’t on him, and I know that, but I can’t think or feel anything for him; maybe that will change, or maybe it won’t. Especially not when Savvy… Fuck. My chest constricts when I think about her and what I had to give up. How the day that was supposed to be the best of my life was the day my heart hardened and became black as tar. The day I lost everything. Fuck.
Rubbing my hand over my head. “Ma, listen, I’m glad the kid’s here, and it’s healthy.” I look at her and see the disappointment, but keep on. “He is healthy, yeah? She did nothing to fuck him up?” I ask, spitting out my last question.
Ma”s eyes widen, and she looks from me to Beverly and down to the baby. When she looks back up at me, she gives me a sad smile as she rocks the baby back and forth. I haven’t acknowledged Beverly since walking into the room, but at my words, I hear an intake of breath coming from her direction, one I ignore.
“Yes, son. He’s perfectly healthy with ten fingers, ten toes, and lungs rivaling yours when you were born.” She chuckles awkwardly as the baby squirms in her arms.
“Gunner.”
Ignore
“Gunner,”
Ignore
“Gunner, you are going to have to talk to me. I just spent all night in labor with your son. And we need to name him.” Beverly snipes. I can hear the huff of snootiness in her voice, and my lip curls back in a snarl.
Rubbing my chest, I shake my head. Fuck, this is real. I really have a kid with this bitch.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Deciding not to say what I want to say. Name him Chase. Since that’s what you”re so damn good at, chasing me, you conniving bitch.I don’t say that. Instead, I say.
“Yeah, call him Chase,” I say coolly.
I look over at my Ma, and she smiles at me in approval, not knowing that the name is a giant fuck you to the bitch. She’d have my ass if she knew the truth of it.
“Okay… So when we leave tomorrow, you must be here with the car to pick me up. The club truck was fine getting me here, but the baby is here now. Also, my medicine needs to be picked up. And you need to talk to my mother about the christening and the party. The family will want to meet him soon. And I need you to get…” Beverly keeps talking, and I tune her out.
For fuck”s sake.
Looking over at my mother, “Ma.” My mother is so wrapped up in the baby that she doesn’t hear me until I call her again.
“Ma.”
When she looks up, she looks at me, then Beverly, who is still talking, and then back to me. Her face says it all. She’s disappointed in how I”m handling this. If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be so keen on getting Beverly and me to work. She’d want to kick her ass, but Ma will never know. I made a promise to my Pops, and I’ll keep it.
“Ma, I gotta go. I got a run and shit to do. If you need anything, let me know.”
Not waiting for an answer and ignoring Beverly’s protest. I walk out of the room. I need a fucking drink.
One year later
“Gunner, you need to help me. I can’t do all this myself. He’s your son too. You can’t keep leaving me to deal with him by myself. All he does is cry, and I can”t get my hair and nails done with a whiny baby, and your mother can’t watch him for me.” Beverly screeches as she follows me from our room to the kitchen, where she leaves the baby in his high chair, making a mess of his food.
I whirl around on her so fast that her front slams into my own, and I quickly take a step away from her. Her hands on me make my skin crawl. I fucking hate her touching me.
“Your nails and hair. What the fuck do you need to get that shit done for? So you can sit around here doing fuck all, whining, and pawning the kid off to anyone willing to watch him. Don’t think I don’t fucking know about the ol’ ladies coming here to watch him. Or how you threaten them to keep their mouths shut.” That has her scurrying away from me and to Chase. “What was it you told them? You’ll fuck shit up with them and their ol’ men if they don’t do what you say because you’re the future first lady of the club?” I sneer at her as her eyes widen. “He’s your kid; you wanted him, and now you got him. I take care of your needs, his needs, and every fucking thing else. What the fuck else do you want from me? Fuck.” I say louder than I mean to.
I turn and drop my saddlebag down on the kitchen table, causing Chase to squeal and clap his hands, which has whatever shit she was feeding him flying all over himself and her. Beverly squeals and jumps back, almost causing his seat to tip over. Which she doesn’t even notice. Thank fuck I was close and caught it. Fuck, selfish bitch.
Looking down at my smiling kid, I smirk at the mess he made. Good job, buddy. Make her work for you. He squeals a laugh, flinging more food around like he knows what I was thinking.
She returns from the kitchen with a dish towel and wipes Chase down. “I’m so sick of this, Gunner; you are my husband and his father. I deserve better than this. I shouldn’t have to do all of this. I don’t understand why you can’t hire staff to take care of everything. I know the club can afford it. Your mother lives in that big house and has help when needed.” She says, wavering her over-entitled hand, still clutching the dish towel.
I look at her like she’s fucking crazy. My ma is the first damn lady of the club. She takes care of a lot of shit that has to do with the families. And Nan helps because it”s something for her to do since her ol’ man passed a few years ago. This bitch would know that if she took an interest in getting to know the other family members of the club for more than what they can do for her ass. So no, there isn”t any fucking way I’m going to pay someone to do the shit she should be doing. She doesn’t do shit but sit around pawning the kid off and bitching about what she had at her parents and how I need to do this or that. Fuck that.
Shaking my head at her. I don’t even tell her for the hundredth time that shit isn’t happening. I pick up my saddle bag and walk out of the house without a backward glance as she yells my name, but I ignore her.
Ten months later
“Gunner, you have a phone call, hun.” Gigi, one of the club girls tending the bar, yells over the music.
My eyes narrow on her as she holds the phone up for me. I don’t know why anyone would call me at the clubhouse. And everyone who matters is here, well, except for Ma. She went up to her and Pop’s room for the night. I smile, thinking about her. Tonight was one of the rarer nights she joined the party. She was very tipsy when my Pops dragged her off to talk. My smile drops when I remember what brought that thought on.
With furrowed brows, I stand from where I’m seated and push through the crowd to reach Gigi and the phone.
“Yeah,”
“GUNNER…. You.. y… have to come now. I… I don’t know… wha…what’s wrong with Chase… he…he..” Without asking questions, the phone drops to the bar top, and I’m out of the clubhouse without seeing or speaking to anyone. Not realizing that my best friend followed me. All I knew was I needed to get to my son.
Two hours later
Sitting in the waiting room of the hospital for the last few hours has been torture. Not knowing how Chase is doing is killing me. All I can think about is what the doctors said when we brought him in. He wouldn”t be here if I hadn’t come when I did. We could have lost our son if I would have ignored that phone call. Fuck.
Beverly sniffles as she leans further into me as I hold her. Rubbing her back, I think back to a few days ago, when she told me that Chase wasn’t feeling good. She thought she might need to take him to the kid doc; I told her to handle it and left and haven’t been back since. And now my kid is in surgery because I wasn’t there.
Ma comes rushing into the waiting room and immediately snatches Beverly out of my arms as she questions me about Chase. I tell her and Pops what we know. That he had appendicitis, and shit blew, so they had to do surgery to fix him up. Letting out a breath, I step away as Ma consoles my wife.
“Brother, let”s go get a coffee. The Doc said it was going to take some time. Let”s take a walk, yeah,” Turbo says, clapping me on my back. Wordlessly, I give him a nod and signal to my Pops that I’ll be back.
Following Turbo, when we reach the coffee machine. He stops and steps in front of me. I look up in his eyes and see anger and worry.
“Brother, I don’t get in your shit. You know that.” He runs his hand over his beard. “But you are fucking up, man.” He says, frustration lacing his voice. I go to speak, but he cuts me off. “Yeah, I know the situation is fucked, and you didn’t ask for this shit, but here you are. This is your fucking life, Gunner. That’s your kid in there fighting,” He says, pointing down the hall. “He’s fighting and has been fighting for fucking days while you were fucking off and getting blitzed at the clubhouse.” He growls. “You want to hate the bitch for what she did? Fucking hate her guts. But that kid, your kid. He doesn’t deserve what you’ve been doing. You’ve been ignoring him and that fucking name.” He shakes his head. “Fucking Hell, man. Come the fuck on. He deserves better than this, better than you.”
Placing his hands on my shoulders, making sure I’m listening.
“One day, this kid is going to grow up. And he is going to have memories. Memories of seeing his father’s back. Memories of you walking away, of you treating his Ma like shit. And that kid is gonna fucking hate you. Do you want that? Do you want your kid to hate you? I know you. No way in fuck would my best friend want to be anything other than a man his kid could be proud of, a man like his grandfather, a father like his grandfather was to you. You need to get your shit straight and figure it out. Ain’t no changing shit. Chase is here. Don’t lose him because of what could have been.” With a shove, he turns and walks away from the waiting room, and I stare after him.
Fuck.
My knees nearly buckle, and I have to catch myself on the wall as my chest aches at what I’ve done, who I’ve become. Closing my eyes, I take a few breaths, trying to keep my shit together. At this moment, clarity and realization hit me hard. Turbo isn’t wrong. Fuck, not one fucking thing he said was wrong. I am fucking up. With my eyes still closed, I promise to do better for my boy and his mother. My wife.