WILLOW
The older woman is giving me an unimpressed look, like I am trash at her feet.
She looks like one of those women that have never understood the concept of “aging gracefully.” Her hair is bleached blond with brown roots showing, and you can see grey weaving into the natural color.
She’s tall, even without the tacky leopard print heels that she’s wearing.
Who the fuck would wear heels to a party at an MC clubhouse?
She can’t expect not to have something spilled on them or step in something questionable by the end of the night.
She’s also wearing pleather pants that are so tight that I wonder how she can breathe in them or pull them down to pee.
She’s showing so much cleavage that I think the underwire of her push up bra must be industrial strength.
She finished off her look with a thick layer of makeup that is starting to settle into the wrinkles that she tried so hard to cover.
After looking her up and down, my gaze falls behind her to the miniature version of her.
She is clearly her daughter, and inherited her mother’s tacky sense of fashion.
She is pretty, but I don’t think she understands that all of the makeup she’s sporting ages her.
Jackson said we are the same age, but she could easily pass for thirty.
She’s looking at me with so much hate. If looks could kill, I would probably burst into flames.
I feel Grey pull me so that my back is against his chest, and Knox grabs my hand again. I notice Jackson move to stand on Knox’s other side, glaring at the three of them as he says, “We talked about this, Griz.”
“I can make sure my daughter feels welcome in the clubhouse. This is her family, too. She is just as much a club princess as her sister is.”
“The closest thing I have to a sister is when Ben is throwing a fit about someone eating the leftovers that he called dibs on. I only have brothers, fortunately,” I reply in an annoyed voice.
Griz looks at me with a confused look. I’m assuming he isn’t used to being questioned as the VP. Too bad that I don’t give a fuck what his cut says.
“Willow, welcome to the family,” comes from who I’m assuming is the sperm donor’s wife. Her voice holds so much fake happiness that I don’t think anyone will fall for it; she isn’t that good of an actress.
I make eye contact with her, matching her fake smile. “You must be Jackson’s step-cunt. He told me so much about you.” I hear Jackson let out a chuckle, and Knox coughs to try and cover up his laugh.
“You can tell that your mother raised you. She did lack manners. I can’t blame her too much, though, growing up the way she did.
I tried to teach them to Smoke, but I think he is an example of how you can’t make up for bad genes,” she says in a cold voice, but keeps her fake smile.
If she wasn’t such a bitch, I would have told her that some of the cheap, red lipstick that she is wearing is on her front teeth.
Ah well, I’m sure someone will eventually.
I’m currently trying to hold myself back from grabbing the knife from my boot and stabbing this bitch, so I am too busy to worry about that.
Looking her up and down, I say in the most sickly-sweet voice that I can muster, “Yup, my mom wasn’t able to teach me things that probably come easy to you with all that ‘good breeding.’ Like being able to fuck a guy in a committed relationship and baby trap him.
Or to have the style of a prostitute from the 80’s.
” I look from her to her daughter and say, “Those must be the top-shelf genes that you were referring to. I’m so glad that they made it to your spawn, though. ”
The older one drops her fake smile and steps towards me, which makes me so excited that I try to bounce on my toes, getting ready to lay the bitch out, but Grey and Knox hold me in place. Cockblocking me? Punch-blocking me? I make a mental note to figure out the name later.
“Girls, let’s calm down. Willow is probably nervous about meeting her family,” says the sperm donor as he steps in front of his wife.
I laugh in his face; he has to be kidding.
I look at Jackson and realize he was not kidding by the way that Jackson is glaring at him and clenching his jaw, like he is trying to hold himself back from saying what he wants to.
Jackson may have to show respect because he is the VP of his club, but Griz is nothing to me.
Now I’m mad, not only because the sperm donor is trying to claim me as family, but because now that Jackson has reached “idiot status,” I’m the only one that gets to piss him off!
This makes the decision for me. It’s time to unleash the bitch.
I don’t care if the Brothers will hate me after this. They can fucking deal with it.
“My ‘family’ is all accounted for, thanks. Don’t flatter yourself by thinking of yourself as my father, just because you came in my mom when you weren’t fucking your side piece.
But I would like to thank you for being the biggest piece of shit and throwing my mom away for that big bunch of walking bad decisions.
If you knew about me, I probably would have been raised around that, too, and I wouldn’t want any of her ‘cuntiness’ being transferred to me.
Clearly it’s contagious,” I say, jerking my chin towards his wife and her miniature.
“She wouldn’t have met my dad if she stayed with you.
The only bad that came out of this is that we didn’t have Jackson with us.
But that’s okay, he naturally fits in with our family,” I finish, not breaking eye contact with him.
His face is turning red; I’m not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger.
Maybe he’s angry at me for embarrassing him in front of his club—not that I give a shit, though.
“Willow,” Knox barks at me. I turn my head to look at him, raising my eyebrow, trying to see why he’s stopping me. My eyes meet his, which are giving me a warning look as he shakes his head at me.
What the fuck? Knox knows the situation and that my sperm donor has it coming. He knows how Jackson feels about the old bitch, and he knows that I am not one to let people mess with me. He couldn’t be stupid enough to try and rein me in just because we are in front of his club.
But he surprises me when he says in a stern voice like he is trying to scold me, “That’s enough. We can all discuss this in private later. You don’t need to air all of your issues out in front of the club.”
I can feel my eyebrows hit my hairline, and I look over to Jackson to figure out if this is a joke or something. But I find him giving Knox the same bewildered look that I am. I’ve grown used to being around Knox, but I’m guessing he is “Flame” at the moment.
Apparently, Flame feels the need to put me in my place in front of his club, and that’s not going to work for me. I didn’t sign up to be the submissive ‘Ol Lady, or to be “put in my place” in front of his club.
Fuck. That.
I take all of the hurt that I feel and bury that bitch deep. I swallow to get my emotions in check and look back at “Flame” with the blank face that I have perfected over the years.
“You’re right, I don’t have the patience to deal with men that put the club before the feelings of someone that they are in a ‘relationship’ with.
I knew that loyalty to the club would come first. Loyalty can’t be divided,” I say as I pry my fingers from his, which were getting tighter and tighter as I spoke, like he knew that I was about to pull away from him, not only physically, but emotionally, too.
The look of hurt flashes across his eyes before the panic shows in them. But the rest of his expression stays the same as he says in a firm voice, “If you can’t handle being mature around the club, then you should go. We can try again for the next party.”
“The only reason I stepped foot in this shit hole was for you, but I shouldn’t have fucking bothered,” I say, looking him in the eyes and then turning around to leave.
Grey follows me out the door and to my car, opening the passenger door for me.
I’m too busy trying to wrap my head around what just happened to even argue with him about driving my own car.
Between Knox and Grey, Knox was the one that I never questioned if he was interested in me.
He made me feel comfortable from the start, taking the time to get to know me and listen to me.
How can he go from such a sweet, supportive guy, to the asshole that he just was in front of the club?
I’ve been around Uncle Mark’s club and know for a fact that he would never do that to Aunt Jaz.
Did he expect me to let him handle the situation for me when it has nothing to do with him?
He always acted like he had my back. He was just expecting me to let that bitch talk about my mom?
Fully committed to my mental spiraling, I don’t even notice that Grey was pulling up to my gate until I feel the car stop.
Blinking out of my thoughts, I look over at him.
He seems tense, holding my steering wheel so hard that he may snap it in half.
I don’t know what to say as he follows the driveway and parks in my garage.
The second that the car is off, he opens the door and gets out of the car.
He doesn’t slam the door when he gets out, so that’s good; he doesn’t have a death wish.
I let out a long exhale and slowly unbuckle my seatbelt, and just as I take it off, my door opens, and Grey’s arms are wrapping around my waist, pulling me out of the car and shutting the door behind me.
I’m then pressed between him and my car.
I can feel the cold metal on my back through the thin fabric of my shirt.
My legs automatically wrap around Grey’s waist as he uses his pelvis to keep me pinned against the car.
He grabs my face with both of his hands and looks into my wide eyes with his narrowed ones.