Chapter 45 #2
“Dad should know better.” I glare at Freak while pulling at the long ends of my hair and bringing them up to my face.
I grimace as I examine them. Yeah, some of them do look split, and as for a style, I gave that up long ago.
The brothers never bothered much about my hair when I was a club girl, only that it was long enough to wrap their hands around.
And Freak’s never said anything to me about it.
“Do you like my hair long?” I query now.
“Love your hair anyway you want it, Trix.” Right answer. I fucking love my man.
Every morsel of food has disappeared, something I’m used to with a still-growing boy, and a man the size of Freak. I stand and start collecting the plates, but my old man stops me with a touch of his hand. “We’ve got this, Trix. You go get yourself ready to go out with Pippa.”
“It’s my birthday,” Ace moans.
Freak silences his protest with just one look, and I swear some silent communication passes between them. I think men are born with the ability to communicate non-verbally.
If I’m going to have my hair done, I’d prefer to be wearing some makeup at least. So I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and instead of protesting further, I climb the stairs, favouring my still sore ankle, and go to the bedroom.
A change of top – I’m going to wear the one I have on later when I go to Ace’s party, but I’ll take it with me and wear something different.
I don’t want to be itchy with hair down my back for the rest of the day.
I put on a covering of face powder and apply lipstick to my lips, just enough to make it look like I’ve made an effort.
By the time I’ve finished, Freak calls out from downstairs, “We’re off now. See you later.”
“Take care,” I call back. And I can’t resist running to the window to see Ace’s new car driving away, with Freak in the driver’s seat.
Returning to the kitchen, I check that it’s been cleaned properly and that the dishwasher is stacked as I like it. I run a cloth over the work surface, but as I finish, I hear a car draw up outside.
I’m at the front door before Pippa can knock, and am surprised to see Bronwyn as well.
“Girls’ spa day,” Pippa announces. “You ready?” Her expression suggests, ready or not, I’ll be going anyway.
Smoothing down my t-shirt, I grumble. “I don’t know why we’re doing this.”
It’s Bronwyn who answers. “Because it’s fun.”
“It’s only a fucking barbecue,” I protest. Nevertheless, I let them lead me to the car.
I expect them to take me to the hairdresser on Main Street, but instead, we drive further and end up at what looks like a private club. Outside, there’s a sign with big letters that announces it’s an actual spa.
“You weren’t kidding when you said spa day,” I accuse Pippa. I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to pay for this. The place screams money.
Pippa waves something in front of me. “Freak’s given me his credit card.”
Why did he give it to her and not me? Oh, yeah, because I wouldn’t have wanted to put any expenditures on it.
Four hours later, my long hair has been layered.
It’s still almost the same length – minus the split ends – but now lies in flattering waves shimmering down from the top of my head.
I’ve had a pedicure, a manicure, and a full wax – and I mean everywhere – and my makeup has been redone and expertly applied.
The mirror shows the result is tasteful, and I like it.
But we still haven’t picked up the freaking cake.
“We’re going to be late,” I moan to Pippa.
“No, we’re not. Just ring Freak and tell him to delay for a while.”
I really want to see Ace’s face when he walks into the clubhouse, and sees it’s been decorated just for him. So I do as she suggests and call my man.
“Freak, can you keep Ace occupied a little longer? The girls have gone overboard.” I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me.
“Sure, babe. We’re actually still at the track. Ace is doing well. I’ve planned to stop off for something to eat after, so you can take your time.”
“Don’t forget there’s a barbecue later,” I remind him. “Don’t let him eat too much.”
He chuckles. “Trix, doesn’t matter how much I feed him. He’ll be ready to eat again in a couple of hours.”
He’s not wrong. We end with the normal platitudes exchanged by two people in love. And then, at last, we’re heading into town and toward the bakery. But Pippa pulls into a parking lot before we arrive.
“The bakery is further down,” I tell her.
“I know, but there’s a boutique here that I’ve wanted to visit.”
“I really want to get to the clubhouse before Ace.” If it wasn’t childish, I’d stomp my good foot. After all the planning I’d put into this, well, with Pippa’s help, of course, I don’t want to miss out on one moment of Ace’s surprise.
“It won’t take a minute, Trixie.” It’s Bronwyn who’s linked her arm with mine. “And I’m in the mood for something new for myself.”
Outnumbered, what can I do but comply?
As soon as the bell rings over the door, it’s obvious I can’t afford anything in here. But Pippa marches in, and Bronwyn drags me after her. Pippa goes straight to a display of dresses. I have to agree, they’re cute, a kind of fifties style, a pretty bodice, pulled-in waist, and a flared skirt.
Pippa pulls one off the rack. The background is cream, and it’s covered in prints of wildflowers. She holds it up against me and sighs. “This would look perfect on you, and it looks like your size. Trix, go try it on.”
Checking the label to see if it would indeed fit me, I catch her eye. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“You’re getting it.” She chuckles. “Now, shoo.”
It’s been over five years since I last wore a dress as nice as this, I think, as I stare at the material I’m holding.
I used to wear designer clothes when I lived with Piero.
I was the wife of an underboss, after all, and was expected to look the part.
For a moment, history wells up in my mind.
But then I look at the dress hanging on the hook, and realise, though it’s obviously designer, the style would not be seen in the salons of New York, expensive but not exorbitant.
Deciding not to give Piero any more space in my mind, I strip out of my t-shirt and shorts, and I try it on.
I smooth it down over my tits and tighten the belt around my waist. When I twirl, the skirt flows around me.
Looking in the mirror, I see it really suits me.
It’s not so flashy that it would be out of place in the clubhouse, and wearing it, I look nothing like a club girl.
Would Freak like it? I grin to myself. He’d probably take one look at it and tell me it would look better on the floor.
“You ready, Trix? Come out and show us.” Pippa yells.
Sighing, I know full well that if they see me in it, they’ll probably persuade me to buy it.
I have two choices – either tell them it didn’t fit me, or go out and be pressed into spending more of Freak’s money, which, to my mind, would be best saved for building our house.
But hell, I do like it. So I pull back the curtain and step out.
Only to see the other two old ladies, both wearing dresses.
Pippa’s is a plain baby-blue sheath. Somehow, she’s already returned to her pre-baby figure, and it really suits her.
Bronwyn’s is mauve, cinched in at the waist like mine, but the skirt isn’t so full.
The colours complement both their wearers and coordinate well with the flowers in my dress.
Pippa’s grinning widely. “I think these are the ones. The men won’t know what’s hit them.”
“No,” I say firmly. “It’s a barbecue. Shorts and t-shirts fit the part.”
“We’re old ladies,” Pippa insists. “This makes a definite statement we’re not club girls.”
I bristle, thinking she’s making a dig at me. “I’ll go take this off.” I turn.
“No, Trix. You’re going to wear it. That style suits you.”
“I like this dress, and Short will love it.” Bronwyn sighs. “But I don’t want to wear it if you aren’t going to wear one as well.”
“That’s fucking blackmail,” I tell her.
“Is it working?” Pippa asks. “I mean, Saint’s going to lose his mind if he sees me in this.”
With the hopeful look in Bronwyn’s eyes, pleading with me, I don’t stand a chance. And when I step back into the changing room, again taking in the full effect of the dress, the expertly applied subtle makeup, and my new hairstyle, I know Freak would be proud to show me off as his.
I give in.
“Okay.” I sigh. “Now, can we go get the cake?”
Instead of moving the car the hundred yards to the bakery, we deposit our bags from the boutique in the trunk, then, linking arms, for some reason giggling like teenagers, we stroll past the partisan shops that front this side of Main Street.
The bell tinkles as we step inside, and a wall of mouthwatering aromas greets us.
Cinnamon, vanilla, and the sweetness of fruit.
Bron and Pippa step forward, eagerly eyeing up the cakes and other delicacies lined up in the glass display cabinet.
Moving up to the counter, I wait until the woman whom I’d originally placed my order with notices I’m there.
“Oh my God!” Her hand covers her mouth when she recognises me.
“It’s you!” She rounds the counter and, to my surprise, envelops me in a hug.
There’s a catch in her voice as she rasps out, “I’m so glad to see you.
I was so worried. The way they manhandled you into the car, I thought they were going to kill you. ”
“You called the cops.” Pippa’s stepped up alongside me. “Lady, if you hadn’t done that, Trixie wouldn’t be standing here now.”
It honestly hadn’t occurred to me how much my rescue had been down to this concerned citizen who’d reported it.
To be fair, I hadn’t been aware of the background to my rescue, or if I’d been told, hadn’t taken it all in.
I’d been too relieved that Freak had found me alive to worry too much about the details, and of course, in too much pain.
But now I recall my rescue had indeed started with the call that she’d made, and which Pippa or Genie had heard over the police radios.
“Did the police find you?”
“Uh-huh,” I respond, not wanting to explain what really happened. And while I appreciate her concern and am immensely grateful for her part in my rescue, I’m worried about something else. “Did you still make the cake I ordered?”
The woman’s face is unreadable for a moment, making my spirits fall.
I’d planned this so carefully for Ace. Am I going to fail at the final hurdle?
“To be honest, I didn’t know whether you’d be coming back for it.
” Then her face brightens. “But you made your request, and I honoured it. I thought if you weren’t able to collect, I was going to donate it. ”
Thank fuck. But part of me wonders what the local food bank would have made of a laptop-shaped cake.
“Just give me a second. I’ll go box it up.
” She disappears for a moment, emerging only a minute or so later.
She’s left the box open. The three of us gush over it.
She’s outdone herself. The laptop is sitting on a block of cake decorated to resemble a desk.
Each key on the keyboard is delicately iced, and there’s a scrawl of numbers and letters etched onto the screen.
She shifts awkwardly. “Um, you didn’t get back to me with the wording you wanted, so I googled.
” She laughs nervously. “I have no idea what this means, but I thought it looked right.”
So do I. It looks perfect. I take out my purse and pay her, adding on an amount to cover the pastries Bron and Pippa have had their eye on, and at the last moment, can’t resist pointing out one for myself.
With promises not to be strangers, we leave the bakery with our last mission accomplished.
“Now, can we get to the club?” I ask, nervously noticing how time has run away from us.
Pippa grins. “After we’ve been back to yours and changed.”
The End
Want to find out more about what happens to Toni in Nebraska? Look out for Property of Howler Kings of Anarchy MC Nebraska by Ciara St James due to be released on 19, October 2026.