Chapter Twenty-Three – Mortician
Later that evening, Mortician found himself at Tee’s because Derby’s woman called him and asked for a meeting.
Between curiosity and nothing better to do, he agreed to see her.
It surprised him that Symphony was on the floor when he walked into the diner.
Days after her confrontation with Roxanne, Symphony’s face was still somewhat swollen, but the cuts and abrasions were healing.
He nodded to her, spotting Gypsy already seated at a table.
“Let’s go to that booth,” Mort said as Symphony headed in their direction, carrying a plate of chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes.
Gypsy stood, and he kissed her cheek, then took her elbow and guided her to his favorite booth.
Once they sat, Symphony placed Gypsy’s order in front of her.
“The usual, Mort?” Symphony asked, glaring at Gypsy. Apparently, she hadn’t learned one fucking thing from her run-in with his mama-in-law. She’d just bided her time until she saw him again.
As much as Mort hated to talk to Tee about the waitress, he might have to if he wanted to have peace.
Smirking at Symphony, Gypsy slid her plate to the center of the table. “Want to eat a little bit, Mort?”
Accusation burned in Symphony’s gaze, tears rushed to her eyes, and she turned and ran.
“She has it bad for you,” Gypsy said calmly, pulling her plate back.
“I’m pretty fucking sure she wished she’d spit in your potatoes.” Mort tried to hide his annoyance, but maybe, Symphony did need firing. If he’d had Gypsy over the table fucking her, it wasn’t Symphony’s business. “Did you have to fuck with her like that?”
Gypsy unrolled her napkin, grabbed her plastic fork and knife, and set everything else aside. “It’s second nature,” she admitted. She cut a small piece of steak and popped it into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “It’s the only way to fight back with Derby’s stable of sluts.”
Lighting a cigarette, Mortician waited to hear why she’d asked to see him. His stomach growled because he hadn’t bothered to eat.
Gypsy set the utensils aside and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I need some advice.”
“I need some fucking food, girl.”
Her giggle lit up her face. “I haven’t been a girl in ages. Cigarettes have hoarsened my voice. My skin is wrinkled. My hair is frizzy. My boobs are sagging.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he said honestly, allowing smoke to pour through his mouth and nostrils.
Flushing, she glanced away. “I haven’t been noticeable in a very long time.”
“Didn’t mean that, baby. I just see Gypsy. A chick I had some good times with. An old friend, who once laughed easily and partied hard. ”
“Old,” she echoed. “That’s all I am. Old, tired, and lonely.”
“It’s a fucking shame to let a motherfucker suck the soul out of you, baby.”
“I love Derby.”
He’d always believed love shouldn’t hurt. He loved Bailey and she’d crushed him. He still wanted their marriage to work, so he couldn’t disparage Gypsy’s feelings.
“What do you need me to do?”
“I went back to Derby a month ago, but he was so angry that I went to LA with Meggie. We got into a huge argument so I moved back to my apartment since I still have two months on my lease. I told him I ran across an old friend last Friday and have been letting him stay at my place. We rode here together but he just dropped me off.”
Mortician wasn’t interested in hearing about the old friend she was using to fuck with Derby. “I still haven’t heard why you wanted to meet with me, girl.”
“I’m getting to that, Mort. Derby is seething with jealousy. He wants me to come home and I’ve agreed.” She studied her fingers, gripping the edge of the table. “But I want a makeover. Plastic surgery. Lipo. A boob and face lift and a labia rejuvenation. A new hairstyle. The works.”
“As long as you doing it for you,” Mort said.
“I am, although Meggie’s paying for it. We had a disagreement in LA but I talked to her earlier today and she’s forking up the entire amount.”
“That sound like Meggie girl.”
“If Derby finds out she’s giving me the money, he’ll think my makeover was her idea, and it wasn’t. She’s completely against it since I’m doing it so I don’t lose him. She thinks if Derby loved me enough, he’d accept me as I am.”
Mort agreed, but Gypsy sounded so fucking despondent he kept his opinion to himself.
“My surgeries are my 55th birthday present from her.”
“Gypsy, baby, even if Meggie put the fucking idea in your head, Derby ass should be happy you willing to go through all that fucking pain on his behalf.”
“He won’t be.” She met Mort’s gaze and drew in a deep breath. “I-I…c-can I say you gave me the money?”
Before he overcame his shock, Symphony reappeared and he crooked his finger at her. She stomped to him, lifted her chin, and folded her arms.
“If you want me to continue being cool with you, act like you got fucking sense.”
“I-I’m sorry,” she croaked. “It…I thought…I didn’t know you’d chosen someone else. I thought I still had a chance.”
“And I told you you didn’t,” he said, not as irritated but still harsh.
He nodded to Gypsy, who’d resumed eating.
“Gypsy a longtime friend of mine.” More of an acquaintance after she and Derby got together.
“I’m still not fucking over Bailey, Symphony.
With you, Gypsy, or no other woman. I love my wife.
However, and this shit quite important, if the day ever come when I got a new woman and I bring her here, I expect you to respect her. Understand?”
She nodded.
“I could be the biggest motherfucker alive, baby.”
“He’s not,” Gypsy said. “Bailey’s a lucky woman.”
“Yeah, tell her that,” Mortician grumbled before he caught himself. She had to hate him if she wanted to fuck with CJ and Ryan and call the cops. He smiled at Symphony. “All you see is my handsome face, girl. But I’m a stingy motherfucker. You deserve a motherfucker spoiling you.”
“I-I met a guy,” Symphony admitted, shifting her weight. “He’s nice enough. He isn’t a biker, though. I thought about asking CJ if he wanted to go out. We had been texting each other, but I haven’t heard from him in days.”
“He got a lot going on, baby,” Mort said. “It’s not my place to say what. Hit him up and see what he up to.”
“He’s so young, though. He isn’t a biker, either.”
“You want a roughneck, huh, baby?”
“Who wouldn’t?” Gypsy asked. “Bad boys know how to catapult you to heaven then drag you into hell. It’s worth every minute.”
Symphony’s eyes lit up and she nodded.
“I got somebody I can introduce you to,” Mortician reminded her, referring to Bishop. “If you want me to play Cupid, I’ll bring the little motherfucker in later this week.”
“He’s a biker?”
“And in my club,” Mort confirmed. “I sponsored him.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good, now get my burger, fries, and beer, before I decide not to tip you.”
She looked at Gypsy. “I apologize for my behavior.” She pointed to the nearly empty plate. “Your meal’s on the house. What would you like to drink?”
“A beer.” Gypsy smiled at Symphony. “I understand, babe.”
Symphony scampered away.
Mortician stretched out an arm across the back of the booth. “Why you came to me with your request?” He had his suspicions. “Meggie girl paying. Why not ask her to say Prez gave it to you?”
“You’re the only one on the outs with his wife,” she admitted, confirming Mort’s theory. “Outlaw would do it for Meggie but Derby would still believe she put the idea in my head.”
“She saved his fucking life and he still got problems with her?”
Pushing her plate aside, she leaned forward. “Please don’t tell Outlaw. He wouldn’t be happy.”
No shit. “About the only thing I can do is talk to Meggie and Roxanne. Maybe, my mama-in-law can say it’s her gift.”
“Meggie will be pissed,” Gypsy said morosely.
“She got a right to be. She’s coughing up a lot of fucking money on your behalf and you can’t even be honest with your motherfucker because of his reaction.”
“I just don’t know what to do. I was thinking about asking Meggie for a job, a permanent position.
Derby won’t want me around her that much.
The money she’s offering for a month is more than I’ve ever had at one time.
When I worked the pole, I had to give most of my earnings to the club.
Derby gave me a small portion. When he sold my pussy, I got nothing. ”
Derby was a good president, and the Burning Hounds was one of their biggest support clubs. As an old man, though, Derby was a fucking asshole. He and Gypsy had been together for decades and he’d cheated on her from the fucking beginning.
Meggie couldn’t fucking stand Derby because of how he treated Gypsy. Everybody knew it, including that motherfucker.
“Derby said if she gives me a job, he doesn’t want me back.”
Gypsy really didn’t have to tell that motherfucker everything. As much as Derby ignored her, she could’ve told him she was anywhere.
Her face crumpled. “I don’t know what to do. Meggie’s a good boss. Her house is always full of activity.”
“What do you want to do?” Mortician asked. “Nothing else important, Gypsy. No matter what Derby says, you have to do what make you happy.”
“I want to work for her, but I want Derby, too.”
“Prez’ll help. He’ll make your motherfucker see the light.”
“Derby might still refuse to take me back,” she whispered.
“That’s on him. He do what the fuck he want to do. If working for Meggie make you happy, then do it. He either accept it or he don’t. He sure the fuck break every fucking promise he makes to you.”
“Thank you, Mort. I need to get going.” She grabbed her purse and slid the strap over her shoulder. “I’m going have a ciggy, then text Junior.”
“If you can fucking wait until I eat, I’ll drop you off. You don’t have to worry your houseguest.”
“Are you sure? I live near Hortensia General.”
“Hang tight, baby. Relax. Have a few beers and keep me company while I eat.”
“Thank you, Mort. This means a lot.”