Chapter Forty-Five – Diesel
Annoyed to no fucking end at Rebel and regretting not killing Tabitha, Diesel stalked to the bar.
Torrin revealed what Rebel had said about Jana and why she might be spiraling.
It had never fucking occurred to Diesel that she’d thrived right after his proposal because she’d had a support system.
He needed to talk to her, apologize, let her know he’d do better and explain to her about Bash’s ultimatum. He should’ve done that at first.
But he’d been so consumed with Rebel and her feelings, he hadn’t considered anything about Jana. He’d rectify that tonight.
Rebel would come around. She couldn’t stay angry with him and she didn’t hate him. No matter what the fuck she said. In the meantime, he’d live his best life with a sweet, kind, unassuming beauty.
Besides, like Uncle Christopher said, whenever he got what he wanted, he lost interest. Part of the insanity with Rebel had been the danger and excitement of the forbidden.
Extremely forbidden. So forbidden it was fucking illegal.
But that had been part of her allure. Not her. She was a child. Of course, she’d have energy and love life, love herself. She hadn’t been exposed to the ugly realities of the world. She was a child. All children were beautiful. That’s why she was so beautiful—she was a child.
Her body had just developed prematurely, which he wouldn’t have even noticed if she’d kept her fucking clothes on. Her mouth was as dirty as any slut’s because she tried to keep up with her brothers. She commanded attention, owned a room, because that’s what children did.
They were sweet and cute and everyone admired them. Soon, Rebel would grow warts on her face and lose some of her teeth. She’d look like a witch instead of a princess.
If fucking only.
On top of her beauty, she was so fucking stubborn.
Damn her and her childish unreasonableness. Unless he got through to her, she would hate him for the rest of his life.
“I need a beer, Kenny,” he growled to the skinny prospect with a fat crush on Kendall.
“Give me one, too.” Mortician halted next to Diesel and held out his hand. “Happy birthday, fuckhead. Dirty thirty. How that feel?”
“You tell me,” Diesel said, accepting the enforcer’s hand and shaking. “You’ve already been thirty. How was it for you?”
“Just another year in the fucking club.”
Kenny set the bottles in front of them.
“I got it, Diesel,” Mortician said, handing Kenny a twenty.
“Let me get your change, Mort,” the kid said, starting for the register but diverted by a call from one of the guys at the other end of the bar.
“That little motherfucker better not forget my fucking change.”
“Lucky for you I didn’t order a bottle of Scotch,” Diesel said.
“Lucky for you, ‘cause I wouldn’t have paid for it.”
Diesel snickered.
“Cheers, brother.” Mort tapped his bottle against Diesel’s and then swigged. “Talked to CJ?”
“Only in passing.” Diesel didn’t know what the fuck to say to him. He’d never been a threat of any kind to CJ. “Nothing in depth.”
“Don’t hold his spoiled fucking behavior against him.”
“I never do.”
“You try not to, but we both know this not CJ. Besides, even the most understanding motherfucker would have a fucking problem with the way he acted.”
“What do you want me to say? CJ and I will get past this or we won’t.”
“CJ a good kid—”
“I know, Mortician,” Diesel said irritably. “I’m going to make up to him.”
The enforcer sipped his beer. “CJ got his own trauma. He saw Meggie shot. He was with her when Mystic kidnapped her. He saw Johnnie fingerprints on her neck after that motherfucker tried to strangle her and ran all the way to the fucking club to get Outlaw, and a whole bunch of other shit over the years. Of course he was possessive of her. Whether she did it on purpose, she gave CJ a lot of say so, especially with her. Even if it was subconscious, it eased the kid, so he didn’t think he was a step away from losing her. ”
“Then, he saw her collapse and start hemorrhaging.”
Mortician nodded. “And thought Jo died on top of that. The way he went off on you had to hurt.”
“I haven’t thought about it since he left the meatshack,” Diesel said, and gulped his beer. He wasn’t lying. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about it. “It’s done. I can’t change it.”
“I love that kid,” Mort said.
Diesel finished his beer. “I know.”
“But your feelings important, too. I guess we all just fucking overlooked what you went through. I hope you know my door always open for you to talk about anything.”
Rebel rose in Diesel’s head, and what a motherfucker he’d been to her. “I doubt that,” he said, sighing.
“Some things I will fuck you up over, but if Prez and Meggie trust you with their girl, I won’t doubt you.
I’ll have the same faith that you got morals and decency toward my niece.
As long as you don’t lose your fucking mind that way, I’ll listen to you, offer advice if you need it, and keep it between us. ”
Diesel stood a little taller. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “I appreciate that.”
“As for CJ, we can only steer him and hope he right himself. I think he fucking furious with himself with the way he handled a bunch of shit and I think he fucking grieving for the trusting kid he was before those fuckheads did what they did.”
“Here’s your cake, Diesel,” Aunt Meggie said, drawing Diesel’s attention to two huge cakes on a cart.
The first cake was shaped like a garbage can with beer, cigarettes, condoms, and money falling out, with the words, Happy Dirty Thirty, Diesel.
It was as much a work of art as the second one, shaped like a bottle of Hennessey.
Uncle Christopher walked in right before Diesel blew out the candles on the second cake and everyone cheered.
The bottle shaped cake was chocolate, and the garbage can cake had several flavors.
Vanilla with buttercream filling for the can with silver icing; lemon with hibiscus filling for the beer, salted caramel for the cigarettes, pistachio for the money, and red velvet for the condoms. The kids had their choice of ice cream, but Cristal was served to the adults.
Admittedly, half of the guests hated champagne, but Aunt Meggie knew Diesel liked it sparingly and bought his favorite brand.
His jackass friends razzed him during their toasts. The club girls complimented him. Roxanne and the other women offered him love and well wishes, while their husbands cheered him. Uncle Christopher and Aunt Meggie both said how proud they were of him and how much they loved him.
“Anyone else before I hand the mic to Diesel?” Aunt Meggie asked, looking around the crowd.
“Yeah, Mom,” CJ interjected. “I have something to say.”
“All right, potato,” Aunt Meggie said, handing him the mic and stepping aside.
“I want to start off with an apology, Diesel,” CJ said.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you and made you feel.
When Uncle Digger left me in your care, you could’ve left me, but you didn’t.
You followed his instructions and called Dad.
I have never, ever regretted having you as my big brother.
You’re Mom and Dad’s son as much as any of our brothers and sisters.
Even when you’re pissed with me, when I’ve acted like a spoiled, jealous fuckhead, you never let me down.
You don’t hesitate to protect me or to help me.
I love you and I’m so happy you’re part of our family. Happy birthday, big brother.”
As Mortician said, CJ was a good kid. He was hurting inside for so many different reasons. But even if that conversation had never happened, Diesel couldn’t deny how much CJ’s words meant to him. He pulled him into a bear hug, smiling at the cheers when CJ hugged him back.
Aunt Meggie hurried over and hugged them both. She took the mic from CJ and said, “anyone else?”
Everyone looked at Rebel, sitting on a barstool. It had long been a tradition for her to offer him birthday wishes and to make a production out of whatever gift she gave him. They always thought it was cute and a highlight of the family-friendly party.
“Nobody else wants to say nothing, Mom,” Axel said impatiently. “I want to give him my gift.”
“Go ahead, son,” Aunt Meggie said.
Grinning, Axel snatched an oversized birthday box from the table of gifts and brought it to Diesel. It was surprisingly light for its size.
“Open it,” Axel said, grinning.
Diesel obliged and found a pen decorated with poop emojis and topped by a 3D poop emoji. Axel snatched it and pressed, filling the room with a farting sound and eliciting laughter.
“There are seven different ones,” Axel said happily. “Lawyers sign a lot of stuffs. I thought you needed a cool pen. Happy birthday, D.”
Still laughing, Diesel hugged him. “Thank you, Ax.”
He got everything from alcohol to clothes to gadgets.
Over the course of an hour, he reduced the pile of gifts to just a lone one, leaning against the table.
Rebel hadn’t given him anything, so he suspected it was hers.
Instead of stepping up, Rebel beckoned Jana to the table, confirming his suspicions, but Uncle Christopher and the other uncles struggling to bring a big banner in, drew Diesel’s attention away from those two.
Narci, Torrin, Huck, and Potter took over from the men and brought it to where Uncle Christopher directed.
“Happy birthday, boy,” he said.
When they unrolled the vinyl, Diesel read the words and squinted, wondering if he misunderstood.
He re-read it a third time and found Donovan, Redding, and Caldwell Law Offices still emblazoned on the white background.
“I’m a partner?” he croaked.
Uncle Christopher nodded.
Diesel straightened and held out his hand, not knowing what to say. “Thank you, Uncle Christopher.”
“Ain’t nothin’ but a thing. And you ain’t got to say a fuckin’ thing, Diesel. I know this mean a lot to you. I see it on your face. Just do your fuckin’ job and continue to make us proud.”
“I will.”
“I think this calls for another toast,” Aunt Meggie said. “We’re out of champagne.”
“Hell yeah!” Torrin cried.
She laughed. “Whatever you want—”
“There’s one more present, Momma,” Rebel said.
“Okay, love. Get it.”
“It isn’t from me. It’s from Jana.”
Disappointment swept through Diesel, but he appreciated her consideration of his fiancée.
Biting her lip, Jana carried the present to him and held it out. “Happy birthday, Diesel.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
Diesel forced himself to kiss her lips, wishing Rebel gave it to him. His birthday wouldn’t be the same without receiving something from her. He stared at it, not moving to unwrap it.
“Open it,” Jana encouraged.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured.
He opened Rebel’s present and sucked in a breath. Inside the box was a painting of his mother and him on his fifth birthday.
Rebel had taken one of the few photos he had of Theresa and commissioned an oil. The richness of the colors and the detail was exquisite.
“I-I-I had already, uh, it was already ordered before you went to Brookings.”
Jana glanced at Rebel, who devoted her gaze to the monitors behind the bar.
“I, uh, I-I didn’t really think it through,” Jana continued, though Diesel barely heard her, too busy watching the way Rebel tensed with each word Jana spoke. “I just…I just…um, do you like it?” she asked, abandoning whatever Rebel had told her to say.
“I love it,” Diesel said. “It’s perfect. Thoughtful and so appreciated.”
Jana lowered her lashes. “I’m glad you like it.”
Rebel tipped her head back and blinked at the ceiling. Even though he stood feet away from her, he saw the tears spiking her lashes.
He’d never felt lower or more miserable. At that moment, he would’ve given anything to undo the damage. Or just have Rebel look at him. Say something. Anything.
Instead, she got up and walked out.