Chapter Twenty-One – Christopher
By the time Diesel stalked back to the table and sat, Monty’s body was gone and conversation began again. Normally, it was loud and boisterous, joyful, but unease hung in the air. Christopher wondered how many of these motherfuckers had disrespected Megan.
The idea that she’d go to dinner with anybody, but especially Easton DeLuca almost drove him fucking insane. He could barely breathe thinking about his wife, his life, turning her beautiful smile on another motherfucker.
“Outlaw?”
Not in the mood to talk, Christopher scowled at Val. “What?”
“You as haunted by that fucking Sharper and Logan video as me? What I saw, what those two fuckheads said, was some fucked-up shit.”
Blowing out a heavy breath, Christopher scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded. “I ain’t even knowin’ where to fuckin’ start, Val,” he admitted. “It’s so fuckin’ much to unpack.”
“From the sound of it, though, Big Joe returned everything to the status quo,” Mortician offered. “Meggie really not in danger.”
“I can’t fucking believe I’m about to say this,” Stretch pushed out, dark circles ringing his eyes. “But a peace agreement might not be such a bad thing.”
“Only under certain conditions,” Diesel said.
Johnnie stalked back to the table and sat down as if he was welcomed. Christopher glared at him.
“How you feel about the video, Johnnie?” Val asked, apparently determined to push this shit.
“Let’s not talk about that,” Johnnie said stiffly.
“Why? Cuz Logan was in that fuckin’ video? Fuck what the fuck we saw. What about what those motherfuckers said?”
“Am I interrupting?” Celia asked, somehow walking to the table and stopping behind Diesel without anyone noticing her.
“Bash fucked up?” Christopher snapped, in a foul fucking mood.
Celia blinked. “N-no. Not as far as I know.”
“Then you ain’t got to keep bringin’ your motherfuckin’ ass here, campaignin’ for his goddamn life. I ain’t fuckin’ Johnnie, needin’ directions branded into my goddamn brain.”
“Oh, I like that!” Johnnie said in his whiny fucking voice. “Remind me of the video and then twist the knife deeper by insulting my intelligence.”
“Can’t fuckin’ insult what the fuck you ain’t got.” Christopher glowered at Celia. “What the fuck you want now?”
She hesitated. “I-I thought you said you’d never had a big sister?”
“I got one now. You. But you still Bash’s lil’ sister. Ain’t no fuckin’ reason for you to come here again.”
Studying him a moment, she nodded and then opened her big ass purse.
Before she pulled out whatever, Christopher jumped up and snatched his .
9mm, ready to shoot the fuck out of her.
Although they didn’t pull, every brother, except Johnnie, got to their feet, too.
He was too fucking busy deciding whether he’d let his tears fall.
Fucking fuckhead. “Hands the fuck up, Celia.”
Her eyes widened and horror washed over her face, though she complied. “I-I don’t have a gun. It’s just a bottle of tequila. Your favorite brand.”
“Cuz of Shine, right?” Christopher asked. “Or Johnnie?”
Sniffling, Johnnie glanced up. “It wasn’t me.”
“CJ, come search Celia’s purse,” Christopher ordered.
“I can do it, Uncle Christopher,” Diesel offered.
“I know, boy, but I want CJ to do it.”
For a moment, CJ didn’t move. He searched Christopher’s face, then looked at Celia.
He was still angry over his ma. Still upset that she was gone.
Still wrestling with his own demons. Resentment carved into CJ’s features and he opened his mouth, either to outright deny Christopher’s order or to remind him that he'd said he needed to pull back from the club.
And he would. However, if there was any hope for CJ’s future in the club, he needed to pass this test. He needed to show he could put aside family issues for club business.
His boy’s putrid look amused Christopher, and he smirked at his son, which only pissed off CJ a little more.
“Ima count to fuckin’ three, CJ.”
That look turned into a death stare, but he finally stood and stalked to Celia. She started to slide the bag off her shoulder, but Christopher shook his head.
“Don’t make it easy on him.”
Christopher met CJ’s gaze, lifting a brow at his boy’s rage, pleased that his guard was so far down he was showing some pushback.
Motherfuckers shuffled, looked at the feet, glanced away.
CJ was ready to take another swing at Christopher, especially when he tried to take Celia’s bag but she clutched it against her.
“I have a lot of personal shit in there, boy,” she yelled. “You can’t have it!”
CJ tried to grab it again, but Celia shoved him and he lost his grip.
Frustration replaced his resentment.
Ryan, Rory, and Grant bowed their heads. Mort, Val, Stretch, and Diesel looked on with concern. Some of the other brothers laughed.
“You’re not getting my fucking purse, you little asshole,” Celia blared, throwing Christopher a hesitant glance. “Sit down somewhere and leave me the fuck alone.”
“I wish I could,” CJ said flatly, finally opening his fucking mouth. “But you walked the fuck in here with that big ass purse, Aunt Celia. You’re lucky Dad didn’t shoot the fuck out of you. Now, you either give me that fucking purse or I’m taking that motherfucker.”
Exchanging his gun for a cigarette, Christopher allowed smoke to pour from his nostrils, then said, “that’s your aunt, boy. Respect her.”
“Are we really fucking doing this, Dad?” CJ demanded.
Christopher pretended to think, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah.”
Glaring at Christopher and snatching Celia’s arm, he marched her to the bar and prodded her onto the stool. “Can you bring us beers, Potter?”
The motherfucker looked to Christopher, who nodded.
“Uh, o-okay, CJ.”
“Let’s toast,” CJ said, once Potter handed them their beers.
The moment Celia relaxed and reached for her beer, CJ snatched that fucking purse, ignored her outraged curse, and stomped to a table, shoving Narci aside.
“Apologize to me or else, CJ,” he said.
“Fuck you. I have to check this fucking purse, Narci, and you were in my way.”
Narci opened his mouth, but Christopher cleared his throat and shut that motherfucker up.
“You know you making shit worse, Outlaw?” Val whispered.
Christopher pretended not to hear, watching as CJ pulled out two bottles of tequila, keys, a wallet, and a makeup kit.
Without direction, he picked up the liquor and looked closely at the seals, impressing Christopher.
Afterwards, he returned everything except the bottles to her purse.
Once he gave Celia her purse back, he asked Potter for a glass, then poured a small bit of tequila from one of the bottles.
“Drink,” CJ told Celia.
Lifting her chin and folding her arms, she shook her head. “I don’t like tequila.”
CJ hesitated. “You can’t give them to Outlaw then.”
“I’m not taking them back.”
Another falter before he sighed. “I don’t want to make you sick, so if you won’t take them back, I’m pouring the liquor out.”
“Those two bottles cost nearly a grand. If you pour them out, I want my fucking money back.”
“Who told you to bring Outlaw a gift?”
“No one! He’s my brother. I don’t need permission—”
“Bash is your brother too, Aunt Celia. And Bash is a fucking jackass. We don’t know if he put you up to this and you want to poison Outlaw.”
Sniffing, she snatched the opened bottle and swigged from it.
CJ blinked.
Undeterred, Celia snatched the other bottle and gulped from that one, too.
“Happy, nephew?”
“No, because I don’t want you to get sick.”
“I won’t. I tolerate hard liquor just fine.”
“But—”
“Your dad was performing some type of test. I saw my fair share of the same between Daddy and Bash.” Celia smiled at him. “You did good. My only suggestion is to ignore the pushback. You will get that. Sometimes, it’s a deterrent for more bullshit.”
“Did you let me take the bag or did you really not see it coming?”
“I didn’t see it coming,” she said with a straight face, then thought for a moment.
“The move was unexpected,” she amended. “I figured you needed a break and were trying to consider your next move. It’s why I relaxed.
Butttttt, you’re a Caldwell through and through. A sneaky motherfucker, so well played.”
“Thank you, Aunt Celia,” CJ told her, and his stomach growled.
“Rory!” Johnnie blared, swiping his hand across his wet cheeks. “Your turn. If CJ can pass the test, so can you.”
“Look, assfuck,” Christopher snapped, “it’s fuckin’ over. This not a motherfuckin’ competition, so sit the fuck down.”
“No!”
“Stop giving little dick energy, Johnnie,” Celia said, and swigged from the bottle again.
“Never. My cock’s humongous. At least twenty-seven inches.”
Celia’s cackles joined the guffaws from everyone except Johnnie. Even the boys laughed.
“You’d need to fit that motherfucker with a shoe if it was two feet, three inches,” Celia said.
Johnnie offered the smallest smile.
“Bash is still in Salt Lake City,” Celia said, turning her attention back to Christopher. “I’m thinking about going back to Richmond. I miss my old man and my kids. I decided to visit with you again one last time before I left. I hoped your woman was back.”
“Me, too. Ain’t too sure when she returnin’, though.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Bring a chair to the table for Celia,” Christopher instructed to no one in particular.
Getting to her feet, Celia grabbed the tequila than marched over and nodded to Megan’s chair. “I’ll sit there. No need for a special seat.”
“Nope, that’s Megan’s seat. Not a bitch or a motherfucker allowed to sit there but her.”
“Okay.” Celia waited until Torrin brought her chair, then called for glasses to be delivered to the table.
Since Megan wasn’t back yet, Christopher hadn’t implemented his new rule of lessening the boys’ involvement in the club, so he allowed Ransom and Ryder a small amount as well. Once Celia discovered Fia, Tennysee, and Tauriel were cooking, she went to the kitchen to help.