Chapter Forty-Two
Guilty fuckheads acted like guilty assfucks.
Sitting at the bar, listening to his daughter, Christopher experienced a range of emotions.
He wanted to fucking kill motherfucking Kaia, but that would blow his itchy fucking lopsided cover.
His jumpsuit had been padded just as he’d asked Edie, but the motherfucker had increased by three or four fucking sizes.
It didn’t fit his upper body, so they’d rounded up some pillows and taped to him.
Not a fucking even number because they ran out of time and they needed time to make his fucking beard stick to his goddamn face.
The itchy motherfucker survived the ride over, aided by a helmet, but he was still fucking bigger on the right side of his body.
Then, motherfucking Grant suggested the dark sunglasses, which clouded every fucking thing in the dim restaurant.
Next time he saw Joan Harrington, he’d tell her to get brighter overhead lighting. Those little ass lanterns on each table didn’t cut it. He didn’t give a fuck if it was for Valentine’s Day ambience.
He was fucking starving and irritated as a motherfucker.
He wasn’t sure why the fuck D. Elliot had taken so fucking long to bring fucking bread and fish rings, goddamn it.
And he’d been so fucking busy listening to that little fucking bitch motherfucker try to seduce his daughter, he hadn’t even tracked Megan.
If there was a problem, the guys would alert him, but still, as things were going, he wouldn’t get home until after midnight.
Even worse, if she picked up Rebel, she might spot him or his Harley.
No. Fuck no. That wouldn’t happen. His ass was nice and puffy. His face was covered and his body was unevenly padded.
Besides, Bishop, Narci, Potter, and Torrin would get him, CJ, Rory, Ryan, Grant, and Diesel out before Megan spotted them.
He tried not to think about how much fucking trouble he was in. Megan was both hurt and pissed, and that wasn’t a good combination. If she hadn’t been pressed for time earlier, she would’ve fucked him up. To think, he’d thrown in her face how much he paid for her outfit.
Purposely, so he wouldn’t say fuck it, and let their daughter go on her date without him. He’d thought creating an argument would help. After she’d gone out of her way for his gifts .
Still…Rebel needed his protection. Megan might’ve been okay with allowing her to go on a date. He wasn’t. It didn’t matter how old Rebel was, he intended to protect her for as long as he had breath in his body.
Megan once told him that Big Joe had reserved a special song for the two of them, Butterfly Kisses by Bob Carlisle. He’d intended that to be their father/daughter dance at her wedding.
Once Christopher listened to it, he’d decided to adopt it for his and Rebel’s song at her sixteenth birthday. Life was so fucking uncertain. He intended to be alive at his daughter’s wedding, but then again he was almost certain Big Joe had thought the same thing.
Now, as Christopher watched his princess on her first date, he felt a bittersweet tug at his heart. She’d grown up so fucking fast. Nevertheless, she was ignorant of the ways of motherfuckers. He didn’t know if Kaia truly liked her or just saw her as another girl to score with.
Over that motherfucker’s dead, dickless, headless fucking body.
Megan had been acting so strange lately, though. She might’ve knocked Christopher over the head with a fucking chair if he confessed that he was brushing off their longstanding date to spy on Rebel.
Fuck. Megan looked so fucking gorgeous in her sequined fern embroidered dress. It cost a fucking mint but she was worth every cent. He’d imagined unzipping it slowly and uncovering her beautiful fucking skin inch by inch .
Rebel’s laughter floated through his earpiece, and Christopher glanced at his phone. He couldn’t see her since she wore the necklace but Kaia’s face lit up in pleasure.
“What are you giggling at, beautiful?”
Christopher rolled his eyes. Somebody needed to educate that motherfucker on how to talk to fucking girls. Even Axel had better fucking game. If his boys ever uttered some of Kaia’s fucking lines, Christopher would lock them in a fucking room and hang his fucking head in shame.
“Tell me, Reb,” Kaia coaxed. “Even though your laughter is like the dew dripping from a blade of grass and your lips are like the ripest strawberries.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ryan muttered, their sound man in this operation.
“You could be a poet, Kaia,” Rebel said.
“Fucking emo,” Diesel growled.
“That corny motherfucker?” Rory said, the little old handyman in their group. “He can’t even be a fucking gigolo with shit like that.”
Christopher snatched his bottle of beer and sipped, glancing at his phone.
Kaia was staring at Rebel like a moon-eyed motherfucker.
Christopher suspected he really was smitten with her, but he was nineteen with the fucking brain of a twelve-year-old from the fucking Ozarks.
Still, he was nineteen and expected girls to pay for him.
He didn’t even have the balls to work to buy a fucking Harley.
Pussy.
“Your blonde hair is like golden silk spun from the richest spider. Your eyes remind me of Aladdin’s genie. Your skin could’ve been picked from a nectarine tree.”
Rebel giggled; Christopher squeezed the neck of his bottle so fiercely, it cracked.
“Fuck!” Disgusted, he dropped the broken piece he still held, glad he hadn’t cut his hand.
“You’re silly, staring at me like that,” Rebel said happily.
Snatching napkins to dry his hands, Christopher looked at his phone again. Kaia rested his elbow on the table. His chin sat atop his fisted hand as he stared at Rebel. “Speak, my queen. I want to know every thought radiating from that big gray matter in your perfect skull.”
Rolling his eyes, Christopher threw the wet napkins aside.
“I was thinking about your Sesame Street comment. And how Zoe gaslights the fuck out of Elmo.”
“Ironic I was thinking about our previous conversation, too.”
Rebel pushed a plate into the camera’s range. “I want to save room for the entrée and dessert. Eat the rest of the calamari. What were you thinking?” she asked without missing a beat.
Christopher smiled. She was just like her ma. Megan rambled when she was nervous, too.
“About your birth control.”
Growling, Christopher pounded on the bartop, then ducked so fucking fast he almost knocked himself the fuck out when he hit his motherfucking head on the edge of the bar.
“Fuck, Dad, you’re going to blow our cover,” CJ said. “Don’t worry. I’m going to maim that motherfucker. Just chill.”
“Outlaw,” D. Elliot whispered next to him. “I have to leave soon to pick up my kid. My mother has an early appointment tomorrow.”
Fuck.
D. Elliot had lost a lot of weight and looked so fucking sad. If Torie hadn’t been such a fucking cunt, Christopher would’ve felt sorry for the waiter, but he was better off without her.
“I know you pressed for fuckin’ time,” Christopher said, “but—” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Do what you gotta do for your boy.”
Nodding, D. Elliot started to turn away. “I’ll call my mother and tell her I’ll be another hour or so.”
Christopher would reward him for his help. “Appreciate it.”
“Do you want to go to one of the rooms to eat?”
“I’m starving,” Rory said into the earpiece. “When Reb started eating that fucking calamari, my mouth watered.”
“I’ll stay out here, Uncle Christopher,” Diesel said.
“No, boy. Let’s all go into the private room. We need to eat.” He grabbed his phone and turned. “Speed up her meal. We’ll try to wait until Rebel and that pussy finish fuckin’ eatin’. I don’t want Megan to see me when she drive up to pick up Rebel.”
A smile plastered on his face, D. Elliot glanced up at the double windows that seemed to create half wall. In actuality, that was the office.
“I hope Momma’s enjoying her dinner.”
At Rebel’s sad words, Christopher froze .
“She told me she’s going to eat alone at a restaurant.”
Christopher thought for a moment, raised his gaze to the double window, looked at D. Elliot, and smirked. “Megan upstairs, huh?”
“Er—”
“Where Pike, Huck, Sparrow, and Zephyr?”
“In the staff breakroom,” D. Elliot said guiltily.
Each time Kaia spouted his nonsense to Rebel, Meggie could barely contain her laughter. She was giggling so much, she set aside her fork several times so she wouldn’t choke on her Caesar salad with chicken and shrimp.
Just when she thought Kaia ran out of horrible lines, he’d say something else that Rebel thought was ‘deep’. Meggie couldn’t believe her baby girl encouraged his nonsense, but it reminded Meggie how na?ve Rebel was.
Meggie fought for Rebel to have the same rights as the boys, but it was a gargantuan task considering the number of persons with penises that surrounded them. Rebel and Meggie lived in Testosterone Town, and she’d had to carve an Estrogen Empire for herself and her daughter.
Tiredness was settling into Meggie. After dropping Rebel off at the movies, it had taken almost an hour to get to downtown Portland because of an accident on the loop from Lewis and Clark Highway to I-5. Then, she’d changed her clothes and made sure the camera in the table lantern was working.
She had to remember to thank Joan for giving into Meggie’s request to add a special Valentine’s Day touch with those lanterns. Meggie only needed one , but that would’ve looked too odd.
She’d been too nervous to eat. She’d also missed Christopher so terribly, she’d called him to ask him to meet her at J’s.
When he didn’t answer, she’d hung up. She’d asked D.
Elliot to set her detail up but all the rooms, except the staff breakroom was taken, so Meggie made sure to keep food and drinks flowing.
Not wanting any mix-up, she sat at the table reserved for Rebel, until she’d seen Rebel’s detail walking in.