Trix finally gave an uncomfortable smile, and opened her door.
I still didn’t say a fucking word, because I was an idiot.
After they drove away, I stood by my bike for a long time, going through the second set of pictures the tech had printed for us so we’d each have our own copies. Then I pulled out my phone.
“Hey, Ma,” I said when she answered without even a hello, immediately bitching about my dad.
“Hey, bud. How’d it go?”
“Great. Both babies look perfect.”
“They look like sea monkeys. Who are you trying to fool here?” she joked.
“Nah, they were…hell, Ma.”
“I know, right? So cool to see them swimming around in there.”
“They were—”
“Tell me right now,” Farrah cut me off. “I mean, I’ll listen to you moon all day if you want, but I want to know what you’re having first. I’m pregnant and impatient—you don’t wanna make me wait.”
“A boy,” I said, grinning.
“And?” she snapped, not finding me funny.
“And another boy.”
“Holy shit! Cody!” she yelled in my ear. “Cam and Trix are having boys!”
“Shit, Ma. My fuckin’ ear!”
“Oh,” Farrah started laughing. “Sorry.”
She didn’t sound sorry.
“This is awesome, dude. Charlie’s going to have two little shits protecting her in school.”
“Charlie?” I asked softly.
“Yeah, we decided. Charlotte Vera Butler. Got a nice ring to it, right?”
“Yeah, Ma. It does.”
“Does Trix have any names picked out?”
“No, uh, I don’t think so.” Dammit, I should have asked.
“You should have asked!” Farrah scolded.
“I know, I know. Maybe I’ll text her or somethin’,” I mumbled.
“So, wait. . . You guys are talking again?” Farrah wheedled.
“I gotta go,” I answered.
“Cam! Are you guys talking again?”
“Bye, Ma.” I hung up the phone, laughing as she bitched.
Two sons. I had two sons.
* * *
A couple days later, I still hadn’t texted Trix. I wasn’t sure what to say to her.
I wanted her back. I wasn’t sure that I could have any contact with her without pressuring her, and I knew how that would fucking go. If she actually did come back to me, she’d bail again.
“Boys’re almost here,” Poet announced, dropping his phone into his breast pocket.
We were in a warehouse the club owned a few miles out of town in the woods and we were waiting for Poet’s buddies to drop off little Steve Smith. If the kid had any idea what he was in for, I had a feeling he’d stink to high heaven from shitting his pants by the time we got him. We’d gotten the call earlier that morning telling us that the guys were in Oregon, so Dragon, Grease, Casper, Poet, Will and I had ridden out to the property we rarely used. It didn’t have any neighbors for miles around, and we’d had to spend an hour clearing the dirt road of branches and shit before we could even pull our bikes in.
“They’re here,” Will said, rolling back the large metal door as a powder blue van pulled into the large space.
“Poet,” the driver said with a nod, walking forward to shake Poet’s hand as another man climbed out of the passenger seat.
“Thanks for doin’ this,” Dragon said, moving forward to shake hands, too.
“No problem. New president, huh?”
“That’s what they tell me.”
“We were real sorry to hear about Slider,” the guy said, turning to glance at the van. Shit, his face was all fucked up. “Might’ve had a little fun with the fucker on our way down.”
“He still alive?” Dragon asked. The man nodded. “Then it’s all good.”
I shuffled forward a bit as the men moved to the back of the van and pulled out the kid. His wrists and ankles were wrapped in duct tape and he groaned as they dropped him on the concrete floor with no way to break his fall.
“All yours,” the man from the passenger seat said.
Poet nodded and said something I couldn’t hear to the men, and then without another word, they climbed back in their rig and backed out of the warehouse.
“Hulk, get the door,” Dragon ordered, moving forward toward the prone body.
I turned and strode to the door, pulling it shut and flipping on the fluorescent lights overhead so we could see what we were doing.
When I turned back toward the men, everything inside me stilled.
I knew him.
His glasses were gone and his hair was messy, but I’d know him anywhere.
I was frozen. I watched blankly as Dragon and Casper pulled the kid up, seating him in a metal folding chair and taping him to it. He was silent while they did it, not uttering a word of remorse or fear.
Then he looked up and met my eyes, his mouth forming a sly smile.
I didn’t even realize I was moving until Casper’s hands hit my chest hard, stopping my forward momentum just feet from the piece of shit.
“The boyfriend,” Steve said calmly. “Nice to see you again.” He turned his head. “You too, Will.”