She narrows her eyes.
Shit, I should’ve gone with the diseases question.
“Whatever works for you guys.” I hold my hands up in a “no judgment” gesture, although I’m definitely judging. Trying not to but it ain’t easy.
“Has that always been the case?” God dammit, Shelby, stop poking at this rotten apple.
“Nah, I think he took up with her when I was pregnant with Cody.”
And that asshole had the nerve to accuse Rooster of disrespecting his wife?
“There mighta been others before but I didn’t know about them if there were,” she adds.
If I bite my tongue any harder it’s gonna fall outta my mouth and flop around on the floor.
My righteous anger on Heather’s behalf is sort of pointless since she seems to accept her situation as normal. Maybe that’s the saddest part?
Not your business. Don’t be rude.
Her lips curve into a wobbly smile. “He’s a good provider. Takes care of me and our boys. I love him.”
Who you trying to convince, sweetheart? Me or yourself? “Well, they say love conquers all.” I force a smile to go with the lame response.
“So,” she blows out a breath and reaches over to slap my arm, “how’d you and Rooster meet again? You said, Texas?”
“Ah, well. I kinda fell into a river and he rescued me.”
“Shoot! White Knight is real? I thought that was all b.s. for the magazines.”
“Nope. True story.”
“Sounds like Rooster. He was always really protective when we were together. And not in the she’s my property way, you know?”
And here we go scooting back to uncomfortable territory. “Yeah.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised he’s lasted so long in the MC and moved up to VP. He always seemed a little…I mean this in the nicest way… on the softer side.” Her eyes widen and she holds out her hands as if she’s worried she’s offended me. “I’m not saying he’s soft. Just, you know…”
I shrug. “He’s plenty hard when and where he needs to be.”
She lets out a dirty chuckle and I wish I’d chosen my words more carefully. What I should’ve said is, if not walking around punching people for no reason and being faithful to me means he’s “too soft,” that’s fine in my world.
“So, how old are your boys?” What’s happening to me? Am I actually volunteering to hear about her kids?
“Seven, five, four, and two.”
Damn, my uterus hurts just doing the math. “Wow, all so close in age. That must be challenging.”
“Yeah, I wanted them all close together. Seemed easier—spoiler alert—it’s not!” She laughs. “Plus, I really, really wanted a girl.”
I suppose the next natural question might be are you planning to try again for a girl? But I can’t imagine wanting to procreate with a man who cheats, so I smile instead.
“My mom lives near us, so she’s a big help. They’re with her now, actually.”
“Oh, that’s nice to have family close by.”
“Yup. Well, the whole club helps everyone. We all watch each other’s kids and stuff.”
Does the mistress babysit too?
“Ah, yeah, New York seems that way. The ol’ ladies are all pretty tight.” And I don’t think a single one of them would put up with their men banging bunnies. Shoot, I can picture Heidi swinging her hammer straight into Murphy’s crotch if he cheated on her. And as much as Trinity seems to adore Wrath, I don’t picture her tolerating that either. Never mind, I never once saw Murphy or Wrath’s attention wander to other women when they were on the road with us.
Around them, the friendship and conversation flowed easily. None of this awkwardness and tongue-biting.
New York isn’t even my home and all of a sudden, I’m missing it something fierce.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rooster
This afternoon’s been extremely tedious.
Torturing these stupid motherfuckers was less than satisfying. They’re useless and too stupid to pay attention to whose territory they were riding through. No surprise they were pushed out of Texas.
“Don’t touch my cut, motherfucker!” the one who used to be president of the Texas charter says.
Jiggy slides his hunting knife out and jabs the tip into the Red Storm back patch. “You were supposed to give this up.”
“Fuck that pussy MC. Savage Dragons don’t get to tell us what to do.”
“Oh, but I think they did,” I say. “Apparently they didn’t drive the point home.” I nod to Jiggy. “So, we’ll help you out.”
“Be grateful we ain’t throwing your rag in a bonfire, asshole,” Pony says.
Jiggy shoves the tip of his blade under the bottom rocker, and slowly cuts the threads bonding it to the leather. After removing the Texas rocker, he tosses it my way.
“You’re gonna be visiting them, brother?” Pony asks me.
“Yeah, we’ll meet up when I’m in their neck of the woods.” I’m sure he’d rather take the credit but it’s my girl who noticed and I’m the one who’s actually met and hung out with Blaise.
Jiggy drapes the cut over the back of the guy’s chair and picks up another one. The owner of this one’s unconscious, so he doesn’t protest. With no audience, Jiggy slices the patch off quicker.