I immediately peered up at him, blocking the morning sun with my hand, taking in the fact that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. His jeans hung low on his hips, revealing his boxer’s underneath. I couldn’t help but realize how much more defined his body looked now that he wasn’t lying down. He loomed over my small frame in a way I never recognized before. My heart started racing, I could feel it ringing in my ears. Feeling as though he could hear it too, but there was no expression on his face, making it hard to know what he was thinking.
Neither one of us spoke.
He shut the door, gesturing to the lounger in front of me, silently asking if he could take a seat. I nodded, pulling my knees to my chest, cradling my notebook. He set a cigarette on his lips, lighting up, blowing the smoke out through his nose. Looking over, eyeing me up and down with the same broody regard I had come to expect from him.
“You shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you,” I blurted, breaking the uncomfortable silence between us.
“These are the least of my worries, Pippin,” he groaned, his voice scratchy from just waking up.
Hearing his nickname for me caused butterflies to flutter in my tummy, again. I swallowed hard, hiding the smile that was threatening on my lips, remembering I was mad at him. At least I wanted him to think that I was.
“How many tattoos do you have?” I randomly asked, unable to take my wondering eyes off his art. The question alone made me blush.
He took another puff from his cigarette, letting it sit in the corner of his mouth. He leaned over, placing his elbows on his knees. Shielding his body from me, which only accentuated his big, bulky tattooed arms.
“Too many to count,” he simply stated, looking out at the water.
“I can count them. I mean… if you wanted to know how many you had, I could count them for you,” I nervously laughed.
He grinned. It was quick, but I saw it.
“I can’t wait till I can get one. I want a—”
“Don’t mar your skin. It’s perfect the way it is,” he interrupted, catching me off guard.
“Okay.”
If somebody else would have said that to me, it would have made me furious. If there was one thing I hated, it was being bossed around, but it was different coming from Creed. I wanted to be perfect for him, like that girl on his bike was.
“Is she your girlfriend?” I questioned, unable to hold back any longer.
He cocked his head to the side, dragging the cigarette away from his mouth. Blowing the smoke straight up.
“Is that why you ignored me?” I added, nervously waiting for his reply. “That really hurt my feelings. I thought we were friends.”
“I ignored you, cause I ain’t no good. You’re a baby girl, and I’m a grown-ass man. The list is endless for why I can’t be your friend. So, do me a solid, forget about me, and go play with your dollies or some shit,” he crudely replied.
I scowled, taken back. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t even like dolls. I like stuffed animals as you can clearly see in my room. And again, I’m not a baby. I’m around adults all the time. I have more friends that are your age or older, than are mine. Plus, I’m super mature and awesome all rolled into one. Everyone wants to be my friend. You’re just being a big bully. And you know what?” I paused, giving him the dirtiest look I could muster up. “I don’t even know if I want to be your friend anymore, so there.”
He shook his head, chuckling, meeting my eyes. “Don’t know when to give up, do ya?”
“I’m a nice girl. You’re lucky to have met me.”
“Nice girls need to stay away from the likes of me,” he breathed out, through the cigarette smoke.
“Mason is your friend. He’s annoying and sometimes I want to punch him in the face, but he’s a nice guy and he’s your friend.”
“That’s different.”
“Why does everyone always say that? I’m sick and tired of that being the only answer anyone can ever give me. Like it’s supposed to make sense or something. Why is it different? Because he’s a boy is not an answer, that’s just a cop-out. Like when Momma says I can’t eat any more ice cream because it will make my tummy hurt. How does she know it’s going to make my tummy hurt until it happens? You think just because you’re older and bigger than me, you know everything. Well, you don’t know anything. Especially not what’s good for me.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, looking at me in a way he never had before, causing my belly to flutter again. I didn’t understand how he could make me feel so many emotions, without even saying a word.
“You always throw a temper tantrum when you don’t get your way?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“You always act like an asshole when you’re trying to get yours?”
He didn’t falter, spewing out, “Every time.”
Usually adults yelled at me when I cussed, and I half expected him to do the same. I liked the fact that he didn’t. Even though he was trying to boss me around, I knew it was coming from a good place. It just showed me I had to fight harder for our friendship. I didn’t mind doing that, as long as it meant I could stay in his life.
“I don’t have a lot of friends, Creed. I don’t like to waste my time on people if I don’t think they’re worth it.”
He abruptly stood, walking over to the railing, leaning forward. Placing his elbows on the wooden beam, taking one last puff of his cigarette as if he didn’t know what to say. Opening his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Uncomfortable silence filled the space between us again. He threw his cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out, before kicking it off the balcony.
I stood, pulling out a patch from my shorts that I’d bought for him a few weeks ago. Chucking it at him, watching it land by his feet. He looked down, picking it up.
“Asshole, not just a word, it’s a lifestyle,” he read aloud, a smile finally played on his lips.
“Fitting, ain’t it?” I asked. Not giving him time to reply, I turned and left.
Hoping that he knew he wasn’t going to get rid of me that easy.
CREED
I let the hot water run down my tense back muscles, leaning my hands and forehead on the cool tile. Standing under the showerhead in my bathroom, washing away the effect of last night. Flexing and releasing my fists, stretching out the soreness the motherfucker’s jaw left behind. Trying to ignore the plaguing thoughts about a certain redhead that caused me to lose my shit. Seeing her practically fuck another guy on the dance floor pissed me off in a way I never saw coming. Never even expected.
I shouldn’t have given a fuck.
I should have walked away.
But instead, I ended up beating a man’s face in. Jumping over the invisible line from being a friend to being an enraged, jealous dick. Except, she wasn't mine to feel that way over. I had always been protective over Autumn, even when we were little, I was territorial. Last night proved that some things never changed. My biggest regret was feeding into her fantasy of us ending up together. I couldn’t hate myself more for leading her on, even though I was just being myself. It was who I was. Somewhere along the line, the boundaries blurred.
Not knowing what was right or what was wrong anymore.
After we left the fair, I took her back to her house. She was off my bike before I even had the kickstand down, ripping her helmet off and throwing it at me.
“The fuck was that?” I snapped, catching the helmet before it hit my face. “What the hell is your problem?”
“You! You’re my problem!” she yelled, turning to leave.
“Are you shittin’ me?” I was off my bike and over to her in three strides, grabbing a hold of her arm. Turning her to face me.
She roughly pulled away, narrowing her eyes at me. “Don't touch me with another man's blood on your hands, Creed Jameson.”
“Whose fuckin’ fault it is that? Cuz it sure as hell ain’t mine,” I gritted out. “How ‘bout a fuckin’ thank you? Instead of givin’ me lip for savin’ your ass.”
/>
“Saving me? For going apeshit on a man I was just dancing with? I didn’t ask you to do that! I don’t want blood on your hands because of me. You do enough of that on your own.”
I jerked back like she had hit me.
Her eyes instantly widened in realization of how I interpreted it. Immediately stepping toward me.
I moved back, stopping her.
“Creed, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
I nodded toward her house. “Don’t forget to lock the door.” With that, I left, hearing her call out my name as I rode off.
Mason and I stayed up for a few more hours, passing a pint of whiskey back and forth between us. I bought it from one of the brother’s liquor stores down the street from Autumn’s. I was drunk as shit by the time I passed out. Waking up in a heap of pink sheets, confused as fuck as to where I was. It took me a minute to remember Mason told me to crash in Mia’s room. She was at her aunt’s.
I went out on her balcony to have a smoke, trying to clear the drunken haze before I got the hell out of there. Never thinking a bright-eyed, pigtail-wearing, Pippin would be staring back at me. Of course, I felt bad for ignoring her at the fair, she was just a kid. But the sooner she realized she needed to stay the hell away from me, the better.
Bottom line. Who the hell knows if she would…
My phone rang bringing me back to reality. I wrapped a towel around my waist and grabbed my cell, half expecting it to be Autumn, but the name ‘Prez’ lit up the screen.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“Get your ass to the club, now. I'm calling in Church.” The line went dead.
“Good talk,” I said to myself, throwing it on my bed.
I wasn’t surprised Pops wasn’t here when I got home. He never came home on most days, saying he was too busy with club shit, knowing he really meant he was too busy being balls deep in Christa or some other club whore.
I got dressed, stopping by Noah's room on the way to the living room, needing to check on him. He was already playing video games, shouting at the TV. Nodding his head in response to my questions. Not paying me any mind. Ma was in the dining room, cutting out coupons she’d never use. Already having a drink.
I shook my head, kissed her cheek and left, biting my tongue all the way out to my bike. She was getting worse with every day that passed. Slowly dying for the son who had died, not wanting to live for the two that were alive. I had no idea how to make it better, she was too far gone for any help. There were times she looked at me and I swear all I saw in her eyes was blame for killing Luke. The source of her drinking problem stared her in the face every single goddamn day.
Me.
I’d come home every night to find her at the dining room table passed out. I’d scoop her up into my arms and put her to bed. The few times Laura or Stacey tried to broach the subject, I shut it down real fucking quick. Letting them know my mother was not up for discussion. I refused to let anyone talk badly about her. I knew she was sick, I knew she was depressed I knew she neglected us, but she wasn’t always a shitty mother. Deep down, I held onto the hope that she would one day come back to us. The light that was once in her eyes would shine again. Until then, I would take care of her. I would take care of Noah.
I would take care of everything.
I rolled up to the club just after twelve in the afternoon. I could hear Pops’ voice roaring as soon as I stepped foot through the doors. I walked into the meeting room blind, never expecting what would come of today.
“Well, look who decided to grace us with his fuckin’ presence,” Dad greeted.
All eyes turned to me. Patched in brothers sat and stood around the room with expressions on their faces that I knew all too fucking well.
The Prez was holding something over their heads.
“I'm here, ain't I? Since when do you start church without everyone accounted for? What's this all about?” I nodded toward everyone.
“Since the meeting became about you. Today is your fuckin’ lucky day, VP,” he accentuated.
I cocked my head to the side, confused.
“We all voted in. It’s unanimous. Congratu-fucking-lations,” Pops stated with a snide grin.
I just stood there, looking all around the quiet room. Peering from one sullen face to the next, taking in all the brothers that had served way before me. Better equipped for such a high title. They should have been standing where I was, not sitting there being forced by the hand that feeds them. The air was so thick between us. It made it hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to even move.
For the first time in my life, there was nothing left to say. My father had me right where he wanted me.
Right under his fucking thumb.
I felt as though there was a bright, red target placed right over my heart.
Except I always knew my old man would be holding the loaded gun.
NINE
MIA
I watched Uncle Austin and my new aunt, Briggs, take the floor. Holding each other tight as they danced to their first song as husband and wife. The wedding reception was held at my parents’ restaurant. They closed down for the day for the private party, transforming it into an elegant space for one of their best friends’ special day. White linen tables surrounded the dance floor and stage where Aunt Lily always performed. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, adding the perfect touch to their romantic night.
A huge cake sat on the table in the corner, just waiting to be eaten, with a tattooed bride and groom on top. They’d gotten married on the dock at their house a few hours before, with family and friends surrounding them. She was the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen, glowing and radiant. Exuding happiness all around her. Her long, silky, white gown clung to her body, as her bright purple hair flowed with the breeze off the ocean.
The song “This Years Love” by David Grey played through the speakers while they moved across the floor. Reminding me of the way the Beast danced with Belle in Beauty and the Beast. A night straight out of a Disney fairytale, Aunt Briggs the perfect princess and Uncle Austin the handsome prince. He looked at her adoringly, dancing with the love of his life. The way they looked at each other in those moments were memories I’d always reflect back on. One day I’d meet my prince, and I’d have my perfect night too. Hoping that he would look at me the way Uncle Austin looked at her.
I was excited to be a part of their special day as their flower girl. Aunt Briggs even let me pick out my own light pink, flowy dress with matching strappy, heeled sandals. We spent that whole day shopping together, getting our nails done, eating ice cream, and talking about the latest gossip in Hollywood. Once I put the dress on, I knew it was the one. I never wanted to take it off. Daddy even said I looked like I had grown up overnight. He hadn’t seen me wearing it until the morning of the wedding, and he said I took his breath away. Literally. He got choked up when I stepped out on the dock. It made him sad that I didn’t look like his baby girl anymore, so I gave him a big squeeze hug to make him feel better.
It worked.
I spent most of the night tearing up the dance floor with my rowdy uncles. I even got Mason and Bo to dance with me a few times too, both of them looking so handsome in their tuxedos. Giselle couldn’t take her eyes off Mason all night, more so than ever before. She was a little too excited when she caught the bouquet Aunt Briggs threw to all the single ladies attending the party. I nudged Mason, telling him he was next. He didn’t like that very much.
A finger tapped my shoulder, drawing my attention away from my brother and Giselle who were lip-locked, dancing a little too close for Uncle Dylan’s comfort. At one point, he casually moved aside his tux, showing Mason he had his gun on him. Mason surrendered his hands and laughed.
“Hey, Daddy. Why aren’t you out there dancing with Momma?”
“I was hoping the prettiest girl in the room would want to dance with her daddy.” He smiled, staring down at me.
I nodded. “I’d love to.”
&
nbsp; The song playing ended, smoothly transitioning into the next as we made our way onto the floor. “My Little Girl,” by Tim McGraw started playing, as if on cue. He used to sing that song to me as a baby, comforting me instantly when I was fussing. At least that’s what Momma told me.
“Oh my God, Daddy! They're playing our song,” I rejoiced, grabbing his hand. He gave me a twirl before lifting me up, placing my bare feet on his shining black shoes.
“They must have known,” he replied, winking at me. Leading us to the small space. Singing the lyrics about letting his little girl go.
A small crowd gathered around to watch us, including Momma who had a smile on her face, and tears in her eyes. She was always so emotional.
“Mia Pia?” Daddy pulled away, looking down at me, smiling.
“You haven’t called me that in forever,” I laughed.
“Can you promise me somethin’?”
“Depends. If it involves cleaning my room or taking out the trash, then no.”
He chuckled, “Promise me you won’t grow up. You will stay my baby girl for the rest of your life.” He pulled me closer, hugging me tight.
“I promise, Daddy,” I whispered.
Once the song had ended, Daddy gave me one more twirl and someone caught my eye.
“Thanks for the dance, Daddy.”
He nodded, ruffling up my hair, walking out the back to join Momma and their friends on the beach. They were preparing to have a big bonfire after it was dark enough outside. When Daddy was out of sight, I put on my heeled sandals and ran out to the side door that led to the parking lot. A black motorcycle was parked a few spaces away from the door. My eyes searched all around to find him again, but I heard him before I saw him.
Creed.
It had been one year, two months, and three days since I last saw him. Not that I was tracking it. After I walked away from him on my balcony, he just seemed to have disappeared like he never even existed to begin with. I’m not going to lie.