Fuck. “The kid ever get caught up in it?”
“Once. Murder threatens her. Says if she don’t get her shit together, he’ll take Wylla Mae away from her, but he never follows through with it. He goes over there and plays hero every damn time. Says Rochelle would want him to.”
I cup the back of my neck. Prez’s daughter died in high school. Got drunk and was driving too fast. That was before I lived around here. Grudge opens the garage and starts poking around in old boxes on one of the shelves against the back wall. “Eureka,” he shouts after a few minutes and produces a small black helmet with a pink skull on the back. “Should be about the right size.” He rubs an old rag over the top to get the dust off it.
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem. It don’t do nothing out here but collect dust now that Tempest is older and too cool to hang with grandpa.” He smiles but I can see this flash behind his smoky grey eyes that says he misses her.
“Think she’d want a job babysitting?”
He shakes his head. “It’s Saturday. She’s gone to her dad’s for the weekend. Won’t be home till tomorrow evening I’m afraid.”
“It was worth a shot.”
Grudge slaps my back. “Don’t worry. Alexa is a lot of things but she’s a good mom. She’ll be beating down your door for the kid soon enough.”
“Good. I’ll get this back to you whenever I’m done w
ith it.”
I take the helmet and head back to the clubhouse to grab the kid. The clubhouse is no place for her to be hanging around. I sit the helmet on the seat of my bike and when I walk inside Devil’s Playground I have to blink because I don’t believe what I’m seeing. Wylla Mae is sitting on top of the bar and Roane, the club’s tattooist and a prospect has hold of her arm.
I stomp toward them my mood souring. I’m losing my goddamned mind. It looks like he’s putting a tattoo on her. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Look, East.” Wylla Mae snaps her head to me wearing a toothy grin and holds up her arm. “Roane gave me a tattoo of a sunflower.” Underneath the sunflower in cursive font is one word. Lady.
Fucking hell.
“Easy, man, it’s just a temp. It’ll wash off.”
I let out a breath. “You.” I point at her. “Get down from there.” I turn back to Roane. “Where’s Pam?”
“She’s um occupied. Link.” He chuckles. Link is Pam’s Ol’ Man. Link, Grudge, and Pam run the clubhouse better known as The Devil’s Playground.
“Hell, I don’t even want to know. You got your backpack? Medicine?”
“Yup. Do I get to ride on your motorcycle again?” Those warm brown eyes sparkle with hunger for adventure.
“Got you a helmet.”
“Cool.” She slides off the bar with help from Roane.
“See you later alligator,” he says holding his fist out for her to bump.
“After while crocodile,” she singsongs, skipping toward the exit, dragging her backpack on the floor.
“Cute kid. She wouldn’t shut up about you. Just be careful.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You’ve not been around in the past when Alexa starts her shit is all I’m saying. I was a few grades behind her in school. I know shit. Heard some things, but not my story to tell.”
“Wait. You know the kid and her mom?”
“You’ve got a lot to learn it seems.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s not my place to say shit. If Prez wants you to know he’ll tell you, but that kid, better protect her with your life. She’s important to Prez. Just file that away. Know what I mean?”
I give him a chin lift, but no I don’t know what the fuck he means.