“About the other thing, you talk to the mayor?”
Judge sighs. “Not yet. It’s a big marker to call in but it’s your marker. So if this is how you want to roll, I’ll back your play and so will the club. You and Michigan have taken care of a lot of the club’s problems since Michigan patched it. We take care of our own.”
“Serving time for a worthy cause ain’t a problem or me, but I don’t want to leave Annie alone. Not now. Particularly not when she's pregnant. I want be around my kids when they’re growing up so it seems like if there's ever a time to call a marker it’d be this time.”
“Hundred percent agree.”
I go inside and start breakfast. Eggs, toast, some yogurt for Annie. The smell of cooking bacon must’ve roused Mrs. Bloom because she stumbles out of her bedroom wearing only a short satin night robe. Any ties or closures must have gotten left off because the only way that she keeps it closed is a hand clutched tit high. She conveniently forgets when she reaches for a cup of coffee and the robe hangs open to reveal a sheer light green teddy underneath. For an older woman, she’s got a good body and maybe if I wasn’t balls deep in love with her daughter, I’d have taken this woman up on her obvious offer. But all I feel is pity. She’s obviously gotten the boot from her farmer and is looking for a new protector.
There are men out there like that, but it isn’t me and it isn’t Michigan. I doubt it’s anyone in the Death Lords crew either.
“Oh my goodness, is that coffee? I cannot function without a cup of coffee.” Her bare arm brushes mine.
I'm reminded suddenly that I'm standing around wearing my jockeys and nothing more. Her eyes wander all over me, lingering on my groin.
“Think I’ll go and change.” I set down the spatula on the side and turn the burner down.
“Oh don't go changing on my account. I quite like the view.” She boldly runs a hand over my chest down to the top of my underwear. Her finger hangs in the elastic as if she’s going to jerk the fabric down. I leap back.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
She tilts her head and widens her eyes. “I thought I saw some grease splattered. What's wrong with you?”
“Grease, my ass,” I grumble and flee to the safety of my bedroom. Annie’s propped up against the headboard eating some crackers.
“We feeling okay this morning?” I settle beside her and brush her hair behind her ear.
“A little queasy. Michigan bought me some stuff.” She waves a hand toward the crackers and water.
“You need me to call in sick today?” She looks pale.
“No, I know what's going to happen now so I just need to lie here and eat my crackers until I don’t feel like I need to throw up.” She places her warm palm on my chest and I lean into it. This is a touch I want and my cock jerks in response. “Did my mom see you like this? I think I'm jealous.”
I look down at my undershorts that are now about a size too small. “No need because my cock only responds to you.” I grab her hand and place it over my burgeoning woody. “Maybe a good fucking would help you get over your morning sickness.”
She grins and squeezes me. I lean forward for a kiss when I hear a knock at the door.
“Easy, your bacon is burning.”
Fuck. “I’ll be out in a minute,” I shout a little more gruffly than I intended.
“Later,” she whispers and then gives me another swift stroke. Reluctantly I push away and get dressed. Afterwards, I stomp out and finish breakfast. The bacon was not fucking burning though. I glare at Mrs. Bloom who gazes back with wide innocent eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Annie
Breakfast has a weird flavor to it. The bacon is crisp but I can’t eat the eggs. They make me nauseous. Or maybe it was the tension. I can’t decide whether I want my mom there or not and Easy picks up on that readily. He’s taking his cues from me, which I appreciate more than I can say, but I’m not sure if I want her to leave or I need her to stay.
I do give her a hug goodbye before Easy takes me to work and it’s not as awkward as the one yesterday was. But it’s also not warm. I don’t have a lot of memories where she’s embracing me so I don’t think it’s the distance or time that makes the hugs awkward but just who she is. Some people aren’t huggers. Father and I weren’t given to overt physical displays of affection. I’ve gotten more used to touching after being around Michigan and Easy. When I’m with them, one or both have a hand somewhere on me. Maybe it’s my ankle when we’re watching television or maybe it’s the small of my back when we’re walking. They have no problem touching me all the time and I love that.
I want my child to be surrounded by constant love and affection. The kind that Easy’s family doles out like its candy on Halloween.
The day speeds by again. Fortunately there isn’t anything at the shop that I’m going to be asked to do that is going to be a problem. Shipping and receiving needs to be logged so I create a spreadsheet to track both.
On the wall is Judge’s waitlist. His shop specializes in the repair and restoration of American muscle cars. The shop is so good it has a waiting list that is two pages long. Some of the names on the list send my eyebrows into my forehead and I’m desperate to ask anyone if there are really famous people on the list or it’s merely a coincidence.
In the meantime I spend a couple of hours cracking Judge’s obscure symbols and shorthand. It takes me some Googling, but about mid morning I start to figure out what it all means. The letter C stands for Cobra, not Camaro or Corvette. P with the exclamation point is not Pinto but the 1964 Pontiac GTO. CZ is the Camaro.
The product catalogs are indecipherable to me so I call up the companies to ask if they have any online catalogs. They do and email me the forms to fill out to get access.
I put in what I can based on the information I’ve seen on the invoices. There are two bills to pay so I hand write the checks from a check register I find in the desk drawer and set them aside for Judge to sign. By noon, I’ve finished with nearly everything and am reading an engine repair site to familiarize myself with the names of different parts. That way when people call, I won’t be totally clueless.
Around lunchtime, my mom shows up.
“Your mom is here, Annie. You okay with that?” Judge stands with one hand on the doorknob as if he's ready to shoo my mother away.”
"I'm fine, thanks. Is it okay if we eat lunch in the office?"
“You bet.”
“Hi honey!” Mom comes over and hugs me before I can even stand up. It’s more hugs than she gave me in the past decade. I notice Judge’s eyebrows shooting up, and over Mom’s shoulder I see that she’s got her tush in the air. From Judge’s expression, whatever she’s wearing is giving him a good view.
I push out of her embrace and when she straightens, I see her smooth down a short pink skirt. It’s pretty with ruffles around the bottom but Lord is it short.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Judge says. “Take whatever time you need.”
“Please, feel free to stay. I’d love to get to know my little Annie’s employer.”
“Not fucking happening,” he replies and shuts the door firmly.
“Well, that was rude.” She huffs and lets out an exasperated laugh. “What do you expect from someone who runs a motorcycle gang? Annie, I’m worried about you. What is going on? You’re living with not one, but two men and from the looks of things, these boys aren’t roommates. What kind of relationship have you got going on?”
Years of being told to turn the other cheek prevents me from saying it is none of her business. “We have an unusual arrangement but it works for us. I love them both.”
She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Annie, honey, you are a baby. You are not experienced enough to hold these two roughnecks. They are going to use you up and then toss you aside. You need to find some nice boy who works at the factory and will provide a good home for you. These two men are not going to be satisfied with one little church girl
at home. And how are you going to feel when they start stepping out on you?”
Her words cut deep into my insecurities. I rub the leather cuffs around my wrists—the ones that say I belong to Easy and Michigan. I wear these cuffs everyday as a sign of their claiming. But where’s my sign on them? My introspection causes my mother to continue.
“I don’t deny that there’s a rough sensuality about the two of them but you’re just too young to know how to deal with that.”
“We’re getting along fine,” I say finally. The fact is if they had wanted to leave me behind, they could have. I was out of commission for several weeks after Father beat me. But they cared for me and waited for me and rearranged their whole lives to make room for me.
I straighten and look my mother in the eye. “They love me and they would never hurt me like that.”
“You don’t know that,” she scoffs.
“I do,” I say with growing confidence. I rub those leather cuffs again and remember the wonder on Michigan’s face when I put his on. He’d never leave me and Easy, for as careless as he may seem on the surface, loves hard. I feel it every night after we make love and he can’t let go of me. I may be young and inexperienced but I’m no innocent.
Having two men at one time strips all that away. And any lack of finesse I may have in the bedroom has never generated an ounce of discontent. They love showing me and teaching me all the ways we can pleasure each other. Easy once said that it was because I hadn’t ever had sex before that I wasn’t afraid of anything they proposed. Every sexual experience I’ve had has been wonderful so when they propose new things, I’m excited rather than scared off.
“I’m your mother,” she begins but I cut her off.
“No, you gave that up a long time ago. If you want us to have a relationship again, you need to acknowledge that.”