Game Changer (Hell's Saints Motorcycle Club) (15 page)

We pulled up in front of a white, old plank board farm house. There were probably about a dozen Harleys parked outside. The house was big and could use a fresh coat of paint, but it had an honest to goodness perfect wrap around porch complete with two porch swings. There was pretty ginger bread lattice on the eves and the windows were large and clean. A brick pathway leading up to it was lined with blue stone and some pretty perennial plants that I didn’t know the names of. The house was at the end of a long dirt drive way and stood alone with plenty of space all around it.

People were milling around the porch. By people, I mean big mean looking men with Hell’s Saints Nevada cuts on them. And their women. I would never get used to this and I still didn’t know why those cuts and those women made me so uneasy. I searched back in the corners of my mind to bring forth something bad that might have happened as a result of being with the “shadow people” of my childhood and honestly there wasn’t anything specific there. What there was an uneasiness that never quite would go away.

Now here I was, once again heading towards the source of that unease. My seat planted in the thick of it. If the entrance into the club a few weeks ago hadn’t sealed it, then the last few hours with Diego probably had. If I wanted him that meant I had to deal with them. They were his family. His choice. If I stayed with him, with Prosper, with my job at Reds they would eventually become my family too. Maybe.

We hit the front steps and there were chin nods at Diego and looks of curiosity at me. I kept my eyes on the prize of the screen door. Diego felt me tense beside him and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I felt more curious stares and those mostly came from the women. I wondered briefly how many more “Ellies” there were in Diego’s recent and not so recent past. Conversation for another day. Maybe.

The screen door opened to us and I found myself wrapped in Prosper’s big arms. I didn’t know if I was ever going to get used to the feeling of being swept back to becoming a little girl every time I heard Prosper’s voice or looked into his eyes, or found myself in his arms. Aside from Claire, Prosper was the only family I had left. And the difference between him and Claire was that Prosper had always taken care of me and I had always taken care of Claire. With Prosper, I had felt safe.
That’s what the good daddies do.

“Hey, little darlin’. Thanks for making the trip. A man needs his family around at a time like this. Gonna make all the difference in the world to Pinky you being here.” He kissed the top of my head.

A man needs his family around at a time like this.
And there it was. And my heart lifted a little and opened a little. This could be where I belonged. Maybe.

I entered the house and saw a whole lot more people inside. Diego left me and moved to a small bunch of bikers in the corner of the room, more man hugs all around. Prosper was heading me towards the kitchen with his hand gently on the back of my neck. The kitchen was a large country one with a white porcelain double sink, a cracked and faded cheap linoleum floor and chintz curtains on the windows. A large rectangle butcher block table stood in the middle of the room with a half dozen mismatched chairs pushed in around it. Every counter top was filled with a covered dish.

There were lots of blondes (and not one that was naturally born to it) in that kitchen. Every body type. Skinny, curvy, toned, and saggy.
All
sporting serious cleavage and tight bottoms. Whether those bottoms be skirts, jeans, or shorts they were all tight. The hair was big, the jewelry was fake, and the tats were real. Except for Dolly and three other red heads of various shades I had spied out of the corner of my eye on the way through, it was safe to say I was the only non-blonde in a crowd of at least twenty five women.

She was standing with Dolly, her back towards me but I recognized Pinky nonetheless. Knowing what I now knew about the history between Prosper and my mom and Pinky I was suddenly very unsure that I should be here. I knew that she had wanted me to come, and had even requested my presence. But I wondered, in the seconds I had before she turned to me, if in her mind’s eye she was expecting the child I was and not realizing that who would stand before her was the woman I had become. The woman, who by all accounts, bore a striking resemblance to my mother. The dying woman who had owned Prosper’s heart.

As a matter of fact, until that very moment I hadn’t realized that I was the same age my mother had been when we lost her. I stumbled back and fell against the hard wall of Prosper’s chest.

He put both hands on my shoulders giving them a squeeze and called out, “Pinky, our baby girl is home!”

Conversation halted and all eyes on me. Pinky turned from the sink wiping her hands on a dish cloth.

Time had been good to her. The years had taken all the sharp parts of her body and rounded them into a beautiful hour glass figure. Her hair was still blonde (of course it was) and she wore it in an up-do with soft curls falling around her face. Her make-up was biker babe chic which meant heavier than the average woman but not over the top (which would have made it biker babe cheap). She had on a pair of light weight black pants and a white lace shirt that was sheer in the back. On her wrist were the gold bracelets with the little tiny bells that I remembered so well.

Her eyes met mine and widened. She stood stock still and looked at me. From head to toe her eyes seemed to miss nothing. I held my breath and I felt Prosper do the same. Her eyes were suddenly bright and she turned to the counter giving us her back.

Pinky had turned her back on me.

I felt my heart stop and Prosper’s hands fall heavier on my shoulders. I felt him step in closer to me. That few seconds felt like hours. One more second and I knew that both my heart and Prosper’s would lay shattered on the floor. It had all come down to this moment.

Then, she turned round to me again.

She had given us her back just long enough to toss the dish towel on the counter. Pinky looked to Dolly and whispered, “My baby girl is home Dolly.” Dolly grabbed her hands and smiled into her eyes.

Then Pinky put her arms out to me and spanned the distance between us in three steps. She grabbed hold of my arms and held me away from her.

“You look just like your mamma did at your age, Sweet Pea. And from what I know of her, there weren’t a sweeter, more beautiful woman that ever walked this earth. Here you stand before me, looking just as pretty as a picture, and I just know you’re just as sweet as the baby girl Prosper and I looked after all those years ago. Now you gonna give your ole Pinky some sugar?”

I fell into her arms. She smelled like lavender and tobacco just like I remembered. I held onto her tight determined not to be the first one to let go.

Then I whispered in her ear, “I tried Pinky. I really really tried”

She hugged me tighter and whispered, “I know baby girl. And you did real good too.”

Then she pulled away from me and said loud enough for the whole room to hear, “Welcome home my sweet baby girl!”

Then Dolly called out, “Thank Sweet Jesus! That light bill was getting ridiculous.”

The whole room erupted in laughter and even though I’m pretty sure no one but us got the inside joke, it served to break the tension. Prosper left me and wrapped his big arms around his woman. He hugged Pinky so tight he picked her clear off the floor. When he whispered into her ear she blushed and swatted at his tattooed arms laughing. Then he gave her a big soft kiss on the mouth. He put her down and held her close with one arm and pulled me closer to him with the other. The three of us were grinning like fools.

The afternoon passed quickly and turned easily into night. Slowly the masses left. I had the opportunity to peek at the cuts of the many men that filled the house and they were from the various West coast chapters. Diego explained to me that like a family, they had come to show support. They did the same with any kind of crisis or big celebration. Like a family. I didn’t really know what that had meant as a kid, but I was getting a taste of it now and it didn’t seem so bad. Maybe.

Mostly everyone had left, save a skeleton crew of clean up biker babes and their men. The blondes worked the kitchen and Dolly, Pinky and I were served a fresh pot of coffee in the front sitting room. Diego, Prosper, Reno and the men who belonged to the cleanup crew were out on the front porch smoking, drinking and congratulating themselves on being kings of the universe. Testosterone was seeping through the walls.

Every so often Diego would lean towards the window and his eyes would find me. They held me with an intensity that spoke volumes and made me tingle from head to toes. Then he went back to the fist pumping and the slapping each other on the back and talking about whatever badass bikers discuss.

Pinky dragged out a big box of pictures and we were to pick some to make a montage for Lilah’s services. We looked through them and even though I was mindful of the circumstances, I couldn’t help the warmth of the feelings coursing through my veins at seeing old family photos. Claire and I had no photos of ourselves as children, none of our mother, none of our father. No photos of us sitting on Santa’s knee or hunting for Easter eggs or blowing out birthday candles. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I thought I remembered my mom having a book somewhere like that. Well, maybe kind of like that, but somehow it had gotten lost along the way.

Pinky’s photos of her sister were funny and sweet and she had a story to go with each one. There were a few of Prosper as I remembered him. There were some of the lake house where we spent that summer and I was a little disappointed that there were none of Claire and me. I knew I had no right to feeling that so I pushed those feelings aside and enjoyed the pictures for what they were.

Lilah had been beautiful once. Young and pretty with light brown hair and freckles. Unfortunately you could see the steady decline in the photos. The first tattoo, then the second, then the full sleeve. The first piercing, then the second then the third. Pictures with the first bad man, then the second bad man, then the last. Then finally Lilah beginning to look better again, then good. The most recent with Lilah in a bikini holding up a large trout that she had caught with Pinky and Prosper at the lake house. Three months later Lilah would be dead.

We put together a beautiful mosaic of the Kodak moments of Lilah’s life. It came out great and I know that Pinky was pleased. The cleanup crew had gone by that time, their men taking them away in a roar of engines. Diego, Prosper and Reno had moved into the house with us and they were admiring our handiwork. Reno and Prosper added some great memories to the ones that Pinky and Dolly had already provided. Leaning back into Diego’s arm, I felt it again. The warm feeling that being with family provides. Maybe.

I caught a look pass between Prosper and Pinky and while I wasn’t sure what the look meant, I had the feeling it was about me. Prosper got up and left and I closed my eyes and got lost for a moment at the feeling of Diego running his fingers through the strands of my hair that hung near my waist. He was always doing that. He seemed to love playing with my hair and I loved him doing it. I felt Diego move away from me and looked up lazily to see Prosper take his place next to me. I smiled at him and he smiled back and nodded at something he had in his hand. I looked down and gasped. I lost it. Lost. It. Totally.

There sitting in Prosper’s lap was the book. The photo book that I remembered from my childhood. I looked at him, then at Pinky, then at him again. I placed my trembling hands on it. Then I did the thing I seldom allowed myself to do in private and almost never did in public. I burst out crying.

And I didn’t stop for a long time.

*******

Jesus. She was beautiful. In bed, out of bed. Goddamn crying her eyes out. She was so fucking beautiful he wanted to bury himself deep inside of her and never come out. And Diego owned Raine. She was his. He made that clear a whole lot of times in that hotel room. She had been hot for him. Willing and hungry. Soft in all the right places.

He had been watching her all afternoon. Every time she moved, he moved. Like some crazy stalker but he couldn’t help it. Everything about her fascinated him. The way she hung back from conversations until she was invited in, the way she listened, really listened to what people said to her. The way she searched the room for him. Eyes touching but never landing on all the other dudes in the room until they landed on him and then she would smile. And that smile went straight to his dick, but on the way down it touched his heart.

Now she was sleeping next to him. After she had finished the adorable crying marathon where she had held on to Prosper like she was drowning. That flood of tears had soaked his shirt straight through. Diego had felt a surge of jealousy run through his bones so deep he felt something crack. Pinky moved him into the kitchen and together they shared some reefer and what was left of the Tequila. Pinky shared some more of Raine’s history and Diego listened to every word.

When they heard Prosper yell, “Coast is clear.” They also heard Raine giggle and knew that the crying jag over.

Raine was pretty quiet on the way home but once they hit the room she never stopped talking. She was so excited about that old photo book that he swore she was practically orgasmic. She showed him pictures and told him stories. She spoke more to him in the next hour than she had done the whole time he had known her, which he admitted wasn’t very long.

While he loved hearing the stories his thoughts were mostly towards getting in her pants. Every time she leaned in to point at something and her tits brushed his arm he had instant wood. Her hair brushed against his forearm and he had to clench his jaw to keep himself reigned in. He knew she was sharing something important but having her was so new he couldn’t wait to have her again. And again.

So after the fourth page of pictures he made his move. He took the book from her excited hands and excited her in a different way. And because she was so happy she was different this time when he took her. While she was willing before, this time she was eager. She undressed him and kissed him all over. All. Over. She stroked him and nuzzled him. She tugged at him and put her mouth on him. Then she climbed on top of him and rode him. First slowly with a control that had him in awe. Then harder and harder. Her heavy tits bouncing while he came hot and hard inside of her.