Money Shot: Selected Sinners MC Romance (10 page)

“Sounds perfect,” I said.

Before I met his mother, I needed desperately to get my nails done, go get makeup, buy a new dress, spend a few minutes in a tanning booth, and make a few adjustments to my ratty hair.

“What time?” I asked as I reached for my coffee.

“I don’t know, noon?” he asked.

“How about a little later? I have a few things I need to get done first.” I said.

He relaxed in his chair, sipped his coffee as he studied me for a moment, eventually placing his cup on the table and pushing it to the side. As he rested his massive forearms on the edge of the table and leaned forward, he grinned.

“What? Get your nails done, go fake bake, and hit the mall?” he asked.

Vince Ames may have been a biker, a criminal of sorts, and a debt collector for drug dealers, but to me, he was perfect.

And I deserved his perfection.

VINCE

November 16, 2014

Introducing Sienna to my mother required a level of commitment on my part not much different than marriage. In my lifetime, only one other woman had met my mother, and it was my ex-wife. In inviting Sienna into my mother’s home, I was not only inviting her into my life, but into my mother’s life. As far as I was concerned, this would make Sienna part of the family.

In a short period of time, I beat myself up about her meeting my mother, and cancelled the Sunday plans, and simply left Thanksgiving as the meeting day. Sienna was ready, I was afraid I was not so ready.  

“So, you ready for this?” I asked. “Just a few more days. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

He glanced upward and stared for a moment. It appeared he intended to be attentive, but eventually his eyes fell closed and he lowered his head.  Apparently I was boring him with my subject matter, and he was about to fall asleep.

“You fucking prick. Don’t you dare pass out before I’m done, you rude son-of-a-bitch. When I’m talking, you good and god damned well better listen, understand?” I seethed.

He shook his head violently, no doubt attempting to prevent himself from falling asleep. He slowly shifted his eyes to meet mine, blinked a few times, and lowered his chin slightly. 

“So anyway, she’s pretty to look at, but she’s also pretty damned smart. She reads more books than Pop and me combined,” I said.

He blinked his eyes again and stared, apparently waiting for me to continue

“Hard to believe, I know, but she reads half a dozen books a week. And, she’s thin. Not one of the unhealthy skinny bitches like you see on television or in those fucking magazines, but just naturally thin, like a supermodel. And her hair? Wait ‘till you see it. It’s perfect. Her eyebrows are hit and miss, but don’t you dare stare at ‘em, got it?”

I paused and shifted my eyes to meet his.

Fast asleep and lightly snoring, it was obvious he had very little interest in knowing anything about Sienna before she made her grand entrance for Thanksgiving dinner.

I turned toward the sound of the front door opening, and met my mother’s gaze as she peered toward the porch swing where we were seated.

“I can’t believe this weather we’re having,” she said. “It’s so nice out here. Now you two need to come in here for dinner, it’s ready.” 

I stood from the porch swing and shrugged my shoulders. “He’s asleep.”

She shook her head lightly and sighed signature sigh of frustration. “He’s going to be mad if he misses dinner, just wake him up.”

“Bradley!” I shouted. “Dinner’s ready.”

He opened his eyes, jumped from the porch swing, and ran toward the front door.

“He was tired of listening to your stories, that’s all,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.

“He’s the only one in this house that pays attention to me. He just fell asleep,” I said as I followed her into the house.

Bradley and I followed her into the dining room. As she pulled her chair away from the table she shifted her eyes toward me and sighed again. “I listen to what you say.”

I pulled my chair away from the table, sat down, and placed my napkin in my lap. “You listen to what I say, but Bradley
hears
me.”

“Who’s saying grace?” she asked.

“I said it last week,” I said.

“You sure did,” she responded as she reached toward the plate of roast beef.

After picking up a piece of meat large enough to choke a horse, she held it to the side and shook it. Within a few seconds she had Bradley’s full attention. Having performed this ritual no less than a thousand times, he knew just what to do.

He situated himself directly beside her, sat, and tilted his head back.

“It’s your turn to say grace, Bradley,” she said.

“Woof!” Bradley barked as he stared up at the roast beef.

“Amen,” my mother said as she dropped the piece of meat.

“Amen,” I said.

“So, finally. What’s it been? A year? And you’re finally bringing her to meet us,” she said as she began to spoon mashed potatoes onto her plate.

“I met her in June. And we didn’t start seeing each other until I took her those flowers, and I think that was in August,” I said.

“It was July. The forth,” she said.

I shook my head as I loaded my plate with meat. “August.”

“That’s exactly why Bradley falls asleep when you talk to him. He gets tired of the fibs you tell,” she said.

“He falls asleep because he’s fat and unhealthy,” I said, knowing what I said would irritate her.

She turned and glared at me over the top of her fork full of mashed potatoes. “Stephen Vincent! Take it back.”

“It’s true,” I said.

“Every word out of your mouth is a fib. Bradley’s not fat, he’s muscular. And it was right after you got beat up, because you had those stitches in your face. It was July forth, and we were eating fried chicken. Right here,” she said as she pointed at the table.

“I know where we were, Mother. Whatever, Okay, July. Fine,” I said.

“So, six months ago you started seeing her, and just now I get to meet her. I think it’s sad,” she said.

“Well, you won’t have anything else to complain about here in about ten days,” I said.

She wagged her fork in my direction and cleared her throat. “They’re not complaints, they’re observations. Now, eat your dinner.”

“Well, I’m excited to finally meet her,” she said. “And if you’ve been seeing her all year, and if you truly love her, you should…”

She paused and took a bite of bread.

“I should what?” I asked.

She handed Bradley another piece of roast beef, glanced upward, and shook her head as we made eye contact. “Never mind. I’m excited to meet her, that’s all.”

I forced a sigh of sarcasm and continued to eat. I was pretty sure I knew fully what my mother intended to say. She was a master at hinting at what she wanted, expected, or believed she deserved, but not actually saying it.

And, in time, I was pretty sure I would grant her wish.

SIENNA

November 27
th
, 2014

Dressed in a new black V-neck pleated dress, 2” heels, and a black shawl, I felt as beautiful as Vince said I looked. Vince was dressed in dress jeans, dress boots, and a black button down shirt. Much to my surprise, he allowed me to drive, and we listened to Christmas music the entire way to his mother’s house. I felt for the entire trip that my life was finally not only precisely where I had always wanted it to be, but exactly as I deserved it to be.

The neighborhood wasn’t exactly what I had expected, and as we pulled into the driveway of the two-story brick home, I was immediately surprised at the size, perfect landscape, and southern appeal. The home clearly stood out as being different than all the others surrounding it.

A red brick home with wrap-around porch complete with porch swing, white shuttered windows, and a yard filled with huge trees in a middle class neighborhood wasn’t where I expected Vince’s mother to be living. Considering the fact that Vince’s father was a biker who had died in prison, and Vince was an only child, I expected a little more modest – and much smaller – home.

“This place is huge,” I said as I shut off the engine.

“Pop built this place,” he said. “Bought three lots to build it on so he could have this huge yard.”

“Seriously?” I asked as I admired the home.

He gazed in the direction of the house and nodded his head. “Yep, pretty cool place, huh? He was a biker, but being a construction contractor was his day job. Hell, he wanted a dozen kids and a place where they could always come back to for Sunday dinners. I grew up in this big fucker all alone. Lots of cool places to hide, though.”

“Wow. That’s crazy he built it. Good for him,” I said. “And the yard is huge.”

“Just remember, no cussing. Oh, and
you
can call me whatever, but she’s going to call me Stephen,” he said.

“Got it,” I said as I reached for the door handle.

“And don’t call Bradley fat,” he said.

“Okay,” I said with a laugh as I got out of the car.

Vince got the pies from the back of the car and we began to walk up the drive. I continued to admire the massive home as we walked up to the sidewalk leading to the front steps. Growing up in such a place would be heaven for a child, especially with the yard as large as it was. As we stepped off the sidewalk and onto the steps, the reality of it all hit me. I had never met a man’s parents, at least not a man I was in a relationship with. I suspected Vince felt the same way, but as far as I was concerned, this was a huge step toward securing our relationship as being one that was solid and secure.

“After you,” Vince said as he opened the door.

I nervously stepped into the home. The very large living room was decorated as I expected a home to be in the south, and although it wasn’t ornate, it was pretty close. Camel back couches, arm chairs with carved wood, and various coffee and end tables were scattered about the room, and very plentiful. There was no doubt the home could easily be used to entertain dozens, but from what Vince said it was never more than him and his mother who occupied the home.

As I inhaled the aroma of the Thanksgiving meal, all of the emotions associated with the holidays I had at home as a child filled me. We rarely had a large crowd, and frequently ate alone, but the holidays were special nonetheless. From time to time my father would invite a less fortunate friend, and I remember times when I had friends from school visit during the holiday season, but the holiday meals were typically only my father and me. Although the holiday dinner table was less than full, the love that filled the dining room was immense.

My father loved to cook, and his recipes for the holiday meals were always traditional. Although we often ate meals which were more customary in his actual home land, Ukraine, he never introduced any of his family recipes into our holiday meals. He was proud of being a U.S. citizen, and proud of adopting the traditions and policies of the country, recipes included. His sweet potatoes were my favorite; he put big marshmallows in with the potatoes, and because it was only him and me eating, I always got plenty of marshmallows with my sweet potatoes.

“Oh my word,” his mother said as she walked out of what I expected was the kitchen.

According to Vince, she was in her early fifties, but she looked to be in her forties. She was petite, dressed in a burgundy dress, had long brunette hair with highlights, and was absolutely beautiful. A white apron was tied around her waist, and contrasted completely with her beautiful dress, but clearly showed how much time and effort she had placed in the preparation of the meal we were about to eat. 

As she stood in the doorway and gazed in our direction, she slowly raised her hands to her mouth and pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips.

“Sienna, this is my mother, Anita,” Vincent said. “Ma, this is Sienna.”

She lowered her hands from her face, opened her arms, and curled her fingers toward her palms repeatedly as if she was trying to coerce a small toddler to come see her.

“Go give her a hug,” Vince sighed in the form of a light whisper. 

I walked across the living room toward where she was standing, and as I stepped directly in front of her, realized she was softly crying. I felt an odd sense of pride that Vince adding me to his life provided her with such joy, but also felt guilt for some reason. As she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her, I realized the guilt was more a feeling of responsibility.

“I love him very much,” I whispered in an effort to comfort her. “And it’s nice to meet you.”

“Where do you want the pies?” Vince asked.

“You know where to put the pies,” she said in a sarcastic tone as she released me. “Now, go play with your brother, Stephen. We have work to do.”

“Follow me,” she said as she turned toward the kitchen.

I glanced over my shoulder, grinned, and winked at Vince. As I followed his mother into the kitchen, an adorable – and obviously overweight – English bulldog ran past us and toward the living room. As he ran, slobber flipped from his lips.

“That’s Bradley,” she said as he ran past. “He’s Stephen’s brother.”

“Hi, Bradley,” I said jokingly even though he was long gone.

“Stephen was right, your hair is perfect,” she said as she stepped to the side and studied me.

“Why, thank you,” I said.

I glanced over my shoulder and upon confirming we were alone, lowered the tone of my voice to a whisper. “He told you about my
hair
?”

“Honey, I’ve been hearing about you since the day you met back in June. He tells me bits and pieces at a time, but that hair of yours…he just won’t stop talking about it.” She said.

“He’s silly,” I said.

She pulled the oven door open slightly and peered inside. “He sure is. And just so you know, he’s been known to tell a fib or two. Now, back in July, what happened to his face? Someone beat him up, didn’t they?”

I pointed to my cheek innocently. “When he got the stitches?”

She glanced up and nodded her head. “Mmmhhhmm.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I thought he wrecked his motorcycle.”

“Well aren’t you cute,” she said. “Sticking up for him already.”

She opened the oven again and pulled out a sheet of dinner rolls sufficient to feed a small army. After placing them on the counter beside the rest of the meal, she sighed.

“Stephen’s always prompt, and so am I. I think that’s about all of it,” she said as she glanced around the kitchen.

“It smells wonderful,” I said.

“So do you, Honey. I absolutely love that perfume you’re wearing. And that dress? It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said with a smile. “I just got it.”

She walked past me, peered through the doorway, and turned to face me. “He’s in there talking to Bradley.”

She walked back into the kitchen, picked up the platter of turkey, and nodded her head toward the sweet potatoes. “Honey, grab the yams and follow me.”

I glanced in the dish. The sweet potatoes were covered in marshmallows. As I inhaled the sweet aroma, a rush of emotions washed over me. Other than in my father’s home, I had never seen them prepared in the same manner, and although I never assumed my father invented the recipe, I had yet to deal with such a strong reminder of him. I bit into my quivering lip, picked up the sweet potatoes, and followed her into the dining room, my mouth watering the entire way.

A table large enough to seat eight with a large chandelier over it sat in the center of the room. She placed the turkey on the table and reached for the potatoes. After situating them in what I suspected was her perfect place, she turned away.  After a few steps, she paused.

“Do you want children?” she asked.

I was slightly shocked by her question, and wondered how I should respond. It was something Vince and I had yet to discuss, but I was sure we would at some point in time. Talking to her about it first seemed strange.

Still facing away from me, she turned her head and gazed at me over her shoulder. “Just between you and me.”

I grinned and nodded my head eagerly. “I do.”

“How many?” she asked as she turned away.

“Just between you and me?” I asked.

“Honey, everything we discuss is between you and me. It’s what mothers and daughters do, they keep secrets with each other,” she said.

Her response didn’t immediately sink in, but as I responded, I felt flattered and considerably more welcome in her home. Whether she intended to or not, she made me feel wanted, and almost as if I was already truly a part of the family.

“Enough to fill this house if I got my say in it,” I said.

She blinked her eyes, smiled, and quickly turned toward the sink.

“Grab the green beans, honey, I think I’ve got something in my eye,” she said as she turned away.

I carried the remainder of the food to the table as she walked to the bathroom and tried to get something out of her eye. As I gazed down at the table and wondered if she would be mad about my placement of the food, I heard her yell at Vince.

“Bradley, Stephen! Dinner’s ready, you two,” she shouted.

“It’s perfect,” she said as she walked into the dining room.

“I didn’t know where to put everything,” I said as I shrugged my shoulders. “It looks wonderful.”

“So, we’re ready?” Vince asked as he walked into the room.

His mother shifted her eyes toward me and grinned. “We sure are.”

“You been crying, Ma?” Vince asked as he walked into the room .

“No, I got something in my eye, didn’t I, Honey?” she responded as she shifted her eyes toward me.

I nodded my head.

“Yeah, and I wrecked my bike,” Vince said with a laugh.

“Just be quiet and sit down,” his mother snapped.

We all took a seat at the large table, Vince and I sitting on either side of his mother, and Bradley on the floor beside Vince.

“Who’s saying grace?” she asked as she alternated glances between Vince and me.

“Well, according to your rules, it’s Sienna’s turn,” Vince responded.

His mother tilted her head to the side and batted her eyelashes.

“I’ll say it,” I said with a nod.

I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and inhaled a shallow breath. As I began to pray, Anita rested her hand on my knee.

“Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today to give thanks. There are so many, Lord, who are less fortunate, and for them I ask you to give special consideration on this day, and throughout the holiday season. Bless them with understanding and a willingness to continue, for one day they, just as we have, will find their calling in life and see the world through clearer eyes, through your eyes, and through you they will pave the way to a brighter future. Today, Lord, I thank you for Anita, I thank you for Vince, and I thank you for Bradley, but most of all, I thank you for providing all of us with something as sacred as the ability to love. I give these thanks in your name, Lord, amen.”

I opened my eyes, lifted my head, and glanced around the table. 

“Pass the potatoes, Ma,” Vince said.

His mother stood and patted me on the shoulder.

“Hand him the potatoes, Honey,” she said as she turned away. “I’ve got something in my eye again.”

I did wonder when she walked away the first time if she was crying or if she had something in her eye, and now the answer was pretty clear.

But I’d never tell.

Because that’s what mothers and daughters do, they keep secrets with each other.