The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 1 (MC Chronicles #1) (23 page)

“You ready for bed?” Debbie pats me atop my shoulder,
snapping me from my musings.

We’ve made our way home already, and I’ve been
lounging on the couch for the past half an hour mulling over my thoughts and
sobering up before I lay down to catch some Zzzz’s.

“I will in a bit.”

She plops down beside me, throwing my legs over hers.
“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” I raise a quizzical brow, sinking
further down into the plushness of the couch.

“Tell me how you’re feeling about this whole claiming
stuff. I know you, Bink. I know you act strong. You try to tell yourself that
you don’t want him. You want to rebel. But you forget, I’ve also known you a
long time and I’ve seen the way you and Big are together. So it’s not very
surprising to see that he wants to claim you. You’re a catch, and you would be
good for him,” Debbie explains, in the quiet dimness that surrounds us. Her
eyes are softly trained on me, watching my reactions.

To refrain from sounding rude, I squash the scoff I
want to impart. I ask her a question instead, “Why do you think that?”

“You’re the yin to his yang. He’s the hard, and you’re
the soft. You keep him grounded, and he in return keeps you on your toes. He
may piss you off, but you have to admit your life is a lot more fun with him
around. Big’s also the man who took you shopping for a dress when you attended
homecoming. Do you remember that? He’s also the one who brought your corsage
and rode you on the back of his Harley to the dance. And the one who stayed
outside of that dance the entire night to make sure you were safe and having a
good time. Do you forget those times? The times he’s been there for you when
your daddy was too caught up in Lindy Sue or on a run. I don’t think you know
how many times that man stayed home from a run that he wanted to go on just so
he could keep an eye on you. To make sure your mom or some other asshole didn’t
hurt or upset you. From an outsider it might look like he’s domineering, like
we all know him to be. But from my view, as a mother and a wife, those are the
kind of things you do for the person you love most.”

Fat tears drip down my cheeks, as I cry in silence. I
know Debbie is right. I know it wholeheartedly. But that doesn’t mean I want to
be his. It doesn’t mean I want this lifestyle with him by my side. To be tied
down as an old lady to the same man for the rest of my life. Fuck…I don’t know
what I want. And the hardest part of it all is I have no idea why this is all
coming to a head now? Why this huge blow up of emotions and obligations? A
little thing here or there I can handle. This entire thing all at once is way
too overwhelming to decipher without losing my own mind in the process.

And, yes, I’m not ignoring the facts. I do remember my
homecoming like it was yesterday, just like I do everything else Big’s ever
done for me, which, in retrospect, is a whole lot more than anyone else.

That night was one of the best nights of my high
school life.
Two weeks before the dance, I
approached Big in his office. When I arrived, he was clicking away on his
computer.

Knocking on the
door, I saw myself inside.

“What can I help ya
with?” he asked.

“I’ve got a
homecoming dance, and I need a dress.”

Big stopped what he
was doing and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, elbows perched
on his armrest. “Pink? Long? Covering all of your boobs? Yeah?” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’ll make some
calls and take you to that boutique in town tomorrow,”Big decisively stated, and that was that. I left the room and went about my business. The next day
after school, he’d picked me up, and we rode to the boutique. The place was
locked when we arrived. With a quick knock on the front glass door, the owner
scurried across her shop to let us in.

“Hello, Richard.
I’ve been expecting you,” the pretty brunette owner singsonged, seeing us
inside with the wave of her hand.

“Good day, Janet.
Did you find what I asked for?”

Janet had, and on a
tall metal rack hung four elegant, floor length pink dresses for me to try on.
Big sat on an oversized couch, nodding his approval for the two he loved and
shook his head for the two he didn’t. In the end, I chose the hot pink gown
with crystal encrusted bodice that came with a shawl, matching heels, and a
rhinestone choker.

Two weeks later,
after I had gotten dressed up at the compound, letting Debbie fix my hair and
makeup, Big showed up at my door carrying a dainty white rose wrist corsage,
wearing his cut over a charcoal grey dress shirt and black tie. It was one of
the only times I’ve ever seen Big in a tie. It made him look mighty handsome.

“For you, my lady.”
He sweetly bowed, and I curtsied, my cheeks turning crimson from his unexpected
debonair style.

Pictures were taken
in the common room and outside under the stars. The brothers even got their
chance to see me in my dress and twirl me around a few times, catcalling and praising
how beautiful I’d become. It made me blush, but I was proud. Afterward,
arm-in-arm, Big escorted me from the clubhouse and onto the back of his bike.
We rode in silence to the dance. When we arrived, he kindly walked me, at a
snail’s pace due to my absurd heel height, to join my group of friends who were
eye banging my escort as we approached them outside of the school’s revamped
gymnasium. Every one of my friends growing up thought it was so cool that I
grew up on the Sacred Sinners' compound and that our President was a dreamboat. I
never saw it as a kid. I do now. Big is what women’s wet dreams are made of.

I had a blast at
the school dance that night, and at midnight, after it was over, Big was still
sitting on his hog, reading a Stephen King novel and awaiting my return with a
polished grin on his face.

“Did you have fun?”
he asked, offering me his hand to help me onto the back of his bike.

“Yes, lots. Thanks
for the ride and the dress.” I climbed on, pulling my dress up so my legs could
straddle his classic metal beast.

“It was my
pleasure.” Big turned over the engine and we rode off into the starry night. We
didn’t go home right away. Big took us along the back roads, where the cool,
crisp, invigorating air blasted us in the face. I laughed happily as I held my
hands in the air, catching the wind, and my hair blew out behind me in a mess
of waves. I felt safe. I felt free. And on the back of Big’s bike, after my
homecoming dance, I felt like I was on top of the world. He’s what made that
special ride extra special. Even when he was worried and his arm curved
backward, wrapping around my waist, to keep me safe and secure on his ride,
while I let loose, relishing in my fun, and strangely spectacular life.

Returning to the
compound, Big helped me from the bike. Then he held my hand as I stood in the
dirt and kicked off my blister inducing heels. Big then stole them from my
hands one at a time and tucked them under his muscled arm, anchoring them to
his body for safekeeping, as he walked me to my bedroom door.

“Goodnight,
sweetheart.” He hugged me tightly and kissed my forehead. That was the end of
one of the best nights of my life.

“You know I’m right,” Debbie insists, breaking me away
from my fond memories.

“I know you are. I know Big loves me, but I never
thought of it more than as a father-figure taking care of his daughter,” I
admit with complete honesty. Even as an adult, I’ve never, not once, gotten
this itch,or this inkling that Big was ever interested in me, in you know, more
than a father-daughter sort of way. Not until this week. Thirty years of one
way, then you run smack dab into a brick wall going ninety miles an hour on a
one way street, and suddenly you are forced to head in a whole other direction
off the proverbial beaten path. The one where Big, has decided, for whatever
fucked up reason, to claim me. Correction, no, he wants to
attempt
to claim me.
That
is not going to happen. Over my dead
body.

“You know, I didn’t either. At first,” Debbie
explains.

“How so?”

“Well, I knew you sort of had a rough childhood with
your mom being a bitch and all. Big never liked her, so she stayed away. I
found that odd, and when I brought it up to Dallas, he told me what your mom
had done to you. By basically hating you and casting you aside. So I assumed
Big kind of took Steel’s place, alongside Gunz as father figures. That’s how
I’d seen it, with you three since I began messing around with Dallas. But it
was about…” She looks deep in thought. Gliding her hand up my foot, she stops,
her soft hand wrapping around my bare ankle. “I think you’d just finished
college. So you’d been what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-three, almost twenty-four,” I correct.

“Right… Well, it was around then. Christmas time, I
think. I had been sitting at the bar with Dallas and Candy Cane. Tripper was
out on a run, so I was keeping her company. Big was in one of his foul moods,
cursing everything up one side and down the other. I figured it was club
business. Until I heard him yelling at one of the club whores to get into his
bed. Gunz didn’t like the way Big was treating this newer girl. To be honest, I
was worried about her too. Everyone knows of Big’s fuck stories, and we all
know he has a big dick. I was pretty sure that girl couldn’t handle a man like
him; I know there’s not many who can. Gunz musta thought the same because he
ended up pinning Big to the wall in front of everyone. Getting in his face,
Gunz yelled for him to stop his shit and that you weren’t serious with whatever
boyfriend you were dating at the time. From what I gathered, Big was on a
rampage because he’d thought you
were
getting serious with some boy you were seeing. Something about bringing him
home for Christmas to meet the brothers,” she explains, and I know the exact
time and the man she’s talking about.

“That was Tony. And he never came to Christmas. I had
wanted him to. Daddy had given his okay, but a week before Christmas, Tony and
I got into a huge fight and broke up. Then the day after Christmas I found out
he’d slept with someone else. A few months later, I saw him at our bike shop,
getting his Harley repaired. Tony ended up apologizing to me and asking for
another chance, which I never gave him,” I clarify trudging up ancient history
of a man who was only good for one thing…cooking. Tony was a pretty amazing
chef, and I learned a lot from him in that respect. In the bedroom, he was
bland. And on the outside, he was a geek who played Magic card games, but just
so happened to ride a pretty sweet motorcycle.

“I didn’t meet him, did I?”

“No.” I shake my head, reclining my neck over the arm
of the couch, staring at the ceiling. “He was short lived, as are most of my
relationships.” If that’s not the truth, I don’t know what is. Lots of
different men of all shapes and sizes, the majority of them owning some form of
motorcycle or hot rod. I met most of them in bars, and once or twice at a car
show or a non-S. S. motorcycle fun run. I participate in a few of those
a year to help raise money for the local literacy program and one for the local
animal shelter. My prized Harley, Black Betty, being as though she’s pink,
black, vintage, and has a custom crystal encrusted seat along the edges brings
the onlookers and flirty guys out of the woodworks. Tony was one of those men.

Truth is, I’m a rarity around these parts, which isn’t
necessarily a good thing. Most women are happy to ride bitch behind their old
man, motorcycle club associated or not. It’s the way of the world. But as
usual, I refuse to conform to society’s ideals and precast notions. I am my own
woman. I chose my own path. And I decide what I will or won’t allow to control
the path I’ve worked so hard to stay on.

I can’t lie and say it was a walk in the park to grow
up in this lifestyle. It wasn’t. It’s rough. It’s hard. It’s a dog-eat-dog
world out there, and in here, it’s a hundred times worse. You live where club
and country don’t always see eye to eye. And to be honest,
that
is the toughest of our laws to
swallow down without upchucking in the process.

Here’s some serious food for thought… What happens in
the regular world when a woman comes to your house and shoots you at point
blank range in the shoulder? She goes to jail, right? It’s simple. Black and
white. Now put your MC goggles on, and view it from our in-house legislature.
Big Dick’s word is God. What he says, goes. If Big declares war on her and her
family, then we go to war. If he demands we leave her be, then we do just that.
Sure, the brothers go to Church to hash out the tougher rulings. In spite of
that, Big Dick still holds the largest amount of power, which could be
considered scary if he were a hothead or loose cannon. Fortunately, he’s
neither. Mean, unyielding, and brash…yes… Unjust or reckless? Never.

Our club is under constant scrutiny from outside
sources, other clubs, and roadblocks. Then you’ve got the inner sanctum you
have to navigate around and stricter rules to follow in order to stay in the
green. I’ve been reprimanded a time or two for speaking out of turn. That’s my
biggest offense. But that’s also the main area I am most lucky in. I can go off
the reservation, and let my mouth run, with little to no consequences in
return. Other than a rather abrasive tongue lashing always delivered by the
President himself. That is something I must say I am most thankful for. Other
old ladies would be shunned, like my mother, for pulling some of the shit I
have. However, I think over the years people have grown to realize I’m a fair
person. Until you, or in most cases, Big gets under my skin, and I blow up like
the atomic bomb.

Not quite sure why I am spelling all this out for you
at three in the morning. But there it is. Take it or leave it. Anyhow, I think
it’s time for me to hit the hay. I’m sure I have a long week ahead of me.