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“Ask me what?” the woman herself said, walking over to us, drinking a chocolate milkshake at eight o’clock in the morning.
“Woman, that isn’t breakfast.”
“Is for me,” she snarked. “Got a problem with it?”
It was a dare.
I knew it, and so did everyone else, but King didn’t. Because when he glared at his wife, taking the milkshake away from her and spoke, “Fruit is breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and toast are breakfast. Not this crap. Go have a smoothie!” Everyone took several steps back as Bailey’s face turned to blind fury.
“Give it back,” she slowly enunciated, halting all movement in the clubhouse. “I don’t care if it’s a damn T-bone steak, a bag of Cheese Puffs, or can of uncooked spinach. If I want a fucking chocolate milkshake for breakfast, then that’s what I’m having. Got me, asshole?”
“It’s not healthy, woman.”
Bailey smiled sweetly, taking a step forward.
No one moved. Not even King.
“Do you enjoy fucking me, King?”
King gulped as he nodded, frozen to his spot.
“Do you want more kids?”
He nodded again.
“Good, because if you ever take away the only thing I can keep in my stomach without throwing it up again, I will neuter you in your sleep, and this child will be your only child. And no one here will stop me!”
King quickly handed her back the chocolate milkshake.
We all watched her take a large gulp of the chocolate brew as the demonic possession fled her body. Smiling as if everything was once again right in her world, she asked, “So, what’s the problem you merry band of misfits can’t figure out?”
King just stared at his wife, while a few of the brothers covered their crotches. Sighing, I said, “Scribe’s missing. Do you know where he is?”
“Depends on what you mean by missing?”
Groaning, King muttered, rubbing his hands down his face, “Woman. Do you know where your boy is at or not?”
“He’s finishing up a project.”
“He’s in the greenhouse.” I smirked. “Did any of you think to look for him there?”
“Fuck no,” Priest groaned, walking over to the bar with Pyro. “The secretive fucker put caution signs and warning tape all around the place. Does anyone know what the fuck he’s got going on in there?”
Scribe’s greenhouse had been a huge mystery for months. At first, we all thought it was just going to be a standard greenhouse with fruit, flowers and veggies, but now no one knew what the fuck he was doing in there, and the enigmatic asshole wasn’t saying shit. The only people he allowed inside were Cameron, and lately Colin, and Hailey, Savage’s niece. And none of those brats were saying shit.
“Hey, guys, what’s up?” the man of the hour asked, walking over smiling like a loon.
“What the hell have you been doing?” King growled, storming over to the soon-to-be-married idiot.
“Working on something.”
“You know you are getting married in a few hours, right? There is still shit that needs to be done. Have you decided what the hell you are wearing? What are we wearing? Are we donning cuts, suits, board shorts, what? Help me out here, Scribe, because when you told me flat out that you would take care of everything, nothing has been taken care of. This wedding makes no fucking sense. Is there even a cake?”
“Makes perfect sense to me.”
“That’s because only you know what the hell is going on!”
Sighing, Scribe looked at Bailey and groaned. “I thought we discussed this. You must give the beast his morning orgasm before breakfast, woman.”
