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“I don’t know.” Seeing his expression, she reformed hers into a soft smile. “But I don’t think so. I think he’s just stewing about something. Anyway, he was up last night until about four, so I turned off his alarm. He’ll be pissed about it, but—”
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ pissed,” Pop growled in a sleepy rasp. Still in pajama bottoms and nothing else, his grey hair looking like a fright wig, he came into the room and went straight to Mom. He kissed her, then slapped her ass. “You meddle too much, baby. I don’t need a nurse or a mommy.”
Jay always got a chill when he saw his old man’s bare chest. Pop had a ton of ink and so many scars Jay would have to sit down and think to name them all—including a scar he’d gotten from hernia surgery after he’d picked up an actual fucking car to get it off somebody—but the ridged seam down the center of his chest would freak Jay out forever. Pop’s third heart attack had very nearly killed him. It was why he’d hung up his kutte—and why Mom had taken to doing things like turning off his alarm when she didn’t think he’d had enough rest.
When Mom gave him a ‘we’ll talk about that later’ look, Pop turned to Jay. “And I’m fine. Just got some shit on my mind. You ready to go? Got your piece?”
Jay turned to show his Sig holstered at his back. “And my second is in my pack. I’m good.”
Cookies and guns. Pretty much summed up his family.
Mom and Pop, and Marv and Rose, walked Jay to his bike. There, he got a big hug from Mom, and Pop hooked his hand over Jay’s nape and stared hard at him.
“You be sharp and careful out there. Right?”
“Right.” He wished his father had enough faith in him to know that didn’t need to be said.
“Good. Want you home in one piece.”
“Probably Wednesday,” he said, as if his father had asked when he’d be home.
“I’ll fry up some chicken and do the Brussels sprouts you like,” Mom said.
“Sounds good.” He kissed her cheek. “Love you.”
She smiled and patted his cheek. “I love you, baby boy.”
Without a word, Pop dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
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~oOo~
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This run was five men: Dex, Fitz, Simon, Duncan, and Jay. Duncan and Jay would take turns driving; they made sure there was room for the driver’s bike in the truck.
They’d all met just after sunrise, shared a quick cup of coffee and a pastry from The Donut Hole, provided by Kelsey, who’d brought Tildy with her to see her man off.
When they all went to the lot together, Dex was still carrying his daughter. He did not like to leave town these days, and his goodbye with Kelsey and Tildy was so emotional everybody else found somewhere else to look.
Jay pulled out his phone to send one more text to Petra:Heading out now. I’ll hyu when we stop for lunch.
Three dots popped at once, and she came back:
Wait. Where?
idk prolly Texas somewhere
Amarillo, maybe
No, I mean where are you right now?
Clubhouse. Why
A car horn sounded. Three long honks. The timing made Jay look up and around, but obviously that horn wasn’t—holy shit. Petra’s Volvo was over at the station. As he watched, it pulled from that lot, turned left onto the street, and parked at the curb. Facing the wrong way, but who cared.
Dex had set his family back and was mounting up. Everybody looked ready to ride. “Hold up,” he called and dismounted.
