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“We cannot discuss an ongoing legal issue,” the lawyer interrupted.
“Who is Chance Michaelson to you, Chey?” someone called, and I nearly stiffened. Only experience with dealing with the media stopped my initial reaction.
“Chance Michaelson is the man who brought the defibrillator to restart Kye’s heart,” I replied.
“But what is he to you? You’ve spoken to Chance Michaelson several times now. Is he your child’s father?” I burst into laughter at the last.
“Well, I can assure you, Chance Michaelson is not my son’s dad.” I giggled. Reporters smelt blood and began firing questions. I held up a hand, and they quieted.
“Does anyone have any further questions about Kye?” I asked.
“We want to know your link with Chance Michaelson. Are you aware he has a wife and a baby due? Will that affect your boy’s relationship with him?”
“I guess we might consider the slander cases. Because you clearly haven’t learnt your lesson. Chance Michaelson is no one to me. He and I never have and never will have any sort of relationship. Hellfire MC has a forecourt across the road to my Nana’s motel. Which means that we’ve crossed paths several times, but we’re not friends.
Dear God, are you going to accuse every man I’ve spoken to of being my son’s father? If so, you’ve a long list ahead of you. We’re done.” I got to my feet and glanced at Ken. Ken nodded in approval, and we left the room. Further questions were shouted at our backs, and I caught Harry’s eye and I lifted my chin towards a door. Moments later, Harry met us in a hallway.
“Keep reporting the truth, and we’ll continue working with you, Harry,” I said, holding his eyes.
“And the Chance Michaelson thing?” Harry asked as I knew he would.
“I loathe Chance Michaelson and Hellfire MC. You want to print that, be my guest, but Hellfire MC can’t be far enough away from me. Not even if they dropped off the end of the earth.” Harry’s eyes narrowed, but the promise of future exclusives and getting first-hand updates on Kye’s health beat his curiosity. Just as I recognised it would.
Tomorrow I knew the papers would be full of questions about Chance and myself. Meanwhile, Harry would print my quote straight from me and the venom behind it. Let people wonder; I understood the truth, and Hellfire wasn’t what they portrayed. Ken squeezed me.
“Harry, we’ve your contact details; we’ll be in touch with updates.”
“Appreciate that Ken, be fantastic if I could get an exclusive with Kye.” I bristled but knew Ken had spoken to Kye about it while I slept.
“Kye’s agreed to do an interview with you, Harry. So play nice,” Ken warned, and Harry grinned. To be honest, Harry wasn’t so bad; it’s just that we’d butted heads several times. We climbed into the limo and sped towards the motel. Already the conference was circling on social media, and people were making varied comments. Most agreed with what I’d said, but there were trolls as per usual. I ignored them and concentrated on the positive.
I was surprised when we arrived back at the motel and saw an unwelcome visitor. Chance stood by reception, legs splayed and hands-on-hips. Beside him were Celt and Banshee. Crap, this was a clusterfuck. The limo pulled up outside, and Ken and I climbed out. Ken moved straight into my personal space, sending Chance a dire look.
“Whatever you want, I’m not interested. Leave,” I said wearily.
“Need to talk; I don’t enjoy being associated with you, bitch,” Chance spat. I shrugged.
“You think I wish to be linked to Hellfire MC? Fat fucking chance, now get out. Unless you’re here to offer an apology for your accusations against Kye.”
“Listen, Chey, I didn’t know….” Chance didn’t get to finish because I cut him off.
“No, you didn’t, like every other asshole out there you assumed, and got self-righteous!” I yelled at Chance. Jesse barrelled through the door, distracting me, and wrapped himself around me.
“That interview was ace, Mom!” Jesse chortled. If I’d paled before, that was nothing to the way the blood drained from my face. Three curious faces turned and gazed at Jesse as he spied them. Celt’s reaction hit before I saw it. I also saw and felt Jesse react. My boy stiffened as he stared at the man who was his sperm donor. Instant hate and dismissal crossed Jesse’s face.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” Jesse hissed.
“No idea, go back inside,” I ordered. Jesse hesitated and then did as commanded.
“That’s my son,” Celt whispered.
“Not a chance in hell,” I replied strongly. This had been coming a long time. Celt’s eyes narrowed on me.
“You had my child all these years? And you said nothing, Chey? What the fuck?”
“Bullshit Celt, I had a man called Drew’s son. Celt, however, attempted to force me to abort my baby, and when I refused, you shoved me to cause a miscarriage. You’ve nothing to do with Jesse. Jesse is mine.”
“That’s my fucking kid,” Celt exploded.
