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Mama always wanted to do what was right. Her moral compass never faltered. But Papa? Well, Papa had none. He did what he needed to do at all times, regardless of what that looked like to other people. He did what he needed to protect the family, and not just ours, but our extended and others in different outfits too. I wanted to be just like him. I knew that, he knew that—my mother unfortunately knew that.
My phone hasn’t stopped ringing since six a.m. Fucking six a.m. And if it’s Billy or Camitro, I might actually end up killing the both of them.
Cutting up the piece of toast into squares and moving watermelon and grapes around his plate, I place it on the table, kissing Wolf on the top of his little head. He reminds me so much ofhim.The eyes, smile, and dimple. “Be right back, baby. Mama’s got a call with Santa!” Snatching my phone off the table, I head out of the kitchen and down the hallway before swiping to answer.
“What!”
“We got a problem…” Val chuckles in the background, and I hear doors shut closed before he continues. “You know that patch over?”
“Yes…” I hiss, peeking around the corner to check on Wolf. Mama is sitting beside him now, with Betty lifting him up to place him on her lap. “What has that got to do with me?” I whisper harshly. “It’s Saturday. You know weekends are for family.”
“Yeah, I know, which is why I wouldn’t bring this to you if it wasn’t important.” Val is my strongest soldier. I give him a lot of shit, but I trust him more than I do anyone else.
“Okay—” I breathe. I seriously need to take up Pilates or Tai chi or something to help with keeping myself in check. “Go.”
“There’s a bit of a bloodbath here right now.”
“So?” I snap, grinding my teeth. “That’s MC business, not mine!”
“Well… that’s the thing. You might need to get down here because I feel like this has to do with you too.”
I hang up my phone and make my way back into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. I watch as Betty airplane drives pieces of fruit into Wolf’s mouth and he giggles, flashing his cheesy smile. His smile, unfortunately, is almost a replica of his father’s.
My smile falls.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, baby,” Mama says, rubbing her hand up my arm. “You look at me.” When I don’t, her gentle hands come to my cheeks and she brings my focus down to hers. Mama hasn’t aged at all since I was a teenager. The genes are strong, and I know that whatever she needed to do to survive had to be done. I think it takes children growing older to realize the kind of sacrifices our parents make at times. “This is your life. It’s what you are here for.”
“But I just wanted to be a mom… like you were.”
“Baby, you are so much more of a mother than I ever was.” She straightens her shoulders and I watch as the sun beams behind her, making her already blue eyes brighter. “Now go and do what you were born to do. Your family will be here waiting when you get home.”
“Break some balls, sis!” Betty calls out as I make my way down the hallway.
“Balls!” Wolf repeats, and I hear a buckle of laughter follow behind me up the stairs. It’s not that I hate what I do. I enjoy it. I can’t imagine not doing it now, and although I thank Papa every day for giving me this, I also want to bring him back to life so I can just have the first few years with Wolf.
Losing myself in my closet, I pull out a black blazer, a white crop top, and tight black leather pants. Pairing it with a pair of white pointy Jimmy Choo boots and a white handbag, I shuffle through my makeup. Whatever the bunch of idiots has done can wait. I don’t leave the house looking less than nowadays.
Brushing out my dark hair, I pause when I look at myself in the mirror, blinking back a memory, only it takes me with an iron fist.
I couldn’t fucking believe Betty dragged me here. To this damn place. To a party. After last week happened, the week I didn’t talk about, I thought Betty was trying to get my headback into the game with a distraction. And I didn’t even tell her the full story of what happened between Wicked and me.
Fucking asshole.
I expected Papa to be mad when I gave him the parcel. So fucking mad. When he gave me a blank expression and read whatever it was that was in the envelope, I was so mad that I ended up blurting out what Wicked had done. How he had basically kidnapped me and that when whatever his little plan he had with me didn’t work, he needed to backtrack. Of course, Papa gave me nothing after that too. But things changed.
I felt the distance in the house. Where it was once warm, it now felt empty. Cold. Like a distance that could never be filled. I hated it.
“You are getting into your head again!” Betty shoved the bottle of cheap vodka into my chest, even though I told her I was more of a tequila person. “Come on! Doesn’t it get boring being the good little angel girl who does everything everyone wants?”
I raised the lip of the bottle to my mouth and took large enough gulps. “It does. But that’s not what this is—” I swiped my mouth with the back of my hand when laughing caught me off guard.
“Oh my God…” My hand came to my mouth and I slowly lowered the bottle to the floor. “Betty, I’m late.”
I blink through the memories, my fingernails scratching down my chest. I don’t want to think of the cryptic letter he wrote Papa.
Scrubbing my face clean of the tears, I massage on moisturizer, before starting on my makeup. Makeup is the ultimate concealer for life. If only they gave something similar for the bruises people leave on your battered soul.
I’m just finishing up my lips and moving my hair to one side when my phone chimes from a text message.
