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“We’ve come to the decision that the marriage will take place but in exchange for that, we will deal with the problems they have with the Devil’s Dealers and The Enforcers before the marriage. We will deal with the brother, Gray, afterwards,” he tells his father, who nods solemnly at us all.
I have met his father before. He is so unlike his son in his demeanour – much harsher and more rugged. The complete opposite of his son who is sat in a suit with the Laidens’ signage on the back and chest. His father sits, similarly to most bikers I know, with his legs spread apart and the leather jacket with the club cut surrounding it.
“I think that’s fair. Don’t you?” he asks my dad, who nods his head at him.
I can feel Crow watching me, his eyes boring into the side of my head as if in hope of a telepathic explanation. I wish I could give him one.
Eight
Come Sunday morning, the weekend has been spent decorating Liam's room with Crow, ready for his return tomorrow and arguing with Dad when Crow’s not around about Dad’s unwillingness to tell me the things that I need to know. There have been hushed conversations all weekend between my dad and the Cobras that have been visiting more frequently than normal. Something is going on but I have no clue what. As usual.
Dad pulled me aside to “talk shopping”, telling Crow that he just needed to add something to the shopping list—which was a terrible excuse might I add. As if Crow wouldn’t know what the hell we were talking about. As if my dad really didn’t think I wouldn’t just go and tell him. I think my dad assumed that if Crow wasn’t around when we had these snippets of conversation that I would be more willing to do as I was told - to be obedient. He was wrong.
“You are not supposed to know. There is a reason for that, darlin’, you understand that, don’t you? We’re here to protect you, you don’t need to know so you can protect yourself. That’s what we’re here for.” Now normally when my dad gives me this macho man shit, I just let him go for it because it’s easier, to put it simply, but on Sunday morning, before my run, before my morning cuppa and quite frankly, before I had the patience for shit, I wasn't having it.
“No, you know what, Dad? I might be your little girl, but you were the one that taught me to protect myself, you were the one that told me I could do it just as well as any man, so no. Now that I want to know what I’m up against so that I can protect myself, which again, you taught me to do, you won’t tell me a damn thing.” I take a breath and glare at my father. Not as though I can stay angry at him for long, but he didn’t need to know that right then.
He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and looked up at me.
“It's expected, Charlie, it’s what's right. You shouldn’t know or be involved in all of this. It’s not me being difficult, we have to protect you, you know that. It’s what I’m here for,” he told me quietly.
“I will find out what’s going on one way or another. I get that you want to protect me and that’s great because I’d quite like protecting from some lunatic that thinks he can put me up for sale like some second hand walkie talkie, but I need to know what’s going on so that I can protect myself too.” I walked on upstairs and carried on painting with Crow as if my dad hadn’t just been a giant ass.
And that was how my weekend went, filled with hushed conversations with my dad, and painting and decorating with Crow.
I had been honest with Crow about the conversation I had with Victor. I didn’t want to hold back from him or keep anything from him, so I hadn’t. I wasn’t sure how we would fit into that scenario but I felt better on both ends, making Victor aware that I had something going on with Crow and Crow being aware of the potential marriage to Victor for the sake of the club and Gray.
So now comes Sunday evening, and as I look into the room that we’ve spent the last forty-eight hours decorating, I debate shouting my dad up to have a look.
I haven’t purposefully hidden it from him, but since we’ve been at logger heads all weekend, he’s not been up here to see his best friend’s new room.
“Dad! Come here!” I shout down the stairs, deciding against being childish and letting him see. Mainly because I am proud of how well it has turned out and no matter how frustrated I am with my dad, I know he is only doing what he thinks is best. I don’t agree by any means but I also know that if I was a parent, I would probably do the same.
The grey theme works, but I’ve been careful not to pick out shades that are too dark or too similar so that the room still has some light even with the less than optimistic colour decorating it.
I hear my dad before I see him, heavily stomping up the stairs, hanging on to the rail attached to the wall making him look far older than he really is. At thirty-six, he is still seriously young. A lot of people start families at his age, and yet my dad has had a full life with a family, even if the members of said family have dwindled significantly in the last fourteen years.
Crow seems to shy away from my dad as he gets closer to us, dodging him as he walks our way.
“Since Liam's coming home tomorrow, we’ve redecorated as you know. Crow’s pretty much done all the hard work and I’ve just told him what to do.” I earn a chuckle from both my dad and Crow at this, and it dissipates some of the tension between everyone.
Crow won’t say a word against my father, especially not in front of him but with him being my bodyguard and my best friend as well as a member of the Cobras and my dad as his President, I unintentionally and selfishly put him in the middle of it all.
“Why am I not surprised to hear you’ve been using your bodyguard for manual labour, my darlin' Charlie?” my dad questions as he shakes his head in mock disapproval.
“Oh, shush up, and listen to me old m-”
“Old? I’ll have you know I’m still in my prime, young lady!” my dad growls at me as I sigh and try to continue on.
“Do you want to see his new room or not, Dad?” I ask.
I open the oak door in front of me but keep the main light off since it’s only just starting to get dark. That and the fact that I left the bedside lamp on as well as the floor standing lamp.
I enter first and look around again. The bed is on the left as you enter the room, with the bedside cabinet on the left of that, and a lamp and a picture frame with an old photo I found of Liam and Dad on top of it. There’s a dresser straight ahead in front of the double window and more picture frames along the walls, next to the floating shelves I’d attached, just below the fifty-three-inch television. The grey rug matches everything else in the room, with the contrast of the white desk, grey and white bedding, and mismatched sized picture frames around the room.
Dad walks in and takes a stroll around before standing in front of the artwork that took me most of the day today.
He reaches his hand out to touch it, before I snap it away.
