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CHAPTER EIGHT
Cayla
The house is perfect now.
I mean, it’s not like I ever have a problem with the house before but now it just seems like it’s mine. After three months of remodeling work, it’s exactly how I want it. I have a guest room. I have an office, which is where I do my schoolwork. I have a room that I call my craft room even though I’m not really into crafting. It’s just where I do any projects that happen to be creative. For the most part, that’s only painting terra cotta planters that end up on the porch or in the backyard. Then, I have a completely redone master bedroom.
It turns out Mom gives the house to me completely and since I don’t need to refinance in order to buy her out, I get a home equity loan to pay for the remodeling. I don’t qualify although the banker never tells me that. The bottom line is the local bank is heavily dependent on the Ridge Devils Motorcycle Club and my suspicion is Gabriel is involved in my loan is approved. My credit is fine, although there isn’t much to it. However, my income is only about fifteen hundred dollars per month now that the insurance annuity is split between me and Mom.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a bad loan. My house is appraised at two-hundred and thirty thousand dollars. The loan is only for twenty-five thousand. That’s just over a ten percent loan to value. I may not qualify with a small bank like Diablo Ridge Savings and Loan, but that kind of loan is easily available regardless of my qualifications.
The end result of all this, though, is that my house is a little slice of paradise, and I love it.
Naturally, I’m thinking about this as I lie in my new, loan-provided king bed already missing Gabe. I can still feel his body on mine, and I can definitely still feel the aftereffects of the amazing orgasm. He’s already on his way to work, if going to the clubhouse can be called work. I’m just enjoying the memory of making love to him ten or fifteen minutes ago.
Making love.
God, that has to be the most incredible thing about the situation.
Love.
Three months after declaring our love to each other, the feelings are just as strong for me, or maybe even stronger. Gabe’s behavior suggests the same is true for him. The crazy thing is how normal things are. I mean, I know nothing at all about what the Ridge Devils do. I know they don’t make their money legally. I mean, that’s obvious. But it’s amazing how these men have skills unrelated to whatever criminal stuff they do. The master bath works a contractor performed. Everything else is from what the bikers did.
And these guys treat me with so much respect, that it isn’t even funny. Gabe says they treat every old lady that way.
Old lady.
I giggle. I’m eighteen years old and I’m an old lady.
I hear a knock at the door and stop giggling. I wonder who could be here? I know Gabe will be out until late tonight and Mom is busy settling into her new home. Maybe one of the other guys is coming by to check on his work?
I throw some sweatpants and a t-shirt on and go to answer the door.
It’s not one of the guys from the club. It’s a girl. She is a few years older than me, but not old, although her makeup looks like it belongs on a middle-aged dancer from one of those seedy strip clubs. She smiles at me but there’s no friendliness in the smile.
“Is Gabe home?” she asks. “I need to talk to him.”
She caresses her stomach and I look down to see a bulging belly. My heart falls to my feet and my blood grows cold even before she says, “Yeah, it’s his. Gabe’s going to be a Daddy.”
Her smile becomes triumphant for an instant, before disappearing entirely and becoming a mask of rage. “You better stay the fuck away from my man, bitch. Oh yeah, I know all about you and Gabe. He likes your little goody two-shoes pussy, huh? Bet it’s nice and sweet. Well, he’s mine and you need to back the fuck off or I’ll tell the others that Gabe’s cheating on his old lady and they’ll come here to kick your ass. They’ll kick his ass too. Actually, they’ll probably kill him since I’m carrying his baby.”
She caresses her stomach again and I resist an urge to slap her across the face while she’s not looking.
“You don’t gotta worry about the guys hurting you, though,” she says, looking up at me again. “‘cause if I catch you so much as looking at my man again, I’ll rearrange the pretty little face of yours and make it so that no man ever wants you again. You hear me, bitch?”
She waits for an answer and I’m not sure if it’s the tone of voice I use or the look on my face, but when I reply, “Get off my porch,” fear flashes across her face and she actually steps backward.
She catches herself a moment later and glares at me. “I warned you, slut. You just remember that.”
Then she leaves, swaying her hips mockingly as she gets into a beat-up old Cadillac sedan and peels off down the street.
I close the door and as soon as it’s locked, I sink to my knees and burst into ugly sobs that wrack my entire body.
He cheated on me.
He said he would never cheat on me, and he cheated on me with that… that whore.
I’m not worried about retaliation, either to me or to Gabe. I know that the club really frowns on mistreating old ladies, but adultery isn’t really considered mistreatment. The worst Gabe will get is a scolding and as long as I don’t hang around their club or keep pursuing Gabe, they won’t even bother talking to me.
I should have known. He’s a biker and they don’t see women the same way as other men do. They might be polite and helpful, but the idea of staying faithful to only one woman is foreign to them.
When I finish crying, I compose myself, dress in jeans and put a bra on under my shirt and go to a hardware store to buy new locks. I change them just before Gabe gets home. I sit on the couch and try to compose myself while he fumbles with his key in the lock. Finally, my phone buzzed. I let it go to voicemail the first time, but when he calls again, I shout through the closed door. “Fuck off, Gabe! Go fuck your biker whore!”
Then I run back to my room, throw myself onto the bed, and burst into tears.
