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“Can’t wait,” Gianna beamed. “What’s this rumor about a chocolate fountain?”
“Rumors are true. Let’s go!” Ma linked arms with her.
***
A while later, I was coming out of the garage with Arch, who showed me the old Goldwing he bought to fix up for himself and Ma to go touring.
He also showed me the little bare bones zero-frills pop-up camper he got to hitch to it, just big enough for the two of them to sleep in. And I found this fuckin’ funny because Fernanda Garcia was not one to camp. He said he'd buy a top-rated mattress for it and let her loose with her bejeweling gun so she could call it glamping.
Coming out, I saw Gianna and another girl also wearing leather pants, this one with dark hair, not as long as Gianna’s, sitting on the back step together. The girl passed G her phone.
I straightened and watched for signs she was about to make a call. Or signs she’d check to see if I was watching. But she just looked at the screen and smiled, then passed the phone back.
My mother then breezed past them and came right to me, zeroing in with a serious glare.
I knew that glare, so I braced.
“What’s the story there?” she demanded, urgently.
“Why? Something wrong?”
Ma shook her head. “I fucking love her, that’s what’s wrong. You’re not with her? Why aren’t you with her? Look at her!” She slapped my ass. “She’s like a real-life Pussycat Doll. If I got her on our stage and she could dance, we could retire in five years instead of workin’ ‘til we drop.”
I snickered, taking a mouthful of beer.
“Spill the tea, baby boy,” Ma urged.
I swallowed, shrugging. “She’s a biker bunny that hangs around the mother charter. Provided some intel about the enemy so she’s got protection.”
“A snitch?”
“No. Lifesaving information. Wyld Jackals had plans to off three women.”
“Oh. Those ass wipes. Doesn’t count as snitching if it’s against them, I say.”
“Agreed. That’s on the deep downlow. Her life’d be in danger if it gets out.”
“She’s under your protection?” Archer asked from behind me.
“I’m assigned as her handler. Prez thinks she’s all above board but I’m watching closely in case she ain’t.”
“You’re not doin’ her?” Ma asked.
My eyes rolled as I took another gulp of my beer. Fernanda Garcia never had any qualms about asking personal questions.
“Why not? You got somebody? Things heating up with Chantelle? Word is Chantelle’s real sweet on you.”
“Nothin’ serious with anyone.”
“Then I repeat, why not? She’s sweet. And hot,” she added. “How long you been watching her?”
“A couple days.”
“How much longer you gonna be doin’ it?”
“Not sure. At least a week.”
Ma smiled like she had a secret.
“What?”
“Then it’s just a matter of time and good to know there’s plenty of time.”
“Just cuz I’m lookin’ after her doesn’t mean I’ve also gotta be fuckin’ her.”
“Maybe you should,” Ma tried.
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“I’m ready for grandbabies, JJ. I don’t look like I am, but I am very ready.”
“Too bad you put all your grandkid eggs in this basket then, isn’t it?” I fired back.
She pouted.
“Maybe my girls’ll give us some,” Archer put in, throwing his arm around her.
Archer has three daughters ranging from seven to eleven.
“That’ll be nice. But it means I gotta wait, since they’re too young yet.” She pouted harder, bottom lip out so far, it’d be comical if it wasn’t something she did so often I no longer found it funny.
“Patience, babe.” He kissed her cheekbone.
“Maybe I’ll just have to have another baby,” she pondered.
Archer smiled wide.
I scoffed. “At your age?”
“Oy! Go fuck yourself,” Ma snapped, slapping my arm. “I’m only in my late thirties.”
“Plus about ten,” I grumbled.
“Shush, you. Or no dessert.”
Laughter caught my attention. I looked over my shoulder and saw Gianna was now with three girls, and they were all laughing on the porch.
And fuck me, but she looked pretty doing it. No stress or pain on her face. Eyes alight. Fuck. Gorgeous.
“Not doin’ her, eh?” Ma tried. “Not yet, I say. I know that look in your eyes. That’s the look you got when you wanted that trick bike and decided to hustle to get enough cash to buy it.”
“You’re high,” I muttered.
“Mark these words, JJ. I predict it’ll happen. And I say she’ll be more than a roll in the hay.” She poked me in the arm. “You know I’ve got a little gypsy blood in me, and I’ve got the gift. I predict that’s who’s gonna give me grandbabies.”
“If she’s a sweet butt,” Archer put in. “most brothers don’t make them their old ladies.”
My mother’s back straightened. “Oh, kinda like dancers?” Ma’s hands settled on her hips as she leaned toward him aggressively.
Archer winced, throwing me a look of alarm. “Fuck. Really put my foot in my mouth didn’t I?”
Ma kept going. “What’s wrong with girls who play the field? That’s no different than a guy doin’ the same.” She poked him in the chest. “Play the field until you find the right one. Why can men do it, but we can’t?”
