A Very Cerberus Christmas (Cerberus MC)

We spend twenty minutes applying tattoos to his stomach because I’ll be damned if I will allow him to put them anywhere staff at the school would see them. The last thing we need is more conversation about how trashy we are despite other kids doing the very same things.

Since today was payday and I was able to get some grocery shopping done amongst the craziness of Black Friday, we settle on the sofa for a quick snack before his bedtime.

“You’re not going to eat those?” I ask, noticing two of the four cookies still left on the coffee table.

“I’m saving them,” Harley says, never pulling his eyes from the movie.

“For when?”

“Tomorrow.”

“We have more cookies for tomorrow.”

He shrugs, and I know what he’s doing. We don’t always have cookies or juice. Some days, we have meatless dinners. Many families do that. Some families do it to save money or to cut back on calories, and it’s healthy and they’re commended for it. The only difference is, when you do it because there aren’t cookies, juice, or meat in the house and there won’t be until payday, then it’s pitiful, it’s deprivation, it’s abuse, it’s bad parenting.

He wants to ration the things we don’t always have so he can fill in the void on those days.

I open my mouth to tell him to eat the cookies, that I’ll find a way to make sure we have more, but that may be a promise I won’t be able to keep. I pride myself on not lying to him, or at least keeping my lies to a minimum.

“We have our park day tomorrow,” I tell him instead. “Better eat them now so you have the energy to run and play.”

I may actually have the ability to keep snacks in the house between paychecks this time since Micah paid for dinner today. The happiness that will bring Harley makes me dislike him a little less, and then I feel guilty for disliking a stranger for no reason.

He wasn’t suggestive at all today or at the gas station when we first met. He was honestly a breath of fresh air after the disgusting things those other guys said, and I was grateful for the distraction he provided to Harley because I knew a hundred questions would come from my kid after he heard some new words today. He asked Micah those questions instead, but knowing my child, he’ll get around to asking those things to me, eventually.

I smile when his tiny hand reaches out to take another cookie from the table.

“Can we watch another movie after this?”

“Aren’t you tired?”

He yawns. “Nope, and I don’t have school tomorrow.”

“You can stay up until I have to go to work,” I tell him. “Mind if I take a nap?”

He shakes his head. I set an alarm on my phone, but find it difficult to fall asleep. When I close my eyes, I see dark beards, piercing blue eyes, and quick, genuine smiles. I hear the rumble of motorcycles and husky laughter. I feel warm, work-worn hands on my skin, soft lips on my neck, promises whispered in my ear.

I wake with my alarm going off, the television dark, and Harley curled up in front of me on the sofa, asleep.

I shift out from behind him and get ready for work, waiting until the very last minute to wake him. I have to help him into his jacket and shoes before walking him next door to Mrs. Greene’s house. The sweet old lady next door knows better than most what it’s like to be a single mother. She raised six kids after her husband took off when her youngest was three. She watches Harley at night, refusing to take money from me because and I quote, “he just sleeps.”

In turn, I take care of her yard, pick up her prescriptions, and do her grocery shopping. I’d do more if she’d let me, but she’s as stubborn as I am if not more.

I unlock her front door with the key she gave me, kiss Harley on the forehead as he settles down on her sofa, and make sure to lock the door on my way out.

Working for an overnight cleaning service isn’t going to make me rich, but it’s honest work. There are a lot of people that can’t find a job, so I make sure to be on time every day and work hard. At least being unemployed right now isn’t something I’ll have to worry about.

Chapter 4

Snake

Showing up at a woman’s house when you don’t know her last name probably isn’t smart. Showing up at nine in the morning on a Saturday? Even less smart. Not realizing the woman could be married or have a live-in boyfriend until you arrive? Pure ignorance.

It doesn’t stop me from getting out of the truck because let’s face it, if she does have a man, he’s not a very good one. That screen door nearly flew away last night, and that was over twelve hours ago. She did a good job of propping it up I noticed when I drove by again last night, but now it’s just sort of hanging there. If she had a man, it should be fixed. The damn hardware store opened an hour and a half ago. That’s plenty of time to go and get a new damn door and get it fixed. Hopefully, I’m getting pissed about a man that doesn’t exist, because I want to be the man to fix her shit when it breaks.