5 Bikers for Valentines

But as I was leaving to go and meet Lindy for dinner, my mother came traipsing through the door.

“Move it,” she said as she slammed into my shoulder.

“You know what? I have one thing to say to you,” I said.

“Perfect, because I have something I want to say to you as well,” my mother said.

“Fine. You go first,” I said.

“You think that business makes you better than me, but it doesn’t. I’m your mother, and whether you agree with the way I raised you or not, the point is I did when no one else would. Your father didn’t want you. He never would’ve, had he even bothered to remember who I was. You think this life is all about fashion and freedom and rock and roll, dude. But it’s not. It’s hard shit and crime and losing people you love more often than you get them to stay. I gave up everything to raise you, and the only thing I’ve asked you for in return were some free drinks and help with the damn bills when you got old enough. And if you think that makes me selfish, then you really did turn out to be the entitled brat your grandmother thought you’d become.”

“You done?” I asked.

My mother was panting, but she nodded and straightened her back, preparing herself for my words.

“You’ve always been jealous of me. Of my ambition. Of my strength. Of my youth. You feel like you lost your best years having me. You raised me out of requirement, not because you wanted to. If you could’ve pawned me off on someone else, you would have. So, don’t try to tug me down your guilt trip when the only thing fueling your anger is the fact that I’m making something of myself and you never did. Because I’m sick and fucking tired of it.”

I watched shock roll over my mother’s face as I picked up my purse. I threw the strap over my shoulder and walked out the door, closing it behind me without even looking back. I didn’t care how those words affected that bitch, and I didn’t care if she stood there and cried all damn day. She hadn’t done her best, despite what she said. She’d drank and partied and fucked her way through most of my life and made me miserable in the process. My childhood had sucked big time, and the only thing that had kept me from winding up as bitter and fucked up as she was, was my dream that I’d do better for myself one day.

She lost the right to guilt me into her world when she decided getting drunk was more important than my fucking high school graduation.

I climbed into my car and looked up into the window. I saw my mother looking through the curtains with a dumbfounded look on her face. Served her fucking right, saying all that shit to me. Trying to convince me no one gave a damn about me. If all else failed, I had Lindy. I had the best friend in the entire fucking world on my side, and I was ready to sit down and have dinner with her. It was time to finalize the inventory for our store before we started renovations on the building.

I was ready to begin a life that had absolutely nothing to do with the bullshit that came with my mother.

I cranked up my car and backed out of the driveway, making my way into town. I thought about all the research I would have to do on contractors, which meant I also needed to finalize an inside layout with Lindy. We would be having a lot of dinner dates over the next couple of weeks to get everything in order, but if all went according to the plan in my head, we would be watching our dreams come to fruition by the end of the month.

It was official. There was nothing in the world that could stop me now.

CHAPTER 21

“Are you okay?” Lindy asked. We were at the bar getting ready to open that night.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Because last night was a shit show with your mother,” she said.

“This afternoon was a shit show as well.”

“Fuck. What did she do now?”

“I think I know why she’s pulling all her bullshit, so I called her out on it.”

“What’s your theory?” she asked.

“I think my mother’s jealous of me. It started with the Grove brothers, but I think she’s jealous that I’m doing something with my life when she never did.”

“She had you. That’s not something to sniff your nose at.”

“You met my mother?” I asked.

“I want to make s

ure you’re okay is all.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Could I ask you something?”