“Thank you. I’m so sorry you girls are stuck here with me,” I apologize for what has to be the fifth time.
“You hush. We’re both here because we want to be, and also because my son needs his head examined,” Jenny replies, blowing on the tea before taking a sip.
“Can I get an amen? Also, I think you need to look at this,” Izzy says, handing me a folder.
“Still, I’m thankful. I probably wouldn’t have even done this. It’s not like my attention span has been all that great.” The folder is on my lap. I gingerly open it, scared that something is going to come out and bite me, acting like it’s the boogeyman will appear.
“Holy shit, my mom was a hottie. The pictures portray her in a different light than I’ve ever seen her before—she’s young, way young, carefree, her head is tipped back, and she has long hair, as in down-to-her-ass long. What shocks me the most is that she’s on the back of a motorcycle, holding on to a man’s shoulders. That man has long hair and a grin on his face as he looks behind at my mom.
“Who’s the guy?” Izzy asks. I spin the picture around, showing it to Jenny.
“Oh dear, you’re really making my head work today, and this stupid chemo always has me in a fog.” Jenny takes a breath and continues, “If I’d have to hazard a guess, I’d say he’s one of the original Diamondbacks. Back in the day, it was nothing but free love, having fun, and living wild. It was a different time in the seventies and eighties. You worked, but you lived. Goodness, did you live.” I keep looking through the papers, putting the pictures in one stack, the non-important stuff like receipts for purchases throughout the years in another, and the last pile holds things like my parents’ birth certificates, and mine. It was weird when I saw my paperwork; it has my mother’s name on it, but the space for my father is blank, which I guess maybe Brian wasn’t lying about one thing, probably the only thing he didn’t lie about in his miserable life. Which I probably should have been more aware of at my age, but apparently, I never took the time to study it during all these years. What an idiot I am.
The girls and I continue going through things, passing papers this way and that. We get lost in what we’re doing until Izzy’s phone rings. “Hello? Yeah, Corey, she’s right here.” She covers the speaker. “It’s for you. He tried calling you first, but you didn’t answer.”
“Crap, I never turned the ringer back on. Thanks,” I respond, taking the phone from her.
“Hey.” I take a deep breath, knowing something has to change. Either I have to forgive Corey, or I need to really consider ending us permanently.
“Gorgeous, Izzy’s going to bring you back. I need you here.” It’s the way he says he needs me that has me standing up and grabbing the important papers. I put our coffee mugs in the sink on my way to the office.
“We’re leaving now. We should be there in twenty minutes.” Izzy understood what I was doing because she and Jenny are standing with their purses at the ready.
“Thanks, baby. See you soon.” There’s a sound of utter sadness in his tone, and that makes me think the time with Crank’s attorney wasn’t an easy pill to swallow.
“Anytime.” I hand Izzy her phone. None of us is saying a word as we lock up the house and head to the clubhouse.
18
BULLET
“Fuckin’ Christ, can Valentina not catch a break?” I’m pacing the bar area after one hellacious meeting. Crank’s lawyer told us what needed to be said to the brothers. A portion of his life savings goes to the club. The other half, well, that’s when he told me he needed Valentina back at the club, stat.
“She’ll be alright.” Shovel claps me on the shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Valentina enters the room in a hurry.
“Not sure. Follow me for a minute. The attorney can wait.” Shovel smiles and nods at Valentina. The past couple of days, smiles have occurred more frequently, as well as talking, and even though it hasn’t been the same, the tension is slowly lifting.
“You’re worrying me, Corey,” she admits the second we clear the door to our room. Before shit hit the fan, we went back and forth between the club and my house. I don’t know about her, but after tonight, I’m ready to get away for a while, have some kind of routine and maybe a few nights of peace.
Valentina sits on the side of the bed. My back meets the dresser, legs crossed at the feet, and I go for broke, “Yeah, I think I’ve done more than worry you lately, gorgeous. I’ve been a dumbass for far too long, and I owe you an apology. I’d like to say there hasn’t been a good enough time to tell you I’m sorry, but that would be a bullshit excuse. It takes a lot for a man like me to admit he was scared. It’s the truth, though. The only other times in my life I’ve been scared was when Mom was diagnosed with cancer, twice, bein’ stabbed two inches below my heart. The last time was losin’ you. I would have walked through fire to make sure Brian wouldn’t hurt you, know that. What I’m apologizing to you for is how our relationship started, and you may not believe me, that’s fine too, but Dice can tell you that the second you came up on our feed, it was me who claimed you, and it was Crank who told me to get off my ass and not fuck it up.” Her eyes don’t move away from mine, even when she’s blinking the tears away.