“He recovers his junk, you get his ass in your car and get the fuck off my land. I don’t see you until Gear graduates. You don’t see Gear until tonight. That is, if my boy feels like goin’ home. You don’t see Tatie until next Sunday. That is, if she feels like goin’ home.”
“The judge’ll hear about this,” she shrieked.
“Do your worst,” Buck fired back, walked in, slammed the door, locked it and then turned to face me.
Buck and I stood staring at each other, both of us frozen, but only me breathing heavily.
I felt Gear’s and Tatiana’s presence, but my eyes were glued to Buck.
Eventually, we heard the cough and roar of a tired, ill-kept engine, and then we heard gravel spew. Finally, we heard Kristy and Knuckles’ car careen down the drive.
It was, I decided, time to move on to eggs Benedict and cake baking.
“My turn to pick breakfast,” I announced into the noise void left behind when we could no longer hear the car. “Tatie told me so, and I pick eggs Benedict.”
Buck’s head jerked slightly back.
Then he asked, “Toots, are you shittin’ me?”
I shook my head and crossed my arms.
“No. Your waffles are awesome. Your French toast is ambrosia. But it’s time to branch out.”
“Babe, you just wrestled on the floor with my kids’ mother,” he reminded me.
“Yes,” I stated, my eyes slid to a gaping, still-astonished Gear, who was staring at me. “Sorry about that.” I looked behind me at Tatie, who was also gaping, clearly astonished as well and still slightly pale. “Tatie, honey, you too. Sorry.” I turned back to Buck. “But now, I’m hungry.”
Buck studied me.
Then he moved, sudden and swift.
One second, he was standing just inside the door.
The next, he was at me.
Not at me.
He had his arms around me just below my bottom, he hefted me up and swung me around, my calves flying, my torso listing drunkenly.
He stopped, slid me down his body, and one arm stayed clamped around my waist as the other hand cupped the back of my head firmly, his head bent, and he kissed me, long, hard, and very wet, right in front of his kids.
When he lifted his head, I was blinking, my stomach was melting, and my fingers were curled deep, holding on to his shoulders.
“Think you just passed the biker babe initiation, Toots. You’re a full member now,” he declared, smiling down at me huge, his eyes dancing.
I blinked again, heard Gear laugh, and Tatiana giggle.
I’d done something to please him greatly, and I didn’t know if this was the fact that I went into smackdown with zero hesitation, my adversary his very-much-a-bitch ex-wife, if I did it in defense of his daughter, or both.
However, he might declare me a biker babe, but I wasn’t certain I was one.
Not yet.
Catfight or not.
And the proof of that was that I had to decide what a biker babe would do right then.
I came up with saying, “Right, wonderful, but Buck, that doesn’t make me any less hungry.”
He shoved my cheek to his chest, his arm around my waist squeezed the breath out of me, and I heard his roar of laughter.
Both of the kids joined in.
All right.
So.
This was what family was too.
I didn’t know what to make of that.
But at least this once, the side I was on came out on top.
And I was down with that.
23
Pretty-Pretty
I was in my super-sweet Charger on my way into town when my cell went.
I dug through my purse on the passenger seat, pulled it out and looked at the display.
It said Tatie Calling.
Oh dear.
It had been almost two weeks since the incident.
We’d baked cake.
We’d gone shopping, hit Urban Outfitters and Cost Plus World Market, and Tatie had done up her room.
I was right. Buck had no problem (none whatsoever, in fact he’d said strangely, “It’s about time,” when I asked) loading me down in hundred-dollar bills to spoil his daughter the week after she was sexually assaulted.
So we’d spruced up her space, and Tatie had a couple new outfits, some new shoes, jewelry and makeup, and a lovely new handbag.
She’d come into the office with me every day, helping out or sitting on the couch doing homework assignments her teachers sent after Buck called the school.
During one of these days, we finagled a talk with her, Debbie and the biker babes that went so amazingly well, I was shocked.
Misery, however, loves company, and Tatie felt a lot less alone knowing that every woman in the room with her had had their fair share of jerks doing seriously jerky things and we all made it to the other side.
It wasn’t a fun club to belong to, but she now knew she had her club, and in times like those, clubs like that were good things to have.
Later in the week, Mrs. Jimenez got in her old clunker, drove to Ace and we went out to lunch, Mrs. Jimenez making Tatie smile, Tatie charming Mrs. Jimenez—as charming, I’d learned, was something Tatiana definitely could be.