Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos 5)

I stiffen as awkwardness sets in. I wrap my arms around her back and count the seconds until I can pull back. I move on to Whitney who offers her hand. We shake instead of hug.

“I’m cooking Fried Chicken, Mashed Potatoes and Gravy, Mac and Cheese and buttermilk biscuits.”

“Pulling out all the stops, huh? You make me feel like a V.I.P,” I say.

“Why don’t you have a seat while I finish up? Do you want a beer?”

“A beer would be nice, B. Thanks,” I say as I move to the couch and sink down. Jess sits beside me, and Whitney takes a seat diagonal from me.

“So, Jagger, how’ve you been?” Jess asks.

“Good, working. B tells me your vacation is almost over. Did you do everything you wanted to while you were here?”

“I have. More than anything it was nice to spend so much time with my two favorite girls.”

“So, Jagger. What do you do?” Whitney asks.

“At the moment I work for a Medical Marijuana Dispensary. My family opened a few new businesses recently, and I’ve been helping manage them.”

Her eyes are wide. “Wow.”

“It’s a very lucrative business when done through legal routes.”

“And the other jobs?” she whispers.

“Nothing as exciting. We have a pawn shop that specializes in gems that’s doing really well along with a Bar and a Grill. We’re looking to open a few more this year if we can find the right spaces for the right price.”

“That’s… not what I was expecting,” she whispers.

“Cause bikers just aimlessly roam the country right?” I say with a wink.

She peers down.

“Don’t worry, I’ve grown used to the stereotypes. It’s important not to judge people until we can know more about them.”

“Dropping wisdom. I like it. The sage biker,” Jess says lightening the mood.

We continue with small talk, and I humor her daughter as she slyly gives me a mini inquisition. It’s cute, how protective she is of her mother. I can appreciate that.

“Alright, you three, dinner’s ready,” B calls.

We move to the kitchen, and I squeeze her shoulder. “Calm down, Mama. We all played nicely together,” I whisper into her ear. She leans against me slightly, and I kiss her forehead before I move to the table. It doesn’t surprise me when the chicken melts in my mouth, and the spices make my taste buds cheer. She’s a damned good cook. The potatoes are creamy, the biscuits are light, and the sweet tea is addicting. I wonder if her daughter knows how lucky she is to have a mom who can do this. I imagine what life must’ve been like for the young woman chatting happily with Jess and B.

A wealthy father, a mother who dotes on her, and a house I know was large and expensive. She probably had the best schools. The little boy in me is envious. The man admires B even more. She created a safe place for Whitney to blossom and grow. People take that for granted. I never have. At the end of the meal, I pitch in to help clean up.

“You don’t have to do that,” B says.

“Hey, you make a meal like that, the least I can do is help you clean up afterward.” The shock on her face makes me pause. “No one’s ever helped you before?”

“Sure Whitney, but never a man. It was always looked on as woman’s work.”

I want to put my fist through a wall. “Look, he was an asshole.” She tenses. I cup her chin. “I’m not him.”

“I know you aren’t,” she whispers.

I brush my lips against hers. “Don’t forget it.”

“Well, thanks for the dinner, sis. The kid and I are going to catch a movie and some dessert.”