Sweet Dreams

  Quick as lightning, Twyla moved, jumping in front of me, her arm shooting out and she jabbed Carmen right in the nose. It took Carmen by surprise but it also wasn’t a light tap either. Her head jerked back, hair flying, she went back on a foot and her hands came up to her face. When they came down they were covered in blood as was the lower half of her face.

  “You cunt!” she shouted and, without delay, they all pounced as one on Twyla.

  And Twyla took on the lot.

  The second it started, Dalton turned to me, put both hands to my waist and lifted me straight up, planting my booty on the bar. Then he tried to wade in but it was a whirl of hands and legs, big hair and fingernails so he could find no opening and eventually had to give up, step back and let the catfight reach its natural conclusion. Steg and Wings, two regulars, came to the bar to flank me, Jim-Billy got close and we all were trying to watch, leaning this way and that so as not to miss anything as Twyla beat the crap out of three skanks at once.

  I decided, watching, they probably shouldn’t have come to a showdown in miniskirts and high heels. Twyla was definitely no pushover but I figured miniskirts and high heels put them at a further disadvantage. Not to mention, some of the unintentional crotch shots... seriously unattractive.

  This went on for awhile, long enough for a standing crowd of bikers and locals to form around the ruckus, then it was stopped by the chilling sound of a shotgun ratchet.

  The combatants all froze. Twyla had hold of Carmen’s skintight camisole in one fist and had her other arm cocked to deliver another blow; the non-descript one was on her knees, trying to get to her feet; the heavy one was rolling to her side and all of them looked up at Krys who was aiming a sawed-off shotgun at Carmen.

  “What’d I tell you, Carmen?” Krys demanded to know.

  Twyla pushed Carmen off and stepped away as they all got to their feet and rounded on Krys.

  “I’m lookin’ out for my girl,” Carmen said to Krys, wiping blood from her mouth. “You know how it is and you know nothin’ll stop me.”

  “I know you’re gonna get a taste of buckshot, you ever come into my bar again,” Krys shot back. “Told you the last time, you ain’t welcome here. I’ll tell you one more time, you ain’t welcome here. I’m warnin’ you, there won’t be a third time.”

  Carmen locked eyes with Krys and Krystal didn’t flinch. She just held her gaze and held the shotgun steady, aimed at Carmen.

  Finally, Carmen’s eyes cut to me.

  “Watch your back,” she threatened, jabbing a finger at me.

  That’s when the shotgun blasted. Buckshot imbedded in the ceiling, dust, bits and buckshot that didn’t find purchase raining down. I couldn’t stop my short scream or my knees from automatically curling up to my chest as my head snapped around to look at Krys. Everyone around the bar had ducked and mine wasn’t the only cry.

  “You get near Laurie, in this bar or out of it, you answer to me,” Krys warned.

  “Can’t carry that gun with you everywhere, Krystal,” Carmen returned.

  “You touch Krys or Laurie, you answer to me too,” Steg, standing in front of me, stated. “Any of ya’ll,” he finished, his hand lifted high, his finger pointed down and twirling to indicate the entire crew.

  “Neeta’s bullshit and your bullshit, it’s done,” another voice called and I turned to see Stoney, the owner of one of the biker paraphernalia shops on Main Street, chipping in.

  “Yeah, grow up. What ya’ll think? You’re still in high school?” another voice yelled out.

  “That bitch is tryin’ to take Neeta’s man and her boy,” the non-descript one defended, pointing at me.

  “Far’s I can see, she’s already got Neet’s man and good for Tate,” Stoney put in. “Finally Tate’s got himself a woman who don’t cause no headaches and we all know Tate comes with his boy.”

  “I wouldn’t say I don’t give Tate headaches, Stoney,” I clarified. “Seeing as I’m a biker babe in training, sometimes I mess up and make him mad.”

  I heard chuckles, Wings turned toward me and grinned before saying, “You need lessons, darlin’, Tate’s gone, I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thanks Wings, I’ll… um, consider that,” I lied on a smile, I felt eyes and I looked to see Carmen’s gaze narrowed on me.

  “I don’t find you funny,” she said softly.

  “I don’t care,” I replied.

  “You’re still here,” Krystal prompted.

  Neeta’s crew liberally handed out glares as they made their way to the door. I figured this was mostly to save face but I didn’t think too much about it. They were leaving, that was all I cared about.

  Steg helped me down from the bar and Twyla got close.

  “You good?” she asked as her eyes looked me up and down and then she answered her own question. “You’re good.” She turned and shouted, “Who needs a fuckin’ beer?”

  I looked at Krystal and smiled. She looked at me and shook her head.

  Then she moved to return the shotgun to its hidey hole (wherever that was) and I went back to work.

  * * * * *

  That night, on the phone with Tate (even though it was after three in the morning, I was still on orders to call him the minute I hit his bed), I told him the whole thing.

  His sounding-amused reply?

  “Babe.”

  * * * * *

  The second and third things that happened came as a one-two punch.

  * * * * *

  See, before Tate left, Ned, Betty, Shambles and I all went to Tate’s attorney’s office in Gnaw Bone and swore out depositions. Ned, Betty and Shambles’s were about what happened at the pool, mine also included what I witnessed when Neeta came for her nocturnal visits and what Jonas shared before French toast.

  These depositions were needed as Tate was outside the visitation arrangement, essentially having kidnapped his son (but not really) and he needed to make his case urgently to get custody awarded to him considering the state of play at Neeta’s house.

  While Tate was gone, he received word that the judge had read the depositions and found them concerning enough to award temporary custody to Tate and find a slot for Tate’s case.

  Tate was under the gun to hunt down the bad guy and get back home for the hearing. This he managed to do, with no time to spare, arriving home the night before the morning hearing.

  I was on tenterhooks.

  I was on tenterhooks because I needed to be at the courthouse, they were going to call me, Ned, Betty and Shambles as witnesses.

  I felt bad for Shambles being dragged into this (though he said, repeatedly, he didn’t mind at all).

  Sunny was home and recovering, physically, but she wasn’t yet fit to go back to La-La Land and wouldn’t be for some time. Jonas and I would visit both Sunny at their house and Shambles at La-La Land but things were not good in their world and it didn’t seem they were recovering as quickly as Sunny’s body was.

  I was also nervous about appearing in court. I was Tate’s milf girlfriend, an ex-executive, current waitress who was a divorcée and who wandered around like an idiot in her car for months before finding Carnal and, once I did, I lived in a hotel. If Neeta’s attorneys got hold of that, I didn’t think it would sound too good to the judge.

  So I needed an outfit that said I was smart, respectable, kind and motherly but not overly motherly as in, I was out to wrest Neeta’s child from her and would stop at nothing to do so. I couldn’t wear one of the suits I used to wear to work because they said smart and respectable but not kind or motherly. I didn’t have anything else that would do either and I’d tried on practically everything that wasn’t shorts, jeans or t-shirts.

  So Wendy and I took Jonas to the mall and spent three hours torturing poor Jonas (who didn’t mind the mall, for, say, the first five minutes, then, just like his father, he found it not so fun) until I found something. I bought it because Wendy swore it was perfect. She swore it was me and she advised I had to be me because the judge would see
through anything else. And I bought it even though I thought it made me look more milf than mother and I bought it because Jonas looked ready to beg the next woman he saw to adopt him immediately.

  I also bought Tate the picture of the bikers driving into Carnal. I bought this from Stoney who didn’t want to sell it. As in, he really didn’t want to sell it. This meant I had to go all the way up to one thousand five hundred dollars to buy it in the haggle-with-a-biker to end all haggles-with-a-biker, one I obviously lost. This was a little insane but it was also how badly I wanted Tate to have it. Pop went to go get it and he and Jim-Billy fixed it to the wall over Tate’s bed.

  Seeing it there, I didn’t mind that it cost an absolute fortune. I was right, it was perfect. It made the room.

  And it was Tate. The minute I walked into Stoney’s and saw it up close, I knew he had to have it, I made it mine to give, I gave it to him and it was worth every penny.

  But I worried Tate would find out how much I spent and lose his mind, even though I swore Stoney to secrecy.

  Tate didn’t get a chance to see the surprise in his bedroom to get pissed off about it.

  No, he was pissed the minute he walked into the house.

  I knew this because I was standing in the kitchen, Jonas was in the living room playing a video game on the TV and Tate walked in, his eyes locked on mine and I didn’t even get my mouth open to say hello before he growled, “Bedroom.”

  Then he prowled toward the hall, only his head turning toward Jonas to whom he said, “A minute, Bub.” Then he disappeared down the hall.

  I thought he’d heard about the picture and I followed him, taking my time, not wishing to rush to my punishment, and I threw a curious-looking but grinning Jonas a nervous smile before I hit the hall.

  I cleared the door to the bedroom and Tate, standing in the middle of the room, his back to the bed and the picture, his arms crossed on his chest, ordered, “Close it.”

  I took in a breath, turned and closed the door.

  Then I leaned against it and started, “Tate, I know you’re –”

  He cut me off on a snarled, “What the fuck, Ace?”

  “I wanted –”

  He interrupted me again. “I thought we had this straight.”

  “We did, I just wanted –”

  “Space?”

  I blinked, confused. “Sorry?”

  “Christ almighty, Lauren, I’m gone half the time.”

  I shook my head, not following. “Gone half the time?”

  “You and Amber went to look at apartments. Stella saw you and told me.”

  Oh, that.

  He couldn’t be angry about that. He hadn’t asked me to move in, not officially, and he didn’t seem bothered that I was living out of suitcases. Obviously, he wasn’t ready for me to move in and it was too soon to be living together, living together. He had plenty of help with Jonas; I would even help out when I got a place. But I needed to get settled and not in a hotel and not crashing at his place to take care of his cat and his son while living out of a suitcase. He loved me, he couldn’t want that for me. I needed to call someplace home, the time had come. And he loved me, he’d want that for me.

  “I need to settle, Captain. I’m tired of living out of a suitcase,” I said softly.

  “So fuckin’ unpack,” he returned as if it was as simple as that.

  I blinked again. “What?”

  He threw his hands out impatiently. “Unpack.”

  “Here?” I asked disbelievingly.

  I watched his face go hard. “Why the fuck not? You need space, babe, I’m on the road half the time. You want a fancy couch, fuckin’ buy it.”

  “I…” I shook my head, “um…”

  “You, um, what?” he shot at me. “What do you need to make this good enough?”

  “Good enough?” I whispered.

  He took five long strides to me, they were so fast suddenly his face was all I could see.

  “Get your damned blinds, buy a fuckin’ couch, re-carpet, I don’t care, just unpack your fuckin’ bags,” he growled.

  “Are you…” My head jerked spasmodically and I tried again. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

  “Sharp as a tack, Lauren,” he bit out, one of his barbs that stung.

  “No,” I whispered as the point of the scene dawned on me, “You’re telling me to move in with you.”

  “Unpack your… fuckin’… bags,” he clipped.

  I stared up at him.

  Then I glared up at him.

  Then I planted my hands on my hips and leaned in, getting even closer to his face.

  “You know, Captain,” I whispered in a voice that sounded more like a hiss. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for weeks, weeks, to make it official and move in and you do it like this.” I flipped a hand out and then returned it right back to my hip.

  I was too angry to notice the change in his face, I just kept right on hissing.

  “Every time I walked into that closet, I looked at those bags and I worried. Was I staying too long? Did you need your space? Did you want time with Jonas? Or did you want me to stay? Should I unpack? Should I leave it as it was? I thought that was safest, so I did. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t care I was living out of suitcases on the floor of your closet.”

  His hand came to my neck and he murmured, “Baby,” but I was too far gone to stop so I didn’t.

  “So I figured you not saying anything meant it was too soon and yes, Amber and I looked at apartments.” I threw out my arms in exasperation. “What was I supposed to do? Read your mind?”

  His fingers at my neck gave me a squeeze, his body moved closer and his other arm started to wind around my waist.

  “Laurie –”

  “And now this, you hear it from Stella and you come home after being gone over a week and you don’t even say hi to Jonas. You don’t ask me about it. You don’t even kiss me, you just start –”

  I stopped talking because I couldn’t speak with his mouth on mine and his tongue in my mouth. I tried to tamp down my reaction but he’d been gone over a week, I missed him and lastly, but most importantly, it finally sunk in he wanted me to move in.

  So it might have been weak, but I didn’t gosh darned care.

  I kissed him back.

  My arms were around his neck, my body plastered to his when his lips unlocked from mine and trailed to my ear.

  “See you came into your biker babe,” he whispered there, his hands moving on me, making me shiver. “The escalation of attitude’s impressive, Ace.”

  “You’re a jerk, Tate,” I replied but it came out kind of breathy mainly because I was breathless.

  His head came up and his eyes found mine.

  “Unpack your bags.”

  I felt my short-lived happy vibe flee at the same time I felt my eyes go squinty.

  “You’re very bossy.”

  “Unpack your bags.”

  “Those apartments are sweet. The one they have available has a view of the –”

  His hands stopped roaming at the sides of my ribcage and they squeezed.

  “Unpack. Your. Bags.”

  I glared at him.

  Then I announced, “Tatum Jackson, you’re lucky you’re a smokin’ hot, badass, biker, bounty hunter who looks good in jeans and is a good dad and I love you or you would seriously not be worth it.”

  I thought this was a well-delivered line but he clearly thought it was amusing and I knew this because his face dipped close to mine and I felt the side of his nose brush the side of mine before he moved back again and I saw he was smiling.

  Then, his brows up, he asked, “Smokin’ hot?”

  “Shut it,” I snapped.

  Tate burst out laughing at the same time his arms went super tight around me and he gave me a big hug.

  “You know,” I told him, “this latest tirade bought me new carpet and a new couch.”

  His jaw was pressed to the side of my head. He moved back, looked down at m
e and declared, “Chick territory, babe, I don’t care.”

  “You should care,” I went on. “There’s a snag in the rug in Jonas’s room and if that starts unraveling, he might trip on it and crack his head on the nightstand or something.”

  Tate’s head descended again, this time to brush my mouth with his and when he pulled back, he invited softly, “Make things safe for my boy, baby.”

  I liked his soft voice and he’d been gone awhile so I missed it being live and in person but I still felt it necessary to hold a grudge.

  “I would have done it anyway, just because it’s a hazard,” I grumbled, my eyes targeted to his ear. “Wrath of Tate be damned.”

  “Babe,” he called.

  “What?” I snapped, my eyes moving back to his.

  “Unpack,” he whispered, kissed me lightly, let me go and pulled me from the door, turning me and I knew he was going to go talk to Jonas but his eyes went beyond me to the wall over the bed and then he went completely still.

  Then he muttered, “Christ.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Um…” I mumbled and his gaze moved to me.

  “I don’t wanna know,” he said.

  “Stoney was –”

  “I don’t wanna know,” he repeated.

  “Stoney understood you needed it in your –”

  He yanked my body to his, his head came down and he gave me a hard, bruising but thorough and delicious kiss and then his head came back up.

  “I love it, babe, loved that picture all my life,” he whispered, my stomach flipped, my heart turned over and he went on. “And I know Stoney loved it too so, you gettin’ it from him… I don’t… wanna… know. Yeah?”

  I felt it prudent at that juncture to agree so I nodded.

  “Good girl,” he muttered, let me go, left the room and went to say hello to his son.

  I stood there and stared at the picture, smiling to myself. Then I stared at the closet. Then I wondered if I unpacked right then, if Tate would think I was too eager.

  So I decided not to unpack right then.

  Instead, I walked out of the bedroom, down the hall, to the kitchen and finished pouring myself a Kool-Aid which was what I had started doing when Tate arrived home. I offered Tate and Jonas drinks and brought Tate a beer and Jonas an iced Kool-Aid.