“Tongue is coming with us.”
“Tongue is going as a friend, not a guard. I want someone there who will be focused on their surroundings, not tulle.”
“I want to go. I want to go! Can I get a princess dress?” Maizey says, already wearing a princess dress. She wears it every day. Sarah is lucky to wash it, and when she does, Maizey throws a damn fit.
“You can get anything you fuc—fudging want, Maze,” Reaper says, catching himself before he drops a curse word.
“Yay!” Maizey squeals. “I can walk with Happy down the aisle.” Showing how fearless she is, she reaches up to pat Happy on the head, and the damn gator closes its eyes.
I swear, he is smiling, showing me all those teeth.
“Okay, let’s go if we don’t want to hurry. I might get a little something from Trixie’s shop,” Sarah says off-handedly, and Reaper’s growl can be heard from across the room.
“Doll…” he warns.
“Okay, we are leaving, or we are never going to get out of here.” Sarah takes my hand and drags me away from the couch.
“Bye,” I say to Knives, blowing him a kiss.
“I’ll see you down the aisle, Hellraiser.”
This is really happening.
I give him my biggest, cheesiest grin I can before Sarah is opening the door. Tongue and Bullseye are right behind us, a low hiss coming from Happy.
“You just ate,” Tongue tsks.
Happy snaps his jaws, and his teeth clank together, which has me flinching back and almost falling down the steps. I’m not sure if I’ll ever warm up to the idea of a gator as a pet. I’m trying. I really, really am.
“One more,” Tongue reaches into his pocket, and I almost throw up when I see a large tongue. “There you go,” he says, dropping it from above his head. Happy catches it and gobbles it down until there is nothing left but a piece of flesh between his teeth.
“What was that?” I ask in horror, wondering how Tongue has tongues on such short notice.
“A bull’s tongue. It’s not all the time I can use human, so I order from the nearby butcher shop.”
“Right,” I say, almost in a daze.
Happy stops hissing though, so that’s a plus.
“I love my new car,” Sarah says as she digs into her purse for the keys.
Reaper bought her a brand new Range Rover. It’s top of the line and safe. It’s black, like all the other SUVs. The license plate on the front says ‘DOLL’ in gold block letters, and the windows are tinted black. They are bulletproof too, and I’m pretty sure the metal he had the car customize with is fireproof to a certain degree.
After what happened over Christmas, Reaper took no chances with protecting her when it came to cars.
“Listen, listen,” Sarah giggles as she clicks the button that locks.
“Doll, get your ass in the car before I spank it.”
“Why would Daddy spank you, Mommy? Are you in trouble?” Maizey says, tugging on her shirt.
Bullseye, Tongue, and I stifle a laugh. Sarah was all too excited to show us the Range Rover.
“I’m always in trouble, sweetie. Always,” Sarah says, opening the back door. She holds Maizey’s hand and helps her climb into her booster seat.
“I’m gonna have to talk to Daddy about that. That isn’t nice.”
“Oh my god, kids are the fucking best,” Bullseye chuckles from the backseat.
“You said a bad word! Give me five bucks.” Maizey holds out her hand and waits, kicking her short legs over the seat.
Bullseye looks astonished by her words, placing his hand on his chest in a dainty position. “Excuse me, what?”
“Daddy said to ask for five bucks from everyone who curses around me. I have fifty dollars. Fifty-five now, cause you cursed.”
“Orders from Prez? That’s some shit,” Bullseye reaches into his pocket, then pauses when he realized what he did. “Damn it!”
“You owe me fifteen. Keep it coming, buddy,” Maizey chirps and wiggles her pink painted fingers. Bullseye narrows his eyes at her, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill.
He slaps it in her hand as Sarah gets in the driver’s seat. “You have change?”
“Let’s call it good. We know you’ll slip,” Maizey states, and everyone in the car is laughing until they can’t breathe.
“Kid, you know your business,” Bullseye says.
“Everyone buckled up?” Sarah asks as she adjusts the review mirror.
“Yep,” I say, turning around in the passenger seat to check on Bullseye and Maizey, then look toward the back to see Tongue buckled up too.
Happy has his own car seat.
How is this my life?
Sarah drops her sunglasses on her face from the top of her head and puts the car in drive. When we get to the gate, Braveheart is there and presses the button to open it. When the accident happened over Christmas and Reaper and the men tried to get out of the compound, the Groundskeeper snipped the wires on the electricity box, and the gate wouldn’t move, so Reaper installed backup electrical boxes so that wouldn’t happen again.
We wave and get on our way, driving down Route 50. When we pass the tree Sarah and Patrick crashed into, Sarah speeds up, and Bullseye reaches up to pat her shoulder. The tree is broken, the bark is missing, and the body of the trunk is burnt.
It’s like it happened yesterday, but it’s been weeks.
“I can’t wait to see Daphne,” Tongue says out of nowhere. “She’s meeting with the painters today to paint the bookstore. She doesn’t have a name for the store yet.”
Tongue was never much of a talker before, but he could go on and on about Daphne. He’s happy, which is why I’m assuming he named his gator—wait—his swamp kitty, Happy.
“We will have to help her think of a name,” Sarah says.
“She’s there with the painters? By herself?” Bullseye asks, and Sarah and I groan because we know what that will do to Tongue.
“She’s okay. I installed cameras in every corner. I can see her.” He lifts up his phone and shows us. “She’s reading a book right now, but…I’m not liking how that guy keeps looking at her. Sarah, hurry up.”
“I’m going the speed limit.” Sarah scoffs and gives Bullseye the stink eye in her review mirror.
The rest of the ride is silent. I’m stuck looking out the window, wondering how I went from being a Preacher’s daughter to a biker’s wife.
The only thing I’d change is that I wish it’d happened sooner.
We pull up to the town next to Vegas, where Daphne works. It isn’t a long drive, only about fifteen minutes. The town is one of those that you stop at to use the restroom before coming to Vegas. It’s quaint, and there is a candy store named Paula’s. It’s painted different shades of pink, like bubblegum and hot pink. There is a cotton candy machine in the window, and my mouth waters. It’s been forever since I’ve had cotton candy.
Next to the candy shop is a hardware store; there is a cranky man standing outside, mumbling nonsense to himself as he smokes a cigarette. He has on a tan apron, and when he sees me staring, he sneers at me before heading inside.
Nice guy.
There is one road cutting through the town, and on either side are brick buildings. The place is almost historical. Like it came out of the Wild West a hundred years ago. It’s hard to find buildings that look like this anymore in Vegas. Everything is modern and sleek; there is no charm.