“Do you sell drugs?” Hollywood questions as soon as I hop inside. She shoots me a suspicious glance, and I don’t know whether I should laugh or cringe.
My brows skyrocket. “That’s the first thing you think of when me and this vehicle comes to mind?”
She shrugs, not sorry about the comment in the least. I appreciate her honesty and the fact she’s still willing to give it to me even though I’m in the position not to help her. I’m not the type of person to turn my back on someone just because their honesty kicks me in the gut or their opinion is different from mine.
Eventually, she comments, “You’re a biker...” she trails off.
“And you’re a hot little bartender, so does that mean you drink like a fish? Or can’t hold a day job?”
She rolls her eyes. “All right, Cowboy. Point taken.”
I motion toward the windshield. “I use this for when the weather goes to shit. Luckily, it’s not often. Not like home.”
“Where’s home for you?”
“Alabama. Massachusetts. Well, Ireland really, but I haven’t lived there since I was a boy.”
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
I offer her a smirk, not showing her all my cards upfront. A little mystery can be good for a person as long as it’s not the betrayal type. “What about you, sweetheart? Where are you from?”
“Georgia. Been there my whole life until I ended up in Texas. It was a mistake.”
“Staying in Georgia?”
“No, ending up in Texas. I wasn’t supposed to stay there, but life happens, and things change. It is what it is, and I’m doing what I can to change things.”
“It’s all you can do.” I reach over and give her knee a tender squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you ended up where you did.”
She offers me a soft smile. “It has its perks.” She winks, making me chuckle. This woman is something else. “You let Ripper know you’ll be gone for a few days?”
She grows serious, sitting up in her seat a bit straighter. “Yes. I was expecting him to be upset, but he said he understands and that family always has to come first. Kind of makes me feel guilty for always being so bitchy at the bar.”
“He’s not lying,” I agree, knowing my kid and her kid will always be my top priority in life. I’ve heard people say you don’t grow old with your kid, but I don’t agree. If you’re parenting right, then they’re definitely going to be a part of that growing-old process. I intend to have my kid and her family around as much as they’ll have me. I may not have a significant other right now, but I’ll never jeopardize my relationship with my child for another person either. Living through the chaos I have, it’s taught me that my child is mine forever while others will come and go as they see fit.
“And you’re not bitchy, you’ve got spunk. It looks good on you.”
“Do you see your daughter often?” she asks, and my face lights up, my lips spreading into a wide smile.
“As often as she allows it.” She laughs at my honesty, and I continue, “My girl is grown. She’s got her own family now, so I try not to intrude. I fly up and visit her in Foxboro or ride down to Alabama when she’s back home.”
“You sound proud.”
“Of her? Hell, yeah. She’s the best thing I did in life. Not only is she a great mom and wife, but she finished school and has her career too. She’s happy, so I’m happy.”
“I hope my little girl has that someday too. I haven’t exactly set a good example for her.”
“Because you ended up so far away?”
“Amongst other things. I’m trying to make up for it, though. I can do better for her, and she deserves it.”
“Then you’re already off to a good start. Parents think they have to be superheroes for their kids to think they’re great parents, but that’s not the case.”
“Oh no? You’ve cracked the code on parenting, huh?”
I shrug and grin at her teasing me. She was freaking out when I showed up to the bar, so I’m glad us talking like this has her a little distracted at the moment. Her worrying and freaking out the entire trip will do no one any good, especially not her kid. If Hollywood shows up a hot mess, it’ll only stress her daughter out, and she doesn’t need it.
“I mean, I have a good idea. As long as you do your best with what you have and love them unconditionally, then you’re already a hero in their eyes.”
Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and I swear I see her tear up. She hides it, though, blinking the wetness back. I pretend not to notice. Hollywood needs to keep her chin up and to her, looking strong to others is important. I respect her because I get it.
We pull into town fifteen hours later, our bodies stiff from the drive. Hollywood gets out, jogging toward the rickety weathered wooden porch of the small house she directed me to. I hear the yell of an excited little girl, so it’s safe to say she’s well-received. I close my door and head for Bash’s son, Sterling. I met him once before when he and his dad had a run through Texas. They’d stopped off at the OG clubhouse so Twist and Spin could airbrush their bikes.
“Sterling,” I tip my chin in greeting, then shake his hand. “I appreciate you and Bash having my back on this one.”
He waves it off. “No problem, seriously. We live maybe thirty minutes from here. You should pop into the club before you jet.”
“I will if we stay awhile, but I’m thinking we’re heading straight back. I don’t want this fuck stick stopping by to bother my woman or her kid. I’m too far from my club to have damage control handled. You know what I mean?”
He nods. “If you need anything, just holler. Your club has been nothing but welcoming to us. It’s good we can return the favor.”
“Did y’all have any trouble?”
“Nah, no one stopped through. I doubt they would’ve since one of us has been posted up here since you called. Me and Ruin were here most of the time, and we’re not exactly the most approachable fuckers. Bash will hit you up if he finds the fucker you’re looking for. He’ll have the guy pissing his pants, threatening him away from your woman.”
I grin. “Appreciate it. Ride easy.” I shake his hand again and head toward the front door. Should I knock? Hollywood sorta took off on me, but I can’t blame her. I’d be excited to see my kid, too, especially in her circumstances.
My hand raps against the door, and it opens with force. It wasn’t closed all the way and what I walk into is chaos. Go figure. The guy I assume to be Hollywood’s father is sitting in his underwear in an old busted-up recliner watching television. He randomly yells at everyone to ‘shut the fuck up’ while an older woman with curlers in her hair and a cigarette between her fingers lectures Hollywood.
My woman rushes around, grabbing whatever she sees that belongs to her daughter. She’s got a large black trash bag she’s stuffing everything into. Now I understand why she wants her kid out of this dump so badly. I’d lose my shit if people were screaming around my kid like her parents are.
Her daughter comes into the fold a moment later, wheeling a small luggage case behind her. She must be seven or so, and none of this mess fazes her. With a severe frown, I glance around again, taking in the fact that no one cares the little girl is witnessing this clusterfuck. I reach my palm out to the tiny miss and offer, “Let me get that for you, sweetheart.”