“More money for once would be a nice start.”
“What does that mean?” I stare at my wife of only two years, the woman I love more than anything in the world, and at the moment I don’t even recognize her. Lately, we argue about every little thing, and now she’s giving me hell about the MC and talking about needing more money?
“We could move back home to Charlotte. Maybe…maybe my parents would see how much I care about you, and Daddy could help you get a good job with his firm.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” The words come out louder and more brutal than I intended.
“I swear it’s like you enjoy being poor!” she exclaims. “Look around at our tiny ass apartment! We can barely pay for the things we need, like groceries and the rent each month. Who chooses to live like this?”
Money has always been a sore spot for me and my ego. I know the kind of rich family Ellie came from and what she gave up when she agreed to marry me. I gave her more than a year to come to her senses and walk away before I asked her to marry me because I hated that I couldn’t give her everything she needs and everything she deserves.
“Have you ever considered getting a job to help me out instead of putting all this shit on me?” I ask her.
“You want me to drop out of school and get a job?” she whispers quietly, her face paling as if I just asked her to become a prostitute.
“Yeah, you could get a job,” I agree through gritted teeth, hating the idea of not being able to make ends meet on my own but desperate for a temporary break from the burden on my shoulders. “For once, it would be nice if I wasn’t the only one having to constantly bust my ass to try and put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads!”
Ellie’s jaw drops. When she recovers, she asks, “Why didn’t you say something before now?”
“Because I know how much you want to finish your degree. I get it, Ellie. But for people like me, there are more important things than that fucking sheet of paper that takes four years and a shit ton of money to get.”
Now her face is turning red in anger, before she fires back. “We’ve always had different priorities, I know that. I just didn’t think you would be happy being broke forever. Is this how you would prefer to live rather than sucking up your pride and talking to my father so we could do better? Don’t you want us to be able to afford to have a family someday?”
Bracing my hands on my hips, I tell her the truth. I’ve never lied to her before, and I never will. “No, I don’t really see myself leaving this town or ever being a father.”
Judging by the shocked look on her beautiful face, I think a slap upside the head would’ve been less hurtful than the honest words I just spewed. Without responding, she hurries over to our bedroom and slams the door. I hear her push the lock for good measure to keep me out.
“Fuck!” I scream to the ceiling as I tug on two handfuls of my hair.
This is not how I wanted the night to go. I thought she would be happy for me, for the three of us who survived the annihilation of the Ace of Spades MC to start a new club for the best friends and brothers we lost. How did that shit turn into a conversation about being poor and it not being good enough for her anymore? That I’m not good enough for her?
I’m so pissed off and angry at myself for disappointing her that I can’t even sit still. That’s why I walk out the door and ride back to the bar for a drink or ten to give Ellie time to cool down.
My eyes snap open when I reach the part of the recurring nightmare where I always wake up, alone in bed or on the sofa in a cold sweat.
For the past three years, I’ve replayed that argument with Ellie over and over again in my mind, wondering what the fuck I could’ve done differently. I had no idea that by the time I decided to drag my sorry ass home that night that Ellie would be long gone. She just packed up all of her things in her car and left me.
It was a brutal argument, no doubt about it. But we had been married for two years. I thought we were strong enough to get through anything, especially another argument over money or our lack thereof. Guess I was wrong.
I had no idea she hated the idea of me forming another MC so much or that telling her I didn’t think I would ever leave town or be a father would be the final straw.
Boy, was I fucking wrong.
A clattering of pots or pans comes from my kitchen, telling me I’m not alone in my apartment. That’s probably what woke me up from my mid-day nap that followed my early-morning nap. Sleeping and drinking are pretty much the only things I’ve done these past two weeks or so.
Knowing better than to try and head into the kitchen before I’m clean and smelling decent, I go straight for the shower, washing quickly and then throwing on a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt that are now clean thanks to Lucy. Maybe I’m not all that pissed about Malcolm somehow strong-arming her into being my housekeeper slash cook.
When I walk into the living room, I have to do a double take at the back of the girl standing in my kitchen. Her hair is definitely blonder, so much so that she sort of looks like a mini-Ellie. I’ve always had a thing for blondes…
Shaking those thoughts from my head, I ask her, “What time is it?” since I don’t have a clue and there are no clocks on the wall. My microwave has been blinking twelve o’clock for years.
“It’s almost five,” Lucy replies without looking at me, focused on the task in front of her, running a pizza cutter through the crust of a smoking pie that is only slightly black around the edges. “Did you have a late night?”
“Nope. Just nothing better to do.”
When she turns around with sauce and cheese dripping from the cutter, I notice she’s wearing a white, see-through dress that clearly shows a black bikini underneath. “I’m going swimming after dinner if you want to come.”
Our apartment complex has an outdoor pool, but I don’t think I’ve been in it more than three or four times in all the years I’ve lived here. In the summer, it’s always packed with residents and their friends.
“No thanks,” I tell her. Going over to the cabinet, I grab two plates while studying her. “Did you do something to your hair?”
“Oh, yeah! Jetta just colored it for me and added in some highlights.”
“Jetta?” I repeat. “You know Jetta?”
“I didn’t until earlier today.” Washing her hands in the sink and drying them on a towel, she turns to me and says, “We met on the stairs when she brought you that big plate of brownies.” Lucy nods over to the bar counter where there’s a huge plate covered by aluminum foil.
“Was she planning on everyone in the building having a brownie?”
“Nope, just for you! Although she did say I could help myself to them,” Lucy replies. “That was really nice of her. She mentioned something about owing you…”
When she leaves the sentence hanging in the air, I know she’s waiting for me to provide details as we take our plates to the small table and sit down across from each other. Never gonna happen.
“If she says so,” I respond with a shrug, refusing to go into details. The last thing I’ll ever do is spill my guts about the Dirty Aces’ business to some random girl I barely know. But somehow, she seems to know a lot about me. “How did you know to talk to Malcolm about me the other day?” I ask.