8. Chapter 8

8

Chapter 8

Marx

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. With Debs out of the clubhouse my men are taking this opportunity to practice their performance.

“No, no, no, no!” Rider yells pointing at a different brother each time. “There is more hip movement than what you’re doing. And we need to be on the balls of our feet. We. Need. To. Get. This. Right.” He punctuates each word with a clap.

My men all stare at him and I know that if this wasn’t for Mama Debs they would be laying into him and his dictator ways. Pops really knew what he was doing when he put Rider in charge. The sly bastard.

Rider circles his finger in the air and nods at Cove to press play on his phone, the music piped in through the speakers. I watch them bumble through the routine again and I can feel my stress levels rising. I told myself I wouldn’t get involved. Rider is in charge and that takes a load off my shoulders. I already have the club’s paperwork to finish signing off on before I can have a short Christmas break.

“Wow, are they getting worse?” Switch asks, using what Cove calls his “outside voice”.

“Some are. Some have gotten better. Fox can actually turn the right way now.”

We both stare at the men spinning in the common room. Tank accidentally bumps into Judge who then shoves him into Dex’s path. Dex sends a death glare Tank’s way.

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to learn those moves.” Switch shrugs.

I turn to look at him. I had wondered why I didn’t see him out here as much as the others. “Why not?”

“Didn’t you hear, Marx? I’m going to be the star!” He throws his head back and laughs, heading back the way he came.

“This isn’t working! I can’t be next to Tank, he has two left feet and he’s cramping my style,” Dex says, the glare still on his face.

The Ex Death Riders have mixed seamlessly with the DRMC brothers, however, the more I get to know Dex, the more I realize what a perfectionist he is. Similar to Sniper, but more social. Speaking of Sniper, he’s managed to nail all his moves, and now he’s at the back of the group leaning on the bar, waiting for the next piece of choreography. If the guys in front of me can ever nail this first piece.

“Hey, Uncle Marx.” I can tell by sheer volume that it’s Cove speaking.

Looking down at her I notice Jovie and Elio on either side. “Hey kids, what cha up to?”

“We were looking for a big person to help us decorate the huuuuuge tree. I’ve never seen one so big in my whole entire life!” Jovie exclaims, her eyes huge as she takes in the naked pine in the corner of the common room. The top is folded over some because Rider got excited and bought the tree we “deserved”, not the tree that could fit.

“Where are the Bigs?” I ask them, usually if Mama Debs, Blanche or Remy aren’t around, the big kids look after the littles.

“They’re doing boring teenager things,” Cove says, nodding at Jovie who shrugs and nods up at me. Elio standing quietly, tracing a pattern on the wall with his finger.

“Well, we can’t have a naked tree, can we? Come on, let’s go see what decorations the Ol Ladies have left us, huh?”

The girls squeal and fist pump while Elio stares up at me and nods. His gaze moves to my hand, and then back up at me, so I hold my hand out in invitation. I’ve noticed that the boy is not only quiet, but not a huge fan of touching, so when he puts his warm, slightly damp hand in mine it makes me feel about ten feet tall and invincible. Paperwork can wait for another day.

We wander over to where the girls have started taking brand new tree decorations out of the shopping bags. I remember doing this as a kid with my brother, and dad would have a fit because we’d tear the bag open like feral animals, glitter and crystal raining down on us. But these are two little biker princesses, so they carefully remove everything, cooing over each decoration. They seem to especially love the little motorcycle ornaments, and have decided that Jovie’s will be the purple bike, Cove’s will be the pink bike and Elio’s will be the blue one. He nods so I figure he must be happy with this arrangement.

“OK, Uncle Marx, we’ll do the low branches cos we’re little. You do up the top cos you’re big,” Cove bosses. “But don’t put them all together, you gotta space them out. Understand?”

I hide my twitching lips from her and nod my head seriously. “Got it.”

Elio gives me a funny look that makes me think that he doesnt think I’ve got it, but I don’t let the kid unnerve me. I’ve been decorating trees since I was their age. I may not have done it in recent times, but I’m sure it’ll all come back to me.

“What the hell are you doing? Everyone knows the heavy ornaments go on the bottom.” My brother takes the big, sparkly bauble down from where I put it, and moves it to lower down the tree.

“Get away fucker! I got this.” I grumble at him. I don’t want the kids hearing my bad language. Not because I think it’ll offend them, more because they’ll demand money for the swear jar the girls made. It sits proudly in the middle of the hatch between the kitchen and the common room, in the perfect place for brothers to be putting money in every time we get pulled up.

“You’re doing it wrong!” Rhodie fires back.

“I am not! I’ve always decorated like this, even before you were born so piss off and annoy someone else,” I hiss at him. He narrows his eyes and slowly reaches up to pull another of my well placed baubles from the tree. “You better not touch that,” I grit out.

“Or what?” Rhodie challenges, his brow raising.

“I’ll tell Chewy that the first time you got drunk you cried because you thought you were dying and then you shit your pants and refused to take them off because you didn’t want people seeing your weird balls.”

Rhodie’s eyes flare for a moment before narrowing at me. A smirk slowly spreads. “Too late, she already knows.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t,” Savage cackles, some of the other brothers joining in.

Rhodie squares his jaw, his eyes dart to the tree, then back to me. “Don’t do it brother,” I warn him, but I can see the look that he used to give me when we were kids, the look that says he’s most definitely going to do what I warned him against. He raises his hand up, fingers brushing one of my baubles. Quick as lighting he snatches it off the tree. Oh it’s on!

We shuffle around the tree, shoving and pushing, him trying to remove my baubles, me trying to keep them up there. The brothers are yelling their encouragement, the kids are jumping up and down yelling and my brother and I giggling and snorting like little kids.

“Oh no, watch out!” Jovie shrieks and the tree lurches sideways, then teeters before taking me and Rhodie to the floor.

“What the hell is going on in here!” I know that voice. That’s Debs’ Mom voice.

“Nothing!” Me and Rhodie both yell out, then look at each other and burst into laughter.

“You lot, get that tree off those boys and help them pick up this mess. Kids, follow me for some hot chocolate and once the tree is back to standing we’ll decorate it, ne? ” The kids nod, and start to follow behind, not before Jovie stops to stand at mine and Rhodie’s heads. She looks down at us, her hands on her little hips and she shakes her head slowly back and forth.

Rhodie side eyes me, his lips twitching, “Sorry for being silly, Jovie.”

“It’s OK Uncle Rhodie, shit happens.” She skips off into the kitchen with Wire huffing after her.

Rhodie slides out from under the tree, stands then offers me his hand. “Come on brother, we better put this shit back before we get told off again.” He snorts and we join the rest of the DRMC in picking up all the mess before our clubhouse Mom comes in here and kicks our asses.

Debs

I shake my head at those boys and try to keep the smile off my face. It was actually nice to see Marx let loose and have fun. He’s been so tightly wound for such a long time, trying to keep the club safe that I was starting to worry about him. Well, him and Gus, because love him as I do, that man is a walking aneurysm waiting to happen.

“Here you go my pepi ,” I place the hot chocolates, with extra marshmallows on the bench and the three little kids all climb up on the stools to sit.

“Anymore where that came from?” Smiling at Sage and Niko I wave them over.

“You know I wouldn’t forget my Bigs. Or you, Lovely,” I nod over at Lovely who’s just inside the doorway, Bee strapped to her front, much like how Chewy carries Chomper.

I pour four more mugs of hot chocolate from the huge pot on the stove, and join the kids and Lovely.

“What is your most favorite Christmas, Mama?” Jovie asks, her tongue swiping over her top lip, completely missing the chocolate mustache.

I think back through all my Christmases. The ones where it was just me and Mick, celebrating on our own and wishing for a child. When Ana turned up on our doorstep, all surly and stubborn, convinced that families don’t last for kids like her, well Mick was beside himself with excitement. He decorated the house like his life depended on it. We tried not to give her too many things, not wanting to overwhelm her, but it was hard not to when every time she opened a present her face would light up before asking us if she could keep it forever. She was a suspicious little thing, but with every Christmas after that she realized that we were her family, and she got to keep us forever. Once she was old enough she and Mick would send me out shopping for the day and put up the decorations together so they could surprise me when I got back. They were two peas in a pod. My Ana was a total daddy’s girl. When he died it broke Ana in ways that my mother’s love could never fix. Well, not until she met Gus and in turn Sid. Sidney treated her in the same way her dad did, so I know exactly why she named her little boy after him, her dad and Gus’s dad.

“Hmm, I think it was the first year my Ana came to live with us. You know that Ana wasn’t mine from when she was a baby, right?” The kids nod at me.

“Yup. Only Niko and Bee come from their mommy’s tummies” Cove says matter of factly.

“That’s right! Ana is just like you all, she found me when she was younger. Our first Christmas was my most favorite Christmas. She didn’t think that Santa was real because he could never find her house before. But that year, he found her alright.”

“A Christmas miracle,” Lovely whispers.

“Exactly! A Christmas miracle.” I nod.

“Santa couldn’t find my house either, do you think he’ll find me this year?” Jovie asks, her face full of hope.

Lovely nods emphatically, “He definitely will, Jovie. Everyone knows the DRMC. If he gets lost he will ask someone for directions and they’ll help him find the clubhouse,” she says, smiling down at Jovie. “Wait, Mama Debs, you said Ana’s first Christmas was your favorite. Is there an even better one?”

“Yup. It may not have happened yet, but with my new family and the new babies, I think this Christmas might be my absolute favorite.”

The kids cheer, chatting amongst themselves that they think this Christmas will be “epic” and all sorts of other hip words. Lovely beams at me, softly jiggling Bee in her front pack. Watching her juggle the little girl with ease I wonder what she’ll do as Bee ages.

“Lovely? How long can Bee last in her carrier like that?”

Lovely glances down at Bee’s dark, downy head, a little crease between her brows as she thinks. “I think it goes up to around 6 months old, maybe 9 months depending on the baby’s size. By then I’ll probably have to push her in a stroller a little more. Why is that?”

“How big do you think Chomper is?”

A smile spreads across Lovely’s face.

“What are you two grinning at?” Tav asks as he wanders in and drops kisses to the tops of Elio, Cove and Jovie’s heads, fist bumping the big kids.

“Are you on prospect duty?”

“Yup. Do you need something?”

“Yes, a ride to Walmart,” I grin as Tav groans and his body goes all floppy. “Chop chop, Mama’s on a mission!” I cackle as I grab my bag and head out.