Chapter 2

CHAPTER

TWO

Rebel

My phone alarm blaring has me blindly swinging my hand out to shut it off. “Fuck,” I mutter when I hear the offending object clatter to the floor. “Shoulda probably opened my eyes.”

Because now I have to. Sighing, I do just that and lean over to search for my phone, finding it just underneath the bed. I reach out and snag it, shutting off the alarm as well, while my heart pounds incessantly in my chest. I was sleeping so deeply that my alarm scared the hell out of me.

“Could’ve been worse,” I grumble as I roll out of bed, every aching body part letting me know they’re there. “At least I’m not some punk ass kid who would shit themselves.”

Snickering, I try to stretch while I head into my en suite to get ready for the day. It was my turn to pick up the cars we bid on at a salvage yard auction, but the trip had a lot of issues, which included a flat on one of the trailer tires. Waiting on the side of the interstate for help was definitely enlightening in many ways. For starters, most people completely choose to ignore the fact that a vehicle is disabled. Hell, I had the flashers on, and reflective cones out as well and I lost count of the number of cars that nearly ran into either the trailer itself or my fucking dually I was sitting in.

I catch a glimpse of my profile in the mirror as I head to take a piss and groan. “Not getting any younger, man,” I tell my reflection. Relief is instantaneous because it took a shit ton of caffeine to ensure I was able to stay awake long enough to drop the trailer behind the gates at the salvage yard before I made my way back to the clubhouse and crashed.

Turning the shower on, I discard the clothes I fell asleep in, making note of the fact I need to see if one of the girls wants to make a little extra cash by doing some laundry, then I step into the steamy enclosure. Sighing, I allow the hot water to beat down on my shoulders as I stretch to work out the kinks yesterday’s drive gave me. At least I don’t have to go to the yard and unload the trailer; one of the prospects has that duty.

We’ll go through the cars that appear to have no damage and fix them up to sell, while any good parts will be put in the shop for us to use on any incoming repairs. One of the best things we did was open up a salvage yard along with a parts store. Combine that with our repair shop, and we are able to keep our prices reasonable as hell while still turning a profit.

By the time I feel human, the bathroom is full of steam even though I left the door open, which means I have to wipe down the mirror so I can shave and brush my teeth after drying off. Finally satisfied that it’s as good as it’s getting, I walk back into the bedroom and head to my closet for fresh clothes so I can face the day.

Slipping on my cut, I exit my room, closing and locking the door behind me once I’ve set my laundry hamper outside. I don’t let any of the club girls in my room; if I need their services, we use one of the crash rooms downstairs, but my room is my sanctuary since I live at the clubhouse.

“Wish it was different sometimes,” I whisper as I head to the stairs so I can hit the kitchen for some coffee.

Once upon a time, I thought I’d met the woman who would be mine for the rest of my life. Turns out, she was just a patch chaser who was better skilled at hiding that fact. While she didn’t sour me off of relationships per se, I’ve been far more cautious since then.

The common room is somewhat quiet, although I see several prospects cleaning up from the party that was raging when I got back. Neesie is behind the bar washing glasses, and I can see Opal bent over the beer cooler, so figure she’s probably restocking what was used the night before. Judging from the cases that are stacked up, which have even my brows raised, it was a significant amount.

Shaking my head, I walk toward the back and into the kitchen, my nose letting me know there’s a fresh pot of coffee calling my name. “You want some breakfast, Rebel?” Jacki, one of the other club girls, asks as I pour myself a mug.

“Yeah, Jacki, thanks,” I respond, sitting at the long table. “Looks like while I was away y’all did some playing, huh?”

She giggles and nods. “Not everyone was here, though. I think Ash and Data were at the bar last night, but it got a little bit crazy.”

“At least there are no bras dangling from the ceiling fans this time,” I mutter, taking the plate of food she hands me.

She laughs full out then before saying, “I think the prospects got them down already. I just know I have laundry going. Like I said, it got a bit wild. There was a strip poker game going on, strip pool, and I think a game of shots as well. It’s kind of a blur.”

Shaking my head, I grab the pepper from the middle of the table for my eggs, then my eyes widen when I see I have pancakes as well. “Trying to fatten me up or something?”

Jacki bursts out laughing as she sets the syrup in front of me. “Don’t think that’d be possible, not unless you wanna be someone’s Santa this year, Rebel.”

Shrugging, I doctor my meal then start eating before I remember I had one more question. “You or one of the other girls got time to do some laundry for me?”

“I’ll get it taken care of, Rebel,” Jacki says. “The others are still nursing their hangovers and we don’t want what happened to Data’s clothes that one time to happen to yours.”

I shake my head, remembering when all of his white t-shirts ended up pink because Neesie wasn’t paying attention. It was the last time he allowed her to do his laundry, too. “Appreciate that, gotta go make sure the guys handle what I brought in with care.”

I take my plate to the sink and rinse it off before sliding it into the dishwasher, despite Jacki’s mock glare. My momma raised me to take care of my dishes and not depend on a woman to do it for me.

“Thanks for the help, Jacki,” I tell her as I head out to the common room.

“No problem!”

After spending a few hours at the salvage yard, I decide to call it a day and head over to the store so I can replenish the shit I need that I keep stocked in my room. Mostly snacks since the fuckers I live with know everything in the kitchen is fair game and if they’ve had a night smoking their favorite blunt, they can and will decimate anything even remotely sweet. Learned that lesson a long time ago. Snickering, I grab a cart then start moving up and down the aisles.

I’m finally in the produce section so I can get some fresh fruit when I hear the unmistakable sound of a child giggling. Glancing over, I see two little girls sitting in a double-cart thing they now make, and a woman who must be their mom making faces at them with small pumpkins in her hands. The little girls have strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail, likely to keep their curls in check if the wisps around their faces is any indication. I can’t see the woman’s face, but the rear view is nothing to sneer at, that’s for damn sure. She’s got a heart-shaped ass with grippable hips, legs that seem to go on forever even though from here I can tell she’s not very tall, a narrow waist and hair the same color as her girls.

I’m close enough I can hear one of them say, “Mama, you’re being silly!”

“Of course, Mina, because shopping with the two of you is a lot of fun. Right, Ruby?” For some reason unbeknownst to me, I pay attention to their names and memorize who’s who. Internally, something is telling me that this information will come in handy. I never question my gut; it’s never steered me wrong before.

“Uh huh,” the other little girl says. “Hey, mister, do you have your pumpkin yet?” she asks, looking right at me, which causes her mom to turn in my direction.

Startlingly clear blue eyes widen as she stares up at me, her pink, plump lips slightly open. “Ruby, it’s not nice to yell out to other people,” she gently chides, her gaze never leaving mine.

“Well, do you?” Ruby persists.

“Uh, no, I don’t,” I finally reply once I’m sure I can be coherent.

“Why not?” Mina asks, joining in the conversation. I see their mom roll her eyes, her lips tilting up and recognize that her daughters likely lead her on a merry chase with their unabashed friendliness.

“Did you know, after Halloween comes Thanksgiving?” Ruby questions. “And then, Christmas!”

I chuckle, because now, their mom is trying hard not to laugh at her rambunctious daughters. “I don’t have a pumpkin since I don’t have any children to carve them with,” I admit. “And I bet both of you are excited about Christmas, huh?”

Mina nods then says, “Santa’s already watching so we’re being good for Grammy and Pappy when Mama works.”

“It’s always good to behave, even if Santa isn’t watching,” I tell her.

“We do,” Ruby insists. “Right, Mama?” she asks, looking up at her mother and seeking her approval.

“You both do the best you can,” she replies.

“So, if you have no kids does that mean you don’t get a Christmas tree?” Ruby asks, sounding alarmed.

“We usually have one at our clubhouse,” I say.

“Is it like Mickey Mouse’s clubhouse?” Mina questions, clapping her hands. “We love watching it!”

Their mom, seeing my cut, starts to giggle but quickly puts her hand over her mouth while shaking her head. “Mina? Remember me telling you about where my job is and the men I met? They’re bikers, sweetpea, and bikers usually have a clubhouse which is nothing like Mickey’s, I promise. They don’t dance and sing like Mickey and his friends.”

Since I’m unsure about this show, I can’t refute what she’s just told her daughter, but I suspect that based on the fact that it’s probably a kid’s show means that the type of dancing done on the program is nothing like what goes on in the clubhouse. Smirking, I think about the bras that Jacki said were dangling from the ceiling fans and realize, if the gorgeous woman in front of me saw that, she’d be the one running from the clubhouse screaming.

“Well, maybe they should! Singing and dancing is fun, Mama,” Mina says.

I realize I want to get to know this little family better, in spite of my past. Tamping down the old memories that are trying to surface and overtake me, I remember something that might interest the girls. “The club is putting on a small Halloween festival next week on our property. We’re going to have game booths, some rides, and lots of candy. You should bring your daughters and check it out.”

“Can we, Mama? Can we?” Ruby asks, excitedly clapping her hands with a pleading look on her face.

“Please, Mama?” Mina adds, her hands settled on her chest like she’s praying.

A chuckle breaks free as I watch the two of them gang up on their mom until she throws her hands up high in the air, all while she’s managed to hold onto the two small pumpkins. “Let’s find out what time, okay? Remember, I work on the weekends, girls.”

“It’s during the day for the younger kids, then once the sun goes down and it gets dark, we have a corn maze, haunted house, and hayride for teens and adults,” I tell her, hoping my words have enticed her to come. “Hopefully, it won’t affect your job, because I know we’re going to have face painting, and several games the kids can enter like a cake walk, and a duck pond, for little ones,” I tack on.

“That might work,” she muses as she thinks it over. “Okay, girls, I’m not saying yes, but I will say I’ll double check the time, and if Grammy says she’s alright with meeting us there to pick you two up, then we can go.”

“Thanks, mister, for telling us,” Mina says, looking at me. I have a feeling this one has never met a stranger, and that is a trait I hope she grows out of soon. Too many kids go missing, especially this time of year when trick or treating is chaotic for parents and kids run off from them with the aspiration to fill their buckets to the rim.

“Rebel,” I reply. “My name is Rebel.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rebel,” she tells me. “Mama, can we go now? We need to ask Grammy!”

Chuckling, I turn back to my own cart, not having gotten the mom’s name, but hopefully, she’ll show up next weekend and I can find out who she is then. As intrigued as I am right now, I am not about to push for more in the fucking produce department.