Chapter Twenty-Five

This morning’s meeting with Kendall annoyed Christopher. All the confusing fucking family ties notwithstanding, she’d ordered him to find motherfucking Torie, since she hadn’t been able to.

“That bitch is playing fucking games,” she’d yelled, and showed him another message Torie sent her. “If she’s still fucking with me, you can bet she’s still fucking with Meggie.”

Instead of agreeing or disagreeing, he’d sworn to see what he could do.

“Find her by next week’s meeting or I swear to Christ not only will that bitch be childless by the time I’m finished with her, but she’ll be locked in the deepest recesses of prison. She needs to be dealt with.”

“I told Megan I’d deal with her. She told me you and her was handlin’ it, Kendall.”

“Listen, asshole. Give me permission to use club resources to fucking track her phone.”

“Give you an inch, you takin’ a fuckin’ mile, so fuck you. Fuck no.”

“Then you do it.” She’d folded her arms and stood taller. “Unless there’s a reason for your resistance.”

“Fuck you, Kendall.”

She’d lifted a brow, galling the ever living fuck out of him. It was either do it or she’d tell Megan he’d refused to help. “Fuck, fine.”

That set the tone for the rest of the meeting, where he’d walked away with a couple of inalienable truths: Patricia and Cee Cee were married until her death. And motherfucking Snake had been his first cousin.

He’d been so outraged at his mother’s lies, the bullshit she’d handed down about having no choice but to allow Cee Cee to sign Christopher’s birth certificate, the pity she’d garnered…Kendall told him she needed to unpiece more documents before she could provide additional information.

Whether she did it to give him a chance to process it all or because it was the truth, Christopher didn’t know and he didn’t care. What she had said put his mind at ease about Megan’s safety.

“I don’t think Bash is as big of a threat to Meggie as he claims. So far, I’ve found nothing that backs up his assertion that she owns the club.”

“Good,” he’d said, relieved.

In the midst of the meeting, he’d texted Stretch Torie’s telephone number and asked for her location. By the time he finished with Kendall, Stretch sent him Torie’s address.

Warning her away from Megan would serve as a good diversionary tactic. Besides, he knew his girl was going to the school today to get Mattie into the Upper School. Kendall was working on untangling this shit and had an appointment with some old motherfucker. Later, both Megan and Kendall had a committee meeting for the fundraising part of the Mardi Gras Ball.

Or some shit.

Christopher just knew to show up for the fucking rehearsals and at the ball itself.

CJ was at school and putting their plan into effect on the Bart brothers. And he’d found another candidate for the Rebel situation, since Grant fucked up so thoroughly.

Meaning Christopher should’ve gone to the hospital and sat with Jo, just as he’d told Megan he would after he met with Kendall. Instead, he found himself in Piedmont, a Portland neighborhood close to downtown and easily accessible by I-5. The one-story was small with a concrete landing. Seeing no sign of a bell, he tossed his cigarette and knocked.

Within a minute, she opened the door, barely dressed. Her sheer mesh babydoll chemise left nothing to the imagination. She had golden skin, brown nipples, and a shaved pussy.

She stepped aside. “Come in,” she said demurely, not bothering to ask how the fuck he found her. He noted a fading hickey on her neck.

“Go find a fuckin’ robe,” he said harshly, brushing past her.

She slammed the door and sashayed by, assuring he glimpsed her smooth, round ass.

Offering him a sly look, she lowered her lashes. “I’ll get my robe if you promise not to leave.”

He almost told her to go ahead, but then he came to his fucking senses. Trusting her wasn’t a good idea. Even if she never fucking followed through on her threats, she could always record him threatening her to terrorize Megan.

“I knew you’d find me. You couldn’t resist. You miss me.”

“The fuck I do,” he snapped. “You ain’t meant fuck all to me except as Jo’s nurse, Torie. Stop fuckin’ with my wife.”

“It worked,” she said quietly, walking closer and pressing her body against his. She rubbed her hand over the cashmere and leather accented Polo sweater Megan gave him for his birthday. “You’re here.”

Shoving her hands away and grabbing her shoulders, he shook her. “Stop with this fuckin’ bullshit,” he snarled. “You got a boy that need you. I wanted to help you to help him. That’s fuckin’ it.”

“But you didn’t help him,” she said, “because she didn’t let you.”

“’Cuz she got the final fuckin’ say. She my world. My all. My everyfuckinthing. I ain’t fuckin’ up my marriage cuz of you.”

Her mouth tightened and she lifted her chin. “Fuck her.”

After so many fucking weeks of giving Torie passes and dealing with Megan’s accusations, the words were the final straw.

Grabbing her throat, he squeezed, ignoring the way she tried to pry his fingers away.

“I fucking warned you,” he said, low, not caring about the tears pooling in her eyes or the noises that were escaping her mouth. He pressed harder, envisioning her dead at his feet. “Fuck her? How about fuck you?”

He dragged her to the sofa, flung her onto it, and straddled her, which allowed a two-handed chokehold.

“Mama,” a child’s voice called, halting Christopher like nothing else could.

Small feet slapped against the hardwood floor and appeared in an archway just as Christopher jumped to his feet and Torie grabbed her neck, coughing and sobbing.

The little boy glanced hesitantly at Christopher, then hurried to his ma. “Mama!” He climbed on the sofa and fitted himself next to her. “Don’t cry, Mama. Dad said he might come home.”

Torie managed to sit up. She kissed her son’s cheek. “Go back to your room, Dex,” she said hoarsely. “Mama will be there in a minute.”

He nodded and, with one last, hesitant look at Christopher, he fled.

“I never knew you were such a cruel monster!” she cried.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said harshly. “You ain’t never knew fuck all about me.”

“You would kill me with my son here? My child would’ve found my body.”

That was regrettable. He wanted no child plagued with such horrors. And suppose the kid had come out before Christopher left? He was old enough to talk. Perhaps he wouldn’t have known how to describe everything, but a psychologist could’ve coaxed a lot out of him.

Unless Christopher killed him, and that he wouldn’t do.

“I fuckin’ swear to you if you don’t back the fuck off my woman, I’m gonna find a way to fuckin’ kill you and leave no trace you ever fuckin’ existed.”

“And what? Leave my child an orphan? His dickhead daddy left me again for something that wasn’t my fault.”

“I ain’t givin’ a good fuck what the fuck goin’ on with you, Torie. If you—”

Dex raced back into the room, holding a piece of paper in one hand and a green dinosaur camera in the other, and hurried to Christopher. He handed him what turned out to be an 8x10 photo that had been printed on regular inkjet paper. “You’re Mr. Outlaw.”

Christopher snatched the paper. It was a photo of him in the NICU, sitting in a rocking chair next to Jo’s panda cart. He vaguely remembered allowing Torie to snap that photo one night.

“Mama said you paid Santa.”

Glaring at Torie, he returned the photo to Dex and nodded. “Ain’t nothin’ but a thing, kid.”

Dex wrapped an arm around Christopher’s thighs. “My dad’s mad at Mama. He left,” he said gravely.

If he was married to Torie, he’d leave that cunt, too.

“He still love you,” Christopher told the child. “No matter how he feel about your ma.”

“Dad promised we’d play football again and we’d take pictures together.” His lips trembled. “He won’t come home, though. Is he mad at me?”

Patricia rose in Christopher’s mind. For most of his life, he’d felt he’d wronged her just by being born. That she’d suffered because she ignored the trauma of his conception and gave birth to him, anyway. Even on the days he’d wished she would’ve realized she couldn’t cope with a daily reminder of her assault, he gave her a pass and felt guilty and unappreciative of her struggle.

Kendall found a marriage license in county records for Christopher’s parents. The copy of his birth certificate in his possession was falsified. His actual one listed his parents as Sebastian and Patricia Caldwell.

“Outlaw?” Torie called pitifully.

He sighed, weary. He wished he’d never fucking befriended Torie. He wished he could’ve killed her and been done with it. Most of all, he wished Bash had never turned up and opened this can of worms.

Ignoring Torie, he smiled at her son. “One picture. Then, you take good care of your ma. Okay, kid?”

After Torie took the picture with Dex’s camera, Christopher left and headed to Hortensia General Hospital, where he’d spend the afternoon with Jo and forget he’d ever visited Torie.

At mid-morning on Monday, CJ walked into Billson’s class. His normal schedule had science as CJ’s last class, but Coach Yancy wanted him to spend the afternoon reviewing footage and going through paces. CJ even planned to eat his lunch with the coach. He needed to get back on the team as a starter as soon as possible, so he could watch Willard and Wallace.

“Mr. Caldwell,” Mr. Billson greeted when CJ reached his desk. This was the teacher’s free period. He was grading papers. “What brings you to my class right now?”

“I…” Voice trailing off, CJ glanced at the desk Molly had once sat at. He just wanted to see her again, even if she couldn’t stay, just to know that she was fine.

CJ felt as if his heart were breaking a little more. This weekend had been rough for him. At turns, he’d been furious with Harley and then felt nothing for her.

Her texts had been relentless, begging his forgiveness, begging him to talk to her parents. Asking him to stop in to see her again. Reminding him that Ryan was curious about her hair texture.

Yeah, because the dickhead had always had a crush on Harley but she was too blind to see that too. She’d lost all her fucking dignity, begging CJ to forgive her.

Two snakes belonged together, so he hoped Harley and Ryan had years of fucking happiness and treachery together.

Besides, if Ryan was with Harley, then Molly…

His nostrils flaring, CJ thought about going home.

He knew his first day back at school would be hard, especially in this class. He’d been so happy he wouldn’t have to be in here at the appointed time. Yet, not only did a poster in the hallway catch his attention, but Mattie would be pulled from the Lower School and enrolled in the Upper School this afternoon. Dad had sent confirmation and Mom would come to sign the papers since Aunt Kendall was working on something in Portland.

Which was why CJ was at school. To complete a job for his father. He didn’t give a fuck about grades or projects or assignments. This wasn’t his life anymore.

He had to help Mattie and make sure the plan he and Diesel came up for Rebel went off without a hitch.

“Any word on Miss Harris?”

CJ shook his head and returned his attention to the teacher. “No.”

“What can I do for you, son?”

“I saw there’s a competition. A science fair or something with a five-hundred-dollar grand prize?”

“There is. For teams to enter what they’ve assembled together.”

“I know, sir. But I’m still a part of a team. Molly and I put a lot of work into the project. I want to enter for her. When she comes back, I’ll give her the money.”

“She may never come back,” the teacher said quietly.

Suddenly, CJ’s throat hurt, and his eyes burned. “My dad’s looking for her. He’ll get her back.”

Billson glanced away. “As long as we hear nothing, hope remains alive.”

Not wanting to hear anymore, CJ turned.

“You can enter the contest, Mr. Caldwell.”

“Thank you, sir,” CJ said, and rushed out of the classroom.