Chapter Four

B eretta_Penn: Girls suck. St_Margarita: Ah yeah, why do you think I like them? Beretta_Penn: You're a pig. St_Margarita: Yeah, and you still talk to me. So, how was prom? Beretta_Penn: Awful. The girls laughed and pointed at my dress. St_Margarita: Those fuckers! What did your date do? Beretta_Penn: Nothing. Just told me to ignore them. Tried to get me drunk. St_Margarita: He didn't try anything did he? Beretta_Penn: Twiddled my nipples and then couldn't get it up. Blamed me instead of all the shots he had. St_Margarita: Are you OK? Beretta_Penn: Yeah. Looks Iike I'll stay untouched for a while longer. St_Margarita: There's no hurry babe. Wait for someone special. Beretta_Penn: Oh yeah, like you did? St_Margarita: Hey! Kelly's boobs were VERY special to me. Beretta_Penn: You're gross. St_Margarita: You love it. St_Margarita: Do you need me to beat someone up? Beretta_Penn: You'd do that? St_Margarita: Hell yeah! I've got your back. Always. Beretta_Penn: Thanks Mags. I've got yours too. Always.

Wire

"Can I ask you something?"

I crack my neck before looking at Chewy. Remy is still at work and I think that Chewy's question will be a good distraction for me. Since I saw Remy in the library with her after school group, I've been out of sorts. The woman I saw there is so different from the one I see here. At the library she was confident, but quietly so, if that makes sense. There is definitely a lot more than meets the eye with Remy. I mean, I don't think she's ever going to be outspoken and loud, but her differences make me think about her all the damn time. Something has been drawing me in and I think it's because I've never spent any significant amount of time with a woman quite like her. The club bunnies are all outgoing. Chewy is, well, Chewy.

Even the women I grew up with are the opposite in personality. My momma raised me and my three sisters on her own when my dad left. I was 13 and old enough to see that the pairing between them was never going to work. Dad was trailer trash from the wrong side of town, Momma was from the hood. Both of their families hated each other. Momma's family hated that she was with a white boy, Dad's family hated that he was with a black girl. What united them in the beginning was the fact both of them were bottom of the heap and wanted a different life. They fell in love and had my sister Eve, then me, then Zoe and Jade.

My Momma is a strong woman and as I've grown older, I've realized that was something my father couldn't deal with. My mother didn't need him. She's successful in her own right, and when he would gamble away his money or forget to take the girls to dance or forget to pick me up from basketball, well, that just led Momma to doing it all until his role became redundant. He moved on to another black woman, but one who made him feel important and needed. Now they both drink and gamble their days away, blissfully happy in their dysfunction.

"Wireeeeee, you with me? Or are you dreaming of Retta?" Chewy makes her voice all high and bats her eyelids while she swings in her chair. Hanging out with Rider has turned her into a smart ass.

"Yeah, I'm with you. And what do you know about Beretta, anyway?" I squint at her. I haven't really told anyone about her. She's my friend. My conscience. My lifeline during all the times things went to shit.

"I know that you have to message her every day otherwise you get really pissy."

"Well, she's my friend. And I enjoy talking to her."

Chewy shrugs "OK. Anyway, I need advice on something."

I smile at her, loving the fact that Chewy doesn't pry. I've answered her question, and that's sufficient for her. Unlike half of the nosey assholes that make up the MC. I circle my hands in the universal sign for "get on with it."

"I'm having a Girls' Night tonight. I read snacks will make a successful evening. So are we talking Doritos and dips or, like proper canapes? Or an actual meal? Also, should the pillow fight and nail painting come before or after the food?" She looks at me for a moment before her gaze flitters off to something more interesting.

"Umm, well, judging by what I remember of my sisters' sleepovers, I think chips and dips are fine. And maybe chocolate and ice cream, that sort of thing. I'm not sure any of my sisters had pillow fights, though. But they definitely painted their nails." I can still remember the fumes wafting down the hall to my room. "I also don't think there's any real schedule either. Just play it by ear." I shrug at her and then remember to do some stretches when my neck twinges.

"Right. I can do that. I'm going now." Chewy abruptly stands, shoves her feet in her shoes and leaves, exactly as she said she would. She's such an odd little thing, and I love everything about her. In a little sister type way. Rhodie would murder me otherwise, and I'd never do that to a brother.

Checking the time at the bottom of my screen it's pretty much beer o'clock, and seeing how my concentration is shot, I may as well go see what my brothers are up to. I put on my screen saver and then switch all alert notifications to my watch. That way, I can keep my finger on the pulse of everything that I'm monitoring. There's always shit to keep an eye on. After the whole Kraykowski bullshit, I want to make sure that there aren't any new players in the skin trade. I also need to keep all channels open with the Russians, as well as any informants we have. We pissed off a lot of people when we shut down that operation. It's only natural that someone will want to take a swipe at us.

Heading down the hall, I dodge Whitney and stomp my way to the bar. Lifting my chin at the prospect, he hands me a beer without a word, nodding once before going back to wiping down the bar. Takoda has been with us for around a year now and he's tracking to be one hell of a brother.

"Finally made it out of the cave, huh?"

"Shit Switch, speak a little louder." I grimace as I stick my finger in my ear and jiggle it around. There has to be a medical reason why he's so fucking abnormally loud. Has to be. He doesn't answer me, just flips the bird and goes back to yelling in Sniper's face. That there is one weird ass friendship. Opposite ends of the spectrum. A hand lands on my shoulder and Tank maneuvers his way next to the bar.

"Brother," he nods before taking the beer Takoda has placed in front of him. "Where's Remy? You should have invited her for a drink."

I can feel my brows pulling down. What the fuck does he want with Remy?

"Yeah brother. She's a lovely girl. It'd do her good to get out more. She's only ever out here for meals, then she creeps away again." Sniper says, while Switch nods solemnly next to him. I clench my teeth, thinking about all the meals she's had with these fuckers. I have no idea why it pisses me off to see her with them giggling and smiling.

"She was getting organized for Chewy's Girls' Night," I let them all know. I may or may not have also given them all the hairy eyeball.

"Good. It'll be good for her to make some friends. She's a real sweetheart, and I don't like the thought of her sneaking around here like she's unwanted. She's like a ghost, almost." Tank continues on.

Taking a sip of my beer, I let the flavors burst on my tongue and as much as it pisses me off, I can't help but nod and agree with them.

"Her mother taught her to be invisible when she had a John visiting." This comment is met with a series of "What the fuck?" I nod, "Yeah. She hid in a Rug Rats teepee that Flack got her. Soon as he found out her mother was not only prostituting, but doing it at home, he picked up Remy and she never went back."

The brothers all nod and grumble out agreement that Flack did a good thing. We drink in silence for a moment before an impossibly deep voice says, "Fucking loved Rug Rats as a kid," We all spin to look at the prospect.

"Fucking hell! And I thought Tank's Barry White voice was smooth and sexy! Damn kid, you could drop panties just by saying hello!" Switch says, all of us laughing along with him, the prospect's face turning a dark shade of red.

"Anyway, I'm glad she's off with Chewy for the night. Even if Chewy is fucking weird sometimes." Tank's smooth voice says. I notice he's tried to deepen it to compete with the prospect.

"That's my Ol lady, you fucker!" Rhodie's voice grits out as he storms over and cuffs Tank around the head.

"Oh, like you haven't noticed?"

"Of course I fucking have! She owns a tank full of dick fish that she's hand reared as if they're her own babies. But still, she's the best thing to ever happen to me, so keep your mouth shut, Tank."

Switch decides it's his turn to fuck with Rhodie, so he says, "Oh, you're just pissed because you're stuck here while Chewy is having a Girls' Night and you're not allowed to go. Pussy whipped by the ole ball and chain, huh?"

"I am not pussy whipped, and she isn't a ball and chain. She doesn't weigh me down, she lifts me up. She's the wind beneath my wings, fucker."

He swipes his beer off the bar top and downs half of it in an effort to calm down while we all piss ourselves laughing. We continue to shoot the shit until our drinks are done, then I decide to ditch and head back to my room. Partly because I want to message Retta, to see how she's getting on. But mainly because I could see Whitney had her tractor beams on and was looking like she was headed my way. No, thank you. Fuck, my momma would have a damn heart attack if I took Whitney home. Not that there's anything wrong with her or what she does around here. Women can do what they like with their bodies. The problem with Whitney is that she's vicious and conniving. But she has a mouth like a hoover, so the brothers keep her around.

Instead of sitting at my desk, I grab my laptop, kick off my boots and lie down on my bed, with my top half propped up on pillows for the ultimate in comfort. I pull up mine and Retta's message threads and marvel at how many messages we exchange.

Our last messages were her telling me she accidentally happened upon a bunch of swingers at her new job. I have no idea how, given that I'm pretty certain she works with kids. Perhaps some of her coworkers are swingers. They seem to be everywhere these days. Shit, Gus and Ana were accidentally camped next to some. I even saw the guy's dick.

St_Margarita: Hey you, what's happening tonight? Did you end up talking to that quiet bunch at your work?

She had told me she was finding it a little tricky to fit in at mealtimes. I suggested maybe she wants to look out for a quieter group to eat with, people a little more like her. I know from all the years talking to her she's a bit shy, and not very extroverted. Hell, that comes through her messages.

Beretta_Penn: Yes! It totally worked! I have a group that I've infiltrated and we eat together now. They're really sweet. I think I've convinced them I'm cool ?? Your magic advice worked!

St_Margarita: What did I tell you?

Beretta_Penn: All hail the wise one. I bow at your feet!

A snort escapes me. Fuck, we're geeks.

Beretta_Penn: OK, so I need your advice. One of my coworkers invited me to her house for a get together thing. What do I take? Are chips OK? She said to wear pajamas so we can be comfy and relaxed and stuff but usually I just wear an old shirt of my dad's and shorts. Is that OK?

That is not a visual I needed. I don't know what she looks like other than the comments she's dropped over the years about how annoying big boobs are or her soft belly or whatever. So I have a vague idea. Anyway, not knowing what she looks like has never held me back from fantasizing about what it would be like if she were here with me. Which is a total ass of a thing to be thinking about my best friend. So I answer her as she would expect her guy bestie to answer her.

St_Margarita: I thought girls wore lingerie to girls' night parties?

Beretta_Penn: You're a pig. I'm not sure how you manage to lure poor, unsuspecting women to sleep with you.

St_Margarita: What can I say? It's a gift.

St_Margarita: Anyway, I think go in whatever you feel comfortable in. And then message me tomorrow with all the sexy details.

Beretta_Penn: Yeah, yeah. Chat later x.

I flip my laptop closed, toss it beside me and lay back with my eyes closed. An image of Retta flits through my mind. Well, a faceless woman shaped image. What would it be like to hear a real laugh when I offer shitty advice? What would it be like for her to roll her eyes at me when I make a computing pun? Maybe it's time me and Retta met up for real.

Remy

I'm sitting in my car outside of a cute little cabin and I know that this has to be Chewy's house. I mean, I know it is anyway; I followed the very precise instructions she gave me. But even if she didn't, I would know that the Marvel themed garden gnomes belonged to her. Although I'm not sure if she or her brothers arranged them into rude poses.

Blowing out a breath, I look down at what I class as my pajamas. I had a slight freak out when Chewy said it was a pajama party, because I usually just sleep in an oversized tee that belonged to my dad, and a pair of soft shorts, but Mags assured me it'd be fine. Well, actually, he didn't, but he didn't say that this was awful either, so I'm going with it. I grab my snacks - Cheetos, Milk Duds and a tub of cookies and cream ice cream that's left condensation all over my seat - and juggle that all while getting out of my car, kicking the door closed with my foot, and then carrying it up to her front door.

Before I can get the tub of ice cream securely in my armpit, the yellow door flies open and Chewy stands there in a Loki onesie.

"Hello! This is my house. You can come in. I have Girls' Night stuff planned." She spins and her curls fly around, almost hitting me in the face. I follow her and then almost crash into her when she spins to face me abruptly. She puts her hands on my biceps to steady me before pulling her hands back as if she's been burned.

"Whoops, soz. Bring your snacks. You can put them on the coffee table with the rest of the heart attack inducing food that we shall feast on."

She moves to the side and I see her house is fully open plan. From where I'm standing, I can see the kitchen to my left and the living area to my right. It's definitely Chewy's house. Bright colors and Marvel themed bits and pieces are everywhere. Is that a Marvel dinner set? There are an abundance of cushions and throw blankets, and a huge fish tank takes up one entire wall of the living room.

"It's a lot, huh?" I spin to see Ana thankfully wearing similar clothing to me - sweats and a shirt that looks like it belongs to some New Zealand sports team; sitting in the comfiest looking armchair I've ever seen in my life. Poofy, soft and cream colored with a furry throw.

"Oh, um, hi Ana!" I can feel my cheeks heating. It was only a few days ago that she pulled me from her tent when she thought I was an intruder.

"Remy, look, I am so, so sorry about pulling your hair. I still feel incredibly shitty about that. Can we please start again?" The look on Ana's face is so hopeful, there's nothing I can do but smile and nod.

"I'd like that. I'd also like to be less embarrassed every time I see you."

Ana throws her head back and laughs before raising her hand. "Dude, same!"

We smile at each other for a moment before Chewy reminds me I'm still standing with an armful of snacks. I can feel my cheeks heating again, but I tell myself that these women aren't judging me. I settle on the couch next to Chewy and unsuccessfully hold in my groan when I sink into the plush fabric.

"I know, right!? It's like sitting on top of a pile of babies or something. It's so soft! I almost orgasmed when I sat down." Ana pops the cork on the bottle of bubbles, holds up a glass and tips it in my direction with her brows raised. I don't normally drink, but I also don't normally attend girls' nights either, so what the heck! I nod and thank her when she hands me my glass, taking a little sip and letting the bubbles fizz in my mouth and tickle the inside of my nose. I take another dainty sip and then try not to spit it out when I see Chewy throw it back in one go.

"Yeah, that hits the spot."

Me and Ana share a look and try not to smile too wide. I turn back to Chewy and take in what she's wearing.

"Do your pajamas have feet attached?" I stare down at where her feet should be and they are most definitely covered.

"Yup. Rhodie bought these from the big kids' section because he was sick of me putting my cold feet in his lap when we're relaxing on the couch. He has Thor ones without feet attached. And we only wear them when we watch TV in case my brothers or Pops visit. We usually sleep naked because we go to sleep after we fuck." Chewy states proudly.

I'm not sure what to say, so I look at Ana, whose eyebrows are currently making out with her hairline. And then she snorts and bursts into giggles.

"Um, well, they're um, they're nice TV watching pajamas." I say, just because, well, someone had to say something.

"No. Nope, you're not doing that. You, my dear Remy, are going to loosen up. No quiet timid Remy here. You want to laugh at Dayz being so fucking short she can fit kids' pajamas, or the ridiculousness of Rhodie dressed in Thor PJ's to please her, you laugh. It's hilarious." Ana says, before giggling again.

Chewy blows out a breath. "She's right. It is actually hilarious. Here, I'll show you,"

She taps a few things on her phone screen and then the huge TV on her wall that was disguised as a Van Gogh painting comes to life. Suddenly, Van Gogh is replaced by a picture of Rodie in the smallest Thor onesie I have ever seen.

The bottom part comes halfway up his legs, showing enough calf to make an Amish woman blush. The zip doesn't go all the way up due to how wide he is, a large expanse of tattooed chest on display. The tightness of the zip being done up halfway makes his pecs look like they're in a push-up bra. The most horrific part, however, would be the way the center seam has lifted and separated his franks and beans, creating the most obscene moose knuckle known to man.

There are so many reactions to what I'm seeing that I can't settle on one. Neither can Ana, who is staring open-mouthed. She swallows, then opens and closes her mouth a few times.

"What in the fuck am I seeing?! Why the fuck is Shit Stain dressed like a fucking steroid-taking Peter Pan reject?"

A scream erupts out of me and before I know it, I'm across the room on Ana's lap, heart beating out of my chest. Ana is also screaming blue murder at the elderly gentleman that is standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. Chino's pulled a little too high, polo shirt and comfy looking walking shoes. His white hair is slicked back, and he has to be related to Chewy because he looks a lot like her brothers, just old.

"Shit, sorry girls. The door was open. I wanted to make sure you were all safe." His gaze swings to mine and he steps forward, hand outstretched. "I'm Dayz's grandpa. Everyone calls me Pops."

I take his hand. Rough calluses from probably years of hard work scrape across my much smaller palm. He squeezes my hand a moment before looking around the lounge. "Oh, chips"

He then sits where I had been sitting, grabs a bowl and pops a chip in his mouth.

"So, why are we looking at the outline of Rhodie's dick in that spray on outfit?"

Chewy rolls her eyes before snuggling into her Pops "It's Girls' Night. I was showing the girls Rhodie's PJs."

"Well, it's giving me heart palpitations. You better get that shit off the tv before I have a heart attack and die."

A little snort escapes me, catching his attention. He gives me a wink and a smirk.

"So, girls, what are we doing?"

* * *

I don't know how it happened, but I'm four drinks in and about three sheets to the wind.

Chewy is now sporting fingernails of every color. Ana painted my toes as bumblebees. The soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever is playing, and we are all staring at Pops as he performs John Travolta's dance moves.

"You know, he's actually rather good at that," Ana mutters under her breath.

I nod at her. I can't possibly look at her because my eyes won't let me. Somehow, the old man's hip movements have hypnotized me. Either that or it's the wine. I take another sip and try hard not to sway.

I never knew I was such a lightweight. It's a little embarrassing. I'm the daughter of the Death Riders' VP. I feel like I should be way tougher. Which I voice, loudly.

"I need to get tougher. And cooler. And drink more so I can build a constitution."

Chewy leans toward me, peering at me with only one eye open. "I feel like you need a bigger voice. Do you have a bigger voice in there?"

She pokes me in the chest, then moves her finger to the side slightly and pokes me again in the boob.

"You have a great rack, Remy." Tuesday says, poking me again. "Ana, you have a great rack, too. But Remy's feel different to yours. Poke them."

Ana rolls her eyes before she leans over and pokes my other breast. She then frowns and pokes her own breast, then mine again. "You're right. They're so firm! I bet her nipples point straight forward. Or up. Do your nips point up, Rem?" Ana's head is tilted sideways, her eyes narrowed.

"Um, no, they point straight forward, I think." I look down at my chest. I can't say I've ever paid that much attention to them.

"Ugh. Lucky bitch. Mine point down. And are huge. Big hubcap nipples. Pointing down like sad dog noses." Ana sadly shakes her head, swipes a bottle of wine off the table, flops back in her chair, and pours herself another glass.

"I'm sure they're fine. I bet Gus likes them." I offer. She's such a nice lady, she shouldn't be sad about her dog nose nipples.

A smile spreads across her face. "He may be titmatized by them. He stares at them a lot."

"Listen, girls, when you're with the right man, he will worship every inch of you because it belongs to the woman he loves." Pops says in his rough voice before sitting himself down next to Chewy.

I think about his sage advice. I wonder if Mags thinks about me in any type of way? I know I think about him a lot. I wonder what it would be like to meet up? Would he think I was cute? Or would I be a letdown because he's expecting someone else? Someone hotter?

"Who's Mags?" Ana asks. Whoops, I must have said some of that out loud. I look up and everyone is staring at me. Well, not Chewy. She seems to be frowning at the window.

"Um, Mags is my childhood friend. My first non-related friend. We met gaming online when we were 13 and we message every day. Whenever I need advice or whatever, Mags is always there. Mags is my person, but we've never met in real life." I shrug, then tip my glass up to avoid further scrutiny.

"That's actually kinda sweet. But why would he think you were a letdown? You're cool and totally hot." Ana waves her hand in my direction.

My cheeks heat at her compliment. "I dont know. I've always just never felt cool or pretty or fun or whatever." I shrug, then sway slightly, but catch myself before I completely roll out of the beanbag I'm sitting in.

"Hmmmmmm" Ana taps her chin, eyes narrowed at me. Both Chewy and Pops are quietly listening. From what I know of them, this conversation is not in their wheelhouse. "Maybe it's the librarian thing. No offense, but librarian doesn't really scream cool, hot, badass." Ana points out.

I have no idea how she looks somewhat sober. She and Pops both. I'm sure they've had twice as many drinks as the rest of us. "I'm a Kiwi kid. We binge drink from the time we're like, 12." She shrugs. Whoops. She must have heard my inside thoughts.

"Librarians can be badass. Like that chubby librarian monk from Dr. Strange," Chewy says. She's pulled her hair up into a messy bun, and that messy bun is now in Pops' face as she rests her head on his shoulder.

"Um, no offense, Chewy, but I think I have to agree with Ana on this one. The thing is, I never set out to be a librarian. I just kinda fell into it."

"You're gonna have to explain that one, sweetheart. I have no idea how anyone accidentally becomes a librarian." Pops squints at me, his head tilted at the same angle as Chewy's. The genes in this family are strong.

"Well, um, when I was younger, I wanted to be so many things, but I kinda froze up when it came to deciding. In the end, I didn't pursue any of them. Then the library job came up, so I took it because I liked kids and books and introducing them to computers and I wanted to move out of the compound. I figured it would be a good stopgap until I decided which path I wanted to take. I just never thought I'd still be there 10 years later." I look down into my empty glass, and then tip it up to my lips, trying to get the last drops. Ana takes pity on me and pours me more bubbly goodness.

"Well girl, I think it's about time you had a think about what you want to be." Pops nods emphatically.

"LIST!" Chewy screams for no reason and then she's up, stumbling around, opening and closing drawers. She comes racing back, diving onto the couch, a Hulk notepad and matching pen at the ready. "OK, tell us what you like and we'll write it all down and then me and Pops will deduce what you should be doing. Aaaaand go!"

I sit and wrack my brain for things that I like. "Well, I like kids. Especially kids who need an adult they can trust. So write that down."

"Needy kid with crappy parents. Got it. Next."

I watch Ana roll her eyes at Chewy. I try to hide my chuckle by clearing my throat. "Ummmm, I like computers,"

"Geeky shit. Yup, next." Chewy now has her tongue sticking out while she scribbles all this down.

Now I'm not sure. Those are the things I like and the things I know I'm good at. I look at the expectant looks on the faces of the people around me and I start feeling a little embarrassed that I can't think of anything else.

"OK, well, what kind of stuff did you like doing when you were a kid?" Ana helpfully suggests, easing my growing discomfort.

Taking a deep breath, I think back.

"Well, when I was a kid, I just loved hanging out with my dad. He would take me and Sunny along with him to train. We would play on the treadmill and he'd give us little barbells to pump. Afterwards, we would have a protein shake lunch." The goofy grin I'm sporting makes my eyes squinty.

"Hold up girl. You're trying to tell me you grew up with a bad bastard MC, pumped weights, downed protein shakes, and you came out like this?" Pops waves a tanned, wrinkled hand my way. I look down at my tee and try to figure out if he's insulting my weight or not.

"He doesn't mean your looks Rem, he means you somehow still came out like super fricking nice." Ana helpfully explains.

"Creepily nice." Chewy unhelpfully adds.

"Dad drummed it into me. I had to be different from my mother and the other women in the clubhouse. Which pretty much meant no cursing and no nastiness."

They stare at me for a moment before Chewy consults her list.

"Well, looking at this, I don't know what to tell you other than your perfect job would be to teach computer geeks with bad backgrounds how to pump iron. Is that an actual job?" Chewy looks at us with a squinty eye before tossing her notepad. "Let's go blow some stuff up."

"Oh, thank fuck! I thought you'd never ask!" Pops jumps up surprisingly fast for an older man, offering me a hand up, his bright red painted nails shimmering under the lights. I catch Ana rolling her eyes but also coming to a stand.

"Fine. But no one tell Gus this is what we did. That man is stress on legs. He's so tightly wound that sometimes he gets this throbby vein in his forehead shaped like a vag."

A laugh bursts out of me at her description and before I can bring my hand up to cover my mouth, Ana slaps it away.

"Embrace it, Rem! It'll do you good." She smiles at me, then throws her arm over my shoulder. This is what I've been looking for. Sure, I have women in my life I'm close to. I have Miss Shawna, although she's more of a mother figure. Sunny is my sister, so she doesn't really count. But this? Having actual girlfriends that aren't in any way related to me? This is something new and exciting.

"I vote Remy be the first to blow shit up!"

OK, well, maybe it'll take while to get used to.