The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) (13 page)

In the kitchen, I set my phone on the metal island and head to the fridge. I pull out some lunch meat, cheese, and mayo to make myself a sandwich. After I have assembled my food on a paper plate and grabbed a handful of tortilla chips from the bag on the counter, I take a seat on one of the kitchen stools.

Taking a bite of my sandwich, I grab my phone to check the umpteen fucking messages.

Big: Tomorrow I will be needing those calls that you agreed to.

I swallow and take another bite of my delicious sandwich before diving into the next text message. For a man who thinks texts are stupid, he sure uses them a lot.

Big: Is that clear? Are we on the same page? We have an agreement. If I let you go with the sisters, you will contact me three times a day to let me know you’re safe.

Big: Guess you’re not going to reply. I do love you. I do miss you. Be safe, be good, and don’t do anything stupid. Keep your promise, and call me tomorrow after you get to the hotel. If I don’t answer, leave a message.

To keep Gunz happy and Big off my back, I take a deep breath and hit reply.

Me: I’ll do as I promised. Have a nice trip. Peace.

That’s that. I set my phone back down and finish my food. Throwing my empty plate in the trash, I go back to fridge, pull out a bottle of water, and head back to the common room.

The drinking games have already begun as I sit back down at my stool. They’re playing
Have You Ever?
It’s Pixie’s turn. The rules of the game are simple. If you have done it, you drink. If you haven’t, you don’t.

“Have you ever masturbated with a piece of fruit?” Pixie asks, giggling.

Jez, Candy Cane, and Dixie take a drink. Beth’s face turns fire engine red. Too intimate of question, I suppose.

Guess it’s my turn next.

I look around the table, and pour myself some water into my shot glass. I am going to play along even if I can’t get drunk.

“Have you ever deep throated a popsicle?” I ask. Pretty sure most people have done this. I found it to be a fun challenge when I was a kid. You know those red, white and blue ones? What were they called again? Rocket pops or something like that?

Everyone at the table except Deke and Beth take a shot, myself included.

I turn and look questionably at Deke, then to Beth.

“Seriously? Neither of you have sucked a popsicle into the back of your throat?” I lightheartedly interrogate them.

“Too cold,” Deke states. “I don’t do popsicles unless I suck on ‘em, my back teeth are sensitive to cold.”

Hmm, good to know.

Beth shrugs but doesn’t speak. Yet another shy girl to add to the sisterhood. Good thing about this family – once you get used to them you open up. Take Pixie for instance. She used to be exceptionally shy. She still is, more so than the rest of us, but she’s climbed out of her shell some and opened up a helluva lot. She’s quite the kinky bitch once you get to know her.

I refill my shot glass with my water while Deke takes his turn.

“Have you ever tasted come before?” Deke asks.

Everyone at the table except for him and Beth take a shot. Yes, even Gunz. I know he’s a kinky bastard. It would’ve been a shocker for me if he hadn’t taken the shot. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d tasted another man’s come as well as his own. Not saying he’d get it from them. I don’t think he’d touch another dude in that way because Gunz ain’t bi. But eating out Niki’s pussy after some dude nutted in her? That could’ve happened. Out of the entire brotherhood, he’s the only one I could see being completely cool with that. He’s so in tune with his masculinity, I don’t think anything could catch him off-guard. Not even the prospect of tasting another man’s jizz.

I glance at Beth again as I set down my shot glass. How she’s never tasted come is kind of strange. Especially at her age. Please tell me this girl has at least lost her virginity.
Shit
, I never thought to ask.

The game continues to make its way clockwise around the table. By the time we’ve passed each person four times the bottles of liquor have suffered a major loss, and the inhabitants at the table are well on their way to being shit faced. I see a whole lotta
Hair of the Dog
in their near future. Brew has a bottle of his special recipe readymade in the bar fridge for anyone who should need it. Everyone around here claims it’s the best hangover cure. I’ve never used it, so I wouldn’t know.

Beth wobbles as she gets off her stool to use the restroom. I get up to help her, and I grab her arm to keep her stable.

“Thannnn-ks,” she slurs as I escort her out of the common room, to the hall, where I walk her toward Big’s office to use the restroom. The clubhouse has a single public restroom with two urinals and one stall, but I would never advise anyone to use that bathroom. Even clean, the bathroom reeks, and I’d hate to know how many whores have been fucked in there on just about every viable surface. To put it bluntly, it’s a disgusting cum-bucket.

I push open Big’s office, and guide a wobbly-legged Beth to the attached bath, following her inside as I flick the light switch on. Shutting the door, I lock us in. Beth fumbles toward the toilet.

“Put your hands on the sink,” I instruct.

After she takes a moment to recognize what I said, she nods and complies. I’m not sure how many times Beth has been this sloshed, but if I had to guess, it’s not been many.

To keep Beth from falling over when taking down her pants, I take control and lift the hem of her teal t-shirt up to expose the button and zipper of her jeans. I help unfasten them and slide them down her legs, leaving them to pool around her ankles. Then I hook my fingers over the lip of her pink boyshort panties and push those down too. Swimming in her own head, completely obliterated, Beth doesn’t even realize that she’s half naked.

I grab Beth’s arm and help her sit on the toilet. She barely makes it to the seat when she starts to pee. Hanging her head forward, her hands on her knees, she takes care of business. I take a few steps back, resting against the far wall to give her some privacy. Not that that’s really an issue here. We’re both chicks, and I did just get a small glimpse of her unshaven girl bits. That is something she and I are gonna have to talk about when she’s sobered up. A smooth shave job would do this pretty brunette some good. Especially once I find out what’s really been going on with her and Runner, considering he was just balls deep in Niki’s ass this week.

Beth finishes, and I offer to help her up. She shakes me off, fumbles while she situates her own clothes, and washes her hands. I wash mine too before we leave to head back to the common room. I keep a close proximity to her on the way so she doesn’t topple over. Her legs wobble with each step, but thankfully we make it safely back to our stools without incident.

Resting my arms on the tabletop and listening to the drunken conversation between my crazy family, I glance at the neon clock on the wall that says it’s past my bedtime. Not that I actually have one, but I’m getting tired. Sliding my phone in front of me, I check it. Nothing more from Big. Good.

I don’t know how much more of this partying I can take tonight. They all seem to be having a jolly good time. Who wouldn’t with how much they’ve been drinking?

I stay and listen for a while longer to Pixie talk about the wussies at work, Gunz’s perverted shit, Deke and Jezebel talk about their kids, and Beth about Jonesy. I say my goodbyes and head home.

The chill in the air bites at my bare arms as I walk up the estates to Big’s house. Pretzel eagerly greets me by the front door, his tiny tail wagging. Crossing the threshold into the house, I push the door wider, and he shoots out past me, down the steps, and into the side yard where he does his doggy business. I wait just inside the open door for him to finish. It doesn’t take long for him to bound back up the steps and into the house, headed straight for some mama lovin’. I push the door shut and crouch in the entry to rub him down. Overly excited Pretzel shoves his nose into my belly, and I fall backward onto my ass with a loud thump. Immediately, sharp pain rockets up my spine, and I yell a string of curses.

Fuck, that hurt.

I take a deep breath and curl my arms around my belly. My heart fiercely continues to pound, as the pain in my ass persists.
Should I call someone?
I ponder for a fraction of a second, and brush away the thought just as an apologetic Pretzel makes sad noises and rubs his nose to my outstretched legs, asking for forgiveness. He didn’t mean to knock me over, and I’m fine, even if my tailbone might be bruised in the morning.

I reach out and pull my pups closer to show him I’m not mad, and I lean back, resting my back against the entry wall. Sighing, utterly exhausted, I scratch Pretzel’s back and tilt my head to rest on the wall, closing my heavy eyes.

This weekend I can only hope will be a cathartic one for me. A way to finally get out the compound, a place I’ve kind of felt like a prisoner in for the past few weeks since my mom left in a disgruntled tizzy. I need the city sounds and something to occupy my time. Mainly, I need something to keep my mind off Big and our future. Whether that be with him or not. If it’s not, it’s not like I’ll ever be able to escape from him again. We are forever tethered by the beautiful little baby that is now rolling around in my belly.

Sliding my hand across my swollen belly, I rub her and use my other to continue loving on my pups. Unable to stop it, my thoughts start to drift…

There are times in life when you take stock of your past, present and near future. I’m sure you can relate. Pretty sure we all do it. When I was just a little girl, I remember telling everyone I was going to grow up to be a professional race car driver. Not that I’ve been much into Nascar, but I’ve always had a fascination and love for cars. Even if I don’t know a lot about what is under the hood like many of the brothers do. I’ve never had to learn anything more than the basics. Even so, cars and motorcycles always enthralled me. The rumble of the engines that you can literally feel from half a street over. The way they smell. The burnout marks on the asphalt. Even the way the smooth leather or cloth interior feels when I run my hands across the upholstery.

The first Chevelle I ever rode in was red with black racing stripes. It was a restore my Daddy, Gunz, my brother Brew, and many other men from my family spent time fixing up when I was child. I watched them working for hours, even through the winter with the kerosene heaters radiating heat in the garage. My favorite part of the whole car, aside from its classic good looks, was the fluffy material that the brothers had installed on the inside roof of the car. Pretty sure that’s when my car obsession truly started and when I fell in love with Chevelle’s and the idea of racing. When other girls obsessed over boys and wanting to become wives and mothers, I wanted to spend my life driving cars. Even if I had no experience behind the wheel of one, except for the occasional time when one of the brothers or Daddy would pull me into his lap on a drive and let me steer. I couldn’t even reach the pedals, but I have many fond memories of those exciting times.

Isn’t it funny how life changes and you no longer cling to those innocent dreams? You mature and build new ones. I can’t help but wonder if in thirty years Harley will be having this exact same reflection. Will she be a mother? Will she have wanted to be a racecar driver? Or perhaps a teacher? Or a writer? Will she be satisfied with what her life has turned into? Will she resent me like I do my mother? Or will she love me like I unconditionally love her? I could never regret any of the choices that have brought me to this very moment, sitting here on the floor in the house of the man I love, carrying our unexpected bundle of joy, and petting my pups, a dog I never thought I could love as much as I do. I wouldn’t change any of it. Not the pain, not the wretched relationship with my mother, not the billionth stretch mark that has ripped across my skin, not a single thing. Who would I be today if none of it had happened? I wouldn’t be me. And there is no way I would like that other woman I would have become. Even with my own flaws, I love myself. Can you say the same? If you can’t, you should.

Opening my eyes and shaking my head to rid my intense reflection from my mind, I finish my rub down on my pups, and I shoo him away. He moves but keeps a watchful eye on me as I gracelessly attempt to get my lard-ass off the floor. After three merciless tries, I finally make it to my feet with a groan and an undertone of
son of a bitches
and
you got to be fucking kidding me’s.

Not wanting to try and make it down the steps to my bedroom with a sore ass and a tired body, I head off to the upstairs bedroom instead. A bedroom I’ve yet to sleep in since I was a child. Big refurbished the house at some point and turned it into some sort of magazine worthy, comfy masculine retreat. Nothing like the house I remember when I was a child. The bone structure is still ever present, but the rest is a distant memory.

Pretzel follows me into the bedroom and curls into a ball on the floor at the end of the bed. I undress completely, tug back the covers, and crawl into bed. Turning my face into the duvet, the only scent that clings to the cotton is the faint smell of floral detergent.

My nose bunches as I inhale. Instantly, I hate it in here. Maybe I should have slept down in our bed that smells just like Big. His skin, his deodorant, his soap, leather, even his sweat. The twinge in my ass reminds me it’s just one night. I groan with defeat and roll over, facing the window. I see the darkness of the sky peeking through the blinds, and I hate that too. It’s too open up here, too cold, too sterile from being unused…too lonely.