| |
Wyatt’s been a pain in my ass since we were kids. We’ve never been friends. I tolerate him. He often says he tries to tolerate me, but I’m too annoying. Aunt Bambi claims I’m scarred from growing up without a dad, despite my father dying when I was a young adult. Barbie claims Wyatt is scarred from owning an ugly woman’s face. The quiet hostility nursed by the sisters all their lives naturally transferred to their kids.
Today, the quiet part bails. Wyatt uses his sister’s battle with Monroe as an excuse to attack me. He’s dying to show the founding members how he’s a bigger badass. But Bronco didn’t become president based on his fighting skills alone. He was smarter than the other guys, too. No way is Wyatt beating me in a thinking battle.
Though after my head smacks the floor, I might be dumb enough to make things more level between us.
“You gonna cry?” Wyatt mocks as my head swims.
Seeing the asshole ready to attack while I’m down, Monroe throws a plate of food at him. My cousin doesn’t get any prettier with shrimp in his hair. I force myself to sit up when I notice Wyatt moving for Monroe. Someone calls his name. Lowell, maybe? The mood before trouble broke out makes me think no one will step in to stop the fighting. If I want Wyatt to submit, I’ll need to do the deed myself.
Still feeling woozy, I don’t dare throw punches. Instead, I tackle Wyatt. His head meets the same floor as mine did. I see pain flash in his blue eyes, even as his fist digs into my rib cage. I realize I’ll lose if I don’t create distance until my brain unscrambles. Crawling over him, I’m careful to grind my knee against his balls. I know I hit my target when he wails as loudly as his sister does when she ends up on the floor.
I wish I could enjoy Monroe kicking ass, but I’m too busy kneeing Wyatt in the face as I break free of him. Struggling to my feet, I instruct my brain to get organized. I’m on the clock here. No time to deal with the world spinning.
“Need a barf bag, boy?” Bambi taunts, clearly pissed that I injured her son’s floppy balls.
“Watch out,” Rooster tells his wife.
Too late! My mom punches Bambi in the cheek and shoves her toward her man.
“I’m killing you today,” Barbie warns her sister.
I don’t have time to watch them throw down. Holy hell! Two chick fights are taking place, and I can’t enjoy either one.
Based on how quickly Wyatt returns to his feet, I don’t think his head hit the floor nearly as hard as mine did. I might not win this battle. My woman will be disappointed and dump me for another, more worthy man. The club will decide I’m unfit to be president and force me to become Wyatt’s VP. My mom will wonder if I was switched at birth with her real, tougher son. Fuck that shit. No way am I losing this fight.
I swing around and duck Wyatt’s punch. He’s a sloppy fighter—all wrath and ego with very little strategy. I use his faults to my benefit. I dodge his attacks for the next minute or two. By the time my brain regains control of itself, Wyatt’s only managed to kick me in the ass and scrape my shoulder.
“Genetics are weird,” I say, cracking my neck to each side. “You look like your mom, and Taryn looks like Rooster. Pretty fucking creepy.”
Wyatt’s temper rages, hitting another level as he rushes me. I can’t dodge his attack, so I lean into it. Nailing him in the jaw with my elbow. Digging my boot into his inner ankle. Punching his lean, lady throat.
That last one gives Wyatt pause, forcing him to shove me off. I nearly topple into the drink table.
“Thunder cunt!” Mom yells from the other side of the room, where she’s wrestling on the ground with her sister.
“Fat bitch!” Bambi screams back.
Honestly, them throwing down is a monthly thing, so I don’t pay it much attention. I do glance at Monroe and find her crawling after DeAnna, like a predator stalking her prey.
Wyatt rubs his neck, maybe worried something will snap and put him in a wheelchair. He hears DeAnna cry out and turns to check on her. I use that moment to knock him on his ass with a solid right hook. Falling on top of Wyatt, I start swinging like when we were kids, and his bullying made me cry. Grown-up now, I use my big fists to break his lady face.
Hitting my groove, I pummel him until he’s a bloody mess under me. The world disappears except for my desire to keep Wyatt from ever annoying me again. I think of every fucking time he messed with me. Each snide comment he ever made. The smirk I caught him flashing during my dad’s funeral. The millions of times he mocked my mentally ill mom. I remember every damn insult until my mind focuses on him reaching for Monroe today. As much as I hate DeAnna, I’d never put my hands on her. But Wyatt was ready to cross that line with my woman. He ought to die for that alone.
“Enough,” Bronco says, suddenly yanking me off Wyatt while Rooster kneels down to check on his bloodied son.
“Are you fucking kidding?” I growl at my uncle. “Where were you when he was giving me a concussion?”
Bronco shrugs. “Over by the appetizers.” When I snarl at him, pissed that he ruined my chance to finish off Wyatt, he smiles. “Geez, kid, you can’t kill your cousin at a community function. Murders are strictly for family get-togethers. Now, back down and go check on your woman before she flashes her panties again.”
“Panties, you say?” I ask as horny pride overtakes my rage. “Did she win? Either of her tits pop out of her bra?”
Bronco guides me to where Monroe sits with Topanga, Lana, and Pixie. I smile at my honey as I drop into the seat next to hers.
“Using my head as a weapon might have been a mistake,” she says, holding a napkin filled with ice against her forehead. “Are you in pain?”
“Winning is worth the suffering,” I murmur before cupping her face and staring into her big brown eyes. “I applaud your triumph over two foes.”
“DeAnna barely put up a fight. I think Pixie breaking her nose turned the slut into a pansy,” Monroe says, flashing a smile at Anders’s hippie chick.
“Do you want to leave?”
“No way. This party ain’t over until I’m too full, drunk, and tired to move my ass. Then, you can drag me to the parking lot and find a way to relocate me back to the Overlook.”
“Better still. Why not sleep at my place?”
Monroe must see something on my face. She moves from her chair to my lap and places her makeshift ice pack against the back of my head.
“Only if we can have loud sex that echoes over to your mother’s side of the house,” she murmurs, smirking like a naughty little bitch.
“Deal.”
As if beckoned by a mere mention of her existence, Barbie plops down where Monroe once sat. She steals a sweaty beer bottle from the table and places it against her jaw.
“This is her fault,” Mom says, gesturing toward my honey.
“Bull-fucking-shit,” Monroe replies before I can defend her. “I just arrived in Elko a month ago. You had plenty of time to put these people in their place before I ever got here. Instead, you slacked off for decades and let these shitheads get away with their crap. However, you raised a wonderful son, so I’ll forgive your laziness in other matters.”
“Bitch,” Mom grumbles, smiling behind her beer bottle. “I wanted a sweet girl for Conor.”
Topanga bursts into laughter before switching to tears. Finally, she descends into a weird mix of both. Pixie frowns while Lana hugs the crying woman.
“I wanted today to be pleasant,” Topanga says, wiping tears from her cheek.
“But you knew Taryn wanted to upset Monroe,” Pixie says, refusing to edit herself. “And what Taryn wants, she gets.”
“Stupid little bitch,” Mom grumbles.
Pixie narrows her dark eyes and growls, “You’re stupid.”
“I meant Taryn,” Barbie explains.
“Oh, then you’re very smart.”
Accustomed to the hippie’s ways, Mom smiles. “What’s the point of them doing stupid shit? Taryn ain’t finding a man any faster by acting like a cunt at the community parties. Wyatt won’t be president even if he breaks your brain,” she mutters, reaching over to rub my head. “It’s just noise. That’s why I punched Bambi. She should have raised her kids better.”
Frowning, I suddenly become aware that Lowell and Anders are missing. Bronco returned to the bloody mess I made, but I don’t know where his sidekicks went.
“They took the women outside to cool down,” Pixie explains and waves toward Barbie. “They were making too many screeching noises.”
“I don’t screech,” Mom grumbles at Pixie.
Pixie looks ready to reenact my mother’s noises. Instead, she just smiles.
“I want people to treat you well,” Topanga says, reaching across the small round table and patting Monroe’s hand.
Without missing a beat, my honey replies, “Because it’s a sign of respect for you?”
“No, because your life was difficult before coming here. I wanted you to have more now.”
Monroe looks at me and frowns. Yeah, Topanga is good at laying on the guilt. Monroe sighs and glances at her step-mom.
“I appreciate that, but you have to understand that I don’t give a crap about these people. I didn’t care about Uncle Clive’s minions, either. My heart focuses on the people who mean everything to me while the rest of the world is just noise.”
“Can I be one of the special people?” Pixie asks, making Topanga frown. “I warned you about the vagina move not working.”
Monroe smiles wider. “Of course, you’re one of those special people. Everyone at this table and their immediate families are those people.”
I snort when she emphasizes “immediate” and glance back at where Wyatt once bled. The rift between Bambi and Mom widened after Lana arrived. The anger was always there, stemming from a rotten childhood and temperamental personalities.
Then, Mom freaked out on Lana, and Bambi took Bronco’s side. After Mom started her medication, Bronco and Lana made up with her. Yet, the sisters remained hostile toward each other. Just recently, I’ve accepted their lingering hostility comes from them having sons who want the same job.
I always assumed Bambi understood how Bronco would never hand over control of the club to Wyatt. Or that the other founding members wouldn’t follow my cousin. He’s too rude, and these men feel entitled to a certain level of respect. They fought and bled to offer us this comfortable community. A little ass-kissing is expected, but Wyatt owns an explosive temper and a big fat mouth. People thought his shit was adorable when he was little. During family or club functions, he’d start cursing and making threats. People laughed at his temper because he was small and powerless. Now, he’s all grown up, and it’s no longer funny.
But maybe I’ve read the club’s vibe wrong. Bronco and Rooster saved Wyatt’s ass when I was beating it, but they didn’t do shit when it looked like I would lose. Lowell and Anders are outside, babying Bambi rather than in here with their women and my mom. Has the tide turned against me? Was it always going that way, or did something change?
Suddenly, ditching Elko with Monroe no longer feels like such a wild choice.
