| |
Topanga always feared if Dunning’s first time was with a bunny that he’d end up marrying one. She was right, too. But keeping Dunning away from the Overlook wasn’t enough to prevent him falling for a bunny.
I don’t know who came up with the idea first. Monroe mentioned it during our first double date with Lowell and Topanga. The seed was planted in her stepmom’s head. Then, Lowell started feeling regrets over never giving Topanga another child. But I think Needy was the one who talked Topanga into admitting she wanted a baby. The possibility festered for a while, building steam in her heart. Finally, Lowell agreed with trying to have a baby.
Legal adoption would allow too many eyes on our business and buying a baby felt weird.
“What if the girl is being pressured?” Monroe cried. “We can’t be the bad guys.”
Lowell and I just rolled our eyes together, amused by her denial of who we are in this world. In the end, surrogacy made the most sense, but who would carry the baby?
“I can go nine months without pot,” Amity said, selling herself as an option. “And no one wants to fuck me anymore now that I’m Needy’s adopted baby girl. You people have hang-ups.”
Personally, I thought Amity was a terrible choice. She’s emotionally fragile and easy to bully. Putting her in that position felt like a mistake.
“If I help them, I get to stay part of the Executioners’ family forever,” she said one day to me. “Even if Monroe and Needy stop loving me, I won’t be alone.”
I considered explaining how her new family clings to their loved ones. As long as Amity wants them, they’re hers. But those words come from a rational kind of thinking that she doesn’t trust.
So, I kept my mouth shut. If the universe thought the surrogacy was a mistake, it would have to interfere somehow. I wasn’t playing the bad guy.
Of course, the first procedure was a success. Then, early in the pregnancy, Lowell moved Amity into the family’s basement. With this setup, she would still have privacy, but help was right upstairs if she needed anything.
Meanwhile, Needy moved into Barbie’s house rather than live alone at the Overlook. The two women tend to get along around half the time, which is about how well my mom does with Fairuza.
Amity enjoyed her new living situation—babying from Topanga and Lowell, living across the street from Monroe and Needy, and a teenage slave to run her errands. Dunning was less thrilled.
“I prefer my siblings full grown and rude like that one,” he’d say, gesturing toward Monroe. “I’m thinking of moving out.”
Dunning didn’t, of course. He had a sweet deal at his parents’ house, just like I did at mine. He and I also never made any real friends outside of the Woodlands. My future VP is a lot like me. Softer, sure, but so was I at eighteen. While he has calmer parents, I did enjoy the luxury of not having a baby in my house.
Crystal Sinema was born hollering. We heard her down the hallway in the waiting room. After the birth of her long wished for child, Topanga cried nonstop—literally. She changed diapers while crying, showered while crying, etc.
“I’m worried about dehydration,” Lowell told me more than once.
After giving birth to a child she showed only the slightest interest in, Amity continued living in the Sinema family’s basement. There was no reason to move back to the Overlook, and our house—with her bedroom suite—wasn’t ready yet.
And one night in that basement, Dunning kissed Amity. I knew this fact after she told Monroe, who immediately shared it with me.
“You need to know what your future VP is up to,” my honey said when I teased her about gossiping. “And how his mind ticks, so you’ll trust his judgment.”
“Sure, and you just like the idea of your brother getting lucky.”
“He’s too old to be a virgin,” Monroe explained while tracing one of my tats. “And he’s lonely. All the girls he fell for didn’t fall for him. He can’t have fun with the bunnies because Topanga won’t let him. He’s treated like a child and dismissed as a loser. At least, Amity thinks he’s hot and respects him. If they fuck, she’ll make him feel sexy instead of like an eighteen-year-old virgin.”
“Hey, you don’t have to sell me on it. I started fucking bunnies when I was fifteen. Just ask any of those girls still around, and they’ll tell you I was a born stud,” I said before adding quieter, “And they’d be lying.”
“Did you jizz like five seconds in?” Monroe asked, smirking.
“No, I couldn’t come. I’d just be fucking and fucking until we were both like, ‘Is this thing on?’” I explained, sending Monroe into a giggling fit that ended with her looking ready to reward my dick for its funny story.
“Well, you got better,” she finally whispered. “Topanga doesn’t want Dunning to be a man because she isn’t ready for him to stop being her baby. But now, she has a tiny person to focus all her obsessive love on. So, Dunning has a chance to grow up.”
Monroe wasn’t wrong about Dunning needing his parents to back off. That included Lowell. I understood why father and son butted heads so much. Like the time Lowell taught Dunning how to ride a motorcycle. The teenager was so busy worrying about embarrassing himself or letting down his dad that he kept fucking up. That’s why he’ll never learn to be a member of the Executioners from watching Lowell. There’s too much emotional baggage between them.
That’s why I start having Dunning follow me around. When I handle the pot business, he’s right there. When I’m checking on the trucks going out with our product, Dunning listens to every word I say. We train in the gym together, too. At first, he gives me shit. Dunning still thinks like a spoiled kid, and I’m his big sister’s sex slave.
“One day, your dad and my uncle will be busy rubbing Bengay on their old-man muscles. The men older than them in our club will be napping away their afternoons. The safety of the Executioners and the Woodlands will rest on the younger guys’ shoulders. Wyatt’s nothing more than muscle. John Boy is still a baby. Farts is weak. Those last two can grow into solid club members. But, right now, they’re coasting on their daddies’ reps. And we’ll be the ones who’ll have to keep them in line, make sure no one fucks with the club, and protect the Woodlands.”
Dunning loses his snotty teenager expression. He sees a future where bad shit might happen to his mom and baby sister. Not because Lowell and Bronco fucked up. No, it’ll be on us.
“Elko is safe because men killed and bled to make it that way. In the not so far-off future, you and I will be the ones bleeding and killing and maybe dying.”
“I get it,” he says, sounding too young to really understand.
And right there—the way he can’t hide his emotions—is Dunning’s true problem. He never learned to disguise his feelings. Topanga wanted her little boy to express himself. Yet, despite more growing up to do, at his core, Dunning does get it. He might need a few years to build his mask, but he has the grit to help me lead.
I don’t know when Bronco will step back. Right now, we take turns at meetings and handling midnight emergency calls. He’s still president in the eyes of the club. I view him the same way. One day, though, I’ll be in charge. But thanks to Dunning—and his sister’s prodding—I won’t be alone at the top.
