Page 1 of Playing for Keeps

LOLA MCGRAW, AKA CURSED BY A NAUGHTY COOCHIE

The McGraw family is cursed to have loveless marriages and children born out of convenience. My grandmother claims her grandmother seduced a married man, and his wife’s anger unleashed a curse on our bloodline.

“Because my grandmother was a slut, you will never fall in love,” Grandma Erin explained after reading “Cinderella” to my sister and me one night when I was ten and Clover was seven.

I wasn’t sure I believed her. My grandmother lives in a world filled with wives’ tales, conspiracies, and secret societies.

“People called me a witch back in the day,” Grandma Erin shared once, and my dad nodded. “But I’ve been called worse.”My dad nodded about that, too.

My father’s lack of love was what sold me on the curse idea. Duke McGraw is a catch. I knew that much even when I was a kid. I’d look at my friends’ dads with their beer guts, scrawny legs, lame haircuts, and overall lack of cool. Meanwhile, Duke is tall, dark, and handsome. He runs the Blood-Red Suns Motorcycle Club, has cash to spare, and can cook. Yet, no woman has ever wanted to keep him.

My mother was the daughter of a powerful man. Kerrie never loved Duke, even after they made Clover and me. My father was sweet to her and didn’t cheat during the marriage. But he never loved her, either.

Once they did their time to gain my grandfather’s approval—and inheritance—my parents split up. Kerrie married a boring yet doting man and lives happily in Minnesota. Meanwhile, Duke’s heart remains unclaimed.

That’s the curse my great-great-grandmother’s coochie bought upon our bloodline.

Knowing love wasn’t possible, I’ve decided to be practical. Duke wants an alliance with the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club located in the nearby town of Tumbling Rock. The two clubs run this West Virginia county. They aren’t enemies, but they’ve never been friends, either.

Duke started worrying about life after his fortieth birthday. He feels alone at the top, and all those candles on his cake set off an avalanche of stress in him.

Then, recently, he had a run-in with members of the Charleston motorcycle club. I’ve only heard rumors about the large club from our state’s capital. There’s talk of Nazi worshipping and human trafficking. When a few little girls went missing from Charleston park, the cops blamed the club and raided their compound. They never found anything, but those rumors always kept me on guard when I partied around the state. If a Charleston member showed up somewhere I was at, I would flee immediately. Better safe than sorry.

But they had never interfered with this county until the day Duke came home rattled after finding several members riding around the Blood-Red Suns’ Basin Rock territory.

“They’re animals,” Duke muttered under his breath before looking at me with raw intensity. “If those fuckers ever steal this territory from me, pack your shit fast and take Clover and your grandmother to your mom’s place. Don’t stay and try to sell anything. Just go.”

Duke’s been on edge ever since that day. He even thought he was having a heart attack from the stress. Before we learned his chest pains were from a panic attack, I sat in the emergency room with him. My father isn’t a weak man, yet he looked broken that day.

There was something so lonely about him, too. All that pressure rested on his shoulders alone. He didn’t have anyone to truly rely on besides Erin, Clover, and me. What my father needed was an heir. Someone to help him run the club and ensure it would go on if anything happened to him. Duke was a teenager when he started the Blood-Red Suns, building it along with our family-club owned businesses. All that work could be stolen away because he had daughters rather than sons.

That’s why I volunteered to marry whoever Duke thought could save our family from the Charleston club.

“We both know love isn’t in the cards,” I told Duke after we got home from the hospital. “I don’t want to lose everything our family’s worked for to a bunch of evil dipshits from Charleston.”

“Lola, that curse thing isn’t real,” Duke insisted, despite being a terrible liar in his worn-down state. “You and Clover can find love.”

“Sure, I totally will, too,” I replied and squeezed his hand. “Just as soon as you do.”

Duke might have been flipping out over his health right then, but he still unleashed his infamous dad eye roll.

I allowed the topic to drop for a day or two, but I knew the answer was an alliance with the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club. Duke knew, too, but he doesn’t always play well with others. With his ego on the line, my father might not be willing to change without a push from me.

Visiting his house later that week, I cornered him in the kitchen and asked, “What’s your plan? I feel like an alliance with another club increases your numbers and offers protection from outsiders. Am I wrong?”

“Lola, I’ve got this.”

“No, if you did, you wouldn’t have sent Uncle Dallas and his lapdogs to Florida when you need their numbers.”

“You’re wrong,” Duke insisted while sliding my long, dark hair from my shoulders. “I had to send him away to prevent myself from killing my own brother. Dallas was driving me fucking crazy.”

“No argument there, but he took all those human shields with him.”

“It’s not numbers, baby,” Duke said while looking out the large window over the sink. His dark blue eyes held such worry, but his voice remained calm. “I need someone to run the club when I’m gone. Your uncle can’t do it because he’s stupid. The only reason he seems competent when we visit is because he’s surrounded by bigger morons, making him fucking Stephen Hawking in comparison.”

Reaching up, I fixed his thick brown hair like he did mine. “I know you’re tense because you’re swearing so much.”

“I need a president.”

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