Page 4 of Cash

“Yep. As soon as Terry gets back.”

“I’m not a child. I’m okay here alone, you over-protective ass.”

“Terry’s not here to take care of you. He’s here to keep you out of trouble,” I say.

“If you’re just here to pick at me, make yourself useful. Eggs and bacon would keep me quiet,” Dad says.

I throw a fake punch at his head when I stand and make my way to the kitchen. Grabbing the items I need, I get busy making us breakfast. Dad wheels out and settles in at the table. When he starts tapping his coffee cup on the table, I take the hint and refill it.

“Hey, Bitches. I’m back,” Terry says as he sets a couple of grocery bags on the counter.

“Want eggs?” I ask him.

“Thank you for wanting to cook for me, Boo. I can’t eat like you and still hope to get you naked, though. Some of us have to watch our girlish figures,” Terry states as he starts putting away the items he bought.

Again, I snort-laugh. Happens a lot when I’m here.

“Can you stop by and check on the Aunts this week, Cash? Terry and I can if you’re too busy, but he whines about it,” Dad asks with a smirk aimed at Terry.

“I don’t get paid enough to go there!” Terry exclaims loudly.

“They’re not that bad,” I say while knowing full well that they are.

Both of my great-aunts, Lola and Lottie, are a handful. Never married, always lived together, they bicker non-stop and have no filter with what comes out of their mouths. They rock the old woman sarcasm like no one else I know. Half of my club brothers love them, and the other half are scared of them. They flirt, ridicule and are outrageous most days. Both are well into their 80’s but neither act like it. Love them to death.

“Last time I was there, Lottie asked me what turned me gay,” Terry complains.

“That’s one of the nicer things I’ve heard her say,” Dad adds with a grin.

“I’ll stop over there. Was going to anyway,” I tell him.

After breakfast with Dad, I head outside and straddle my black Harley Chopper. It’s a Rocker C, and it’s a thing of beauty. Chromed out, of course. It has a hidden pillion seat for a passenger, but I’ve never used it. No ass is going to sit there until it’s the last ass that ever will. Some bikers have no issue with different female passengers, but I’m old school. Unless it’s life or death, only a woman I’ve claimed as permanently mine will plant her ass on my bike.

I go for a long ride and let it clear my mind. The best thing for my soul is my ass planted on a Harley seat with the wind in my face. It’s where I need to be when things are piling up on me. Working out helps but not like straddling a Harley.

Feeling settled and calm, I turn my bike into the Aunts’ driveway and prepare for their special brand of crazy. I have no idea what they’ll say or do today and just thinking that brings a smile to my face. Did I mention I love these two women?

“Come in, Cash,” shouts Lola when I knock on the door.

“Why are you shouting, Lola? Cash isn’t deaf, you know,” complains Lottie as I come to a stop next to her chair.

“It’s fine,” I interject before an argument starts. “How’re my favorite aunties doing?”

“I’m fit as a fiddle. Lottie’s been complaining about her arthritis again, though,” Lola states.

“Have not. It’s not ladylike to complain,” Lottie says with a small sniff.

I take a seat on the couch next to Lola and place an arm around her shoulders. She cuddles in close, and I drop a light kiss on her bluish-gray curls. I know without looking she’s shooting Lottie a smirk.

“Can I get you something to drink, Cash? A beer? I keep some here just for you, you know,” Lottie asks.

“You keep them here because you like your beer,” snorts Lola.

“I have to drink one each evening to help keep my weight up. And it helps me sleep,” Lottie responds primly.

“Does the Maker’s Mark help too with that weight you’re worried about?” Lola asks sweetly.

“No. That’s what I use to tolerate your old ass.”

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