Page 21 of Taming Bull

“Hello Ms. Moore. Pleasure to meet you,” Tavonte said. His gaze cut to me and silently screamedwhat the fuck?

I shrugged. Her smile widened as she released my arm and clung onto his. He was closer to thirty and fresh out of the service, and the gleam in her eyes said she wasn’t opposed to giving dark meat a try.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied.

Chuckling under my breath, I made my escape and hitched her Buick up to be towed.

6

Lily

IT HAD BEEN a long time since I’d owned a dog, and I’d forgotten how much shit the furry little beasts required. Shelly opened the back of her minivan to reveal a fluffy, round dog bed; a flattened, medium-sized kennel; a Costco-sized bag of dog food; a variety of chew toys; a box of peanut butter flavored treats; food and water dishes; a pooper scooper; a manilla envelope full of important papers; and a roll of plastic poop bags. The lot of it must have cost her a fortune, and although I didn’t have the funds to replace it, I recommended she sell it to recoup some of her investment. I mean, her life and marriage were crashing down around her, so I figured she could use the money.

“Nope.” She gave me a watery-eyed smile. “It goes with BB. It’ll make his transition easier, and it’s our way of saying thank you for being willing to work with us on visits.”

So, there I stood, mentally calculating the number of blocks between the grocery store and the shelter and wondering how the hell I was going to get all this shit home.

“If you want to swing your car around, we can help you load it up,” Shelly offered.

But as my grandma would say, I didn’t even have a pot to piss in, much less a car. “I walked today.” And every day, but she didn’t need to know I was a transportation-impaired loser. Owning a dependable ride was stage three of my ten-stage plan to become a real fucking adult, and I was currently teetering between stages one and two. Wheels would come, eventually, but I needed to get down the whole kick-ass electrician apprentice gig, first. I couldn’t even consider a monthly car payment until steady paychecks were rolling in.

Shelly offered to take me home, but no matter how kind and friendly she seemed, she was still a stranger. The shelter served as a safe haven for homeless young women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, a lot of whom were hiding from something or someone. When Stocks and Monica had taken over, they’d called in the club’s tech guys, Morse and Tap, to scrub Sacred Heart Women’s Shelter from digital existence. Stocks had removed the sign, and for all intents and purposes, the old shelter was no more. To the outside world, the recently renovated building was now a huge house occupied by a big, mixed family.

Looks could be deceiving.

Ladies First, the non-profit run by the ladies of the Dead Presidents, had purchased the shelter, and was steadily improving the way it operated. We no longer accepted walk-ins. Even if homeless women managed to miraculously find us, they sure as hell weren’t allowed entry until Ladies First screened them. It was harsh, but a necessary evil since the philanthropic ol’ ladies insisted on helping women get out of bad situations. Abusive exes didn’t always respect things like restraining orders, and risking the safety of the shelter’s tenants was not an option.

After all the precautions everyone had taken to protect our safe haven, leading a stranger to the doorstep would be a dick move.

And I was no dick.

Instead, I did what I always did when I needed help; I used a lifeline and phoned a friend.

“Hey, Lil, what’s up?” Stocks asked by way of greeting. The road noises in the background clued me in on the fact he was driving. Since he’d never even hear the phone ring on his bike, he had to be in his truck, which was perfect for my purposes.

“Are you out running errands?” I asked.

“Yep. Just picked up the new moldings for the upstairs hallway. Why? You need something while I’m out and about?”

“Yeah. A lift. I’m at the Safeway by the house and I… uh…” I didn’t know if Monica had told him about Brahma yet, and I didn’t want to drop the bomb over the phone. I also didn’t want to lie. “I over-shopped.” There. That was honest. Mostly. “Can you pick me up?”

“Sure. I’m only a few blocks away. Hold tight. I’ll be there in five.”

Thanking him, I hung up and waited with Shelly. When Stocks arrived, he did a double take at my “over-shopping,” but didn’t say a word as he loaded Brahma’s stuff into the back of his truck beside the molding. Stocks drove an early 90’s Chevy 1500, that had been covered with more rust than paint when he’d purchased it. With the help of the club’s auto shop, he’d managed to breathe life into it, but no amount of money could resurrect it completely. It was basically a zombie truck, moving, but not necessarily alive. He only used it when he needed to haul stuff for the shelter.

The door creaked as I opened it and settled my bag of groceries on the bench seat. I turned and watched—trying not to bawl like a baby—as both Shelly and Johnny said tearful goodbyes to the dog. We’d already set up our first visit for the following weekend, which, I suspected, was the only reason Shelly was able to pry Johnny’s fingers from Brahma’s leash.

“You’ll see him again soon,” she promised, handing the leash off to me.

Johnny was barely holding on to his emotions, so I hurriedly coaxed the dog into the truck before the boy could lose his shit. I climbed in the truck, and Brahma settled his butt by my feet, putting his head on my knees and staring up at me like I had just become the center of his universe. His pure, unbridled adoration did wonders for my recently stomped on heart.

Bull might not love me, but the new guy in my life sure as hell did.

Stocks settled in behind the wheel and studied the dog. “I have so many questions.”

He looked more curious than upset, so I gave him my widest smile. “Surprise! It’s a boy. Congratulations, you now have an ally.”

“Oh, so this is for me?”

---