Page 17 of Rook

“Do you like animals?” I asked as she dug around in her purse for a hair tie.

“Nice try, jerk,” she said to Cat as a paw tried to swipe at her when she was distracted. But Tessa had quick-as-fuck reflexes and moved just out of reach. “Yes. I’d say I’m more of a dog person. But that could be just because that was what I’ve always been around. This is the first clubhouse I’ve been to that has a cat. Though, honestly, some of them could have used a mouse-hunter.”

“There are some dogs that come around here too. They belong to the other club brothers and their women, but they hang out here sometimes. Same with kids. How are you with kids?”

“I’m… impressed with their ability to always be sticky, despite not having had anything sticky in recent memory. And their bluntness can be refreshing. I mean, I have gotten many a feeling hurt by a kid, but they keep you humble, I guess.”

“You have a lot of experience with them?”

“There were some club kids around. Unfortunately. And their parents… shouldn’t have had kids. So I tried to be a big sister to them. I can’t say I’m the most maternal person in the world, but I get along with kids.”

She brought up clubhouses a lot.

Even if her mom had been a club girl, the way she spoke of her time around bikers kind of suggested she was familiar with them more recently than her childhood.

That said, it didn’t matter to our relationship lore. In fact, it was imperative that Nancy never find out that Tessa had connections to bikers or clubs. Which was the only reason I didn’t press.

I wasn’t supposed to be genuinely interested in her past, just the fake story we made up about it.

That said, I was interested. More than I should have been. But those were private thoughts. The last thing we needed were any more layers to our fake relationship. It was convoluted enough.

“Do you want kids?” At her wide-eyed look, I added, “In case Nancy asks.”

“Oh, right. Well, I’m not against having kids. I just think it goes along with that whole… believing in love and relationships thing. Do you want kids?”

“I don’t know. I’m a little worried about passing on severe mental illness to the next generation. I’ve been really lucky to be relatively even in the mental health department. But when it’s as bad as what my mom struggles with, the chances of it passing through the genes are high.”

“I get that,” she said, looking at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes of hers. “Well, that’s a good enough answer as any, right? We’re not sure since we have concerns about those things. I think anyone would understand that if they know how much your mom struggles. And has for most of her life.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s good. It will come off a lot more genuine if we were planning on two-point-five kids and a Golden Retriever.”

“Because, clearly, we would have a rescue mutt. One that’s big enough that I don’t have to worry about stepping on it, but small enough that it won’t overpower me. Are you allowed to have pets?”

“I actually have no idea. It doesn’t seem right that she could control every minute detail of my life like that. But if there is any footnote anywhere in any paperwork about how parole officers can conduct themselves that says she could prevent me, she will.”

“I can ask. That would be a normal thing for me to ask as your girlfriend, right? And if she’s on that kind of power trip, she would like being deferred to.”

“You want a dog?”

“Oh, well… eventually. I mean, obviously, I can’t bring a dog into the clubhouse or… or your place, but—“

“That’s a long way to say yes,” I cut her off, getting a guilty little smile from her.

“I’d love a dog. But we’d have to know that we can have one. We can’t save one from a shelter, then send it back. That’s beyond cruel.”

“Agreed. Alright. Let’s see if I can get someone to drop us in town, so we can get your car.”

With that, Detroit brought us in so he could hit the gymagainbefore heading home for the day, since he’d made a big enough lunch to give us all leftovers for dinner.

Tessa was parked way down the main drag. It was a shitty little gold-colored beater that looked like it was older than she was, the paint faded on the hood and roof, the passenger side door crushed in and rusted.

In the backseat, there was a pillow stashed under a folded blanket to try to make it look like she wasn’t actively using it as a bedroom.

The front passenger seat featured a plastic box that seemed to sport a lot of Tessa’s essentials—toothbrush and paste, brush, shower products. And the floorboard was littered with coffee cups and food wrappers.

“Don’t judge. The past few public trash cans I’ve come across were overflowing already.”

“Not judging.” I wasn’t. If anything, I just felt bad for whatever circumstance led her to living out of her car. “But when you get back to the clubhouse, maybe get all this out, just in case Nancy happens across your car in town or something.”

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