Page 8 of The Pursuit of Her Happiness

Barkley mutters, “Wilbur is a dumb name.” He drops the empty bone to his plate, wipes his hands and takes a long pull of his beer. “My youngest gave him a proper name.”

I lean forward, eager to know, “What, pray tell, is a proper pig name?”

“Chris.” I sit back, stunned. I was not expecting that…such a normal name. I’m a little disappointed.

“Bark.” Buchanan nudges the older man expectantly.

“Chris P. Bacon.” There it is! The girls and I howl with laughter until Barkley takes it to a deliciously upsetting place. “He got too big for the sidecar, couldn’t take him for rides anymore. Then he got too big for just about anything. So, I gave him a sendoff befitting his station.” So dramatic for a dude who communicates with his fists.

“You’d appreciate it, Quinn, having been married to an Italian…” Barkley’s youngest son is 16. You would never guess he was that young since he has a full beard and is an inch or two taller than his dad, who is 6’5”. Jamie smirks at me, patting his dad’s shoulder before stealing a rib off his plate. “Best prosciutto I’ve ever had!”

“You ate him!” Audrey screeches a second later, her mouth dropping open, the color draining from her face.

Jamie shakes his head, “No, we turned him into a delicious, aged meat…then we ate him.”

“What is wrong with you people?” She stands up and stomps off, her hands gesticulating wildly as she mumbles to herself. The rest of us watch her leave, chuckling at how easy it is to rile her up.

“Honest Keen.” I wave down her ol’ man. Lincoln scowls at my nickname for him and it makes me smile. “When are you gonna toughen her up?”

“Never. She’s perfect the way she is. Pure and sweet.”

“You mispronounced naïve again.”

“Hush it, woman.” Lincoln chases after his girl, no doubt to corner her somewhere and taste all that pure sweetness. Horndogs.

“Pres!” Enzo comes running out of the clubhouse, tears streaming down his face. I’m on my feet in an instant, my heart in my throat as I look him over for injuries. I don’t see any blood and no bones poking out of his skin.

“JP?” Enzo comes to an abrupt stop in front of the club president. It’s silent in the backyard as we wait for him to explain why he’s upset.

My heart lurches when my baby boy starts ripping his cut off and holding it out in front of Madison, his little hand trembling. “I don’t wanna prospect. I don’t want to be a part of this club anymore!”

“American Standard.” Now is not the time to laugh, but I love the new nickname Buck gave to Enzo after the toilet incident. He drops to his knee in front of Enzo, wrapping his hand around Enzo’s and pushing the cut back against my son’s heaving chest. “That’s a serious thing to say. What happened?”

“He’s mean! He said mean things about my mom! And he made Chastity cry!”

“Motherfucker!” Langley roars and rushes into the clubhouse. Tears sting my eyes, not because Ford is complaining about me, but because my little boy had to hear him and somehow Chastity got caught in the middle again. This is between Ford and I.

I glance at Madison and nod my head toward Enzo. Madison looks between us, then gives his approval for me to handle it.

“Enzo.” I walk over to him and kneel next to Buck. “When you or your brothers get in trouble, what happens?”

“You make us sit in timeout.”

Nodding, I confirm, “I do. And are you happy when I do that?”

“No.” His tone indicates he’d like to add “duh” but wisely keeps it to himself.

“Do you or your brothers whisper about how mean I am when you’re in timeout?”

“Noooo.” That was a bold-faced lie, and I stare at him until he squirms. “Ok, yes.”

With a heavy sigh, I sit back on my butt. I can’t believe I’m about to defend this asshat. The things we do for our children. “Ford is in timeout. Madison and the club do not like his behavior, and he has to repeat his time as a prospect as punishment. They are giving him a chance to correct his behavior because they love him and do not want him to leave the club. Just like I put you and your brothers in timeout so you can learn from your mistakes.”

“JP. Giving back your cut is a very serious choice.” Buck stands up, dusts off his knee, and grips Enzo’s bony shoulder. “When I was a prospect, I didn’t like any of the others I had to prospect with.”

“Bullshit.” I bite my lip with the urge to laugh at the muttered curse from a few of the guys, no doubt, the prospects Buck didn’t like.

“You have to decide if the people you don’t like are worth giving up your dream. Are you gonna let some chump like Ford keep you from becoming a Congressional?”

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