Page 21 of Riding the Edge

Chapter Six

Cradling baby Anthony against my chest, I nuzzle the top of his head and breathe him in. There is no sweeter smell than the scent of a newborn baby. It’s these little things I wish I had discovered when my own children were babies but back then I was too consumed with just trying to make it through the days to appreciate the tender moments. I’m ashamed to admit, I don’t remember much of the early years. I don’t remember how old they were when they got their first tooth or what their first words were. I’m lucky I got the chance to experience any of their firsts considering I was working three jobs, trying to keep the electric on. My husband gambled every dollar we had and at times I couldn’t afford diapers. Sometimes I think we would’ve been better off if Carmine had left while I was pregnant with Lauren. If he had, my daughter might not have spent most of her childhood thinking she was the reason her daddy skipped out on the family.

“You’re a baby hog,” Lauren calls from the hospital bed.

The poor girl had a rough night. Between a bad reaction to the morphine and the gas pains in her shoulder, she didn’t get any rest. Now, she’s being discharged in a little while, twenty-fours after having major surgery to deliver her child. Wincing, she tries to maneuver out of the bed.

Standing with the baby in my arms, I rush to her side.

“Mom, I can do it,” she says, causing me to pause in my tracks. “I have two other kids at home.”

“I know,” I tell her. “I also know how hard it’s going to be. It’s ridiculous they’re releasing you so soon.”

“I was released the same time after I gave birth to Robert,” she reminds me.

“It’s still ridiculous,” I mutter, swaying with the baby in my arms. “I have work tonight, but before I came here, I loaded up your freezer with meals. All you have to do is thaw them and pop them in the oven. Tomorrow, I’ll come by early and take Eric and Robert to the playground that way you can rest.”

I showed up at her house this morning at six, cleaned every room and threatened to shoot Riggs if he made a mess before she got home, but I leave all that out. Instead, I watch as she shuffles around the room, preparing to dress the baby in his take me home outfit. A cute little knit set, Adrianna found in one of those children’s boutiques—you know the ones where even a pair of socks costs fifty dollars.

“I spoke to Riggs,” she starts, laying the baby’s clothes on the bed. “He said he told you about the bar,” she baits, turning to take the baby from my arms. Pressing a kiss to his head, I hand him over and release a sigh, recalling the conversation Riggs and I had this morning while I cleaned the kitchen. Apparently, he invested in a bar out on Staten Island. He completely gutted it and for the last few months, he’s been renovating it. Now, it’s ready to open for business and he wants to hire me to run the kitchen.

I contemplated the offer, especially when he said I could make my own schedule. The thought of possibly having the weekends off sounded glorious until he dropped the bomb that his new business venture would also be a front for his motorcycle gang—err, I mean club. Riggs planned on opening the establishment to the public but behind closed doors, his new bar would also act as the Satan’s Knights new clubhouse.

“Yes, he did,” I say, smoothing down my blouse before reaching for a fresh diaper.

“I thought you would’ve jumped at the chance to be your own boss and make your own hours. You could work two-three days and you wouldn’t have to be on your feet all the time. It would give you more time with the kids too,” she says, taking the diaper from my hand.

“Lauren, I am not going to run a biker bar,” I tell her.

“So, if Riggs was a garbage man who bought a bar, would you have taken him up on his offer?” she asks snidely.

“Sweetheart, it has nothing to do with Riggs profession.”

“Sure, it does. You still can’t get over the fact that your daughter is marrying a biker or that your son is mobbed up.”

“Okay, first of all, your brother is retired,” I reply. The words sound like complete bullshit even to my own ears.

“Right, that’s why he was a bleeding on my couch the other day,” she says sarcastically.

Deciding not to argue the fact, I try a different tactic.

“I’ve worked at Rab’s for years, it wouldn’t feel right leaving,” I argue, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

That’s not saying I don’t deal with my fair share of assholes at the bowling alley. Every once in a blue, a guy will hit the bottle hard and get fresh. Lucky for me, I have a knack for taking out the trash and know how to handle myself.

Admittedly, I’m probably best suited for the job Riggs is offering and I’m sure I’d have a grand time keeping all those ball busters in line. However, as interesting as working for the Satan’s Knights might be, I’m not looking for excitement and I’m very aware of the type of patrons a business owned by a criminal enterprise attracts. It starts with the Satan’s Knights and before anyone can blink, every criminal with a rap sheet is looking for a shot of whiskey and a sausage and pepper hero.

No, thank you.

My days of wielding frying pans are over and I’m just fine with renting lanes by the hour.

“It’s not like you’re leaving to go work at another bowling alley. I’m sure Rab will understand if you took a job working for your son-in-law.”

“Speaking of my so-called son-in-law, have you two talked about getting married?”

Cringing, she lifts her fully dressed baby to her chest.

“I walked into that one,” she says.

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