Page 11 of Beast
“I told you I’d be back, Marcus.” Donna got off my bike and passed the guy leaving. “The hired help is certainly going downhill.”
“I don’t have time for your shit, Donna.” I climbed on the bike and started the engine. Donna tried to talk, and I made the bike roar. When the engine idled, Donna pulled a picture from her purse. She had a knack for the dramatic.
“Maybe you have time for this?” She handed me the picture, crossed her arms, and awaited a response.
“The fuck are you trying to pull, Donna.” I watched the cleaning guy pull away in his van. In the picture stood a woman—Donna—and a ten or eleven-year-old boy. “Who’s the kid?”
Donna put her hand on mine. “His name is Mark. He’s your son.”
I climbed off the bike, still holding the picture, making sure the motorcycle stayed between Donna and me. “What the fuck are you talking about? We didn’t have a kid.”
“The night before the divorce was final, you were drunk when you came out of Ashcan. Remember that?” She came around the bike and looked at the picture, smiling. I did remember. Ashcan is the club’s main hangout outside the clubhouse. It’s on the edge of town and close enough to the club that when shit went down, we were close enough to take care of it. “He’s a handsome young man.”
“Why are you bringing this shit to me now?” I walked to Donna’s car. “Where’s the kid?”
“At the Holiday Inn.” She joined me next to the car. “He wants to meet you.”
“Goddamnit, Donna. Why now?” I went back to the bike and climbed on. “Why not ten years ago when the kid was born?”
“With you, nothing is ever a good time, Marcus.” She moved to within inches of my face, and it was all I could do not to backhand her. I didn’t hit women, but she was making it damn hard not to start. “It’s always about the fucking club!”
“You knew that shit before you got involved, so don’t bring your pity party shit to me now. You knew what this life was like. I told you. You saw it for yourself.” I started the bike again.
“What’s going on?” Skittles asked as she and Brainiac came outside. Fuck, she was pissed.
“Fucking great.” I looked at Brainiac, and he shrugged. He wouldn’t have been able to keep her inside anyway.
“Who the hell is this bitch?” Skittles asked. The thing about being an old lady is you either quickly learned how to defend yourself and your territory or you got run the fuck over. Skittles had made it clear to every club member and every club member’s wife she wasn’t getting run over.
Donna put her hands on her hips and kicked a hip to the side. Donna was twenty years older than Skittles, but I had Skittles in a throw-down. “I’m Donna.” I never told Skittles about Donna. “His ex-old lady.” She curled her upper lip at Skittles. “You must be the young pussy I heard about. You sucking his dick like a good old lady?” She turned to me, and I was not in the mood for anything else.
Skittles rested her elbow on my shoulder. “She’s a skank,” Skittles said, and I groaned.
Donna came over the bike and grabbed a handful of Skittle’s hair. “Cheap little whore!”
“Fuck, Brainiac, grab one of them.”
Luckily, Brainiac went after Donna, leaving me the cat scratching Skittles. Both women came away with a handful of hair. Donna had three claw marks down her left cheek. Skittles had won.
“I’m not leaving town, Marcus. Your Goddamn son is here to stay.” She spat at Skittles. “This is far from over, whore.”
Skittles tried to break away. “Smelly ass cunt. I’ll cut your saggy tits off and feed them to you.”
Donna moved her tongue around inside her mouth, a disgusting habit she had when she knew she’d gotten under someone’s skin. “Be seeing you around, sweet cheeks.” Donna climbed into her car and drove away. Exes were never really gone. They were shadows waiting for daylight.
“You have a son?” Skittles stood in front of the bike. I couldn’t tell if it was indifference or sadness on her face.
“That’s what I’m told.” I showed her the picture. “Good looking kid.”
Skittles took the picture and shook her head. “Luckily, he didn’t get the skank’s looks.” She returned the picture, and I stuffed it in my kutte.
“You okay?”
“You mean about meeting that skank or you having a kid?” Skittles gave me a little smile. We both knew she didn’t have a choice. She was a fighter. If Donna wanted a fight, she was fucking with the wrong old lady.
“Get on. I’ll get the cleaning guy tomorrow night. Too much shit going on, and I’ve only been out two days. Brainiac, I’m sure he replaced the flash drives. Pull the new ones and change the guys fucking code to get inside.” I was out of prison for only two days, and I was the father of a ten-year-old. It had been the fastest pregnancy in history. I hoped he liked bikes.
“Blow job will solve all your problems.” Skittles grabbed my dick. “I’m sure I can do better than that old bitch. Unless, of course, her front teeth are removable.”
