Page 2 of From the Darkness

I never feel fully dressed unless I have my cut in place.

Once we have our bags packed and our lockers cleared out, we head to our bikes, nothing needs to be said as our bikes come to life and we head to the townhouse the MC owns, to make sure the little old lady there is safe and doesn’t need help. We bought that house for when one of the brothers needed to get away and clear his thoughts, as well as a place if we needed to recover.

Who would think that some hot as sin chick, driving a sweet as fuck Mustang, would pull up with Grandma May and literally make me want to hand her my balls on a platter ready for her to do with as she pleases? I can see from the look on Drills’ face that he is feeling the same.

It isn’t often that we are on the same page with the same chick, but this little firefly may just be the spark to our flame.

Chapter Two

Amelia

I have been standing in line in this hot as hell grocery store for over forty-five minutes. I had to come and get groceries on the one day a month that everyone and their grandma come out to get groceries. Of course, it also happens to be the hottest day of the year, or hell just opened up.

“One, two, three. How much is my bill again?” The little old lady in front of me asks the cashier. Her frail body is in a hunched position, and her skin is white with liver spots, but her round glasses and bedazzled clutch make this lady look like she has spunk.

“That’s twenty-six dollars and three cents, ma’am,” the cashier responds, trying to show the lady that she is boring her with the millions of questions. I don’t get why today’s youth have developed such disrespect for older adults. This lady paved the way for what they have today.

The little old lady looks into her wallet and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill and then looks back down and starts to count out six one-dollar bills. She hands them over to the cashier and then asks if she can page for some help.

“Ma’am, what do you need help with?” I ask, trying to show the young cashier that how you respect the people around you will make this life that much more fulfilling.

The old lady looks at me and states, “I just need my bags placed into the cart. My grandson should be outside waiting for me.”

I squeeze by her and the cart and start loading them back into the buggy.

“Thank you, miss,” she whispers and slowly begins to push the cart out of the store.

“I hate when they let all the old people into the store at once. They need to have a dude at the door to limit them,” the cashier complains.

“Remember the exact words that you just used when you're seventy years old and buying groceries so that you can cook dinner for your family,” I growl at her and put the rest of my cart on to the conveyor belt. I have people behind me agreeing with me and some mumbling how I should mind my own business. This is what today’s society has come to, being rude to our elders and groaning when someone stands up for them. I will never understand millennials.

She doesn’t say anything after that statement and just keeps her head down while she scans my groceries.

After I pay for the things I purchased, I walk out not paying attention but thinking if I got everything on my list, when I hear, “But Jesse you were supposed to drive me home, why did you ride that death machine here?”

I look over to see the little old lady I helped in the grocery store, crying beside a skinny guy that looks like he bathed in grease, or has missed his turn in the shower for the last year.

“Man, I don’t want to ride in no sweat bucket with someone who smells like mothballs,” the dude grumbles and shoves her away. I hope that isn’t her grandson.

Abandoning my cart, I ran over and stood in front of the greased-up toothpick. “What the fuck do you think you are doing, you bitch?” he growls and raises his hand as if to smack me.

“One, if you raise that hand to me, boy, you better be prepared to have your ass kicked by a girl. Two, if I see you touch or speak to your grandmother like that again, you’ll have yourself a full set of dentures, and you will be shitting out your teeth. Lastly, learn some fucking respect,” I growl at him and watch as he swings his hand back and starts to bring it forward.

I smirked at him, and before his hand cleared his head, I raised my foot and jammed it into his gut. As he bends over to catch his breath, I bring my knee up to meet his face and watch as his head flies back and he lands on his back, unconscious. “I’m sorry I had to do that, ma’am, but I will never allow a man to put his hands on me, ever. Please let me take you home. My car is right over there,” I say and point to my ‘67 Shelby GT 500 Fastback. Yes, I know that’s not the car you go do your grocery shopping in, but I had to have her worked on, and I just picked her up.

“Such a beautiful car. My Herbert had one exactly like it when we were younger. We had to get rid of it when our children were born,” she whispers to me.

I smiled at her and then guide her to my car. I let her get into the passenger seat and load her groceries into the organizer I have in the back, and mine I just throw on the seat.

“So where to, ma’am?” I ask as I get into the car and start her up.

She tells me her address, and we start our journey to her place.

“You can call me Grandma May, sweetheart. Thank you for stepping in back there. I don’t understand why that boy is acting like that. His daddy is my son and his momma. Well, you probably heard of her. She is some big author who doesn’t have time for anybody but her magical people in her head,” Grandma May states. I chuckle and shake my head.

“Ms. May, I’m sure she has deadlines she has to meet,” I giggle.

She just shakes her head and raises one of her bony fingers to point at a group of row houses.

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