Page 10 of Life In General
“Being an Old Lady has nothing to do with age,” he explains with a chuckle. “It means you belong to a Brother. In the easiest terms, it’s a biker pseudo-marriage. You wear a cut with my property patch and it shows everyone that you’re mine.”
“Property? What does that mean? Like you own me?”
“In caveman biker speak, yes. But in real world talk, no one owns anyone. Just saying you’re my girlfriend wouldn’t be enough, especially with you carrying my baby. I need you to be more. I need you to be mine in the club’s eyes too.”
“Is that the only reason you want me to come with you? Because of the baby?” My insecurities sneak up again.
“Hell no, Cherry. You’re so much more than that.”
“What does that mean?”
“Come here.” General holds his arms open, so I crawl into his lap, my newfound favorite place to be. “I’ve thought of you every day since we met. If I knew what I’d left behind, I never would’ve left you that morning.”
Nuzzling into his chest, I tell him my secret. “I wanted to ask you to stay so bad.”
“I want more for us. I want you, both of you,” he says, looking in my eyes. I can see the seriousness of his words. “You’re my woman. My Old Lady. My Cherry. My everything.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
GENERAL
Bright and early Monday morning, I leave Cherry a note and head out of the house for the first time in almost a week. I needed to get outside and feel the wind smacking me in the face. It may be cold as a witch’s tit at thirty-eight degrees, but the sun is out, and I need blacktop therapy.
Some of my Brothers put their bikes away for the winter, but I don’t. When there’s snow in the forecast, I stay in warmer climates. In rare times like this, when snow and slush are unavoidable, I wash my bike more often to keep the salt from eating away at my paint and chrome.
I guess since a move to Wisconsin is on the books, I need to look into buying a truck for when my baby—my two-wheeled baby, not the real baby—needs to be parked. Plus, I don’t think Cherry will let me strap a car seat to the Harley.
On my last loop around town, I find myself back on the main drag. As I pass Cherry’s apartment building, I notice the exterior door is wide open. I know I locked it.
Circling back, I park at the curb, boot down my kickstand with the bike still rumbling, and take off running. Taking the stairs two at a time, I have my gun out, safety off, and round chambered before I reach the top. The door to her apartment is open too and looks like it was kicked in.
Gun raised, I peek around the doorframe and see someone breaking and throwing anything and everything he can get his hands on. Cherry’s apartment is trashed.
“Hands up, fucker,” I shout as I step in.
The man freezes for half a second before he spins my way and charges at me. Not wanting to shoot him, afraid of where the bullet might end up, I decide hand-to-hand combat is my best choice.
Using the gun, I smack him upside the head as soon as he’s close enough to reach. He stumbles back a bit but is just as quick heading for me again.
I toss the gun onto the side table and take him on with two free hands. We grapple a bit before I take him down. What I didn’t see in my first glance of the messy room was the coffee table not being in its original spot. He must have moved it during his tirade, so when we go down, his head hits the edge and I hear an indescribable crunch.
His whole body instantly goes limp, and I know he’s dead.
Fuck! While I’m always prepared for this outcome when facing an adversary, this wasn’t how I thought it would end.
In a way, I’m even more mad. Adrenaline still pumping through my veins, I slam his broken body against the floor a few more times, letting the residual steam go.
Well, I guess our problem went away. Granted, it was sooner than expected, but I can’t let Cherry come back here and see this mess. She’s too delicate right now, and the baby is more important.
Pulling my phone from my inside cut pocket, I make the call.
“Yea?”
“Whiskey, it’s General.”
“Hey, Brother. Long time no see.”
“About that.”