Page 7 of Tav
She smiles wide at me, and then rolls her eyes when Savage pulls her even closer to him. “I’m doing good thanks, Tav. Peanut seems to not be making me too sick,” She smiles as she rubs her small belly, Savage then laying his hand on top of hers.
It’s a good look on the man. That and the DRMC cut he now wears. The first time I met him we were trying to rescue his Ol Lady and other innocent women who were in the process of being sold. After that it’s been shit show after shit show, which must have really been weighing on his shoulders. Since he, his VP and his enforcer patched over, you can see the weight lifted, meaning he can enjoy his Ol Lady and her pregnancy without the constant threat of violence. Well, maybe.
“I’m on duty around the clubhouse today, so if you need anything, let me know. I always keep a pack of saltines on hand for Ana, but she’s about the same amount of pregnant as you, so I can double up if need be.”
Savage holds out his fist to bump. “Thanks Prospect,” I gently tap his fist and wave to Nat as they continue down the hall.
Breakfast is already done and dusted, what with the bulk of the brothers off to their day jobs at the various businesses DRMC own. Normally I’d be in the office, but I’ve been taking Mondays off to help out the MC a little more, maybe even get my patch a little sooner. As a part owner of Tombs Security, being able to change my hours to suit is easy enough to do. Just run it by my pain in the ass family and voila! An extra day at the clubhouse spent cleaning up shit and running around after the brothers and I love it.
I snap out of my thoughts as my phone vibrates in my pocket, letting me know I have to meet Tank in the common room ASAP.Hustling my ass down the hall, I stop next to the huge man leaning on the bar.
“We got a run. Old Man Whitlock has run out of ‘shine, so we gotta call by Old Man Henderson’s and grab a case. We may as well check in and deliver to the others while we’re out.”
“I’ll grab the keys to the SUV.” I nod at him, feet already moving.
It may not be the type of run other MCs are doing. No guns, drugs, or women for us. We run moonshine back and forth to a small network of vets in the area. Henderson makes smooth stuff, still high enough proof to knock you on your ass and see Jesus, but it’s safe. We do pickups whenever the men run low, deliver it, and spend a little time with them. They may not have wanted in on the MC lifestyle, but as the MC sees it, they are still brothers in arms and they deserve to be taken care of.
Signing out the keys from Wire and Remy, who I’m certain were in the middle of some type of geeky foreplay, judging by how red Remy’s face was, I head out to meet up with Tank. But not before checking in with every brother I pass along the way. These guys are an extension of my family, and just like with my family, I like to ask how they all are, offer advice (not that I have any), and help them in any way I can.
Settling into the soft leather of the SUV I’ll be driving today, I wait for Tank to pull up alongside on his Harley. Instead, the door flings open, making me almost shit myself.
“I’m driving, kid. You’re shotgun.”
“Sorry, I thought you’d take your bike,”
“Nah. Figured I should do my sponsor duties.” He smirks at me before grabbing my shirt and pulling me out of the driver’s seat. Which would have worked better if I was the type of rebel to not buckle up. As it stands, I’m hanging out of the door like a goddamn puppet, trapped by the seatbelt. Tank lets out a huff, leaning over me to press the release button. Because of the oddangle, my head is now level with his groin, and he has a really fucking unfortunate hole in his jeans. I now know that Tank is a free balling type of guy. Well, either that or he wears bandaid colored boxers. Wanting out of the danger zone, I grab onto his pockets and try to wriggle back a little, using him as leverage.
“Why the fuck won’t this unbuckle?” Tank grunts.
“It’s the safety feature. It thinks I’m upside down or something,” I grunt back, still trying to use my grip on Tank’s jeans to lever myself back into the car seat.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” I let go of Tank and let my body go limp. I know that voice. That voice haunts my dreams. “Son, is Blanche your beard?”
“What the fuck, Pops?” I peer at Pops through Tank’s legs before Tank moves slightly, grabs me under my arms, and shoves me back into the car, none too gently.
“Fix this,” Tank says, poking his massive finger into my chest. Hard.
“Pops, Blanche is my Ol Lady, once I convince her. And I would never go there with Tank. I respect him too much.” I shoot a grin at Tank, who is now in the passenger seat, having given up getting me out of the car.
He just runs his hand down his face and makes the motion to get on with it.
“Well, I’d be fine if you were with Tank. I mean, it’d take a bit to get used to, to know my grandkid was a catcher and all, but what you do with your ass is your business.”
I gape at him for a moment before all his words register. “Wait, what do you mean I’d be the catcher?”
Pops looks at me, darts his eyes over my shoulder to look at Tank, before looking back at me. Then shaking his head and walking off.
Turning with indignation to face Tank and his smug smile, I decide to cut my losses.
“Just get us to Old Man Henderson’s in one piece, Prospect.”
“Aye aye Captain.”
Blanche
Axl Rose gently whistling the opening bars of “Patience” drifts through my waking consciousness so I yank the covers even higher until they cover my face.
“You can’t hide from Axel Rose, sis.”