If his daughter moves, he’ll be a sad old man for sure. She and the club are Baker’s life. The only other thing he does to fill his time is bake all the shit he possibly can filled with weed in it, and he’s even cooled it a bit with that since he’s gotten out of jail. I wonder if he’ll end up moving to be closer to her if she bails, or if he’ll stay here with us?
I glance over at his daughter; she’s sitting next to our newest prospect, Plague’s friend from back in the day. He’s looking better, having had plenty of time to heal from when we rescued him from the Cartel in the club, but he still hasn’t returned home, and it’s been over a year. That Cartel business was a messy situation, one where I had to put a few bullets in a couple of people. He’s still a bit fucked up in the head over it all, understandably. Makes me wonder what sort of torture they put him through to leave lasting effects.
“We should call him Shooter,” I mention, still staring at him sitting quietly while listening to Baker’s daughter ramble on about something. Probably a medical device, she always gets on these spiels when she finds a new product she believes is life-changing. Half of them she’s made me a believer, too, and I don’t need any of it.
“Shooter?” Angel grumbles, taking a seat at the bar with us.
I nod. “Yep, cause ever since we put a gun in the fucker’s hand, he’s been shooting first, worrying last.”
The brother’s chuckle and agree. Blow makes his way over, standing on the opposite side of us, furthest away from Angel.I wish they’d squash this shit between them already; it’s been years. Tension amongst the club ranks is the last thing we need.
“You good with calling the newb, Shooter?” I ask him and he grins.
“Fuck yeah, suits him.” He instantly agrees, flashing his stare their way before glancing around at the decorations I finished putting up this morning. Sydney’s little girl will be thrilled when she sees them all for the big club dinner we’re planning. I can always count on the squirt to notice anything I do for the holidays. She’s a cutie.
“We’ll tell him in church,” Ripper decides.
Wrench, Plague, and Richardson come through the front door, dragging behind two big ass Christmas trees. “I thought you fucker’s got lost,” I greet them, laughing as they struggle to get the trees inside. One stays in here and the other they take somewhere else, probably the kitchen, as it’s the only place with enough room to add another tree.
“Two trees? Have y’all lost your fuckin’ heads?” Whiskey gripes, making a few of us chuckle.
“Fuck off, old man,” Plague flips him the bird. I’d bet money his ol’ lady talked him into getting a second. She’s good at wrapping him around her finger, and he’s hell bent on spoiling her.
Just then, Ripper’s momma and his woman, Alice, come through the door. Mouse’s huge frame is hot on their heels as he carries in multiple banged-up boxes. The outside of each box hasChristmas Decorationswritten in black Sharpie. I was ready to put the blame on Plague’s woman, but it looks like it’s Ripper’s momma and his ol’ lady at the helm of the tree decorating, and why we have more than one.
“Found these in storage, figured you all could use them once Alice told me you were decorating this year.” Even beingPrez, his momma still makes him go all red each time she kisses his cheek and treats him like he’s still ten years old.
Angel turns to me, “Everything go through on the lease you were trying to get?” His question makes excitement rush through me all over again. I’ve had a few fights this year, and I’ve managed to squirrel away some cash, in hopes I could do something extra special for my woman, and I’ve managed to pull it off. It’s probably why I’m more excited for Christmas this year than I have been in the past. I can’t wait to see her face when she finds out.
I nod. “Bro, you have no idea how fucking pumped I am over this building. Raven is going to lose her shit when she sees it. The hard part is not caving and showing her early.”
Prez chuckles, shaking his head as he claps me on the back. “Good thing you don’t have to wait long, then. She’s going to love it.”
Baker agrees, “Yep, you did good.”
“I hope so,” I release a breath, running my hand over my head, rubbing, massaging. I’ve been getting headaches. I think they’re from taking one too many hits in my time, and the anticipation of any sort of surprise or stress has been bringing them on lately.
Blow leans in, “Any woman not losing her shit over her man renting her-her own dance studio is crazy. Trust us, brother, Raven will be so happy she won’t know what to do with herself. All the ol’ ladies will be ecstatic, they’ll have a new project to work on together in decorating it. You know how they get. Remember when Plague’s woman announced her pregnancy? Baby shit everywhere. It’ll be the same with this dance studio, watch.”
I can’t help but smile widely at him and the others when they all agree. I’ve been stuck in my head over this big gift, knowing she doesn’t like me putting myself at risk oversomething that is ‘elective or optional,’ trust me, I got the lecture a few times. However, once I got the idea in my head last year, I couldn’t stop obsessing over it.
One night, we were all out back sitting around a big fire, and she was cozied up in my lap, where she belongs. Somehow, we got on the subject as a group of what we would’ve done in life differently. It started off funny, but then got a bit touchy when the rougher shit began to come out. Alcohol will do that when you’re kicked back around people you trust with your life, though, you find yourself talking about everything there is to consider.
Anyhow, when Raven spoke up and admitted to her injury in front of everyone, I knew it was a turning point for her. She continued on about how she eventually thought she’d end up being a dance instructor in her later years of life. Then she’d turned to me, meeting my eyes and softly confessed that she was going to see if she could find someplace to allow her to teach dance and stop stripping completely.
I won’t lie, I was over the moon, because as much as I love strippers and how hypnotic their dancing can be, I’m a possessive man. Raven is all mine, and I don’t want other men looking at her, thinking the thoughts I know they’re thinking. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were respectful when she’s dancing, but the majority are just plain dogs, and it was killing me inside. I never spoke up, because I’ll damn sure never try to run my woman’s life. It’s hers to decide. If she includes me, all the better.
Fast forward a month, and it turned out that the local community center was looking for someone to teach dance as an after-school program. They hired Raven on the spot. She began teaching kids of all ages. Now, my woman is obsessed with ballet for an entirely new reason. She lives and breathes it for those kids, and each time they have a performance, I swear she’s livingher dreams of dancing through them. I’m proud of her and how she’s overcome so many obstacles to reach her happiness in life.
So you see, I had to fight to get the dance studio for her. I know out of anyone in the world, she will be the most grateful, and it only makes me want to do more for her. I’ve paid the first couple of months of the lease for her so she’ll have plenty of time to decide how she’ll use the space, set up, and get clients. Knowing her, she’ll take this on and end up donating her hours at the community center so she can do both, and you know what? I’m perfectly fine with that. As long as my woman’s happy and knows I love her, it’s all that matters to me.
It’ll be the best Christmas yet, and I can’t wait.
Epilogue Two
Raven
“Merry Christmas, my cranberry tart.” Powerhouse leans in after we toast with the rest of the tables. It’s one big toasting dinner party as they’ve managed to stuff tables in the main area, by the couches, and the bar.
