Jaded: (Beautiful Biker MC Romance Series), page 46
I looked over my shoulder at her. There was no cheerfulness in her voice. I heard what sounded like fatigue.
Yeah, she was probably sick of this man’s bullshit.
“Oh hey, Lil’ Bit. This your boyfriend? Francie said you hooked up with a biker.”
He held out his hand for me to shake.
I could take it as a sign of disrespect that he didn’t stand up, but it was a miscalculation on his part because I got to look down at him as I shook his hand. What I wanted to do was punch his face.
“Grant Jones. So, you’re the biker?”
“Jesse Garcia. Yeah, I am.”
“You a Mexican, too?” He looked me over and my back went straighter.
“What if I am?”
My ma’s parents are Portuguese, Romanian, and Colombian. My father was Mexican and British. Not that it was any of this clown’s fucking business.
He raised his hands defensively. “Just a question.”
“It’s a little sus that it’s practically the first thing outta your mouth, no?” I fired back.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Just a question with that last name and your darker coloring.”
“I’m from a melting pot of cultures. How ‘bout you? You poor white trash?” I fired back. “After all, you’re pasty and we’re standin’ here in a trailer park.”
He laughed. Like it was all a joke, then turned his head to his daughter. “Chip on his shoulder, huh?” He jerked a thumb my way. “So what’re you doin’ here, Lil’ Bit? Haven’t seen ya in forever.”
“I came for Kailey’s boxes. Aunt Francie wants them outta here. What are you doin’ here?” she asked.
I noted there was no exchange of family affection.
“I came to see my sister, of course,” he shrugged. “Changed your hair.”
“Yeah,” she replied, offering nothing further.
“How come?” Grant asked.
“She gave it to her,” I said, jerking my chin toward the aunt.
Grant snickered. “Ah. That makes sense. Wondered what was up with Francie’s ‘do. You go bald, Francie?”
All eyes moved to Francie, who was watching the exchange. Her already hard eyes went harder before she piped up. “I told him I didn’t want him here and yet here he is,” she gestured. And then she looked at me expectantly.
Did she expect me to do something about that? Is that why she called to get us here, hoping I’d run her loser brother off?
“Any word on who did Kailey-Jean in?” Grant asked casually. And then he looked at me.
Gigi went still and the look in her eyes, like she couldn’t believe he’d said that, made me bristle.
“Not officially, though it’s obvious it was the Wyld Jackals MC. Already told you that, Daddy.”
“Word on the street is it was a biker from the Dominion Brotherhood MC,” Grant stated, eyes on me.
“It’s bullshit,” Gigi spat. “Jesse’s with the Doms and I’d never be involved with someone related to Kailey’s murder. God, Dad, how ridiculous can you be?”
“Hooking up with a badass give you a backbone, Lil’ Bit?” he accused, amused.
I was not remotely amused.
“I’m gonna grab those boxes, baby,” I said. “Load ‘em up.”
“Ain’t cha stayin’ for supper?” Grant pushed.
Gigi looked to her aunt. “I didn’t think we were invited for supper.”
“Yeah.” Francie said and lit a cigarette. “Might as well. Why don’t you make some coffee?”
“Forget coffee,” Grant put in. “Why don’t you go on out n’ get us some beers instead?” His eyes were on me.
I lifted my brows, saying nothing.
He smirked. “Shouldn’t you be tryin’ to impress the girlfriend’s father? My day, you met a girl’s daddy you brought him some brewskies and called him sir.”
“Got no reason to impress ya, man,” I muttered.
“No reason to impress me? Guess you’re not all that serious about my daughter then. Hey Gianna?”
Gigi’s mouth went tight. “Dad.”
I kept my eyes on her when I replied, “I’m more serious about your daughter than I have been anybody. Don’t mean I gotta impress someone who used to chain her to a radiator so he could go get tanked.”
His nostrils flared.
“Shit she’s told me; you won’t be walking her down the aisle. And our kids won’t know you,” I added.
“You pregnant?” he asked her.
“Not yet she’s not. But letting you know the lay of the land.”
“Why you got a problem with me, buddy? We just met.”
“Look back at your daughter’s childhood man, look back at her life since she’s been an adult and ask yourself why someone who’s in love with her would have a problem with you. I’m gonna haul those boxes out, babe. You can go wait in the truck if you want.”
Gigi’s eyes bounced to her aunt who asked, “You’re not stayin’ for supper?”
“I’m stayin’,” Grant put his feet up on the coffee table.
“Feet down, Grant,” Francie barked. “And if they ain’t stayin’, you’re not invited. Get goin’, too.”
“Nuh uh, gonna stay a while. Take you to your next appointment. Look after ya. Told you that yesterday.”
Francie looked to the ceiling for answers, then her eyes came to mine. “I don’t want him here.”
“Too bad, sis. I’m not abandoning you in your time of need.”
Her eyes went big, aimed at me.
I loved my girl, but her family was fucked. She hung onto them because she had nobody else. Well, that wasn’t the case any longer. I ignored the obvious hints from Francie and went into the bedroom to grab the boxes. There was a suitcase on the top bunk and looked like Grant had made himself at home.
After I pulled out two of the four boxes in there, I stacked them. This here was why Francie called her niece last night with her hair on fire to get Kailey’s boxes gone. She wanted backup with Grant. Since I’d stepped up to defend Gigi, I knew that’s why Francie’s eyes kept hitting me. She wanted me steppin’ up for her, too. Fat chance.
“We have to go, Aunt Francie, but how are you doin’? What’s the latest news from the doctors?” I heard Gigi ask.
Francie said, “They’re gonna run some more tests.”
“That’s what you keep saying. You get the results yet from the last battery of tests?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
Francie broke out into a coughing fit as I walked two of the boxes out, noting Gigi’s forehead was wrinkled with concern.
When I was back, Gigi asked, “You being honest with me?”
Francie jerked back, then took a puff of her cigarette. “You callin’ me a liar?”
“I really wish you’d stop smoking, Aunt Francie,” my girl added, fanning her face with irritation.
“Ain’t gonna make no difference now,” she muttered.
“What’s that mean?” Gigi asked.
“None of anyone’s fuckin’ business!” Francie barked. “If I get results I wanna share, I’ll do that.”
I took the last two boxes out and put them in the back of the pickup, then went back in, hearing, “Why aren’t you gonna stay for supper?”
“That’s all right. If shit is none of my business, no point in me bein’ here, is there? We’re gonna hit the road.”
I wanted to high five my girl for saying that.
“Stay. I’ll order your favorite dinner,” Francie offered, sounding less bitchy. Sounding kinda desperate in fact.
“Oh yeah? What’s my favorite dinner?” she snapped. “When have you or anyone else in this family ever paid attention to what my favorite anything is?”
I was more than a little proud of her. She was spitting nails. It was about time.
Francie blanched. “The Alice Springs chicken from the Outback. Their baked potato. Got it for you for your birthday that one time and you said it was the best thing you ever ate. You ate half the huge bloomin’ onion though and you got so sick I had to take you to the emergency room. You went on like you were dying. Spent five fuckin’ hours there.”
“Her favorite food is spaghetti,” Grant corrected. “Used to call it bis-getti when she was a tot.”
“Can’t eat spaghetti, Daddy. I’m allergic to it. ”
“It’s still your favorite,” he maintained.
She sighed. “I was allergic to the bloomin’ onion batter, too. I was allergic to a lot of things, and no one cared to protect me from them when I was a kid. And god, do we have to hear about the Alice Springs chicken again?” She put her fingers to her temples.
“You were always a sweet little thing,” Grant stated. “Voice like an angel. Tried to get you to use that to your advantage, but you and your stage fright. Coulda bought an Outback franchise of our own if you’d gotten over it.”
“Who’s advantage?” Gigi challenged. “Another speech I’m sick of hearing.”
I shot her a look of understanding and waited by the door, opening it and gesturing to my girl.
“Again?” Francie parroted like she didn’t understand. “What’s that mean? Again about the Alice Springs chicken?”
“What?” Gigi clipped.
“Alice Springs chicken again, you said. What’s that mean? When’s the last time we talked about that?”
“You took me to one birthday dinner in my whole life.” Gigi stuck her pointy finger up. “One. And you’ve talked about it since then bringing it up at least a couple times a year ‘that time you took me to Outback’ like it was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. And sadly, other than when Kailey saved me from getting raped by her daddy it probably was at that stage. But we both know you took me out for that birthday dinner to punish Kailey for something stupid because she had to stay at home and wash the floors while we were gone. God, I’m sick of this garbage. Why are we like this? For real? Why can’t we resemble some sort of family?”
“Oh, so it’s all about you and what you want, is it? Did a lot for you when you had nobody, girl,” Francie bit off. “How soon you fuckin’ forget. He sure wasn’t gonna step up.” She jerked her thumb at her brother.
“What the fuck did I do?” Grant gasped. “You offered.”
“Yeah, cuz you were such a fuck up and Gianna’s mother sure didn’t want her.”
“Thanks for once again talking about how my momma didn’t want me. That’s the only thing you talk about more than the Alice Flippin’ Springs chicken. And I sure love hearin’ it, don’t I?” Gigi folded her arms over her chest. “More like you did it for the extra check and the food stamps, yeah. And so you could act like Saint Francie and tell everyone as often as you could that you took us in because nobody else would. You think maybe, just maybe if either of you gave a shit about Kailey after Rhonda died, she might’ve turned over a new leaf?”
“She wasn’t my kin,” Grant shrugged. “Rhonda divorced me and took you. You and Kailey wanted to stay together, and I didn’t have the room, but my sister did.”
“She had nobody. No mom, an abusive father who was in jail for what he did to her and tried to do to me. If someone had just given a shit…”
“Oh!” Francie gasped. “Don’t blame me for that girl’s bullshit. She was a bad seed ‘n you know it. You’re the only one who lived in denial about it.”
“Yeah, maybe. But at least I never gave up on her. And it doesn’t justify the way you treated me.”
“Yeah, all about you, Gianna. Whatever. Take on two teenaged girls that were all fucked up from their white trash parents and somehow I’m the bad guy.”
G laughed. “Yeah, I’ve never been all about me, but maybe I should start thinkin’ more about me. I need to go. Good luck with your next appointment. If you wanna tell me about it, give me a call. I’m done being the one to always reach out. Same goes for you, Daddy. Except you only reach out when you want or need something, so don’t bother.”
She breezed past me and went out to the truck.
Francie’s and her brother’s eyes were on me.
I said nothing. I walked out behind her, shut the tailgate and got in.
She was trembling in her seat.
“Baby…”
“No. Don’t say anything until we’re out of this driveway, out of this fucking town. I need a minute.”
I gave her thigh a squeeze, then started the truck and backed out.
She turned my stereo on and fiddled with the tuner until she changed her mind about the radio and hit play on my CD player. I had a half dozen discs in the caddy. Suicidal Tendencies’ You Can’t Bring Me Down started and she cranked the volume and glared out the windshield with her arms crossed, looking really fucking angry.
Two minutes in, she abruptly turned it off.
“I wanna scream,” she told the windshield.
“Don’t blame ya,” I replied.
Her eyes cut to me, and they were on fire. “No. I mean it. I want to scream so loud and so long that I lose my voice. I’ve kept my mouth shut for so long about so many things.” She banged her head against the headrest with frustration. “So long. Maybe that’s why I write and why I cut, so I can send it somewhere because it’s just so full in me. I can only hold so much until it overflows.” She raked her hands through her hair and growled. “You know? If I could let it out, let it all out, how would it feel?”
I pulled over on the soft shoulder and turned the hazards on. “Do it. Out there though, so you don’t blow out my windows.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she threatened.
I gestured toward the forest that ran alongside the road we were on. “Do it. Nobody around for miles except whoever’s on these roads. And there hasn’t hardly been any cars the last few minutes.”
She sighed.
“And even if there were a million people here, I’d say do it anyway. You need it out, get it the fuck out. Do it, baby. Primal scream therapy.” I shrugged.
She looked at me with her eyes working over the idea. I unclipped her seatbelt, then did the same with my own.
“Let’s do it.”
She grabbed my wrist. “I need to do this alone.”
I jutted my chin. “Good for you for standing up for yourself, baby. Proud of you. Now, go scream it out. Get it gone.”
She nodded, chin trembling as she opened the door and stepped out, then walked down the culvert through the trees. I hit the power buttons for the driver and passenger windows and took them down just two inches, then turned the truck off.
A minute passed. Then another. Not many cars went by. Two or three. I reclined my seat and stared at the sky through my sunroof.
Another few minutes went by where I was on the road alone. I was just about to go see if she was all right when I heard it. A scream. A primal fucking war cry. It was loud. Birds soared from the trees up into the sky. Hundreds of them. And it made a knot form in the middle of my throat because I could hear a fuck of a lot of emotion in it. Pain. Frustration. Rage. As it echoed, I could almost swear I saw the blue and grey streaks of the late afternoon sky ripple from Gigi’s scream.
And then it was quiet. Nothing. Not a bird. Not even the buzz of an insect.
And she came through the trees and got into the truck, brushed her hair out of her eyes and clipped her seatbelt.
“Feel better?” I asked, fixing my seat.
Her head turned so she could look me in the eyes. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely.
A smile spread across my face. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of my girl. I love you; you know that?”
She lost it. Her body bucked. I unclicked the belt and pulled her into my lap, then hit the lever to push the seat back. She wrapped her arms around me and bawled as I held her. I stroked her back, squeezed the back of her neck, and dusted kisses all over her damp face as she bawled her eyes out.
“You’re beautiful inside and out, baby. You never let those assholes turn you hard. That’s one of the things I dig most about you. You’re not weak, you’re a fuckin’ warrior with a golden heart. No matter what comes at you, Gianna, you can handle it. You’re stronger than you know. And you’ve got me at your back and in front of you, shielding you, whenever you want it or need it.”
She grabbed my face and put her lips to mine. “I love you, Jesse James Garcia.”
“Love you, Gianna Grace Jones. One of these days, I’m gonna call you Gianna Grace Garcia. And I meant it when I said I do not want that fucker walking you to me. You get me?”
“I get you.”
“You’ve taken care of yourself until now. Now you’ve got me. So when you walk down that aisle to me you don’t hand him that honor. You do it on your own, head held high, knowing how fuckin’ lucky the man who loves you is to be able to call you his because you’re giving yourself to him.”
I wiped her tears away with my thumbs and kissed her again.
She smiled a beaming smile at me before climbing back into her seat.
“GiGiGi instead of Gigi.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I look forward to that, baby.”
We both buckled up.
“I’m starving,” she informed me.
“Yeah? Me too. What do you feel like eating?”
“Alice Springs chicken,” she declared.
I laughed. “No bloomin’ onion.”
She pouted. “I know. I hope one of these days they come out with something that lets me gluten myself with no consequences. There’s supplements on the market but they’ve never worked for me. If I had one day left to live, I’d stuff my face with pancakes, spaghetti, croissants, grilled cheese sandwiches, and four ginormous bloomin’ onions.”
I laughed.
She grabbed my thigh and squeezed it. “Thanks for wanting me. For putting up with my shit, Jesse.”
“You make it all worth it, hostage.”
24
A Week Later
“How’d it go?” I asked.
“Really good, I think. I got a good vibe,” Gigi replied, approaching me on my bike, looking like a sexy librarian in a tight black skirt, navy blue blouse, and heels. It was tame for her, but still off-the-charts hot. She borrowed the clothes from Jenna after going into a mini meltdown about all her clothes being too sexy. I called down the hall to Jenna who’d been heading for the kitchen with an armful of dirty dishes, wearing thigh high socks and a brotherhood t-shirt. She set my girl up.
