She may only be three, but she’s verbally very advanced. Chewy thinks it’s her brain optimizing routine, and I think she could be right. Especially when Laney’s cousin Jr comes to visit. The boy isn't too much younger than Laney but he’s definitely not as bright. Last time he was here we had to keep him away from chewing the corner of the rug.
“Her ideas,” Laney answers mysteriously.
“Chewy?” I call out through the house.
“In here!”
I follow the sound of my Ol Lady’s voice coming to a stop in the back spare room Chewy uses as an office.
“Ah, babe, what the fuck are you doing?” My heart skips a beat until I can get a good look at her setup. My woman is growing our baby and yet she has no awareness as to what or where her body parts are at the best of times, or how dangerous things are. Since I found out she was pregnant I’ve been having to keep extra tabs on her to keep her, Laney and our unborn nugget safe.
She looks up at me through her goggles, a huge grin on her face as she holds a wood burning tool on one hand, the smouldering wood on the bench suspiciously pussy looking.
“I’m making char-coochie boards for my Girl Gang for Galentine’s! Rider told me to be myself. So I am. I’ve been making personalised char-coochies based on what I think the Ol Ladies coochies would look like. This is Ana’s. I guessed she’d have a bush.”
She proudly holds up an ovalish shaped board where she has painstakingly burnt the shape of a very nice vagina into it, and then covered the top with strokes and swirls to look like hair.
“Ah, woooooow, that’s, ah, really good babe.” I glance down at Laney who looks almost as confused as I do, but she has the good grace to clap her hands at her mother’s excitement.
“Thanks, Laney,” Chewy grins. “I’m pretty proud of this one. I’m working on Mira’s muff next.”
“Well, OK then. I’ll organize dinner, you just keep doing you, baby.”
“I love you!” she calls out after me as I carry our daughter away from her mother’s wooden pussies.
“Love you too, Chewy. More than you’ll ever know.”
Marx
“When’s Valentine’s? Four days away?” Dad asks as he slicks the tattoo glide onto my skin with his pinky, before getting his gun into position.
I grunt as the needle hits my skin, the pinch and slight burn welcome on my chest.
“And how exactly are you going to hide this from Lovely before the big day, son?” My eyes dart to Mad Dog’s and I ignore the smirk on his face.
“That’s easy,” Pops says, from the tattoo chair next to mine, sucker in his mouth. “When I got mine done for Debs I just would keep my top on. Throw her on the bed, make her think that I wasn’t removing all my clothes because I just needed to be inside her so bad.” His removes the sucker from his mouth with a “pop”, pointing it at me, “That wasn’t a lie, either.”
That’s not a bad plan, actually. “I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. But that’s a good idea Pops.”
“I know, I’m full of them.”
I eye him from my slightly reclined position as Mad Dog works on my chest piece. My arms have been done for years, so have my legs, back and ribs, but for some reason, I never had my chest filled in. I can see now that I was waiting. Waiting for my woman and daughter and any more children we might add.
“Why are you here, anyway?” I throw back.
When Dad wanted to start up tattooing again, and taking on Lovely as his apprentice, the club, along with Landry investment, purchased this red brick building on Rose Grove’s main street. It’s raw, almost industrial, and large, which issomething that most tattoo places are not. Mad Dog’s room is large enough for two tattoo chairs, and a small seating area for clients’ friends or family. Or in this case, the Love Pres.
“I’m waiting on Rider. We have a Valentine's Day meeting.” He shrugs, sucker back in his mouth.
“I thought Rider had everything planned out?”
“He does. He just needs a little extra help is all.”
My gaze narrows on Pops, who grins at me. Mad Dog chuckles under his breath but has the good grace to avoid my eye contact. “What are you three up to?”
“Nothing,” Pops and Mad Dog answer a little too fast.
I jab my finger in first Pops’ direction, then Mad Dog’s. “I don’t condone this, whatever the fuck kind of relationship you two have.”
