I am grateful, and don’t take it lightly. I’ve learned to work hard for things, and sometimes it’s a blessing when other people take care of it, even if you don’t want them to.
“The phone?” he asks.
Yeah, Bear and I went out yesterday to get a phone, and he said that you buy phones for your workers that aren’t in the MC.
“I, uh, don’t. He must have spent his money or something. I didn’t get a charge to the credit card.”
I stare at Pres in shock. How dare Bear lie to me about this?
Where is Bear?
“Now, I bet Bear has a great explanation for this. I’ll?—”
I cut Pres off and point to the question again. I don’t want him to go talk to him.Iwant to talk to Bear about this myself.
“I’ll tell you if you stay calm,” he says, and I nod. “He is outside talking to some of the guys.”
I storm out of the room. As I march toward him, I pull my phone out of my pocket and furiously type.
How dare you lie to me! Pres doesn’t buy phones for his employees that aren’t in the MC.
Bear is on his bike, talking to a couple of other bikers. When he sees me approaching, a smile takes over his face, which quickly becomes confused when he realizes I’m angry. I shove my phone in his face and wait for him to read it all. Right now, I wish I could talk so I could yell at him.
“Brooke, I can explain,” he says, handing my phone back to me.
I place my hand on my hip and wait for him to start explaining. He stares at me, so I motion my hand for him to hurry up.
“How about we go somewhere more private?” he offers, getting off his bike.
All I want is an explanation of why he did that. Bear turns to the bikers he was talking to. “I’ll talk to you guys later. I need to discuss something with Brooke,” he tells them.
The men nod and start chatting to each other. Bear places his hand on my lower back. I quickly step out of his touch and swat him away. I don’t want to be touched right now. I am mad at him.
He walks us to the side of the clubhouse and looks at me. I wait for him to say something, but he just continues to stare at me.
Explain.
“I know that you are saving up for an apartment. I wanted to be nice, and so I bought the phone for you and came up with that excuse. I didn’t think you would find out, and I was going to eventually tell you,” he says.
You should have told me! I’m not a charity case!
My breathing picks up the angrier I get. I do not need anyone’s help, and I certainly do not need their pity.
“I know you aren’t, and I didn’t mean to treat you like one. I was just trying to be nice. I’m sorry, and I should have told you,” he apologizes again.
I stare at him, and he runs his hands over his face.
How much did it cost?
“Why?” he asks.
So I can pay you back!
“You aren’t paying me back. I did this to be nice, so you can save up for a place to rent. I know you don’t like living at the motel.”
How much was it?
“I’m not going to tell you.”
