“I fucking hate this. Now that he lives in Phoenix, Junior might as well be on Mars. Should’ve fought for 50/50 custody,” I add.
“Babe, I don’t know what to tell you. Both of us work such long hours; I don’t think there’s a daycare that keeps children untilmidnight, and your mom is useless. I don’t see how you could have handled that?”
“There’s babysitters,” I grit out, as the familiar shame of my teen years washes over me. “Or you could have quit your job.”
Rebel narrows her eyes, then shrugs. “Angie always says children belong with their mother.”
I’m quiet for the next twenty minutes as we drive down The Ten. DJ fell asleep as soon as we hit the road. Rebel is singing along to her CD.
I finally can’t stand it anymore.
“He tried talking shit about you. Hawk,” I add when I see the confusion on her face.
“Yeah?” She seems flattered, and it irks me.
“Don’t look so thrilled by the attention,” I tell her bitterly.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? I drove up here with you because you insisted, only to suffer your shit mood swings and be accused of I don’t even know what?”
She was reluctant to join me, that’s true. But I was determined to rub my marriage in Marissa’s face after she had brought Hawk to my mom’s. Instead, all I got is a punch in the gut.
I exhale and remind myself that this is supposed to be a nice weekend with my wife and son.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m still upset over the court thing. I tried explaining to that fucking judge how busy the shop is. And that I take care of Mom, my house, and the club. But that bitch hates bikers, I swear, that’s why she also slammed me with back support. And on top of everything else, I have to drive up here every other week. In the interest of fairness,” I mimic her annoying voice.
“Her fat ass probably got rejected by a biker at some point,” Bell laughs.
“A brother wouldn’t touch that uptight bitch with a ten-foot pole,” I agree.
My mood is lifted. The thought of a weekend with my brothers, my wife, and my son fills my chest with pride and warmth.
I grab Rebel’s hand and interlace our fingers on my knee.
We drive directly to the clubhouse so I can show my boy off at the barbecue.
Junior’s sweetness melts even Rachel’s icy facade.
“He’s grown so much since I last saw him,” she says, teary-eyed for some reason. “I can’t believe he’s about to be one.”
Fuck, that’s right. It’s almost his birthday.
*
“Hey, baby,” Marissa tells DJ through kisses the next day when I bring him back to Fort Asshole. “How was your weekend?”
I try not to stare at her or imagine what she was up to with Hawk last night.
“We had a club barbecue yesterday. Outdoors,” I add because I know how she gets. “And we spent most of today at Grandma’s.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” Marissa coos at DJ, even though I’m the one talking to her.
“What are we going to do for Junior’s first birthday?” I ask, kinda proud of myself for being proactive about this.
She blinks, clearly taken aback by the question. I don’t know whether I should be offended.
“We aren’t going to do anything. The custody agreement has us alternating holidays, but states that whoever has him on his actual birth date celebrates on that day, and the other parentcelebrates during their time, so I figured we’d each do our own thing,” she says carefully.
“It’s his first birthday, Marissa. You didn’t think maybe both of us should be there?”
