Page 17 of Manny

I step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

She grips my forearm. “I’m really so grateful. I’ll make sure the rent is paid on time every month.”

Oh, this is going to be torture.

I nod. “Okay. So we have a deal?”

Her face looks solemn for a split second, if I’d blinked, I would’ve missed it. I want to ask her what’s wrong. I want to find out what’s going on inside that pretty head of hers, but she’s made it clear that this is a bad idea and probing will only lead to us getting closer. It’s better this way.

If she wanted more, she’s the type of woman to reach out and take it. She holds out her hand and we shake. “We have a deal.”

4

JONAH

Bronco switchesoff the needle and examines his handiwork down the rest of my sleeve that needed filling. I have so many tattoos now, it’s hard to spot any actual skin on my arms and legs.

I still have some room on my back and torso, but I like my sleeves completely covered. The depiction of an angel is fitting. Under it, my wife’s name, and my son. I lost my wife in a head on collision eight years ago. She was pregnant with Eli at the time. He was lucky that she was almost to term, and though there were complications, he was born a few hours after the accident. Jill didn’t survive.

I can’t say I’ve been the same ever since that day. Weeks later, I went home with a new baby and no wife. I had no fucking clue what to do with a baby. Jill was always the homemaker, not me. I loved her. I never really got over it, and with the help of my Gran, who’s now passed, and my sister Indi, we got through it.

We moved back to New Orleans a few years ago for a fresh start. Eli is a great kid. The one thing I’ve always done is put his needs first.

When I first moved here, shit was rough, and it took a while for my son to settle, but somehow we got into a new routine. He also loves being around his cousin Cami, and Harlem’s kids, Stella and Kai. They’re all older than him, of course, Cami being thirteen now, and Kai sixteen, Stella nineteen. They spoil him rotten.

Because I work nights at the club for extra money, Indi and Harlem babysit every second weekend. Eli sleeps over and it’s a weight off my mind, and wallet, knowing that he’s happy and safe.

I didn’t go into stripping lightly. In fact, a friend of mine was doing it back in Philly, and when I saw what easy cash it was, it was a no brainer. I did a few shows and it was good. Not half as embarrassing as I thought, because the women who frequented that club were nuts.

At first, yeah, it was weird. I’d done some topless waiter shit for rich women on yachts, and when we moved, the position came up at the MC’s new joint next to their gentleman’s club, The Vault. Thus, The Vault XL was born.

The guys give me plenty of fuckin’ stick about it, but they soon shut their pie holes when I bragged about how much cash I take home.

To be honest, I enjoy it. If I want to put my kid through college, fixing cars and changing oil ain’t gonna get him very far. I put away every single cent, rarely splurging except for my Harley. That’s my one obsession. In the club, we all bring in money to keep the club coffers full, and everyone benefits.

My old man was an ex MC Prez and an all-round piece of shit. So when I came home and watched my sister fall in love with a biker, I was on edge. Then I saw what the club stood for, and how they have each other’s backs. I wanted that brotherhood, the family that I was missing for myself. I guess it’s in the blood. Just not the same way it was for my deadbeat dad. He had hisown version of protecting us, but none of that shit was anything a child should be witness to.

When a man eyed up my sister one time, Dad shot him in the head in front of her. I’ll never forget the blood spatters covering my sister’s face and the ongoing trauma she faced with our dad’s version of love.

I vowed when I became a father, my kid would never feel anything except safe. I’d be everything that he wasn’t, and it’s the one thing in life that I’ve stuck to. I had no other choice. I was alone in the world with a brand new baby. Now my baby is eight and he’s my entire world.

“You good?” Bronco wipes over my skin as I glance down.

“Didn’t even know you’d finished.”

He grins. Bronco is one of the Club’s Tail Gunner’s, like Nevada. Man, I live for those long runs on my motorcycle. The freedom. The feel of the Harley’s engine rumbling underneath me, it’s like nothing else.

“What do you think?” He hands me a mirror so I can get a better look.

“Nice job, brother. Appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

“Rumor has it you tattooed Nevada’s dick.”

He glances at me. “Knew that motherfucker couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

I chuckle. “Of course not. He brags about it often.”

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