Page 21 of Rox

When she couldn’t get any information out of me, she mentioned how Dad came home upset. I kicked him out and let Max stay. I grunted in response before saying how she shouldn’t be surprised.

“He’s been a complete ass to me lately, mom. Just showing up because I decided not to drive up to the club? Come on. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

We’d gone back and forth for a little while before she tried again. She wanted all the gossip and every little detail about the night Max and I spent together.

“I’ve already told you, no. Stop asking. I’m allowed to keep things to myself. Jesus. Can’t either of you just let me be?”

“Hey, I’m on your side here.”

“Mom, I love you, and I want to believe you, but I know you’re loyal as fuck to your husband. Nothing I say would stay between us. Besides, nothing about someone else is for me to share. So, you wanna keep talking, or are we done?”

She didn’t like it, but she let it go after that. It was all true, though. What he told me wasn’t my information to give. If he wanted anyone else to know what secrets his past held, he would have told them years ago. And also, can we agree that there are some things you simply do not share with your mother? She’s one of my best friends, but there are lines I do not want to cross, and when I reminded her of what those talks would consist of and the fact that I came out of her vagina, she understood.

I know my mom doesn’t have a lot of friends outside of Mama Judy and me, but I just…can’t. Thinking about it, I wouldn’t tell Mama Judy either. She’s the grandmother I never had. Especially since my biological one was a gigantic piece of trash. She’s great, though. Omen didn’t let her go the moment he met her. They’re the Ol’ Ladies of the club.

Thinking of that, my brain spiraled over what Mom and Mama Judy could discuss and share. In the MC life, the Ol’ Ladies are close. They share a lot of the same fears over the lifestyle. While Dad and his guys are pretty low on the drama front, they do deal with battered families. There is a level of danger. The bad ones are trying to find the ones my dad hides.

The bathroom door bursts open, snapping me from the million different directions I was attempting to take myself. I don’t bother looking up. I’m positive it’s Duncan or one of his friends coming in to undo all my work. One of the many reasons why it takes me all day to clean such a small, already fucking clean, room.

“Roxanne!” An older man stomps into the room, scaring me. I shrink back and clutch the scrub brush as my weapon. Who is this old fucker? “Did you hear me, Roxanne?” He asks. I see hislips moving, but I don’t register what he’s saying. “You young kids,” he shakes his head, “if you weren’t so talented, I’d fire all of you. You have a visitor. I thought you knew boyfriends can’t hang around the shop!”

The owner. The man yelling at me is Garrett—the owner who can’t be bothered ever to show up. As far as I’m concerned, Stanford is in charge of everything around here. Garrett’s name on the lease would disagree.

He leaves the bathroom only to turn and come back, “I told Duncan to stop you from doing this. I hire people to clean this. You clean the stations, not shit.” He storms out again, hollering Duncan’s name.

Any other time that would’ve been funny, but now I can’t help but wonder, “Who the hell would be coming here to look for me?” I whisper to myself.

I drop everything and run to the front. Hoping it’s Max. There, with the same sour and surly expression on his face I’ve come to know, is Angel. He looks at all the art adorning the walls of the tattoo shop until he notices me.

“Roxie, can I take a moment of your time?” His rough and rocky voice makes me hope he’s sober.

I smile as I make my way to him. The grip on my arm stops me. I look to my left, and of course, it’s Duncan. I swear if he even tries to get me to go back into the bathroom. I’m about to bitch him out, especially with what I know now, but he speaks first.

“What is Angel doing here for you? You know him?”

I rear back some, shocked at his reaction regarding my best friend slash quazi-uncle. “Um, yes?” It comes out as a question because what the fuck? I get my arm out of his grip and grab Angel’s hand, pulling him out the front door. Once we’re outside and off to the side of the building, I let out a breath.

“Ang—”

“—I’m sorry.”

“What?”

He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Roxie. I’ve been an ass, and I’ve been too busy trying to control your life as if you’re still the nine-year-old little girl who needed saving. I haven’t been listening to you. I’ve been too consumed with what I’ve felt is right for you, as if I knew better. I’m sick and fucking tired of feeling like I’m going to lose you because I can’t pull my head out of my ass.”

“I…wow. That’s, thank you.”

“I know I’m a lot, Roxie. I’m going to give you the typical answer: it’s because I care. I know that’s horseshit, but I do.”

“I know you do. You just went about it the wrong way.”

He laughs and pulls me into him. Our arms wrap around each other, and I smile. I am happy to have my friend back. “What do you say to me starting on that back piece for you as another form of sorry?”

I pull back, shocked but so damn happy, “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Also, you wanna come work at the shop instead?”

“If you would have allowed me to before I started here, I would have said yes. But I committed to working here. Duncan may be an ass, but Stanford is giving me the chance I wanted, and I’m going to see this out.”

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