Page 8 of Tuesday

“Are you waiting for backup?” Moss’s question pulls me from my thoughts.

Peering through the windscreen I notice Agent Dansen, his SUV and a large van parked on the side of the road. “Oh yeah, I called them when I got the address. They’re going to take the kids to be monitored at the hospital and then find their parents.”

“What about the kid we’re looking for?”

“Manwitch said they’d been in foster care since their parents died. Besides, she has a family waiting for her back in Rose Grove.”

He eyes me for a moment before he bobs his head side to side. “Well, I guess if the paperwork is clear, have at it.”

“Wait, you’re not going to read me my rights or accuse me of kidnapping or something?”

“Would you listen if I did?”

“Not at all.”

He snorts. “Then I’d be wasting my time, wouldn’t I? Besides, I’ve seen some shitty parents, and you and Rhodie are not them. You can offer more than I think even you know, Chewy.”

I turn to look at him, driving down the dark highway, with the FBI team following us to our destination. “I like you. We’re going to be friends.”

“I can’t think of a better person to have as a friend, Chewy. But maybe stay away from my kids for a few years, I’m not ready to have shit blowing up in my yard just yet.”

“It was like, three times, Moss.”

“Whatever you say, Chewy.” He tries to hide his smile, but I see it.

“Just drive, Moss.” My lips tug up and I’m happy to have a new friend.

I’m getting good at this friendship stuff. Motherhood will be a breeze.

Rhodie

This is hell. It has to be. Somewhere between the clubhouse and whatever the fuck this open late big box store is called, I died. I died and went straight to hell. It’s the only logical explanation to why I’m following seven Ol Ladies and two of Vi’s sisters around pushing a cart that is filled to the brim with small people crap.

“I can’t take much more,” Rider groans beside me.

“Why the hell are you here anyway? You don’t have an Ol Lady dragging you into being here,” I frown.

“I came to talk shit at you while you died a little inside. Instead, I’m dying with you. My feet are fucking killing me, and what is all this shit anyway?” He holds up some type of stuffy that looks kinda like an axolotl and a unicorn had a baby before dropping it in disgust.

“Right,” Lovely says, her clap drawing my attention, “Because the only thing we know about your child is the fact that she’s a girl, we’ve decided to get one of every age range, and then we can return the stuff she can’t fit.”

I watch through wide eyes as she throws about 12 little bathrobes into the buggy, all pink, one in each size.

“Ah, Lovely, is that really necessary?”

“Necessary?” Blanche screeches from an aisle somewhere, making both Rider and I jolt. “Is it necessary that the little girl Chewy brings home, a little girl with no family and who has nothing to her name, gets a soft, fluffy bathrobe to fit her?” She moves to stand in front of me, poking her long, bony finger into my chest. “Think about it Rhodie!” she growls through clenched teeth before storming off to a clothing rack within my sight line, grabbing one of every size, and color, while holding my eye contact.

“Blanche! Don’t scare him. Rhodie can’t help that he’s never looked after any of the MC kids because he’s always so busy. He doesn’t know what all kids need,” Mira says helpfully.

Except it’s not helpful because she’s fucking right. Outside of Chomper, who could probably eat me in my sleep, I’ve never, not once offered to keep an eye on the kids. I mean I’ve done school run, but 10 minutes with them strapped into the car and the music blaring is probably not enough experience.

“Uh oh, it’s just hit him,” Remy whispers, staring at me. Is she holding a dildo?

“No I’m not, you creep!” She swings at me with some nude-colored club.

“Wait, what’s hit me?”

“You’ve just realized that you know nothing about kids.” Nat smiles, holding hands with her ol man who has an empty buggy the Ol Ladies are making a beeline for.

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