Page 41 of Petty's Crime

So she’s not. And while I know she’s not in the middle of her period, she could be anywhere in the other three weeks, so what are the odds?

Fuck!I feel like screaming and pulling my hair out.

“It’s not the end of the world, is it, Clark? We’re married and you always wanted kids.”

I don’t anymore. Or not with her. Or not with anyone as how could I ever trust another bitch?

Christ, but I want to wipe that smirk off her face. She’s standing there, an eyebrow raised in challenge. Then she chuckles. “You just don’t have the balls, do you?” She turns away.

Seems like she did do something useful yesterday. She must have gotten the prospect to take her to a grocery store as the cupboards are again stocked. But when she offers me breakfast the thought of food makes my stomach curdle.

I make my coffee myself.

She cooks bacon and eggs that I’ve no appetite for. I use the time to go to the bathroom and put on fresh clothes. When I return, it’s to find her eyes on me.

“How the hell did you ever get into that gang, Clark?”

“We’re not a fuckin’ gang—”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says dismissively. “Yourclub.I mean, the men I’ve met there are real men if you get what I’m saying. You’re a fraud, Clark. How don’t they see it?”

I prospected with them. I’ve fought alongside them. I’ve proved I’m their equal time and time again in the ring. They see the man I want to portray…

Not the man I am with Britney.

She doesn’t wait for an answer, just goes back to digging into her breakfast. I notice how at home she appears to be in the apartment, and that it’s me who seems to be the interloper. Having said her piece, she stays quiet, but satisfies herself with snide glances which end with an upturn to her lips as though she’s planning something.

The thought of what it might be makes me shudder.

I don’t stay longer than necessary. I get out of there and away from the woman who calls herself my wife, and only feel I can breathe properly when I arrive at the clubhouse. I park the SUV, walk past my bike, stopping for a moment to let the sight soak in, then carry on inside.

Red’s standing at the bar, drinking a cup of coffee as I enter.

“Got a moment, Petty?”

When I raise my chin, he waves me into his office and then to the chair in front of his desk. His eyes fix on me for a moment, and then he chuckles. “I wasn’t sure what to expect when you asked for Brit to come here without you, but your ol’ lady’s a good fit. Behaved herself well yesterday evening. Haven’t heard anyone say anything bad about her.”

Which just proves how little they know her. Grimacing, I correct him. “She ain’t my old lady.”

Red looks at me from underneath the eyelashes that I’ve heard the sweetbutts say women go crazy for. “That ring on her finger says otherwise.”

Even if there was a small part of me that thought Britney might have returned changed, and we might have been able to make a go of it. I now know the truth, nothing’s any different to how it was before. Except, I’m no longer willing to fake it. Red’s probably judging me by his own relationship with Cher, and I need to let him in on the truth of it.

“There’s a piece of paper that says she’s my wife. I’ve no intention of patching her or putting her on the back of my bike.” His mouth opens, but before he can speak, I continue, “We’d have been divorced long ago if she hadn’t have gotten locked up. We’ve nothing in common, Prez.”I don’t even like her.

His eyebrows form a V. “She seems to think you’re both giving this relationship a chance. Have to say, Petty, she thinks very highly of you.”

If she does, she hasn’t said shit about it to me. As I stay silent, he continues, “I told you before, if it came to a vote, I don’t think anyone would object to patching her in, and after last night, I’ve no doubts about it.”

No. It would just be me who’s the holdout.I can’t help wondering what her game is, and why only I can see that she’s playing one.

Red even seems to have sympathy for her. “Cher’s been speaking to me. Britney having the label of ex-felon doesn’t make it easy to find work. Hope you don’t mind me stepping in, Petty, but I had a word with Erika, and she said if we vouch for her, she’s willing to give her a try as a waitress.”

We’d taken on the contract to provide Erika’s restaurant with security and protection while I was still a prospect. I respect the woman and like her.

Red raises his chin. “All Erika wants is for you to say that she’s trustworthy.” He raises his eyebrow.

For a second my mouth gapes open like a landed fish as I try to think of how to answer. I’m in an awkward position. My natural inclination would be to palm her off on someone I don’t like, not someone who’s basically a friend to the club.

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