Page 62 of Lady Sings the Blues

Duke laughs at me. It’s humorless, but he laughs, shaking his head. “Go. And eat. They’re watchin’. I’ll hear if you don’t.”

People keep wanting me to eat, I’d think it would be better on everyone if I just wasted away. Yet, because I don’t want to be called back into his office, I stop off in the kitchen to grab a granola bar from the pantry, waving it around in the air as proof of my following Duke’s order—even though no one’s there to see it—before heading back to my room.

But I don’t eat the bar. I lie in bed, unable to sleep. They declared war because of me. Even though I’m not sure what war between clubs ensues, I doubt it’s sending each other nasty notes in the mail and leaving flaming bags of poo on rival doorsteps.

It’s really late when the door to the room creaks open, so late it’s early. I hear boots fall. Clothing hits the floor and his side of the bed finally dips. I smell cigarettes and booze, but not pussy. And I burst out crying.

“Shh…” He wraps his arms around me, tucking me against his bare chest. “You don’t wanna be doin’ that now.”

“I’m so…sorry.” I cry against his tattoo of my name while he strokes a hand down the back of my hair. “I really… didn’t think the Horde…would be in Nashville. I was just getting away…for the day. Baby…I didn’t even know…you’re the VP. How did I not know? You…you have apatch!” I cry even harder.

“Elise, darlin’ stop.”

“You…want me…to leave? I told Duke…I’d move…to California.”

“Baby girl, I don’t wanna live in California.”

“No…I meant—”

“I know what you meant. But I’ve told you this before, so you gotta get it now. Our life is together.”

“When are you gonna say when? I started…a war. I’m not…worth all this.”

“Not worth this? I got Helen of fuckin’ Troy in my bed, and you think you ain’t worth it? Here’s somethin’ else for you to get now. Nothin’ in my life worth fightin’ for more than you. Nothin’. And I didn’t want you at the new place because it’s a titty bar.”

“I can handle it…” I sniff loudly. “I actually have tits.”

“Don’t I know it. But darlin’, we might be legit, but we ain’t boy scouts. You get what I’m sayin’? This is still an MC and even though we moved away from that other bullshit, shit gets real, we do what we gotta do. And shit can mean anything. Think you can handle that?”

“Will I go to jail?”

“No. You’d be responsible for a legit business. But brothers act how they act, do what they do. You’ll know things which could impact any one of us. Me. You prepared for that burden?”

“Are you afraid I’ll…l-let you down again?”

“Elise, you never let me down.”

“You’re wrong. Yesterday, I did. I made you look bad not just here…but with another chapter. So bad you didn’t come to get me…or come home.”

“I wasn’t with another woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s what I deserve.”

“No it’s not. Don’t ever say that shit. But here’s what’s gonna happen. Give me your hand.” I hold my hand out to him, thankfully my crying jag calming down. “No, your left hand,” he corrects me.

I don’t see what it matters which hand, still I lift my left to him. Beau reaches down with his unoccupied hand tagging his jeans from the floor. One-handed, he fiddles with the jeans wrestling a small black velvet box from one of the pockets, using his teeth to help him open the box. I’m shocked motionless as he proceeds to slide the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen in my life—a raised princess cut diamond, probably two karats, surrounded by what looks to add up to two more karats of pink, chocolate and canary yellow diamonds in a platinum band—on my ring finger.

“Beau.” The tears start up again. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“But?” he asks, warily.

“No buts. It’s exquisite.”

As he visibly relaxes a broad, beautiful smile tips the corners of his lips up.

“If you’re workin’ for the club, we’re gettin’ married.”

My face falls. “Oh, okay.”

---