Page 2 of Scotch: Unraveled

Good thing my feet listen as the rest of me is still stuck on ‘Go get yer kids.’ Next thing I know, I stop next to these two baby carriers and can feel everyone’s eyes on me.

“Pick them up,” Elise whispers.

Right. Elise, holding her son, Gun, uses her elbow to hold the door open for me as I pick up the carriers, one handle in each hand. I have to turn sideways to fit through the doorway, then walk them over to the bar. The women set carriers down on the bar top all the time. So I know the brothers won’t yell at me for that one.

Each babe has a pink knitted stocking cap on its head. Pink. Do women put pink on boys nowadays? “Please for the love of all that’s holy, someone tell me pink is a boys’ color now, too.” It doesn’t matter who answers. I feel them all gathering at my back, the nosey fucks. Just as long as someone answers me the way I need them to answer.

Caity giggles. Elise joins in. Shite, then as if there weren’t enough bitches and babies converged here today, Trisha, Sneak’s old lady, whips her blonde hair back as she outright laughs. She wears it longer than when he first started bringing her around the club, but Sneak doesn’t mind. He says she’s got less time to work a haircut into her schedule, but it’s okay because he likes to wrap it around his hand and tug when he’s fucking her. TMI, but I get it. Gotta love the hair tug.

“Pink is a perfectly acceptable color for any gender,” Elise answers. She sets her hand on my back, probably intending to comfort me before the blow she’s about to wield. “But typically, clothes makers use pink for girls.”

Fucking hell. I was afraid she’d say that.

“Plus,” Caity joins in, “women don’t usually name their sons ‘Mollie’ and ‘Macie.’”

Mollie and Macie?

She points to the caps on their heads. Sure enough, sewn in white, curly script, one says ‘Mollie’ and the other ‘Macie.’

The Macie one looks at me and her lower lip quivers. Then she lets out an ear-piercing cry. Soon as she does, her sister starts on one too. Solidarity? Baby Gun, baby Diesel and baby Briar Rose pick up the cause, wailing too. It sounds like a daycare up in here. But they have mothers to bounce them and whisper sweet shite in their ears.

All I can do is stare at the alien creatures responsible for setting off all the other alien creatures. This can’t be happening.

“Pick her up,” Duke orders gruffly. Not that he knows how to talk any other way except to his wife and kids. He’s a giant motherfucker and can be intimidating to those of us who know him, scary as shit to those who don’t. But to Caity and the kids, ya’d think he’s a teddy bear.

“How am I supposed to do that?” I ask not intending to piss anyone off, it’s just I’ve never held a wee babe in my life. Duke, apparently done with my ineptitude, shoves me out of the way with his tattooed shoulder to unhook the restraints and scoop the lass from her carrier. One hand splayed wide under her neck and the other her bum. Then he shifts her to rest her head against his chest.

“Shh…” he says as he bounces her.

Caity steps to his side, holding out her finger for Macie to grab hold of. “They look about four months old,” she says in one of those annoying baby voices that people talk to their dogs in. “Cutie pies. Yes, you are a cutie pie, aren’t you?” She shakes her finger the baby’s holding and dammit if the rugrat doesn’t stop her crying. Then Caity looks to me. “I’ll examine them after I get home from work, but they look well cared for.”

“Pick up the other one,” Duke snaps at me.

Copying him exactly, I unhook the restraints and slide one hand under Mollie’s neck, the other under her bum, and lift her from the seat. Her cap slips a little on her head and I see she has the same coppery red hair as me.

“Shh…” I continue to copy Duke, bouncing the lass. “I’m Scotch,” I tell her for some stupid reason. It’s not like she can understand me.

“You’re ‘Daddy,’” Elise corrects me. “I’m sure Caity can run a paternity test, but dude, they’re your mini mes.”

My mini mes?

“Except for their vaginas,” I feel the need to point out. “What the hell am I supposed to do with vagina-wielding babes?”

They laugh at me as if any of this is funny. Trisha steps up next to me. She runs a bent finger gently over Mollie’s cheek. “You take care of them the same as the rest of us. Duke took to raising Jade right away. And if you need advice on baby girls, Sneak’s a pro now. You’re not alone. It’s what the club’s about; we have each other’s backs.”

“Am I allowed to change their names at least?” I ask becausereally? Mollie and Macie?

“Why?” the women ask together.

“Because those are not badarse biker names. How about Rebel and Rocket?”

“Rocket?” Elise asks, full of incredulity.

“Yeah, I can call her ‘Rocky’ for short.”

“I think you’ve got bigger things to worry about than names,” she replies. “You’ve got nothing for them. You’ll need clothes, diapers, formula…”

This day just keeps getting worse. I look at the clock on the wall and realize if I don’t get ready, I’m gonna be late for work.

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