Page 92 of Misrule
“Go on, man,” she said with a chuckle, “before I throw you down on the floor and have my wicked way with you.”
His laughter floated behind him as he headed to the hallway and disappeared.
Joy flowing through her, Roxy headed through the double doors to start her morning duty, pausing in the smaller kitchen, which had come to be known as Meggie’s kitchen. She’d used it to cook Outlaw meals and to store her Milky Way candy. Those days were gone, though, as the child had a beautiful kitchen, the size of this one and the one for the clubhouse combined. The love she and Outlaw shared was special, rare, and inspiring.
For the first time in many years, Roxy felt as if she’d found the man of her dreams. Or her soulmate? Could she actually have two? K-P had been her first everything—lover, baby daddy, man she wanted to spend her life with. She might not be able to give Knox children but he was her lover and the man she wanted to spend whatever remaining years she had left to her life.
Smiling like a giggly girl, Roxy started forward, pausing again when she heard the swinging doors creak. She thought it was Knox, so she turned—and came face-to-face with Mortician.
She scowled at him.
Holding out her cell phone, he looked her up-and-down. “You here real early this morning, Roxanne.”
She marched to him and snatched the phone out of his hands. “It’s too fucking early for your bullshit, motherfucker.” And she was too fucking happy for his overprotective attitude to put doubts in her head.
“Where Knox?”
“Sleeping, I guess. How the fuck should I know?” Concerned he might see the lie in her face, Roxy raised her phone, unlocked the screen and saw that she had two missed calls with a ‘504’ area code. Someone from New Orleans tried to contact her. The number was unfamiliar but the early time alarmed her.
“You wearing Knox clothes?”
She wouldn’t panic until she had reason to; therefore, she wouldn’t mention her concern to Mortician. He’d want to take over and the motherfucker was giving her enough problems.
“You got sweats and a Tee-shirt on with Tamara Mellon boots.”
“How the fuck you know the boot’s designer?”
“First of all, it’s my job to know shit. That way, when I confront motherfuckers, the evidence irrefutable and they know why the fuck they dying. Second, Bailey showed me the goddamn boots before she ordered them for your ass. I know the motherfuckers cost a grand, so why the fuck you wearing Knox workout clothes with expensive boots? As a matter of fact, that motherfucker wouldn’t be caught inthosemotherfuckers. He just got them to pretend he regular.”
“Mortician, what the fuck is going on? Did Knox do something that I don’t know about that’s making you act like a fucking uptight, hypocritical asshole? I know you and Bailey slept together before you married her. She even slept here at the clubhouse, so I’m asking you right now be straight with me or back the fuck off. Knox is a good man and he’s not going to leave me high-and-dry.”
A muscle ticked in Mortician’s jaw. He met her gaze and she lifted her brow.
“I deserve to know if Knox did something that’s making you act like this.”
“Motherfucker didn’t do nothing,” Mortician growled.
“Then—”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “This just important to me, Roxanne. I don’t…think about how Joan acted. Suppose she get in his head or something? What if she convince him that you need to sign a prenup?”
“Knox wouldn’t ask me to do that. I’m not after his shit and I don’t intend for us to divorce.”
“Anything can happen,” Mortician insisted. “I’m surprised you not thinking of this shit yourself. How would you feel if he came to you and said he’s momma convinced him he shouldn’t marry you? Or he shouldn’t marry you without the goddamn prenup?”
Roxy cocked her head to the side. “Has Knox mentioned a prenup to you?” she asked in a thin voice, torn between anger and despair. “Because if he did, tell me, and I’ll confront him. The way you going about protecting me is all fucked up.”
Mortician glanced away. “I just don’t trust Knox, Roxanne. Can you just humor me with this? I’m doing this to protect you.”
“Whether me and Knox are living together or apart, if we break-up, it’ll still devastate me. What the fuck is wrong with you, thinking our living arrangements will make a difference?”
“At least, this way, you’ll be used to not having himlivingwith you.”
“Mortician—”
“Look, Roxanne,” he said in frustration, looking at her again, “I couldn’t protect my momma from Sharper bullshit. Knox not a motherfucker like that. He know better than to cheat on you. But my mommadiedwhen she came face-to-face with Sharper ways. She couldn’t deny he was a piece of shit. I don’t trust Knox. He an uppity motherfucker and he think he better than me and Prez and Digger and Val. He think he better than Meggie. He can’t stand Red.”
“Knox don’t have a problem with Kendall.”
