Burnt (7 page)

“Getting ready for the day? The sun is barely up. I swear sometimes I think you’re insane. Normal people like sleep and I happen to be one of those people. But, I’m awake now so, what can I do you for?”

Just like that. No small talk. No chance to answer any of her questions, or ask any of my own. No. Kendall’s all business these days with me.

“I need a favour. Got a run today and Isabella can’t get Lexi. Any…”

Before I can finish Kendall’s on it.

“Yep sure. Three-o’clock nursery pick up. I’m booked from eleven till five. It’s big piece, so I’ll be tapped after that anyway. I’ll duck out and get her in the break. Vic will need one anyway. He’s a dead set pussy when it comes to pain. I’ll bring her home with me after and either you or Isabella can collect her whenever you get done.”

I hate that I have to rely on her so much. It’s not her responsibility to do this shit, but I love that Lexi gets to spend time with the best woman I know at the same time.

“Lexi’s excited as fuck. She’s shovelling in her breakfast as we speak.”

A low throaty chuckle from Kendall has me biting back a groan. Fuck. My cock jerks in my jeans just thinking about her laugh let alone having to hear it.

“And what would you have done if I said no?”

Good fucking question, so I answer her honestly.

“No clue, Babe. That hasn’t happened yet.” I can practically hear her put that wall back up she uses to guard herself from getting too close to me.

“Right, well lucky you. I’ll get Lexi no drama there. Remind her that I’m coming though please. I don’t want her to freak thinking you aren’t there to get her.” I sigh. She’s always looking out for my daughter’s well-being.

“Sure thing. Highly doubt she’ll forget though Kendall. I had to plug my fucking ears with all the squealing she did when she found out she gets you today and not me.”

“Okay cool. Talk later Declan.” She hangs up. She always does. Whenever it looks like we’re going to have an actual conversation, maybe banter back and forth like we used to Kendall cuts me off. I know she’s protecting herself. I just wish she didn’t feel like she has to protect herself from me. The truth is, she’s got every reason to. Feeling like shit now I heave myself up after swallowing the rest of my now cold coffee and stub out my smoke. It’s time to finish starting my and Lexi’s day.

Thank God today is going to end on a high note with me picking up and spending time with Lexi because the start of it has been phenomenally craptastic. Not only did Dec wake me up at the ungodly hour of seven AM, I know it’s late to all the early birds out there, but fuck them and their worms too, I like my sleep. Not only that, but it’s rare I get a good one at all these days. My dreams are constantly invaded by a sexy hunk of man meat. He rides a Harley, is wrapped in leather, covered in tattoos and has two gorgeous dimples.

Sure, to most of you that sounds like an awesome dream right? Well fuck you too. When that sexy hunk of man meat has a name starting in D, and ending in eclan it’s most assuredly not an awesome dream. It’s a freaking nightmare. Right well nightmare isn’t exactly the right way to describe it. Especially when you think about licking the sexy man Popsicle all over, and finding out if he tastes as good as he smells. Or how he feels under my hands. Possibly even how he uses his body to bring me ultimate pleasure.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up to find my hand has made its way into my panties in my sleep. I can tell you it has happened more often than it hasn’t. Argh. See! There’s no helping some people. It doesn’t matter what Dec said or did five years ago. It doesn’t matter that I still feel the burn every time I see him, and it sure as hell doesn’t seem to matter that the fire burning just below the surface ignites every single time I see him with that whorebag Isabella. Yes I know. Tut, tut you shouldn’t speak ill of a child’s mother and all that crap, but really can you blame me? The stupid cow can’t even be bothered with the wonderfully precious gift that is her daughter. Not only that, but she’s truly the most pathetic wife and useless human being on the planet. Before you say it. No. I’m not biased. It’s the straight up simple truth.

Isabella should cherish what she has because there are some people out there that can’t have kids. Not that I’m one of them because I can. Well in theory at least. I honestly wouldn’t know. This may possibly be because I’m an almost twenty-three-year-old, independent, seemingly functional, I hope, virgin. Before you pass out from the shock of it I will confirm that you heard right. I am indeed a virgin.

How you ask? Simple. The man of my dreams. The one I intended to spend my life with, and the only man I have ever, or will ever love is with a scum sucking hose beast from hell. Or if the guys at the club are to be believed a Demon Bitch I for one believe them 100%. Yes. I am most assuredly a virgin because the only man I want in my lady garden, well not a garden per se, I wax all of it, but you know what I mean, is the one man I will never have. There is a good chance I will die before he gets a chance to plough my lady garden.

As I explained that’s the only reason for my virgin status. It’s not for lack of offers or willing partners. Even Arrow whose nine-years my senior, and a fully patched brother in the MC offered, albeit drunkenly on both our parts, to relieve me of said status. Thankfully I know the offer was made in jest, because albeit he too, is a sexy grade A specimen of man meat, he isn’t where my interest lies. It’s also lucky for him that I trust him, because that little bit of information was never supposed to pass my drunken chatty lips. EVER. Fuck tequila, and fuck Arrow for being a good listener. Thank God we were alone when I divulged that tasty bit of information. I would have died of humiliation if anyone else knew. Needless to say I graciously turned Arrow down on his super special drunken offer to plunder my goods, and informed him that I would helpfully feed him his cock if he breathed a solitary word to anyone about said conversation. He’s a smart man that one because to date he hasn’t breathed a word to anyone. I would I know by now if he had, because let’s face it, it’s been seven months since I dropped that bomb. Also I have faith in his silence because if he spilled to anyone dad, Uncle Max, uncle Pipe, or Declan would have probably killed him and buried his body in the woods by now. Anyway. Moving on.

Back to my ultra shitty day. It started like this. My shower wasn’t long enough. My hot water heater is on the fritz, and I’m sure I still have conditioner in my hair for Christ sake, and that’s just not okay. Add to that my hairdryer blew up yesterday, so long ass afro here I come. The thought of how unruly my hair will be today makes me shudder a little. It can get scary enough to make small children cry. I have no milk left. Goddamnit. Who can function drinking black bitter sludge? Well unless you are a tough as nails biker that consumes copious quantities of roadside diner swill that masquerades as coffee?

My dog Abel, a purebred Rottweiler with really big teeth that weighs in at 120 pounds, and will instantaneously cover you in drool because he loves you, is currently eating my brand new knee high Doc Marten boot. Only one of them mind you. He’s considerate like that. I swear he thinks I’m going to get down there and gnaw on the other one with him. After I retrieve said boot, feed him the correct nutritional diet, and then refill my Blue Macaw, Monty’s seed container, I’m ready to head out. Of course the morning is not complete until I receive my regular good morning from aforementioned feathered friend.

“Monty wanna fuck?” Oh Jesus Christ on a crutch. Whoever thought it was a clever idea to get one of the world’s smartest birds that has a possible vocabulary of up to two hundred and fifty words as a companion is an idiot. Oh. That would be me.

I got Monty when I first moved out of home so I had someone to talk to that would actually talk back. That way I wouldn’t end up looking, and sounding like a crazy lady by the age of twenty-one. In hindsight that was a stupid idea now wasn’t it? I didn’t think this decision through very thoroughly, and I’ll openly admit that. Reason being, I constantly have a house full of bikers that think there is nothing funnier than to teach my bird a startling vocabulary of curse words, and phrases that will make most people blush. If nothing else at least Monty makes me, and them laugh. Currently his repertoire consists of ‘Monty wanna fuck’, ‘Oh yeah, tap that big boy’, ‘Woo hoo sexy’, ‘Fuck me harder’, ‘Kiss him, kiss him’, and ‘Big cock, big cock’. That about sums it up, but I’m sure the guys will rectify that soon enough.

Given that a Blue Macaw’s life span is twenty to twenty-five years and I’ve only had Monty for four, this will make for a long standing love-hate relationship. I can see it now. There are already times I occasionally consider asking Abel to eat Monty, but I’ll never go through with actually letting it happen. I don’t think Abel will do it anyway. Those two make the strangest of friends, but nonetheless good ones. Sometimes I think Monty’s a bad influence on Abel. Okay. So I think he’s a bad influence on him ALL the time in reality. I swear it sounds like Abel is snickering at some of the filth that comes out of Monty’s beak.

Thankfully Monty’s learned that when Lexi is in the house he best shut his fruit hole, or there are no treats for him. He learnt that after repeatedly saying, ‘Big cock, big cock’, when Lexi was about two. Lexi thought it was fantastic idea to copy him, and run around the big house yelling it at the top of her lungs. Needless to say, the guys thought it was hilarious. My mom was mortified. Dec just shook his head trying to cover his laugh, and I? Well, I made sure Monty paid the price getting none of his favourite watermelon for a week. He can’t say I didn’t warn him.

So, after that exhausting beginning to my day, six hand cramps, a back ache, and three and a half hours of continuous tattooing later I’m well and truly ready for a break, and to pick up Princess Lexi. Not only that, but God save me from badass bikers.

Victor or as we all call him, Vic, is patch wearing member of Devil’s Spawn MC. He’s currently sitting with his back to me barely holding his shit together. I swear if I even dared to breathe on his back right now he’ll cry. Why get tattooed if you can’t handle the pain? That’s my question too. Funnily enough it’s some of the biggest guys that whimper for their moms’ though. Vic’s in his mid-forties, he’s working on a beer gut to rival Santa Claus, and is hairy as all get out. I really don’t know how Aunt Sheila gets her freak on with him. I honestly don’t want to think about it either.

He’s exactly what most people think of when they conjure the image of a leather clad biker. Well unless you read that smutty romance crap people pedal. Their ideas of what MC men look like are SO far removed from the norm it isn’t funny. Sure there are some drool worthy, yummy, panty wetting men that make up the ranks of Devil’s Spawn MC, but they certainly aren’t the majority. A lucky few women get those ones. Take Louisa for example. She’s still my best friend after all these years, and one of the luckiest bitches I know.

After a rocky friendship in High School, mainly because Lou was jealous of all the hooker types hanging off Billy, and Billy was secretly wanting to bone only my friend. A non-existent courtship. Meaning one day a friend of the club, but not a member, was getting what Billy considered to be too friendly with his NOT girlfriend, so he decided to claim Lou then and there. They had a lightning speed engagement. Two months to be precise, and a beautiful wedding out back of the club house that included a patch ceremony making her officially Billy’s old lady in marriage and in leather. Those two are undoubtedly madly in love with each other fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. They are demonstrative. Sickeningly so sometimes. Always glued at the hip, and are expecting their first baby in about three months. The little one will be my goddaughter because I told Lou as soon as she found out she was pregnant that’s the way it will go. As I said, Lou’s a lucky Bitch.

After everything happened with Declan five years ago, Lou became my rock. Billy too, to some extent. As much as he could be while remaining friends with Declan, and without stepping on any toes. I know it sounds cliché, but I forgave Declan immediately following that night. As soon as the next morning in fact. That was before I knew about Lexi, or his engagement. That knowledge only added an extra layer of understanding to my forgiveness. It might make me sound weak, but there was no point holding on to anger when it wasn’t going to change anything.

To say Sunday dinners, the mandatory ones that consisted of my parents, me, uncle Pipe, Dec, and now Isabella, were awkward would be an understatement. Being trapped around a table with no escape route, or fire alarm to pull in case of emergency with that whorebag was definitely NOT a picnic. I muddled through learning early on during these dinners that it was best to agree with, or ignore Isabella’s digs at me. Most of the time the snide, catty shit she threw at me was along the lines of, ‘Have you gained weight’? ‘Are you sure I can’t set you up because I haven’t seen you with anyone’? ‘Are you sure you need that bread roll, us girls have to watch our carbs’? Honestly I could let it all roll off my back easily because I’m five foot one and weigh ninety-five pounds. Carbs are not my enemy. I’m hardly big. Shit. I’m barely normal sized.

All of that was fine, and honestly what I expected coming from her. There were times when I swear I could see smoke coming from dad or uncle Pipe’s ears, but a small head shake from me, or little smile was usually enough to put the fire out. Mom was civil even though it took extreme effort for her to do so. Declan kept his mouth shut, and refused to comment or stick up for me. That too was to be expected. The things that hurt the most. The things that burnt were the ones that hinted at Declan and my friendship. The previous one. We don’t even have that anymore. Isabella said things like, ‘I wish you were as happy as Declan and I are’. Or, ‘I hope you get someone as wonderful as I have’. She was snide. She was catty, and I really wanted to punch her in the throat.

These comments were always followed up with a kiss to Declan’s jaw, which was clenched mind you, or Isabella stroking his arm or neck. There were times Declan would look at me his eyes so pained that I hurt for him. I shouldn’t have, but I did. It was almost as if he was pleading for me to help him. When I considered speaking up, it was always headed off with Declan kissing Isabella lightly, or stroking her belly where their baby grew. I know he saw me see him do it. It was just another slap in the face, but again I was set aflame. Stupid, stupid me. I should know better by now.

My dad used to tell me when I was little, that anything I dream of I can make happen. Back then I used to giggle, pinch his cheeks, and tell him he was silly because I dream of unicorns and I can’t make them appear. Uncle Pipe would kiss my head while he thought I was sleeping and tell me to ‘Dream big’. Mom lectured me about never giving up on my dreams, and Dec? Well Dec IS my dream, so in a roundabout way I never did give up my dream because I’ve never given up on Dec. It would have been easy to. He made it easy for me to write him off. I didn’t though. I couldn’t.

Standing I stretch out my back to relieve some of the ache, and kiss Uncle Vic on the cheek

“Okay Uncle Vic you get a short reprieve from the torture big man. I have to go get Princess Lexi from nursery. I’ll be back in half so don’t go anywhere.”

I swear I hear him basically sob with joy.

“If you weren’t so fucking magic at your job sweetheart I’d have to kill ya.”

Laughing at his idol threat I pat his shoulder and remove my ink stained gloves “And I believe you would too Uncle Vic. Clean up the language when I get back with Lexi though okay? Or you boys will have big bad Declan to deal with if his little girl goes home saying ‘Fuck you motherfucker’.

Uncle Vic and Uncle Max both chuckle. Uncle Max just says,

“Truth Kenny, truth.” That’s my Uncle Max for you. He’s a man of many words. Giving him a big smacking kiss, I shoot a wave over my shoulder as I head out to pick up Lexi.