Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel (8 page)

And that the knowledge would change his opinion of me, skew it somehow.

It was more than a while before I could move, could make my way to the mower in order to complete the job even as I tried to come up with a way to salvage my relationship with my kid.

*.*.*.*.*

J.R. let himself into the house as quietly as he could, using the kitchen entrance after stowing his bike in the garage.  His legs ached from the amount of riding he’d done as he’d pedaled through the town, trying to make sense of everything.

But he couldn’t.  There was too much he didn’t know, didn’t understand.  And it was the lack of knowledge, the shortage of truth that had his head and stomach tied in knots. 

After shooting the deadbolt, he turned to go to his room, only spying the note propped against the top of the stove.  ‘Went to bed early with sick headache,’ it read. ‘Your dinner is in the oven.  Be sure to turn it off before you go to bed.  Love, Mom.’

“Not even a ‘sorry’,” he mumbled to himself, crumpling the paper in his fist.  That was the rub, that his mom never once said she was sorry for allowing him to believe that his father was dead.  Pulling open the oven door, J.R. used a dishtowel to protect his fingers from the hot plate before reaching into a drawer for some silverware.  The meatloaf, mashed potatoes and corn were soon just a memory as he shoveled the food down in his haste to fill his belly even as his mind rebelled at eating anything she’d made.

It was when he was rinsing his plate to put it in the dishwasher that he spied her cell sitting on the window ledge over the sink.  Usually, his mother went to bed with it resting in its holder on her nightstand but for whatever reason, that night she’d not taken it with her.

Maybe there was a way to get to the truth after all
, he thought, picking up the dark rectangle and going to recent calls.  That man on the phone had said his name was Bastian too.  Perhaps that guy knew about his father and could provide some answers, ones his mother didn’t think were important enough to share with her own son.

Transferring the Montana number into his own phone, J.R. decided that it was at least a place to start, to begin to find the facts regarding his parentage. 

After locking himself in his room, the young man took a deep breath and pressed the icon to place the call, hoping he’d find the answers to all the questions he had bubbling inside.  At least it couldn’t hurt, since any info was better than none.

*.*.*.*.*

Christ, he hurt!  And had been in pain all goddamn day.

A full-blown, motherfucking eight on the pain-o-meter for a good fourteen hours which had found him swallowing duo Percocet with pipe-bowls of weed as chasers.  But nothing had touched the hurt, the fires of the hell in his belly.  Pain so deep, he couldn’t think, couldn’t fucking function except to shuffle from the couch to the toilet, from his bed to the kitchen almost mindless in the agony that lived in his gut.

He bent over the double bowl sink in his kitchen as another wave of nausea hit, sure that there wasn’t anything left in his stomach to empty.  The ringing of his cell at that particular moment was almost welcome, taking his foggy awareness from what was doing in his body onto who would be calling him after ten on a Sunday night.

“Yeah,” he croaked into the phone, not even checking the display to see who it might be.

“Er…hello.  I’d like to speak with Bishop Bastian please.”  The voice was young, immature and Bish idly wondered about it even as he reached for another pair of pills trying to remember when he’d taken the last dose.

“You got him,” he growled, trying to work the cap off the container.  Christ!  He hated child-proof caps that stymied adults but were ones children could probably remove in their sleep.  “What’s doing, kid?”

“My name is J.R. and I’m hoping you can help me, sir.”  The last bit was offered as a throw-away, almost as a remembrance to be respectful.

With the cap between his molars as his hand twisted the container, Bishop tried to talk.  “Hall ya haw?”

“Sorry?  I didn’t understand you,” came the reply down the line.

 The lid released abruptly as the remaining tablets flew out of the plastic canister, pinging as they fell on the countertop, dropping to the floor in a flurry.   Bishop sighed, knowing he’d soon be on his knees trying to pick up each and every valued piece that then dotted the floor.  “Help you how?”

The kid cleared his throat on a deep rumble but his voice, when he finally spoke, squeaked more than a bit.  “I’m looking for my father.”

“And who might he be?”  It might have been his fucked up state or even the residual ache that was screaming from his stomach, but Bishop had a hard time keeping up with the convo.  “What’s his name, son?”

“I don’t…I don’t know his name, sir.”  Bishop caught the almost imperceptible hitch in the kid’s voice at the admission.  “But my mother is Adora Leone.  Or Dory.  She goes by Dory.”

Bishop felt ice begin to fill his veins and he found himself straightening to his full height, the scattering of the small disks of the pain med forgotten.  ‘
Dory’s kid
’, his mind screamed. ‘
I’m on the phone with Dory’s kid
.’ 

“Maybe you need to be talking to her about this instead of me,” Bishop replied as the ice within him spread.

“I tried to.”  The young man’s voice spoke of frustration, but Bishop didn’t have the stamina to explore it.  “She won’t tell me shit.  I was hoping you could.”

Leaning an arm on the counter, Bishop let his head drop while pressing the phone tightly against his ear.  He recognized how J.R. felt.  Once Dory made up her mind not to talk about something, that subject was closed in such a way it was non-negotiable.  “I don’t know anything, J.R.  I knew your mom a long time ago but don’t know shit about your dad.”

“Oh.”  The disappointment absolutely dripped off the kid’s one word response and Bishop found himself pitying the poor guy.  “Is there anyone else who might know, someone in Montana that my mom might’ve told?”

“Sorry, kid.  Not that I know of.  But hey, your mom said that she was coming back to town so maybe when you guys get here…”

“What?  What do you mean?  She said we were going to Montana?  When?”

Bishop realized his gaff just by the excitement in the kid’s voice.  One that told him Dory hadn’t shared that bit with her son.  The young man’s voice, just like his mother’s, gave away secrets Bishop was sure the boy didn’t want revealed.  “I don’t know but said she’d give me all the particulars in a couple of days.” 

Bishop thought for a minute, trying to find a way to cover his ass at blurting out shit that Dory had obviously not communicated to her son.  “Listen.  Maybe I shouldn’t have told you so you gotta keep that shit on the down-low, dig?”

There was a heavy sigh before he heard J.R.’s response, offered in a simple, “yeah.”

And which was followed by a couple of beats of silence.  A kind of quiet that the older man hastened to fill.

“I’m sorry, J.R.  Sorry I couldn’t help.”  Those words, of any that Bishop had spoken during the conversation, were of the real and true kind.  “But, since you have my number and everything, maybe you could look me up when you’re in town.”

“Sure.”  The youngster’s voice sounded like someone had kicked his puppy but Bishop had no idea on how to make it better.  “Thank you, sir.  For, you know, talking to me and everything.”

“Wish I knew more, kid.  I really do.”  Bishop searched for a way to end the uncomfortable call.  “I’ll look forward to meeting you.  If you’re anything like your mom…”

“Thank you again and well, goodbye, Mr. Bastian.”  And with that, the line disconnected, finding Bishop almost dizzy with how fast their convo was completed.

And as he sunk to his knees, down onto the worn linoleum of the kitchen floor to start picking up the pills, he again wondered at what kind of life Dory had been living if she hadn’t even told her kid about his father.

Chapter Seven

I pulled into the parking lot of the Rosemont, my tires crunching under the bits and pieces of the driveway, the dust puffing behind the car.  It wasn’t the best hotel in Missoula but it wasn’t the worst.  Yet it was the one Stan had recommended J.R. and I stay in.

It had been a long day, leaving Casper at six in the morning before the sun arose.  But even with the various stops we’d made for potty breaks and to refuel on convenience store junk food, we’d gotten to Missoula in twelve hours.  Twelve long hours that found me stiff and aching from sitting in one position for so long.

“J.R.?” I called, unhitching my seatbelt while turning to look at the boy-man seated next to me, sleeping with his face propped in the taunt length of the strap that held him captive.  “We’re here, little man.”

“I asked you not to call me that,” he mumbled without opening his eyes but removing the earphones of his iPod.

“You want to come in with me as I register?”

I saw his eyes roll beneath his lowered lids, which I took as a ‘no’.  Opening the car door, and with unused joints creaking as I twisted, I found my feet, taking my purse with me.  The hotel, even after so long a time away, was much as I remembered it.  They’d updated the outside color from deep mustard to a grayish-blue and replaced the old wooden railing with a more modern metal but on the whole not much had really changed.

“Hi, I’m Dory Leone.  I have a reservation,” I told the stout, heavily made-up platinum-haired woman behind the desk.

“Hey, Dory!  Long time, no see!”  And I watched as the lady lifted a portion of the counter, quick in her haste to get to me.  “We’ve all been so excited for you to get here!”

Her hands went around my back in a fierce embrace, pinning my arms to my sides.  “It’s been too long, girlfriend!”

As soon as was gracefully possible, I pulled back and glanced at the nametag affixed to her large, overflowing bosom before my eyes went back to her face, mentally taking away all the makeup.  “Ally?”

“That’s me, sugar!  Gosh, how long has it been?” she gushed on a twittering giggle.  It was her giggle that brought forth the memory of her.

Oh my god.  The portly woman I still held in a loose embrace was Alexandra Haas who had been one of my friends in high school.  But without the name tag I wouldn’t have recognized her since the additional fifty to seventy-five pounds she was carrying, as well as all the makeup she now wore had changed her appearance.

“Fifteen years, I guess,” I muttered, dropping my arms instead of dropping my jaw at how she looked.  God!  Back in the day, she’d been a stunner, one of the girls all the guys noticed and wanted to get with.  “Man, Ally Haas.  Wow!”

“Ally Manning now, sugar,” she crooned, holding up her fourth finger on her left hand that was lined with rings.

“So you married Mike?”  Mike Manning had been a year ahead of us and one of the guys that Ally had set her sights on.  I’d lost track of their romance, lost track of a lot of things after I’d starting dating Bishop in my sophomore year.

“Twelve years now, can you believe it?  And we have five little Manning’s as a result,” she giggled as she went back behind the counter.  “What about you?”

Damn!  I’d forgotten how Missoula operated, at how everyone wanted to be in the know about your life especially if they’d claimed you as one of their own.  Since I’d grown up there, I was still considered a part of them even though I’d extricated myself years before.  “No, not married.  I co-own a hair salon in Casper.”

Ally’s carefully crafted and heavily penciled-in eyebrows rose and her smile got bigger.  “A business owner, huh?  And you do hair?  Which probably accounts as to why your hair is so short, right?”

Wait…what?  Did she just slam my hairdo?  I blinked before realizing that the last time anyone in Missoula had seen me, my hair had been to my waist.  So perhaps it wasn’t so much of a slam as a comment about the changes Ally was noticing.  Much like I’d noticed her extra padding and her overuse of makeup.  “So you work here?”

“Not just work.  Along with our folks, me and Mike bought the place about seven years ago.”  Ally shook her head as she continued.  “It was falling into ruin after old man Chase died and we got it for a song from his kids who didn’t want it.  We’ve been slowly bringing it into the twenty-first century, one room at a time.”

“The changes look good,” I offered, looking around the office area that was both inviting and tidy.  “Sorry to cut this short, but we’ve been driving all day and…”

“Oh, sugar,” Ally tilted her head in apology.  “I’m so sorry.  Let’s get you checked in so you can unwind.  Traveling always takes a lot of a girl.”

Since Stan had insisted on making our reservation, I hadn’t been privy to all the particulars.

“Okay,” she began, eyes to monitor while her fingers began clicking on the keyboard.  “So we’ve got two interconnected rooms, both with king-sized beds for four nights, right?”

“Uhm…” I started, but couldn’t finish for the thoughts going through my head.  Sure, I’d told Stan to book rooms for two people but not for two separate rooms.  While I wasn’t destitute, I didn’t need the additional expense of having two rooms for the five days we were scheduled to be in town.  “I thought it was for one room, two queen-sized beds.”

“Oh, honey.  Bishop told us about your son and said a boy his age needed his own room.  Since we didn’t have any other guests that needed an interconnecting space, it was a no-brainer.”

I caught my lower lip between my teeth as I tried to imagine the additional cost.  I took a credit card out of my wallet as I tried to remember the balance that was on it.

But Ally waved my card away with a carelessly tossed, “the bill has already been taken care of and we already have a credit card on file.”

Blinking at her words, I tried to process the info.  “But I never told you…”

“Well, no, technically you didn’t.  But Bish did!” she crowed, which was again accompanied by a giggle.  “The Hellions are picking up your tab, including any extras.”

“But I didn’t…”

“No, you didn’t,” she said with a smirk as she leaned her dimpled elbows against the desk.  “If I had a gorgeous ex-husband who wanted to put me up in one of the finer hotels in Missoula and pay for my entire stay…?” she punctuated her open question with a knowing wink.  “Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be looking that particular gift horse in the mouth, know what I mean?”