Chuckles, who’s her ol’ man, nods. “Looks that way, darlin’.”
I’ve been sittin’ at a table with these two for about an hour now, waitin’ for Boss to come in. I know she had some shit to be handling, some sort of phone call with Stoney or something if I correctly recall.
“She can only have Boss’ tit, ladies.” Gold calls over to Iris and Faith.
They both narrow their eyes in at her, “Eavesdropper much?”
“She doesn’t need a birthday until she’s one, and you know if you try to do something before then Boss will get ticked.”
“Oh, come on. Can’t we have some sort of party?” Faith whines, puffing out her lip.
Before Gold can respond, Iris is speaking up. “Yeah, she didn’t even let us throw her a baby shower!”
Goodness, these two southern women really love to spoil people around them. Lord knows they mean well, but sometimes they can be a bit over the top.
“Too bad, so sad. Grow up and get over it. Boss didn’t want a baby shower, so she didn’t have one. Destiny doesn’t need a three-month-old birthday party. If you two are itching to have a party here, you can throw Chuckles’ birthday bash. I hate planning that type of shit.”
“Yes!” Faith jumps up and down. “We can go to the old medical supply store a few blocks over and grab some walkers, adult diapers—”
“Whoa?! What in the actual fuck?!” Chuckles stands up so fast his chair scrapes against the floor, throwing his hands up in the air.
Meanwhile, his ol’ lady is getting a good laugh out of this.
Out of nowhere the sound of glass shattering comes from behind the wall. I furrow my brows and everyone diverts their eyes in the same area. Obviously, I’m not the only person who heard it.
I rise from my chair and head over to the doorway that leads out into the hallway. It takes anyone to a variety of areas which include Boss’ office, the lounge, or the kitchen. It sounded like it came from Boss’ office, so I head over there first.
Placing my hand on the knob, I push the door open without bothering to knock. Boss’ nostrils are flaring and her fists are balled on her desk. Her hair spans down and she reminds me of a demon in one of those Asian horror films, specifically The Grudge. One thing’s for certain, she’s furious.
“Want to tell me what’s happened?” I question as I enter her office and shut the door behind me. A flicker of white causes me to look at the ground and I spot the vase she broke.
“Not really,” she breathes, her tone full of fury.
“Stoney piss you off?” She was supposed to be talking with him.
She meets her eyes with my own, reminding me of a cornered animal about ready to fight for its life. “One of his idiots killed their prisoner. He didn’t give them anything useful. We’ve hit a dead end with the cult, Cowboy. We’ve hit a fucking dead end!” She screams, picking her laptop up from her desk she throws it across her office and it shatters on the floor.
“Tala, breathe.” I don’t call her by her birth given name often but considering her emotional state I’m not left with much of a choice. This fascist cult has taken so much from her. Just as she was starting to mend the broken relationship with her father, he was killed in cold blood, by his own father. Tala has deep personal links with wanting this cult to be burned to the ground, and she’s on a mission to ensure it happens. Hitting a dead end . . . fuck. I can’t imagine what it feels like for her.
Her nostrils continue to flare and her neck begins to flush a cherry red color. If I’m certain of anything, it’s that she feels like her world is falling apart. “How am I supposed to—how am I—when they’re still out there? Fuck! They took Faith. They killed my dad.” Tears form in her eyes and she holds a hand over her chest, her harsh breathing suddenly turning to rasps. Tala falls to the ground on her knees so I break the distance between us and sit on the ground beside her, rubbing her back as she breathes, trying to help her calm down.
She’s our national charter president, the head bitch in charge, but to me she’s more than that. We share a daughter. She’s never confirmed it, but she’s never told me that isn’t the case. We’ve never said much about what we view one another as, but her and I aren’t really the talking type. We screw on occasion and when we do it’s intense as fuck. Hell, I think if we were, shit would be so much more complicated. She lives here and I live in Calgary. I’m only in town for the next couple days because I have some business to tend to for my club. I’m the president of the Calgary charter. And man, it seems like it’s a whole world away from Queens.
Tears stream down Tala’s cheeks, hitting the floor below us and her breaths slow down enough that she isn’t gasping for air any longer. I don’t wrap my arms around her and pull her to me, even though I want to, because I know better. I know not to touch her like that unless she tells me I can. She’s a complicated woman, and that’s all I can say about her. I know there are many demons that plague her, so I don’t attempt to even understand what that’s like.
“God dammit. I can’t believe this!” She slams her balled up fist against the floor in frustration.
“Tala, you’re not alone. We’re gonna get these guys. I promise you, we’ll get them. They’re only being cowards right now, sticking to the shadows because they know we’re onto them.”
“I hate how life works out, how my
