“Fuckin’ teenagers,” Dart inputs.
“You’ll have one soon enough,” Deuce points out to him.
“Tell me about it,” the VP moans. “Tyler’s nine going on fifteen.”
He loves that kid, but I don’t envy what he’s got ahead.
“I’ll keep doing what I can.” Token shrugs. “Something may turn up.”
Church goes the way church normally does with others offering suggestions, but none of them have any merit. Being a man of action, I hate hanging around waiting for something to surface, but until we get more information, that, it seems, is going to be my lot.
When Lost ends the meeting, I follow everyone else into the clubroom. Lost and Dart hang around for a short time, then they leave to go back to their respective homes. I take a beer and stand at the bar looking around. For some reason, there’s a restlessness inside me, a feeling I’ve not really felt before. As the night goes on and I drink my beers slowly, I watch everyone else getting drunk. The club girls are kept busy, some brothers taking them off to their rooms, others staying right where they are. The sight of a brother getting sucked off or getting it on with a sweet butt doesn’t affect me at all, bringing neither emotion of disgust nor envy. I could have any of the girls with just a crook of my finger, I just choose not to.
Bones tells a few jokes, and I chuckle at the punchline, but my heart really isn’t in it. I miss having Smoker to talk to. Thinking back, he and I had spent most of the party nights together, a practice that went back quite a while. He’d had a dry sense of humour, and together we’d sit on the sidelines looking on, reminiscing about the old days, and how the brothers now don’t know how to have fun. Sometimes Smoker would give a running commentary and assessment on someone’s performance. A murmured comment of well he didn’t last long would have me giving a belly laugh.
I’m not here for sex, and while there’s a poker game going on, I’m not in the mood to play.
Like last week, I make my way up the stairway to bed knowing no one will miss me, or probably even realise I’m gone. That my knee cracks on the first step and the other leg I injured in my crash aches as I ascend only reminds me again that I’m getting old.
What would I do were I unable to ride anymore? It’s a chilling thought. The answer is simple. I’d have nothing.
Chapter Twelve
Mary
Unlike the weekdays when Alicia’s at school and I’m at work, my daughter and I treat the weekend very differently. I allow myself the luxury of an extra half hour to sleep, then get up to do the chores I’ve not had time for during the last five days. Proving learning is far harder than applying the stuff you’ve learned, Alicia gets a few hours of extra sleep, and may, if I’m lucky, emerge from her bedroom shortly before noon.
Oh what it’s like to be seventeen.
Not that I’d go back there. Part of a mom’s job is making sure your child doesn’t make the same mistakes that you made, and boy did I make some. Looking back on those days when I thought I knew everything makes me shudder now. I’d gotten away with the risks that I’d taken, now I want to make sure she avoids making them at all.
As far as I know, she’s still a virgin. Me? I’d given it away shortly before my seventeenth birthday, using it as currency to attract the attention of a boy. Sure, I’d got his eyes on me, but our fumbling and totally forgettable experience hadn’t been worth him sticking around. It hadn’t been special, romantic or particularly enjoyable, and had left me feeling used, and with an understanding of the phrase, another notch on a bed post—or behind the bleachers in my case.
I want more than that for her. I’m not a prude. Were she in a stable relationship, I’d rather she waited, but if she was sure, I’d make sure she was protected. One thing I’ve never regretted was having her at the start of my fourth decade, or those years with Dave when we enjoyed being a couple. When I finally became a mother, I could concentrate on her and not worry about stuff on which I was missing out.
One day, if it’s her choice, I’d love to have a grandchild, but not for a few good years yet.
As I separate the whites and colours for the laundry, I consider the last week. I got one of my wishes, though it hadn’t been Alicia deleting the contact details as I’d requested. Instead, it appears Devon has changed his number. Despite her wishes, Alicia won’t be modelling anymore, unless another photographer approaches, and after this experience, I sincerely hope not. I’m both relieved and pleased in equal measure. One war avoided, though I’m sure there’s going to be many more ahead.
Owen? Well, I’ve asked her to delete his contact as well. She’s tried to assure me he’s just a friend, but I doubt that.
While I didn’t condone it, I could understand how Alicia had had her head turned, and why she was willing to throw herself at the first attractive male who’d shown an interest in her. It’s how I lost my virginity after all. When in that situation, what has a girl got but her body to offer as currency? Yes, I’d been one of the stupid ones, thinking I could turn the eye of one of the boys all the others had lusted over by giving him the thing all males of his age wanted. I’d had to live with the regret, knowing my first time hadn’t been special at all, and it had only been that he had one
