“Shit,” I mumble. It won’t take long before the cops put the pieces together and show up here asking questions.
“We really need to get Bull here,” Bobby responds, throwing both of his arms behind his head.
“It could mean nothing; calm down, pretty boy,” Hawk gruffs, grabbing his paper.
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and I want to do something special for Shadow. I know men don’t really care for gifts so I will give him something he always wants: sex. Hopefully my gift of sex will work; who knows what the club will need, or if Zane will behave tomorrow night. I look at myself in the mirror; my hair pulled into a towel drying, my breasts spilling over my maternity bra, and my growing belly. I rub my hand over my stomach. I got large quickly with Delilah. I was twelve weeks along and looked like I was five months pregnant already.
“Mom. Mom.” I look behind me to Zane handing me his sippy cup. He’s shirtless? only wearing his Ninja Turtles pajama bottoms. I’m surprised he still has those on; he hates wearing clothes.
“Hey, buddy, let’s get you a drink,” I respond, picking him up.
I set him on the kitchen counter and take the lid off his cup for some juice.
“Miss Sara is going to watch you for a little bit; is that ok?” I ask, pouring apple juice in his cup. He smiles and nods, his blue eyes which match his daddy’s staring back at me excitedly. I knew he wouldn’t disagree; he seems to like Sara. Something else he gets from his daddy—he’s favored by the ladies.
I give him a big wet kiss on his black hair and set him on the floor with his cup. I hate to leave him, but the last time I took him to the mall it didn’t go too well.
Roughly a year ago there was a kid blocking the slide at the mall’s play area, keeping the kids behind him waiting. Talking to Cherry, I wasn’t paying attention when Zane had enough of waiting and pushed the boy off the slide. It wasn’t but a foot and a half off the floor, but the mother of the child Zane pushed was irate.
I walked toward Zane to get on to him. The mother helped the child off the floor and turned toward Zane, her face red and pursed. She reached over, grabbed Zane’s hand, and gave it a quick slap. Zane retracted his hand instantly, crying out loud. I felt the irrational cloud fog my clarity instantly; I wanted to kill that bitch.
I rushed forward and grabbed hold of Zane, pushing him to my chest to comfort him.
“Have you lost your mind?” I questioned the lady, my voice shrieking with hostility. How dare she discipline my son?
“You should raise your child better; he could have killed my son,” the woman replied, her hands on her hips. I literally growled, ready to maim the Stepford wife.
“You’re a bitch!” Cherry shrieked next to me, looking at the lady in disbelief.
The woman puffed her chest out and cupped her child’s ears with both of her hands. “You should rinse your trash mouth out with soap,” she remarked. Cherry scoffed and grabbed hold of my arm.
“Let it go, babe; not here,” she mumbled into my ear. I looked down at Zane; I didn’t want him to see me like that.
“Let’s go, Zane,” I said, not taking my eyes off the cruel lady.
Getting Zane’s shoes on him, I saw the bitch getting her purse and leaving the child’s play area, headed toward the bathroom.
“I’ll be right back, Cherry,” I informed, leaving her to get Zane’s shoes on.
I walked to the bathroom, the sound of the woman’s heels clicking against the tiled floor when I entered. I turned around, locked the deadbolt and leaned against the sink, waiting for her to leave her stall. Minutes later, I heard a flush along with her footsteps sounding through the bathroom.
“Jesus,” she whispered, clutching her chest. “Can I help you with something?” she asked rudely. I pushed off the sink and got right into her face.
“You think of me next time you want to put your hands on someone else’s child,” I advised.
“What?” she questioned, confused.
I reared my arm back and slammed my fist into her nose, causing her head to whip back from the impact. She grabbed her nose, yelling in pain. “You stupid bitch!” she screamed, holding her bleeding nose over the sink. I smirked and looked at her reflection in the mirror, my eyes finding the soap dispenser. My brow quirked as an idea formed in my dark mind. “You should rinse your trash mouth out with soap,” I said sarcastically. She looked at me stunned as I placed my hand under the dispenser, squirted the soap onto my palm, and slapped it against her mouth hard..
“Mom. Mom.” I look down and see Zane holding the remote up, wanting me to change the channel, taking me from my flashback.
“Yeah, sure, buddy,” I reply, turning on the TV. He climbs up on the couch, grabs his blanket, and stares at the TV intently. I have done really well keeping my temper and dark urges under control since I have had Zane, but every once in a while, it escapes.