“It isn’t?”
“No, baby it’s not. The clubs involved in a lot of shit right now. I got a lot of things I need to make right on the outside before I can claim you to the world,” he paused, lifting his hands to my cheek. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not ending this. We need to keep it on the down low until I’m sure you’re safe with me,” he explained.
“I’m always safe with you,” I argued.
“Remind me of that when I doubt myself.”
His words gave a glimpse to a vulnerable side of him I hadn’t yet discovered until that moment. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me down on top of him.
“I’ll work it out,” he promised. “And then we’ll work on Jack,” he added.
“And then?”
“Then, I’m taking you for a tattoo, get you some ink so you never forget who you belong to,” he teased, squeezing me.
“Blackie! I’m serious, then what?”
“You tell me,” he said, against my hair. “Tell me what you want and I’ll move heaven and hell to give it to you,” he swore.
“Heaven and earth you mean,” I corrected, smiling as I closed my eyes.
“It’s heaven and hell where I come from, baby,” he affirmed.
“This,” I said through a yawn. “This right here is everything I want.”
And it was.
At nineteen years old I had it all.
Now, I had to convince my maker to let me keep it.
I took her to Coney Island that night, rode the Cyclone three times and won her a half a dozen stuffed animals—she gave one to every kid we passed that didn’t have one. We were walking around Luna Park when out of the corner of my eye I saw a mother and her young son.
“But Mommy, please? One more try!”
“I already wasted twenty dollars trying to win you a prize that cost fifty cents,” the mother argued with her son.
“Please mommy! I won’t ask after this time,” the kid pleaded.
“I don’t have any more money to waste on games, Joshua,” the mother hissed.
I let go of Lacey’s hand, walked over to the trailer and laid a five-dollar bill on the counter. It was the game where you had to shoot water into the clown’s mouth until you filled the balloon and it popped.
There are perks to owning a shooting range.
You can beat the clown all the time.
The bell chimed, signaling I won, and I dropped the water gun. I kneeled down, smiled at the mom and tapped the little boy on the shoulder.
“Hey, there kid,” I started.
He looked at his mother for approval before he waved at me timidly.
“You see that girl over there,” I said, pointing over at Lacey who smiled but looked back at me curiously.
“Yeah,” the boy said.
“I’m trying to get her to go out with me and she told me she’d say yes if I win you a prize,” I looked over my shoulder and tipped my chin to the water balloon that was declared a winner. “Think you can help me get the girl by taking the prize?”
He looked up at his mother, grinning from ear to ear.
“Can I?”
I lifted my eyes to hers, watched as she diverted her eyes back to her son.
“Sure, wouldn’t want to leave the nice man hanging,” she said as she turned back toward me. “Thank you.”
I winked, slapping my hands against my knees and rose to my full height.
“Can I have the Spongebob?”
The clerk handed him the ugly yellow stuffed thing, and the boy smiled widely at me.
“Thank you! I hope you get the girl,” he exclaimed.
I turned around, my eyes met Lacey’s and the smile she wore became contagious.
“I hope so too,” I told the boy.
I hope I get to keep her.
I said goodbye to the kid and his mom before making my way back to Lacey.
“You won that boy a prize,” she commented, looping her arm through mine.
“Yeah, watching you put a smile on six kids faces when you gave them those prizes must’ve rubbed off on me,” I said.
“Watch out Blackie, you’re becoming more like a big teddy bear than a big bad biker,” she joked.
I growled.
“Cut it out, Lace,” I ordered, taking her hand and pulling her towards Nathan’s Famous Hot Dogs. “Come on, I’m starving,” I mumbled.
She was right. I was soft when it came to her. It wasn’t a new development; there has always been a place inside me carved out just for her, but every minute I spent with her I fell deeper.
And she fell too.
Deeper in trouble.
Deeper in danger.
And the both of us threatened to fall deeper in love with the story we were writing.
For her it was an original piece.
For me it was a rewrite.
A story about an Angel and the Devil.
We needed a miracle.
Or just each other.
Maybe we were the miracle.
Ah, fuck. I was soft.
Tomorrow I was going to shoot something.
Anything.
Chapter Twenty-four