Chapter14

***Savvy*** I decided that today I would get out of this clubhouse for a bit. After the other day with the whole fainting and then the fight and cleaning up Chaos' knuckles, my head was a mess, and I was in desperate need of fresh air. That and the woman they call Diamond was still at it with me, and I still do not know what her deal is. I did bust out laughing when she made a mess on purpose. She was running her mouth, you would think after what happened last time she would have learned, but guess she wasnt one to hold any kind of intelligence in her head. She smirked, shooting off at the mouth, telling me to get to cleaning, but was cut off when Undertaker handed her a mop and rag and told her she should take her own advice. And get to cleaning. I couldnt hold it as I busted out laughing when her face paled as she took the stuff from him. If looks could kill, I would most likely be six feet under by now. Undertaker never brought up the whole me carrying thing again, and I haven't stopped carrying either. He does check in with me each day. I can see it in his eyes that he wants to ask, but doesn't. And I'm not in the right spot in my head to want to share either. I was shocked to learn that he has a sixteen-year-old daughter, though. She came to the clubhouse last night. Apparently, she comes and stays with him every other weekend. She looks like him a lot. He seems to have a good relationship with her. But I would have never thought that the scary Prez had a sweet daughter like Albrea. I found myself talking with her a lot last night. She has big plans and dreams, and she seems like someone who has the drive and the support to make those come true. It made me think back to when Hexley was her age and all the dreams he would tell us about. Talking with her made the evening much better than sitting alone, watching everyone move about. Chaos has been right there with me. Every time I step out of my room, he is there. I've learned a fair bit about him. He came from a crappy neighborhood with s**t parents, as he put it. Got himself into a lot of trouble as a teenager, but then he met then Undertakers Dad took him in after he had gotten into a fight with the Undertaker at some hang out, Said his Dad saw somethign in him and decided to help him, and that was the best thing for him, as he was heading down the wrong road. He said he had been a part of the club since then, becoming a prospect and working himself up the ladder, to becoming Sergeant of Arms. He said he may not have been good at following rules, but he was great at enforcing them. I found talking with him was easy. He did pry. We could talk about anything, some things were just stuipd stuff, then others were what we liked. Places we wanted to go see. It was simple, and it was helping more than I realized. However, it made my mind go all jumbo. As much as it was refreshing talking with him, it also made me all confused in different ways. There is something about him that seems to pull me in, I cant explain it. The chair next to me scrapes across the floor, pulling me out of my thoughts. as the man himself plops down in the chair. "I swear the coffee here will make you grow hair on your n*****s," he grumbles as he chokes down a swig of it. I coughed as I choked on my own coffee. I felt his large hand pat me on my back a few times. "Easy there." I sit up, shooting him a glare. "What?" He has a goofy grin on his face. "Hair on your n*****s?" I raised a brow, "Yeah, this s**t is like motor oil some days," He tips the cup, looking in like it was going to jump out and show me. "Then why do you drink it? If it's that bad, go out and get some better coffee." Shrugging his shoulders, "Can't." Pinching my forehead together, "Why not?" He tips his head to the side, looking at me. "'Cause I'm tasked with watching a certain someone, and Im afraid if left unattended, someone may end up shot." Rolling my eyes, I let out a scoff. "Im not that bad," I grumble, taking a drink again and internally groaning as he isn't wrong about how terrible the coffee really is. Forcing it down, I make sure not to show it on my face. He chuckles, "Sure you aren't, and you're gonna tell me next that the coffee is top of the line?" I narrow my eyes at him, but he only smiles back. I can see the amusement in his eyes; he is poking at me on purpose. But I have come to realize this is his normal behavior. Even though he put on the whole bad ass biker image, he is really a nice person, "We can always go out for some." He suddenly blurts out. Clearing his throat as he looks straight ahead. I stared at him for a few minutes as I blinked a few times before recovering. "Wait, are you asking me out for coffee?" I quickly ask. not wanting to interrupt anything. Nodding his head, "Yeah, I am." I see the faintest pink tint in his cheeks. Was he actually blushing? He shifted in his chair. I could see how uncomfortable he was. I smiled to myself. "Sure," I say, putting him out of his misery. His shoulder relaxed a bit. As he looks over at me, his eyes light up at hearing my words. He jumped up, grabbed both our cups. "Great, we wont be needing this." He walks over to the bin, tossing them in. Before I knew it, he was next to me, holding out his hand to help me up. Slipping mine into his large hand, the warmth in it pulled at something in me. I felt Blue right on my heels. Not letting go of my hand he led me out of the clubhouse. He came to a stop, turning to look down at me. "Um. All I have here is my bike." He glanced down at Blue. I wasnt about to leave Blue here without me. "We can use my truck." He nodded once. looking over at my truck, then back down at me. "Only if I get to drive." He chrips at me with a big smile on his face. I only raised my brows at him. Crossing my arms over my chest. I see his eyes drop for a fraction of a second before he jerks them back up to meet mine. "Please," He adds. "Ugh, fine." I walk over, reaching out for the door handle, but his big hand grabbed it before I could; he pulled it open. Blue launched up into it, then slipped into his spot. Looking over my shoulder. "After you." He gestured to the open door. I just shook my head as I slipped in. "Why. Look, one of you men has manners somewhere deep down in behind all those biker layers." He pressed his hand to his chest as I stabbed him. "Ouch, you wound me, woman. Of course, we have manners, it's just that cartoon says, we have layers just like onions." His words made me break out in a fit of laughter, Thankfully I had made it to the truck seat. "It's called Shrek." I wheezed out. "The cartoon, it's Shrek, and its Orgers are like onions have layers like onions." I had now fallen over on the seat and was holding my stomach. All he did was shrug. Shutting my door. "All I know is it had a talking ass and a round, fat bald green dude," he says as he climbs in the driver's seat. And with that, laughter rang out from me, filling the cab. I couldnt tell you the last time I laughed, truly laughed, and it felt great, it was like a small weight was lifted just for a little time, and it was allowing me to breathe.