Center of Gravity (Marauders Book 3) (3 page)

“You’re pregnant?” I finally managed to say. “I’m sorry, I was just surprised.”

“It’s okay. I’m pretty used to people being surprised about me being young when I do things,” she mumbled. “I’m married.”

“I didn’t... I didn’t mean to judge you. I was just... I mainly remember you as that very young and,” I almost said ‘shy’ but swallowed it. “And you must’ve been twelve or thirteen the last time I saw you.” I smiled. “Congratulations, how far along are you?”

“Seventeen weeks,” she said and gave me a smile back. “And thank you.”

I realized what else she’d said. That she was married, and she’d introduced herself as Violet Baxter. “You’re married to one of the Baxter brothers?”

“Yes. Mac,” she said with a smile. “Not Mitch.”

She probably knew why I’d asked, and I laughed. As I remembered it, Mac had been a calm and pretty nice guy despite his reputation. Mitch, on the other hand, he’d been known as the guy who got around, to put it mildly.

I followed her to the back room, and thirty minutes later I was amazed. Violet was really good at this. I’d given her some vague descriptions of dancing, movement, and in black—and she came up with something really beautiful that looked like the outline of a dancer in movement. Even if I never knew much about them, I had always liked tattoos, but it was not a smart thing when you were a dancer. Irina had come up with the idea of me doing things I couldn’t or wouldn’t do while I was a dancer, so a tattoo was on the list.

Having big breakfasts was already a part of my daily routine. That was something I hadn’t done since I was a kid. I had some other goals, things I wanted to be able to do that I hadn’t before.

Then there were the things from my old life that I’d like to be able to revisit, like going to see a ballet, but I was not even close to ready for that yet. I’d accidentally heard the music to Swan Lake just two weeks earlier and had fallen apart. I wanted this tattoo as a symbol for something I had been, that I was proud of, but that was now a finished chapter in my life.

Violet booked me an appointment two weeks later. She admitted she’d squeezed me in on what would’ve been her day off, so I was really grateful. I wanted the ink on my leg, my good one, and she promised to make sure we’d have privacy. If I had to drop my pants, I wanted to make sure no one would be around to see my bad leg.

As I was about to leave I turned around to Violet again.

“If Lisa’s ever in town, think you could ask her to call me?”

“Sure. She’s coming down next week, and she’s going to stay for a while. I’ll give her your number.”

“Please do.”

I hadn’t seen Lisa in years. We’d met up when I went back to Greenville for holidays my first years in New York. Then she went to college, I tended to stay in New York more and more, phone calls became more rare, and letters fewer and further between until they eventually stopped. It wasn’t a big thing. No huge falling out; we just lost track. Irina used to give me updates, and I was sure that she had some reports on how I was doing from her dad.

As I remembered it, Lisa was one of those people who always managed to pick me up from my bad moods, and she’d always been a lot of fun. She was also pretty much the only close friend I’d had who wasn’t a dancer. I wanted to stay away from the dancers.

-o0o-

I had physical therapy the next day. I still had to go, and they had asked me to keep it up for as long as possible, preferably the rest of my life. The limping could cause further problems to my hip, my back, and my good leg. The nerve damage would also eventually make my muscles weaker, which in turn would cause stiffness and more limping. The best way to avoid it was to keep up with the training.

The first time had been kind of fun when Brett was trying to help me stretch. I’d finally told him that I’d been a ballet dancer, and if he wanted to stretch my muscles he would have to make much more of an effort than he was doing.

I liked him, though. He didn’t coddle me, he pushed me hard, and that was what I liked about him. I’d been pushing my body since I was four, and I tried to see this the same way as I had the dancing. It was vital to keep my body in as good shape as possible, even now. I knew Irina and my parents had been worried that I’d just let everything go now, but I didn’t. Brett had given me exercises that I did every morning and often at night, too. My leg was usually even stiffer in the morning, and that could lead to pain as soon as I started walking if I didn’t try to massage and exercise it off as soon as I woke up.

Brett was one of few people I was comfortable with seeing my leg. I didn’t have much of a choice; he massaged it and after the first five times it felt okay. I assumed he’d seen worse––or at least just as bad.

“Figured out what you want to do for a living yet?” he asked as he stretched my bad leg.

“No. Got any ideas?”

He held it out straight to massage the muscles and the scar tissue on the back of my leg.

“Well, any job that keeps you standing up is pretty much out of the question––at least for now. Although moving around a little bit might be good for you.” He had a big smile. “How about receptionist?”

“You do know that I’ve been dancing my entire life? I mean, I have a high school diploma, but that’s pretty much it.”

“Answering the phone and making appointments doesn’t require more than a diploma. And you’ve been a dancer, that requires a lot of discipline.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but people don’t always see it that way. They see an airhead who spent her entire life prancing around in a tutu not giving a crap about anything else.”

He laughed and put the leg down, and started to massage the front of it.

“If you got the opportunity, would you take it?”

“Sure. Sounds like something I could do. Getting pretty tired of walking around at home. It could be nice, something to take my mind off things.”

-o0o-

Brett called me two days later. A friend of his worked at a small theater in Phoenix and they needed someone in the reception. The pay wasn’t good, but it was something. I still lived at Irina’s, so I didn’t have many expenses, and I had saved all the money from the insurance that was paid out for my ruined leg. My parents had insisted on the insurance policy, and even paid the premium. That was what important choreographers could do, since they actually earned a lot of money. I had found it extremely embarrassing at the time, but considering what had happened, I was pretty happy about it now.

I was at the theater just the next day. It really was small, but it had a family feeling to it, so I liked it. It wasn’t just reception work, but selling tickets, and generally just helping where it was needed. It seemed okay, and it was at least something to do. After living with an extremely strict routine since I was fourteen, I missed having a routine and this would help to get some of that back. It was theater––an environment I missed, but not dance which would just make me sad. Good middle ground, in other words.

That’s when Lisa called. She was in Greenville and was going to stay for a week, so she wanted to see me.

“Can you meet me at the compound?”

“At the compound? The clubhouse?” I laughed. I’d been there but found the place pretty scary. Just like I found her dad quite intimidating as well. I’d been wrong about Bear, though, and once I stopped going quiet and just staring at him whenever he was close by, he turned out to be a really nice man. “Sure, I’ll just wave my cane around if anyone comes close.”

“Oh, Vi told me about your cane, she said it was beautiful.”

“It is.” And that was how I remembered Lisa, always seeing the silver lining—I might have a cane, but it was a beautiful cane. “Gotta have some perks when I’m hobbling around.”

“I was so sad to hear about the accident, but I don’t want to talk about that on the phone. We’ll get to that when you’re ready for it.”

“Thank you.”

And another typical Lisa trait, she’d make me talk about it, pushing just the right amount of what I could handle. It had always been like that. Whenever all the training got to me when I was younger, she noticed and made me talk about it, gave me the positive side, or whatever I needed to continue.

We decided I’d meet her the next day around noon, she said she’d be there from early morning, so whenever it suited me was fine. I also threatened her with serious bodily damage with the use of my cane if she wasn’t there. I did not want to walk in among those men, and realize I was alone in there.

CHAPTER TWO

You’re a Shitty Wingman

-o0o-

It was a slow Wednesday, and Mitch was lying on the couch at the clubhouse. He looked around and noticed Mac coming towards him.

“Finding anyone?” Mac asked as he dropped down into an armchair.

“Nope. Think I’ll head over to The Booty Bank. Heard there was a new girl working tonight.”

The Booty Bank was the strip club owned by the Marauders. Almost all of their sweetbutts worked there, and most of the girls working there were sweetbutts. It used to be how the club laundered their money until they came up with a better system for it. They’d still kept the clubs, though.

Sisco, Mac and the others had been released about eighteen months earlier, and Mitch had been worried that he’d be pushed back to not doing much for the club again, but Sisco’d told him to keep helping. Sisco was good with finances, but didn’t know much about computers, so Mitch was handling that part of the finances. He’d also taken a bigger part in helping Mech with the intel. He liked it, and he especially liked the feeling trusted of being with those things.

There were other reasons he was glad for having done it, too. Learning how to work the finances had meant traveling around to different clubs to talk to the other treasurers. He’d noticed that the feel of the different charters varied a lot. Some were about family, others were more about partying, and some were basically a bunch of bitter, slightly too violent, ex-military guys. Or as he used to described them, ‘A club full of Bulls.’ Bull was their Sergeant at Arms, and he was a violent and pretty bitter man. Quite funny, though, and with a lot more humor than most thought. It was just well hidden between his growls and threatening looks.

After visiting all those other clubs, Mitch had realized that the Greenville club was by far his favorite. Not only because it had his dad as the president and his blood brother as member—even if that surely helped—but also because he liked the family feel and focus they had. To add to that, it had a few singles who all loved to go to the strip club and hang out at the clubhouse at night.

The incident with Hump had given him a new view of the club as a whole, though. It was one thing hearing the stories, and Mac had told him quite a lot about his time in Emporia, but to experience it had made him see things differently. Not in a bad way, just differently, and it had made him love his own club, and the feelings it gave him, even more. This was his family, and he would stand by them no matter what.

Violet, his brother’s twenty-one-year-old, pregnant, tattoo artist wife, came through the door and smiled when she saw them. It had taken Mac less than a year to marry her once he got out, and he’d knocked her up as soon as she’d agreed.

“You two make me wanna vomit,” he mumbled to Mac.

“You’re just jealous,” Mac said without taking his eyes off Vi, sporting the same ridiculous smile as she had.

“Insanely,” he agreed.

He was. His brother had hooked up with Vi when she was just barely eighteen, and since then she’d been the only girl he ever looked at twice. It wasn’t that Mitch wanted Vi, he just wanted to fall that madly in love with someone, or just to be as sure about something as Mac had been about Vi. He hadn’t been close, though, and he had to admit he probably wasn’t gonna find that kind of woman among the sweetbutts.

When Mac stood up and greeted Vi with a kiss while stroking her belly, Mitch laughed, “Oh come on! Now you’re just rubbing it in!”

Neither of them even looked at him.

“I’m telling you, Vi,” he continued, “you totally picked the wrong brother.”

“No, I didn’t.” She turned towards him, still smiling. “Besides, Dad would’ve killed you if you tried what he did.”

“True,” he agreed with another laugh. Bear, her dad, would’ve torn him apart. He was a very protective dad, and Mitch was still surprised he’d taken it so cool with Mac. “Give me a kiss before you two leave, at least.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He caressed her face and gave her one back, and then whispered in her ear, “Take care of him. He’s still totally gone for you.”

Mitch liked Vi, loved her even. She was a really sweet girl and had always been. He loved teasing his brother about her, although it wasn’t as much fun anymore since twenty-one wasn’t just barely legal. Although, twenty-one-year-old, pregnant wife still had a nice ring to it.

While Mac was doing time, her career as a tattoo artist had taken off, and she’d asked Mitch to help her with her finances. At the price of free ink when he wanted it, he’d agreed, and he was still doing it. It wasn’t that hard, and she was grateful—a good trade. It also meant he had some premium quality ink.

“Hey!” Mac protested and pulled Vi from him. “Get your own girl!”

Vi put her arms around Mac’s neck. “And you call me greedy.”

“Heard Lisa’s in town, is she coming by?” Mitch asked her.

“Yeah,” Vi nodded. “Tomorrow.”

“Get out of here and have some sex,” Mitch grumbled and waved at them when they left.

“Take care of her!” Bear yelled after the two of them. He was very much panicking about Vi being pregnant and probably would’ve preferred to wrap her up in bubble wrap in a locked, padded room until the kid was born.

Mitch emptied his beer, and then he got up to walk around the corner to The Booty Bank. He continued past the hang-arounds who were working as guards that night and inside into the familiar blinking lights. He found Sisco, their latest patch Tommy, and a hang-around called Wrench in a corner and sat down next to them.

“Where’s the new girl?”

“In the back with Bull,” Tommy smiled.

“Fuck!”

Bull was always quick to get to the girls, and obviously he’d heard about the new girl and had been there to get first dibs. Autumn––Mitch knew it wasn’t her real name, and he preferred to not know––came over. He pulled her closer and told her to come and find him once her shift was over.

She did, and he took her back to the clubhouse and his room there.

-o0o-

When he woke up the next morning, Autumn was gone. Not much of a surprise; she’d been there before and knew the drill. He walked out to the bar and noticed Lisa at a table—with short hair! She’d always had long, blonde hair, and now it was really short. He could only remember that having happened once before.

“What the fuck happened to your hair, girl?” he yelled.

“Mitch! Get over here and give me a hug,” she yelled back as she stood up.

“Hey, doc,” he said and put his arms around her. “Let me look at you. Why short?”

“Long story,” she smiled. “Still breaking girls’ hearts?”

“Nah,” he kissed her cheek. “I try to get around to make sure they all get a taste. It’s my brother who’s making them devastated, all family man, you know.”

“Okay,” she turned around. “Don’t know if you remember her, but this is my friend Anna Dobronravov. We were friends in high school before she ran off to be a prima ballerina in New York.”

“Sure I do,” he said and smiled at the brown-haired, blue-eyed, pretty girl who looked as Russian as her last name sounded. He didn’t remember her at all. From what he could see of her sitting at the table, she had a ballet body—fine limbed and minimal tits. He took the hand she was holding out. “Mitch.”

“Anna.”

She was a ballet dancer for sure. She had a straight back and a long neck, and just the way she held out her hand looked like a dance move; the gesture was flowing. He immediately imagined her in five different positions that would take full advantage of how flexible she most likely was, and he gave her a big smile.

“Jesus, Mitch,” Lisa mumbled. “You really don’t waste any time.”

“What?”

“Just go and get some coffee and leave us alone,” she mumbled. “And a breath mint!” she yelled after him as he walked away.

He was gonna go and get some coffee, and then sit down at the bar and keep coming up with fuck positions fit for a ballet dancer. Seemed like a good way to spend the time while trying to get rid of the hangover.

He’d been there for around ten minutes when Mac and Vi came in. Vi went over to the table with the girls, and Mac sat down next to him.

“Do you remember her?” he asked and nodded towards Anna.

“Sort of,” Mac said. “Lisa and her were in the same class. Think she brought her here a couple of times. Only half remember her since Vi talked about her last week. She’s gonna do some ink on her.”

“Married or boyfriend?”

“I have no idea.”

He turned and looked at Mac. “You’re a really shitty wingman, bro.”

“Like you care,” Mac laughed. “You’ve never used me as a wingman anyway.”

“No, because you’re a shitty one.”

That’s when the girls stood up, and Anna took a cane he’d missed hanging on the table and started to limp out.

“How the fuck can she be a dancer in New York if she can’t walk?” he asked Mac.

“She’s not a dancer anymore. Was in some accident a while back. She lives here in Greenville now.”

“Fuck. That rules out like ten of the positions I was gonna try.”

“Jesus, Mitch! You’re really an ass sometimes.”

“I’m not. I’m sorry about the accident thing, too.” He thought about it. “Gotta suck, she must’ve trained her entire life.”

“Nice to see you still have half a heart left,” Mac said with a chuckle. “Besides, she’s probably still pretty flexible and kind of pretty.”

“Yup. Think Lisa’ll introduce me?”

“Don’t think she’s one of the friends Lisa would ‘introduce’ you to.”

It had happened now and then that Lisa ‘introduced’ him to her friends. She’d never told him exactly what she said to them about him, but some of his best fuck buddies over the years had been her friends. Or rather, girls she knew. Her really close friends, what few she’d had, she’d told him to stay the fuck away from. He had a feeling he’d been her go-to guy when someone needed to get laid. She’d even called him a non-charge gigolo on more than one occasion, but if they were willing, hot, and horny—who was he to turn them down?

He actually preferred fuck buddies to one-night stands. He thought it was easier if the girl he was with knew what he liked, and the other way around. It was better, as long as they didn’t expect anything else, because it could get complicated if they did, but he generally got out of that, too.

“No, she’s probably not,” he agreed. She’d looked way to proper. “Guess they’re good friends?”

“Think so. At least old friends.”

He decided it was best to leave the subject. “How are Vi and the squid?”

“Good. She’s going up to Seattle for some convention this weekend.”

“You going with her?”

“No. They’re boring as hell.”

Vi went on conventions now and then and always came home with some prize and an offer to do guest work at renowned studio or two. Mac had followed her to few of them when she’d been away for longer periods. Mitch had no idea what the plan was once the kid was born, but he figured they had a plan. They always did; they were always overthinking stuff.

“Hey, wanna come over, smoke some pot, watch movies, and celebrate my birthday just the two of us while she’s away?” Mac asked.

“Absolutely,” Mitch smiled. “I’ll bring cookies.”

Mac’s birthday was the week after, and they always celebrated themselves a few days before. It was tradition. They smoked weed and talked about everything. Not just when it was almost Mac’s birthday, but whenever they had a chance. It had started when they were both still in their teens, and they still did it as often as possible.

It was during one of those weed sessions that the then twenty-four-year-old Mac had fessed up that he had a thing for Vi, a fellow member’s seventeen-year-old daughter.

And later, that they were seeing each other in secret while she was doing some art on his wall; how he was madly in love with the shy, purpled-haired girl.

He’d told Mitch about all of it, every step of the way; when he knew he loved her, that he’d asked her to marry him and have his ink, and just three months earlier that she was pregnant. It was basically during the weed-sessions that they caught up on each other’s lives. Mitch just rarely had much going on worth mentioning.

“Hey, when are you finding out what sex the kid is?”

“I’ll tell you on our session.” He gave Mitch a knowing smile. He fucking knew it. Mac had promised to tell him and now he was holding out on him!

“You know?”

“Yup, and she’s made me swear that you and Lisa will be the only ones who’ll know, so you better shut up about it.”

“Cross my half heart.” When Mac started to walk away, he grabbed him. “Come on! You gonna make me wait until then?”

Mac embraced him in a tight hug. “It’s a boy,” he whispered in his ear. “And you
better
shut up about it.”

“You know I will.” He watched his older brother walk off, but halfway to the door he turned around.

“And she says you can be the godfather if you swear on your patch you won’t use the kid to pick up women.”