“I’m gonna party with the muffler bunnies,” I say seriously as he pulls away. “I need to get f**ked up.”

I look at him hoping he understands my need to do this to myself. I need an outlet. I need moments where everything disappears, and my mind is too foggy to remember.

“No morphine then.”

“No morphine.” I agree. He’s worried about me mixing things.

Braxxon walks towards the Chapel, and I look over at Lana who has tears dripping out of her eyes.

“Lana, I’ll be okay. I swear it.” I try to reassure her.

“I know. I’m just gonna go to bed; it’s getting late. You had a rough day, and you need more rest too; promise you’ll get more?”

“I will.”

“I’ll be in that stupid slam room if you need me,” she whispers standing up slowly. She’s still healing from being shot.

“Not Pyro’s room?”

“No,” she yells. “Look I’m sorry. It’s just this is all my fault and all because I wanted him. If I didn’t ask you to do that stupid gig. This wouldn’t have happened to you.”

“No Lana, this isn’t your fault. Please don’t think that way,” I cry.

Oh god.

“I’m just gonna go to bed.”

That’s it. When Lana makes up her mind, it’s made up for good. She’s gonna blame herself for this forever, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“I love you,” I say as she walks away.

“I love you too.” And she’s gone.

Moments later an older woman comes and sits next to me. I’ve seen her around cooking and cleaning and never introduced myself. Now that I think about it, I haven’t introduced myself to anyone.

“How you doin’, dear?” she asks, handing me a cup of tea.

Obviously she’s an ol’ lady, so I need to be polite.

“Not great,” I say taking a sip of the tea. It tastes remarkably delicious. Nice and sweet just how I like my tea. I usually drink tea when I’m sad. So the fact she brought me hot tea immediately draws me into conversation comfortably with her.

“By the way, I’m Berry. I’m Phil’s wife or ol’ lady,” she chuckles.

“Berry?”

“Long story short, I’m old as dirt hunny, and when berry lip gloss came out, I was addicted. So the guys started calling me Berry; sometimes I forget my given name is Gertha. So please, call me Berry. Gertha is just hideous.”

Oh my god. Gertha, really?

“That is horrible.” I laugh and cough as my skin pulls at my chest.

“Not telling me anything. Those kids I grew up with were awful.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize and mean it.

“Think nothing of it dear.” She pats my leg.

“I had a question maybe you could answer for me?”

“Ask away.” She smiles.

“The club’s on lockdown and I know the families are here, but I barely see the kids.”

“The basement is like a family center. It’s got a kitchen, bathroom, and game room, even bunk beds. Everything you need to entertain children. It keeps them out of club business and away from harm. Pop built that years ago, and as the years pass, it gets upgraded. We just usually keep the grandbabies; the only one that followed club footsteps is my son ZZ. The rest of the guys had all girls and well, they moved on and married and now we have eight grandbabies. We just like to keep them safe; it gives our daughters peace of mind while the club is going through mayhem.”

“That’s nice. Who’s Pop?” I can’t help it. I’m intrigued with all the information she’s giving me.

“Pop is Braxxon and Snipers father,” she sighs clearly sad. “He was a good man.”

“He’s sounds like he was,” I say. The cocaine is starting to do its job. I’m feeling all kinds of antsy.

“Can you point out the ol’ ladies for me?”

Anything to calm me down, making more conversation will do for now.

“Sure sweetie, that woman over there is my best friend. Her name is Rockette; she used to be a Rockette dancer. Nicknames are based on a lot of your personality around here. She’s Walter’s wife,” she says as I look at the lady. She’s pretty and probably around her early sixties.

“That woman next to her,” she points to a strawberry blond, “is Louise, no nickname for her. She’s Max’s wife. The lady pulling out the sweeper trying to clean and do the prospects job is Nancy, also known as Nan. She is Samuels’s ol’ lady. They aren’t married, they should be. Hell they’ve been together for twenty-two years, but Sam is a stubborn fool. Rob’s wife is downstairs with the grandbabies and the teenagers; her name is Josie. You’ll be able to spot her because she keeps her hair cropped and bright red. She needs a fierce look to keep the teenagers in check. You’ll meet them later. The rest are free agents,” she chuckles and then sighs again. “Well James isn’t free. He’s still mourning his wife. She was such a beautiful woman. She passed away from ovarian cancer. Her name was Georgia. One day when you’re healed up, I’ll show you the club albums. But as for the other two women here, they’re part of the pu**y clan.”

I look at her when she says pu**y and smile.

“They are on their best behavior because the families are here. We’re usually not here because well, it’s no place for the family to be, but we’re on lockdown. There are usually more of them, but Pyro sent them home. The two other prospects escorted them. You probably already know who Creamy is?”