“Then, babe, it’d be good you tell me what you did mean and do it real f**kin’ quick,” Hop shot back and I stared at him as an unpleasant burn hit my belly.
Then I said softly, “That isn’t cool.”
“Damn straight it isn’t,” he retorted and I shook my head.
“No. You don’t understand me. That isn’t cool, not even close to cool, Hop, that you’d think for one second that’s what I meant.”
“Again, lady, you need to tell me what you meant.”
“Not once,” I pulled in a calming breath before going on, “not once, Hopper, not since that very first moment when Brick walked into my house with Tyra, when she told me Elliott was making whacked decisions and then you showed later to put me on the back of your bike and take me to Ty-Ty’s, have I ever, ever,” I leaned in again, “done one stinking thing to indicate I was a biker bigot.”
“Yeah, until you just told me you’d get a reputation, I get involved in your life,” he returned, not letting it go.
“No, I didn’t say that. I said I’d get a reputation if you got involved in my business,” I amended sharply. “And it wouldn’t matter if you were a biker or a businessman, Hop. I’m a businesswoman and we’ve come a long way but it’s still a man’s world and any man sticking his nose into my business makes it look like I can’t see to my business. I’ve worked too damned hard to prove I’m good at what I do, to demand credit for my work when some ass was taking it from me, to prove I can manage accounts, staff, an entire agency, to compete for business and best the competition, to have another man, no matter he’s my man, I care about him and he thinks he’s looking out for me, make me look like I’m not strong enough to do it.”
I was glaring at him and breathing heavy when I was done with my speech so it took a few moments for me to see the hard had gone out of his face and his eyes had warmed.
He understood me.
I didn’t care.
What he said was bad and I was still ticked.
He made a move to take a step toward me but since I was still ticked, I stepped back. He stopped and his eyes locked on mine.
“Not lost on me the way you live,” he said low, his hand swinging out to indicate my house. “Your office. Your clothes. The sweet ride you drive. Your parents. That f**kin’ condo that was three times the size of the one I gave my kids.”
“And?” I prompted acidly.
“Eventually we were gonna have this conversation,” he explained, but it didn’t explain a thing.
“Why?” I asked.
“Babe, you are not of my world,” he informed me.
“Really?” I retorted. “So do I have a Biker Babe Lanie Clone I don’t know about who’s been going to hog roasts and shooting the breeze in the Compound the last seven years?” I asked sarcastically.
He rested his weight in a hand on the edge of the sink and said in warning voice, “Tone it down, Lanie. We gotta talk this out but we don’t have to do it ugly.”
“Okay, so, when I infer you’re a bigot or something equally distasteful, I can rest in the knowledge you’ll be cool in the face of me being an ass**le?”
His jaw tensed hard before he replied, “No, babe, I get where your anger is comin’ from but you gotta rein in the drama and see where I’m comin’ from.”
“Your turn to tell me what you mean,” I snapped.
“I’ve met your parents,” he began. “I know how you grew up, who you grew up with, and how they think. And you know, babe, they raised you and so it isn’t a leap to think there’s a possibility that at least some of that shit is in you.”
He could not be serious!
“First, Hop, it is since you’ve known me years and you’ve been getting to know me for weeks and you know that’s not right. Second, I thought you didn’t care what people thought of your lifestyle.”
“I don’t but you aren’t people, Lanie. You’re mine and I care a f**kuva lot what you think about me, about the way I live my life, about how you feel you’ll fit in it, about f**kin’ everything when it comes to you.”
Okay, that was nice, very nice but I was still ticked.
Too ticked.
And too Lanie Heron to fight back the drama.
Therefore I fired back, “Right now, I’m rethinking that life option,” and I felt him lose it.
I didn’t see it. I didn’t hear it.
I felt it.
Then I heard it.
“Everything,” he said in a sinister whisper, “everything about you, I like. Including the drama. I’ll stop likin’ it if you blow shit like this out of proportion and you say shit you can’t take back.”
“So far, I haven’t said anything I’d like to take back,” I replied and his eyebrows shot up.
“So you’re good with threatenin’ to take you away from me, you, somethin’ you know I want and I want it bad, bad enough to work at it, bad enough to twist myself in f**kin’ knots for it because you’re justifiably pissed but unjustifiably not opening your mind to where I was comin’ from and therefore not seein’ I’m explaining myself or givin’ me a shot at apologizing?”
That shut me up because unfortunately he was right. I was mad. I wasn’t listening. And I’d threatened to take me away from him when he was definitely working on us and doing it by twisting himself into knots.
I didn’t speak. Hop didn’t either.
This lasted a very long time. So long, I was inwardly squirming and it was so uncomfortable, I was about to say something to smooth things over, get us back on track.
Unfortunately, I waited one second too long to do this.
“Fuck me, I can add f**kin’ stubborn to high maintenance and a drama queen. Not good, babe,” he bit off.
My temper, which was cooling, flared again.
“I’m not high maintenance!” I exclaimed and he pushed away from the sink.
“Seriously?” he asked incredulously. “Been in your bed when you get up at f**kin’ five thirty in the f**kin’ mornin’ to do your gig in the bathroom before you go to work and I’ve hauled your shit up to my bedroom so you can do it at my place. Lanie, you live fifteen minutes away from your office and you get there at eight. Over two hours every day just to do your hair and makeup. Diana f**kin’ Ross in her heyday probably took less time to get ready for a show. Babe, if that isn’t high maintenance, I do not know what is.”