We drive the ten minutes down the road, about halfway to the club and I smirk, my cell ringing. It reads 'Jayson', a smile taking over my features. I swipe the screen, picking up to answer his phone call. "Jaycee, how ya been, boy?"
"Good. Ye on yer way with the other half?"
"Aye, be there in five. Midnight blue KIA Sorento."
"Aye, be safe."
I smile and Josh takes hold of my hand, intertwining our digits and putting the back of it to his lips to gently place a kiss there. "Josh, calm your nerves. Our brother was more relaxed than you are right now," I laugh, meaning Tyler.
"You brought him here before me?" he asks, surprised.
"Considering how skittish you can be, yeah."
He bobs his head back and forth for a few moments, shrugging. He probably understands. We pull up as Jayson and another club member open the gates, Jayson tapping the side of the vehicle. I stick my arm out my open window and flip him off. "One after me own 'art," he jokes, acting as if I'd swooned him.
I softly chuckle, parking and get out of the car. The guys quickly swarm me, giving me a long overdue "club hug". "You sacrifice yer cousins, then yer brother-in-law and now a new sacrifice," Leon comments.
I smack his chest. "They are not sacrifices, Leon; they're family."
"Who be this fella?"
"He's my husband, Josh. He's one of the reasons you dorks got to see me on the TV. Be nice, boys, aye?" I rattle off, giving each of them a serious look.
"Aye," each of them mutter, agreeing to be nice.
"Josh, tar anseo," I call to him. I mouth that he's an American and the guys roll their eyes in their sockets, my finger pointing to each of them in a warning manner. I hear him climb out, taking a deep breath.
He approaches me, holding onto my hips and kissing the side of my neck. "This be the one in the video Tyler gave us on that disc, the home movie," Jaycee observes, smirking.
"He's the one she kisses all the time, the guy who tackles her when they play football," Leon adds.
"The babies call him 'daddy'," Keller laughs. "He's family 'ere." Who's Keller? He's the president of this charter.
I grab Josh's hand and pull him along, following Keller and the guys. All the ladies involved with this charter are inside, the copy of our home movie playing and I smile. I hear the part where he had tackled me and he spins me to his body, our eyes meeting. "This isn't as bad as I thought it'd be," he quietly comments, brushing his lips against my own.
I'm tapped on the shoulder and look over it to find Gina there, whipping around to hug her lightening fast. "Gina!" I shout, both of hugging each other.
"It's been too long, love."
We ramble in Gaelic, laughing and Josh smiles. He can understand most of it, but bits and pieces leave him confused. "An bhfuil tú dearmad a dhéanamh ar rud éigin, grá?" he asks, kissing the side of my neck right behind my earlobe.
I shiver, smirking. "Níl go fóill, ní hamháin gotten a thabhairt duit go fóill. Foighne," I tell him.
"You taught him Gaelic?" she questions, excited.
I grin, his arms wrapping around me and he presses his body to the back of mine. "She did and I'm still learning, but since we've been together she's taught me a great deal of it."
"How long have you been eisiach chéile?"
"Maidir trí bliana déag agus seacht blessings," he replies, nothing in his voice other than pride and joy.
"Seacht? Seacht leanaí?" she demands, wondering if we're sane.
We both get a chuckle out of this. "Yes, my three from before him, who he adopted as his own and the four we've had together. Mikal, Aaliyah, Demitryus, Nickoly, Alexzandrya, Analeigh and Nolan. They all know who you are."
It's been about an hour and I get a call from Uncle Prospect, Josh answering it quickly. "What's up?" He listens intently, nodding. "Bring the kids here, if you
know how to set the seats up," he teases, laughing after. "See you in half. Thanks." His eyes fixate on my shirt, his hands covering his nipple area.
I look down and blush. "He's bringing the pump?"
"Yes, he's bringing all three baby bags, babe."
Mikal calls him next, rambling in Irish and confirms they have all the proper diaper bags, among other information. "See you soon, Mik. Yes, the club. Are all of you coming? What about his bike? Oh, alright. He has the van? That's fine. See you soon. Thanks, kiddo."
Ten minutes later, Uncle Prospect and the little army Josh and I have walk through the door, Demitryus announcing their arrival. "We're baaaaacccckkk!"
We all laugh, the women and the other members swarming around them. They're all commenting how the kids have grown. Mikal is 22, Aaliyah just turned 20 last month, Demitryus is turning 18 next month, the twins just turned 12, Analeigh is 4 1/2 and little bitty Nolan just hit the three month mark three days ago. Today is Josh's birthday and I figured that I should introduce him to the entire charter. "Well, 'appy birthday, Joshua," Uncle Prospect greets him, handing him a cooing Nolan.
"Thanks, Pete."
"Oh, man, it's his birthday, aye?" Jayson teases.
"No, you're not tormenting him on his birthday," I tell him, wagging a finger at all the guys in the club.
"And 'ow old is he now?"
"I'm 49," Josh announces.
They all begin to tease him, soon turning their focus to me. "You gonna be forty soon," Gina comments, almost certain of her observation.
"In January, aye," I confirm.
"Any more babies?"
"Maybe, they're just welcome surprises," he replies for me, kissing my lips.
The whole club playfully teases us, mostly that we've been together so long and still share some PDA moments from time to time. "You're all just jealous," I joke back, smirking.
"I 'ave yet to see her shoot this old thing, since she was last out 'ere a few years ago," Jayson comments, holding up my old compound bow and a quiver of arrows.
"She can still out shoot your sorry arse, boy," Uncle Prospect challenges him for me.
I shake my head. "Just had to start something, didn't you?" I laugh, seeding the smirk appear on Josh's face.
"I second Pete's confidence," my husband comments.
"Take it to the range out back, doll?"
My blood begins to boil, instantly annoyed and angry. "Doll?"
"You've done it now," Josh comments.
"Doll?" I repeat, slamming my hands on the table and pushing away to get to my feet.
"Get im, love!" Uncle Prospect encourages me, laughter present in his tone.
I grab the quiver and bow, placing them on my back and grabbing Jayson by his shirt, dragging the punk ass behind me to the shooting range behind the club. He's handed a quiver and bow. "Just to be fair to the lady," Leon tells him, laughing at the younger man's stupidity of having the balls to call me 'doll'.
Josh approaches the now 21 year old shithead, clapping a hand to his shoulder. "I can't call her doll and she's my wife. Don't call her that while she has her weapons; I've seen her make one of my security guards just about piss his pants using only a spring loaded pocket knife, an unbalanced one." He walks away laughing, Nolan in his arms. Gina is holding Analeigh, Uncle Prospect standing by one of the twins. AlexZandraya at his side and Nickoly next to Leon. Our older three walk out, standing between their father and Uncle Prospect with Gina positioned on the other side of my uncle because she's his old lady. They've been together for over 30 years, since I was a small child.
Leon abandons the crowd to blindfold me, having given me a few minutes to memorize where the targets are and I signal for Jayson to go first. I hear him shakily pull the arrow back and by the sound of it, it's in the second ring in on the left hand side. "That's your best?" I taunt. I blindly take aim, my arrow skimming his and then I take a shot at the bull's-eye. According to the club's hooting, hollering and cheers; I hit dead center.
"Told you boys she still 'as it, just like when she was a little girl," I hear Uncle Prospect brag, always sure of my abilities.
"I'll be the judge of that, Prez," Leon comments, Jayson taking another shot with his badly shaking and I allow him to use the remainder of his quiver. I have always had twice the amount of arrows in my quiver because I have the ultra lightweight and very thin arrows, it's how Gina and Uncle Prospect taught me.
"Get 'im, girl," Gina encourages, certain my competitive side would appear.
I grin deviously, entirely serious about treating this like an actual competition. Jayson has wooden arrows and I have lightweight metal ones, meaning mine can shred his. I heard where every arrow landed and with each arrow I release, he stutters as his split in two or four, are the same amount that are in complete disrepair.
His face is priceless when I pull the blindfold off, Josh and Uncle Prospect are chuckling between whispers and Gina is ready to burst at the seams with giggles at Jayson's defeat. "Cat got your tongue, boy?" I tease, holding my compound bow over my right shoulder as it dangles from my first two fingers and it lines up with my spine. Yeah, I'm a cocky bitch when I know I'm better at something than another person is and I have every right to be sometimes. I turn to Josh, switching my hips and get a quick kiss from him. "Oh, that reminds me! Cassie called and said that Jive is willing to co-sign me to Road Runner Records so I can release my crossover album from pop to rock, I'm tired of the bubblegum pop crap we were putting out before. You can always try it on, too."
"So that's the new sound I've heard from the basement and why it's taken so long to get approval for the album," he comments, smiling.
"Yeah, the execs agreed to it as long as I put a bubblegum album out at the same time. I also have an interview tomorrow with Marcus again."
"What time?"
"Around one, when Nolan and Analeigh are napping."
"This was confirmed when?" he demands.
"Five this morning."
He nods his head, slightly annoyed over it and it's more with Jive and RR Records than anything. "Of course it was," he scoffs.
"You make me wanna roll my window down," I belt out, Josh smiling, "and cruise. On the back roads."
"Brand new Chevy with a lift kit. I got my windows down and the radio up," he sings in response, chuckling. "Never gets old, mami," he tells me, kissing my forehead and Nolan sloppily kisses me on the cheek. Nolan looks like he's trying to eat my face more than he's attempting to give me a kiss.
