Motorcycle Man

“Fine,” I snapped. “You win. I’ll eat pizza and drink beer. Just let me off your lap.”

He shook the can of beer at me, I took it then his arm around my waist loosened and I slid off his lap.

“God, this is ridiculous,” I muttered, popping open the beer.

“You didn’t seem this uptight last Saturday night,” Tack muttered back, reaching for more pizza.

“I was drinking tequila last Saturday night.”

His head turned, his eyes captured mine and his voice was soft and low when he said, “Babe, do not bullshit me. Last Saturday night had f**k all to do with tequila.”

He was right and that sucked. He also sounded strangely like that was important to him and that freaked me out. Therefore I glared at him, didn’t respond and took a sip of my beer.

It tasted awesome.

I set the beer down, grabbed the plate and then grabbed a slice. Then I flicked as much sausage off the slice as I could and lifted the pizza to my mouth. As I did this, my eyes hit Tack to see he was watching me.

“Not a big fan of sausage?” he remarked.

“Sausage in the form of brats, affirmative. Sausage in the form of smoky links, again, affirmative. Sausage in the form of a breakfast patty next to pancakes, repeat affirmative. Italian sausage on pizza? Um, not so much.” Then I shoved the pizza in my mouth and took a big bite.

Famous Pizza. The… freaking… best.

I leaned back against the cushions with my plate and chewed.

Tack sat back too, asking, “Pepperoni?”

I nodded. “And olive,” I added then finished, “And mushroom.”

“So noted,” he muttered, lifted his legs and rested his booted feet next to the pizza box.

I tamped down a rant at him putting his boots on my table and took another bite of my pizza, holding it over my plate at my chest. Then I made a note to self that Famous Pizza worked wonders in helping you tamp down a rant.

Then, because I was an idiot, I asked, “Naomi’s on a tear about me?”

“Yep,” Tack answered, mouth full.

“Why?”

“She don’t need a reason why, Red. She’ll get on a tear because the sun rose, then she’ll get on another one when it sets. She’s just a bitch.”

“Why did you marry her?” I asked before taking another bite, his head turned and his eyes came to mine.

“You been married?”

I shook my head and his brows went up.

“No shit?”

I chewed, swallowed and affirmed, “No shit.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged and took another bite.

“Babe, seriously, why not?”

My eyes met his and my voice changed, it got soft when I said, “That’s really none of your business.”

He held my eyes and he did this a long time.

Then he replied quietly, “Fair enough.”

I was surprised he gave in. So surprised, I was shocked. I was also somehow touched. It was a nice thing to do, letting it alone because I wanted him to and I didn’t know Tack had that in him.

“So, why did you marry her? She doesn’t seem your type,” I brought the subject back in hand.

“What’s my type?” he asked.

“Not a woman who shouts at you and essentially stalks you,” I answered.

He threw his head against the back of my couch and burst out laughing. He had a great laugh. It was as deep and gravelly as his voice. He also looked great laughing. I’d noted both of these things last Saturday night. I liked them then but I liked them a whole lot better in my living room.

Oh boy.

“So?” I prompted through his laughter.

Tack’s laughter died down to a chuckle and he took a big bite of pizza, chewed, swallowed and looked back at me.

“She married a soldier then found herself tied to a general,” he finally answered.

“Pardon?”

“There are soldier’s wives and there are general’s wives. Naomi ain’t no general’s wife. She liked the flow, she doesn’t like headache. A general needs a wife who can handle headache, do her bit to make ‘em better, not make ‘em worse.”

I wasn’t certain I got this but I thought I did and I leaned forward to grab my beer, bowing my head to hide my face with my hair so he couldn’t see me when I asked, “So it wasn’t that you were cheating on her?”

“According to Naomi it was.”

I looked over my shoulder at him. He saw me do it, lifted his boots off my table and leaned forward too. Putting his elbows on his knees, his head turned to facing me and, surprisingly, he shared.

“I filed for divorce, Red. She fought it. She didn’t want to be quit of me. I don’t know why. She was miserable, she made me miserable and she was makin’ my kids miserable. Life’s too short for that shit. After she figured out that she was in a fight she wasn’t gonna win, she started bitchin’ about me steppin’ out on her, spreadin’ that shit far and wide and workin’ so hard at it, she convinced herself. Honestly?”

He stopped speaking and I realized he wanted me to answer the unspoken question of if I wanted the truth.

I held his gaze, held my breath and nodded.

He leaned slightly into me, his leg shifting so his knee touched mine and went on, “She turned into a bitch and I was pissed at her. What we had starting out was good. So good, I thought it would be that good for a lifetime. Not long after we made it legal, she started changing, it started goin’ bad and that’s all on her. She knew who I was and she knew what I wanted outta my life, it wasn’t me who changed. And it pissed me off that she made it turn bad. And it pissed me off more she made it turn as bad as it got which, darlin’, was seriously f**kin’ bad. What you saw was the tip of the iceberg with Naomi. She gets on a tear, she’s hell on wheels. So, I gotta tell you, I thought about it. I found myself not wantin’ to go home to that and wantin’ someone in my bed who wasn’t bustin’ my balls. So, I can’t say I didn’t look but before I found anything, I cut her loose. She was once a good woman but good woman or bad, no woman deserves that shit.”

Oh hell, that was a really good answer.

I let out my breath, nodded, grabbed my beer, took a sip then snatched another slice and sat back, lifting my legs to sit cross-legged on the couch.

I felt him lean back as I was flicking more sausage off my pizza, my eyes slid to him and I felt something should be said. He was a scary biker dude but he laid it out for me, honest and straight.