Page 1 of Other Woman Drama (Content Advisory #4)

— Webber to Copper

WEBBER

The feeling when I was introduced to my club brother’s wife’s sister, Silver, felt like an electric jolt went straight through my body.

I even flinched at the jolt.

There she was, all that black hair and big, cornflower blue eyes, and she was physically impossible not to stare at.

“She’s seriously the best person I know,” Aella, Chevy’s wife, said. “I don’t think that she has a bad day ever.”

I swallowed hard and had to physically turn my body so that I didn’t keep staring at her.

“She doesn’t look like you at all,” I pointed out the obvious.

Chevy’s eyes caught mine, and I could tell that he was studying me closely.

Chevy, being a doctor and an anesthesiologist at that, he studied micro movements all day long.

He could tell that something was wrong.

Yet, he stayed at his woman’s side with his arm curled around her waist, holding her close.

“That’s another awesome thing,” Aella chattered on endlessly. “My sister and I are sisters, but not twins. My mom’s body released two eggs. Then she was with two different men in a few-day period unprotected. One of the men got my mom pregnant with me. The other got my mom pregnant with Silver.”

Aella’s mom got pregnant by our club brother, Cakes.

But if Cakes wasn’t Silver’s dad, who was Silver’s dad?

“Barry Donahue is Silver’s dad,” Aella continued to chatter. “You know him?”

I clenched my teeth.

I knew him.

Everyone knew Barry Donahue.

A disgusting excuse for a human being.

Not that I would tell Aella that.

Chevy and I connected gazes again across the top of Aella’s head, and I gave an almost imperceptible nod.

No, I would not be mentioning what kind of garbage Barry was.

I would keep my mouth shut.

I wouldn’t say a word, and maybe the topic would never come up.

I turned away from Chevy again, but when I did, my eyes automatically went to Silver again.

Silver Donahue.

Motherfucker.

What were the odds that Chevy would bring in someone related to that piece of filth?

Silver’s eyes suddenly looked up and she caught me staring at her.

She smiled, and I had no choice but to look away, or she’d see my frown.

My phone rang in my pocket, and I thanked the good lord that I had a distraction that could take me out of the room.

I softened minutely when I saw who it was that was calling.

“Eedie,” I said to my seventeen-year-old daughter. “Where are you?”

“Dad,” Eedie said, frustration clear in her voice. “You’re never going to believe this, but he took my car again!”

He.

Gritting my teeth, I steeled my spine and said, “Where are you?”

“Mom’s house,” she grumbled. “Mom doesn’t care, either. She said that she pays the gas that goes in it, so there’s no reason he can’t use it.”

“He” being her stepfather.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I murmured. “Don’t cause a scene. You know how she gets.”

Eedie knew how she got.

We’d been dealing with Eedie’s mom’s bullshit for as long as I could remember.

It was my bad luck that I’d accidentally gotten her pregnant even though she was on birth control and I had been using a condom.

Not that I could complain about the aftereffect.

Having Eedie was the best thing to ever happen to me.

I loved Eedie more than life, and dealing with her mother was one hundred percent worth it if I got my baby girl in the end.

“I’ll be over soon,” I repeated when Eedie didn’t agree. “Don’t instigate a fight.”

“I’ll try,” she grumbled.

“But first I’m going to stop by and get your car.”

I did just that, too.

I found the car at the local home improvement store closest to where Eedie lived with her mother in Frisco.

Parking my bike around the corner of the store, I got off and walked to Eedie’s car—a 1993 Chevy Camaro.

It wasn’t a brand new car, but it wasn’t a shit car, either.

It’d been restored by my own hands, and I’d been contemplating selling it when Eedie had asked if she could have it.

Since I’d been needing to start looking for a car for her anyway, I’d agreed, and she’d been driving it for a year now with me when I had her.

She’d turned seventeen a few months ago, and so far, the car had worked out well for her.

Now, if I could only get it to stop working out well for her stepfather…

I started the Camaro up with a throaty roar and started out of the parking lot, heading toward Eedie’s mom’s house.

When I got there, Eedie was on the porch steps waiting for me.

She hopped up and came rushing toward me.

I pocketed the keys and said, “We’ll wait for him to get here.”

Eedie breathed a sigh of relief. “I swear I hid the key.”

“He probably had another one made,” I pointed out. “Your keys are still where you left them?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Can we change the locks?”

Not easily…

“No,” I said. “I’ll wait for him to get here and have a word.”

“You will do no such thing,” Elizabeth’s annoying voice snarled.

SILVER

“Dad,” I said as I looked around the room. “I can’t come get you. I’m busy.”

Or I was, until the sexiest man on Earth had left in a hurry.

Now, I had no reason to linger.

Though, if I was an honest person, I would admit that I didn’t want to go pick my dad up.

I wanted to go home to my place and bask in the air conditioning while I replayed the afternoon in my mind.

I’d met the man I was going to marry…he just didn’t know it yet.

Piers “Webber” Webb.

He owned Webb’s Auto Repair and Restore, was forty-three years old, and the sexiest man I’d ever seen.

Tall, broad-shouldered, nice forearms, strong hands.

But the real thing that’d caught my attention and held it was his electric-blue eyes.

I’d thought that I had pretty blue eyes—one of my only features that I truly knew were beautiful—but then I’d met Webber and was mesmerized by his blue eyes.

And wow.

He’d caught my gaze and held it, and I’d been unable to look away.

Only after he greeted me and turned away did I finally get a look at the rest of him.

My second favorite feature was his mustache.

I’d never been a huge fan of mustaches. They’d always seemed kind of weird to me.

But on him…

It allowed his perfect lips to be on display, and his jaw…my god, his jaw. Square and strong.

Jesus Christ, I’d thought I would need to get a bib for all the drooling I’d done after meeting him.

“Are you even listening to me?” my father asked.

Barry Donahue was not a patient man.

Even worse, he hated being ignored.

I tried really hard not to do it because I knew what kind of an asshole my dad could be when he was ignored. Hence me answering the phone in the first place when I was clearly in the middle of something.

“I am,” I lied. “But I’m seriously busy.”

“I have sacrificed my whole life for you,” Barry started in on the guilt trip like he always did when I didn’t immediately bow down to his orders. “The least you can do is give me a ride home.”

I sighed. “How’d you get there, anyway?”

“Drove Eedie’s car,” Dad said, but something sounded off, like he was lying. “Broken down.”

“Eedie” was my dad’s new wife’s daughter—his stepdaughter.

I had yet to meet her, though I’d met his wife, Elizabeth, multiple times and had formed a very strong opinion of her—I hated her.

And since I couldn’t stand her, I made it a habit not to hang around at all if I could manage it.

When I did things with my dad, it was without Elizabeth around.

However, I’d noticed lately that he’d gotten worse. Elizabeth’s sparkling personality was rubbing off on my dad.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I sighed.

“Seriously?” he asked. “You’re five minutes away.”

“But I’m busy, and I have to say my goodbyes.” I ignored his attitude. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Aella gave me a look that clearly said “your dad’s a dick.”

Her man, Chevy, jerked his chin at me and said to be careful.

The rest of the bikers all did the same sexy nod thing, and I was sad when I left to head out to my car.

A shitty little rust bucket that was my pride and joy.

See, when I was younger, my mom was worse than my dad.

She was my least favorite person in the world, and if she’d rot in hell, that would be too good for her.

When I was nine, I specifically remember seeing a piece of mail come into the house that had my name on it. Curious, I’d opened it up to see that I owed seventeen dollars.

I’d been a very responsible kid then, and not knowing what I owed seventeen dollars for, I’d sent the money through the mail in cash with a postage stamp attached wrong to the envelope.

From then on, I’d started paying attention to the mail coming in, and by the time I was sixteen, I’d known that something was wrong.

I was getting bills in the mail for things that I didn’t buy.

By the time I tried to open my first bank account at eighteen, I’d realized that my mom had spent years ruining mine and Aella’s credit to the point where not only could we not get a bank account, but we couldn’t rent an apartment. We couldn’t buy a car. We couldn’t do much of anything.

Even angrier now, because thinking about my mom always made my blood boil, I headed to the store to pick up my dad.

He angrily slammed his bags onto my trunk, and I had to grit my teeth as I got out and opened the trunk for him—God forbid he actually put his bags down into the trunk himself.

“I’m driving,” Dad said as he all but slammed my trunk closed after I loaded everything in.

I gritted my teeth because it made me mad when he mistreated my things, but ultimately kept my mouth shut when I ignored him and dropped back down into the driver’s seat.

I waited for him to get in, hoping he wouldn’t put up a fight in the parking lot of Lowe’s, and breathed a sigh of relief when he angrily stomped around to the passenger door and got in.

“I hate when you don’t let me drive,” he growled.

“You have a suspended license,” I pointed out. “You’re not driving my car and getting me in trouble. You shouldn’t have even been driving your stepdaughter’s car. You could’ve had the thing impounded.”

Something I would know.

I’d let him borrow my car thinking that his license wasn’t suspended but just expired. Only, I’d found out differently when I had to pay five hundred bucks to get my car out of the impound lot at DPD—Dallas Police Department—when my dad had been pulled over for reckless driving.

Again.

Dad had anger issues. Those anger issues caused him to drive like an asshole.

Eventually, those issues caused him to get tickets one too many times for a judge’s liking, and his license had been revoked.

Now, he still drove, but he was a hell of a lot more careful about getting caught being a jerk.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Dad grumbled.

I ignored him and drove him to his new place—a fancy number in a fancy part of Frisco.

When we got there, he said, “Want to come in?”

I ignored his question because my attention had been caught by something much better.

My ocean-eyed future husband.

He was angrily arguing with Elizabeth, gesturing toward her with a pointed finger.

Dad got out and headed for the front steps of his house, launching into a slew of expletives as he did.

I stayed in my car and listened.

“What the fuck was that, Webb?” my dad bellowed. “How did you expect me to get home?”

“Webb,” better known as Webber, turned his angry-eyed gaze toward my father and said, “One, you don’t have a license to be driving any car.

Two, this is my daughter’s car, that I bought her, so no one but me and her will be driving it.

Three, if I catch you driving her car again, I’ll fucking kick your ass, and I don’t care who sees. Do you understand me?”

My gaze went to Elizabeth, who was sneering at my future husband.

“You’re grounded, Eedie,” Elizabeth declared. “Go to your room. No phone or electronics.”

“What?” Eedie cried out. “Why?”

“Because you don’t know the term loyalty,” Elizabeth snapped. “Now go.”

Webber didn’t say anything until Eedie was gone, but he let it rip when she’d cleared the door of the house.

“That’s stupid,” he said. “Punishing her for nothing.”

“She wanted to play stupid games, she can win some stupid prizes,” Elizabeth countered.

“So what, exactly, are you grounding her for?” Webber asked. “Calling me when she had somewhere to be, knowing you wouldn’t get off your fat, lazy ass to take her? Because, oh, your shit bag of a new husband took her car that she could have gotten there with?”

“I am not fat!” Elizabeth snarled.

No, she wasn’t.

But I knew why Webber called her that.

It riled her up, and that was what he wanted.

“Is that the only thing you heard?” Webber rolled his eyes. “I’ll be here tomorrow if she doesn’t show up at my house for my scheduled time.”

“She’s grounded,” Elizabeth said.

Holy fuck. Webber was Eedie’s dad.

How had I not known that?

Probably because you avoid the house like the plague because your dad’s new wife is a total cunt.

“Grounded at your house doesn’t equate to grounded at mine,” Webber said. “She’s mine for the next week. As per court orders. Maybe you can spend that time reevaluating your life and contemplating whether this asshole of a man is worth having me all up in your shit again.”

I didn’t get offended when he called my dad an asshole.

My dad was an asshole.

He had been for my entire life.

What I was offended by was what my dad said to his back when Webber took off down the road on foot.

Dad and Elizabeth started talking, and I waited until Webber was pretty far down the street before I said, “Dad, come get your stuff from the car.”

Somehow, I felt like if Webber heard me call my dad “dad,” he’d get offended. And I wanted Webber to like me.

“Bring ’em up here,” Dad demanded.

Lazy bitch.

I started my car back up and said, “Last chance.”

I wasn’t getting out of the car and getting anywhere near Elizabeth. She was just that bad.

When Dad didn’t budge, I backed out of the driveway and went in the same direction Webber had set off on foot.

When I got to him, I stuck my head out the window and said, “Do you want a ride?”

Webber’s angry eyes flicked to me and narrowed. “Who is that man to you?”

I winced. “My dad.”

He snorted. “No, I’d rather walk than get into someone’s car that is even semi-related to that man.”

With that, he turned his head and dismissed me.

And that was when I realized that my heart was set to be broken.

Because there was no way that Webber’s anger toward my dad would ever subside.

And I was proven right.

For the next year that I knew him, he avoided me like the plague.