Page 4

Tusk

S pending the weekend with my kids is wonderful. Spending it with my ex-wife? Not so much. Now it’s Monday and I’m free of her and I can get back to spending time with the woman I love. Truth be told, if it was just Gina, I’d have told her to fuck right off, but spending quality time with my kids means the world to me.

At first glance, having a family celebration for our youngest son’s birthday seemed like a good idea. In reality, it turned into a fucking disaster.

I don’t know how one ex-wife can be more trouble than four young children, but she sure as fuck was.

She started the day acting like we were getting back together—as if it was some kind of celebration of our reunion. I think because I met them at the clubhouse, she thought it was some fucking romantic gesture. But I chose to meet them there because I didn’t want them at the apartment complex where Brittany might see us. Not because she gets jealous, but because Gina can’t resist sticking the knife in. So I figured because Britt rarely spends time at the clubhouse and only goes there with me, we were safe. I wasn’t counting on Gina making such a big deal out of it.

I shut that shit down fast.

Getting down on my knees, I explained to my little ones that their mother and I were definitely not getting back together. It was about Charlie and his birthday—nothing else.

We talked about all the reasons two homes were better than one, and I reminded them there was a playground at my apartment. We even talked about getting two Christmases.

That perked them right up.

Gina didn’t like that too much.

While we were at the clubhouse, she made a big scene—loudly bragging about how I’d never have to beg for sex from her again now that we were ‘getting back together’. I told her to knock it off. First of all, talking about me “begging for sex” was just her way of trying to humiliate me. Second, talking about us having sex in front of the kids? That was just fucking gross. I’m only pleased there was no one else around to hear her say that shit.

Truth be told, she’s been pestering me to get back together ever since Chris walked out on her.

It didn’t take my ex brother-in-law long to figure out what took me way too many years to see—that Gina is batshit crazy, refuses to do anything anyone asks her to do, and expects whatever man she’s with to not only support her but do most of the housework, too.

Chris is not the kind of man to do anything more than the bare minimum in a relationship. I knew he’d eventually walk out on her.

Other than the shitshow at the clubhouse, I had a nice weekend with my kids. Though that stopped when Gina turned up to collect them on Monday morning, except she’d gotten an Uber over here, so I had to drive them all back. As I drive the kids back to their home, they chatter in the back seat, and thankfully, my ex is glued to her phone.

I don’t give a damn what she’s doing or who she’s talking to.

She’s on my shit list.

I must have been out of my damn mind to think—even for a second—that she would put our kid first on his own birthday.

My thoughts drift back to before we were divorced.

I used to get up early on weekends and make pancakes for everyone while she slept in. The house was full of warmth and laughter.

The kids would dance happily around the kitchen while I cooked, telling me about their week at school. I’d tell them funny stories about what my life was like growing up.

They’d beg for just one more story as we ate breakfast.

Spending time together was such a joy back then, and now I know why. It was because she was sleeping and not there to spoil it. Now, when the kids stay with me, every morning is fantastic. I look forward to a lifetime of good times and have no intention of dragging us back into a toxic living situation with my ex-wife. With shared custody, my kids can be guaranteed that fifty percent of their mornings will be great moving forward because that’s the way things roll in the Duncan household.

By the time I drop them off, I’m so fucking done with Gina that I don’t spare her a glance when I tell the kids goodbye.

***

All I can think about is getting to see Brittany’s smiling face. I’ve missed her like crazy over the weekend—and now after Gina’s shenanigans, I know I have to start introducing Britt to my kids as a permanent part of my life. Maybe then, Gina will accept that it’s over?

I go ahead and text Britt before I even pull out of my ex’s driveway. I’m halfway home when I realize she’s not responding. I call her, and the phone just goes to voicemail. Brittany has never failed to respond to a call or text from me. She’s usually thrilled to hear from me. It’s Monday and she’ll be at work at the clinic. I don’t like turning up there unannounced, but maybe I can drop by during lunch and see if she wants to take a ride?

I go to send her a message on her social media account, figuring it might be quicker that way. But when I go to my messages, her profile pic is grayed out. Clicking on it, it says that the account is deactivated.

I pull over and use the locator app to see where she is. Truth be told, I’m starting to get worried. It’s not showing a location, but the last one shown was almost two hours ago at the apartment complex where we live. I rush there, worrying that something bad has happened to her.

Her car isn’t in her designated space, but I can see something smashed on the pavement. I pull up into an empty parking space, cut my engine, and get out of the car to see what it is. Squatting down, I realize rather quickly that it’s her cell phone, it’s got the little heart-shaped charm I bought for her dangling from the side.

Panic spikes in my gut, and I rush to her apartment. Fumbling through my key ring, I finally find her key and shove it into the lock. The minute I step into her place, I can see evidence that she has moved out. There is no furniture in the living room. Rushing through the house, I see that everything is gone. The small one-room apartment is empty of not only furniture but clothing and all her sundries.

Needing to know that she’s okay, my brain scrambles for a way to check on her. I open my phone and check the other social media sites that I know she frequents. I don’t find her profiles anywhere. She’s either been kidnapped by someone who wants to cut her off from all contact with her support system, or she’s done this herself. I could be blocked. I cannot fathom her walking out on me, and why would she? What’s happened between Friday and today?

I stagger back to my car and climb into the driver’s seat. It only takes me a few seconds to get my fucking head together. I’m gonna find out what happened to Brittany or die trying. I call Siege.

He answers, “Hey, Tusk. What’s up?”

“Brittany is missing,” I tell him breathlessly. My heart is pounding like I’ve run five miles.

His voice turns suspicious. “Define missing?”

“She’s gone. I don’t know if she ran out on me or someone took her.”

“Look, I’ve never known Brittany to leave anything unsaid. I believe if she left on her own, she’d have screamed a fucking litany of reasons why, before she left.”

“Yeah, she’s never had a problem speaking her mind to me before. We were getting along real good too.”

“Get your ass to the clubhouse ASAP. We’ll figure this out.”

“We’re gonna need Zen. I found her phone and it’s been smashed to hell.”

“He’s here, and so are the club officers. If it’s humanly possible, he’ll pull the information off it for you.”

“I keep thinking that there might be a lead on it that we can use to find her.”

“Don’t worry, Tusk. We’ll figure this shit out. We always do.”

“Thanks, Prez.”

“Before you go, answer a question for me,” Siege says.

“Ask me anything,” I shoot back.

“Is it just me, or is everyone out to steal our fine-ass women?”

Although I’m anxious as hell, I almost smile at his question. “It sure the fuck seems that way sometimes.”

The screen goes black with him laughing like a hyena.

I put the pedal to the metal because I want to get to the clubhouse as soon as possible. As I drive, all kinds of crazy things are running through my head. I don’t remember Brittany ever mentioning having problems with anyone outside the club, and no one inside the club would make my woman fucking disappear.

It hits home how little I know of her past. For the first time, I realize she’s never mentioned her family, not in the entire time I’ve known her. I’ve been so wrapped up in enjoying her company and her body that I never even noticed. And that makes me the shittiest man alive. When I think about all the endless hours she spent listening to me complain about my ex and talk about my family without me asking her about hers, I feel sick to my stomach. Maybe she did leave me for a reason? If she did, I might even deserve it.

I park in front of the clubhouse and rush straight to Siege’s office. Siege, Rigs, Rider, Tank, Dutch, and Zen all turn their heads to stare at me. They don’t say anything as I stroll in and drop down in the one empty seat.

Siege sighs before explaining. “Against my better judgment, several club officers have convinced me that we need to do an intervention with you.”

Shock roils through my gut. “The fuck? You mean like they do for addicts?”

Rider shrugs. “I’ll admit it was my idea.”

I walk right up to him. “You got something to say to me? Then fuckin’ say it, brother.”

“Why the hell are you mobilizing the whole fucking club to look for Brittany of all people? For a club girl, she’s the biggest pain in the ass this club has ever seen. I can practically guarantee this is just more of her attention-seeking bullshit.”

My fists fly before I even think about what I’m doing. I knock him on his ass and turn to the others. “Is this how you all feel? That my girl going missing is just no fucking big deal?”

Siege reaches a hand down to pull Rider to his feet. “I fucking told you that wasn’t going to go over too well, Rider.”

Rider just frowns, his lips pressed together firmly.

Rigs pushes me back from Rider because I’d love nothing better than to beat his ass right now. “No,” he tells me. “We’ve all got different concerns.”

Tank says, “Guess I’ll go next. We all know Brittany. She’s the kind who will play with a brother’s head. I think if you give her a day or two, she’ll pop back up.”

Dutch adds, “She probably just wants you to chase her. She can be playful that way.”

I glance at Rigs. “Time to fucking weigh in, brother. You think one of our own turning up missing is somehow not a priority?”

Rigs tells it to me straight, like always. “No. I blame you for her leaving.” Gesturing towards the bar, he lays it out for me. “All of us saw you here with that cheating ex of yours. You were here, playing happy families out in the open.”

I gape at him, growing angrier by the second. “That’s not what was going on. It was my son’s birthday party. I wanted them to come to the clubhouse, because I could keep Gina away from Brittany that way.”

“Seeing as Brittany was there with Clara, you did a piss poor job of it,” Rider adds.

“What?” I ask. “Brittany was here?” I’m confused now, if she was at the clubhouse then why didn’t she say something.

“I heard from the club girls that Gina was talking about how you and she were getting back together and the two of you having sex,” Rigs says.

Siege sighs. “If I were Brittany, I’d be too humiliated to come back to the clubhouse too. Did you really think you were gonna go back to your wife and hang onto Brittany of all people as a side piece? As wild and fiercely possessive as Brittany is, that plan doesn’t even make fucking rational sense.”

I use both hands to make the time-out gesture. “Hold up a damn minute, all of you. First of all, my ex-wife is an asshole of biblical proportions. She used our son’s birthday to try to get back with me. I told her to cut it the fuck out.”

Siege’s eyes narrow on me. “You sure about that? It didn’t sound like your ex got the message you were laying down.”

“Don’t particularly give a fuck. I had a little talk with my kids, told them we weren’t getting back together, and even waxed poetic about how great it was to have two houses and double presents for their birthdays. They left fucking happy, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Zen jerks his chin at me. “You never put her in your property cut, you didn’t move her into your place, or put a ring on her finger. How were we to know that you were this serious about her?”

“Look, I get that those are the ways we stamp ownership on our women, and I was planning to put her in my cut on our one-year anniversary. It’s coming up in a few weeks.”

Siege tells me, “If you’re sure you want to pursue this, we’re behind you one hundred percent.”

“I sure the fuck am certain about this. If you won’t help me, I’ll do it on my own.”

Zen interjects, “We’ve already said we’d help. Siege said you had a busted phone. Let’s start there.”

I calm down and pull the phone out of my pocket. I don’t know why I hadn’t expected pushback from them on helping me find Brittany. I like to think they do this to every brother with a problem just to evaluate if the situation is dire enough to warrant a full club response, but something tells me it’s because Brittany was a club girl. That doesn’t sit right with me.