"As if there is anything intimidating about all one-hundred-and-ten pounds of arms and legs," I said, snorting. "I have to get a hold of this now, though. Pretty soon he will be big and strong and I won't have as much say anymore."
"Does he have anyone else in his life he might listen to? His father?"
"He's in the picture, but he's not, y'know?" I asked. "He would try, I'm sure. But Jacob wouldn't exactly be receptive. If anything, honestly, that might just make the whole thing worse. Were you this big of a pain in the ass when you were Jacob's age?" I asked, giving him a weak smile.
"My aunt—she's who raised us—would probably say so. But not really. I tried to do the right thing."
And yet he grew up to be an outlaw biker?
Something didn't quite add up there.
My gaze moved out into the living room, seeing his daughter turning her head to the side so my mother would work on the next section of hair.
"Your little girl seems sweet."
"Jelena's a good kid. Gets pissed at me for being over-protective. And for not letting her wear makeup outside of the house. But, for the most part, doesn't give me too much of a hassle.
"Well, I imagine having you as a disciplinarian is pretty intimidating. Definitely more than me."
"You kidding? I think a pissed off mom is ten times scarier than an angry dad."
"If only that were true," I said, toasting my cup to the ceiling where I could hear Jacob's music turn on. He knew better than to pile on to my already bad mood, so he didn't blast it, but I had to roll my eyes at the pissed off lyrics.
Oh, to be so young and angsty.
Those were the days.
"He'll come around. I doubt he's a bad kid, Eva. He probably just has some stupid-ass idea in his head. And is young and stubborn enough to fight you over it. You'll win out in the end."
I had to.
No matter what it took.
Even if I had to send him kicking and screaming to his father for a while, as much as my heart ached at the idea. Whatever it would take to get him on the right path again, that was what I had to do.
"I guess there are always those juvenile crime prevention programs to enroll him in," I mused. "Give him an hour of inmates screaming at him, and he will realize just now not-tough he really is," I added, smiling.
"You're joking, but it is an option. Hell, I could probably scrounge up a couple guys to scream at your kid for a few hours," he offered. "I know this crazy bastard named Pagan who would make that kid piss himself if he got in his face."
If you'd have told me a year before that I would actually seriously consider contracting out discipline to some one-percent biker by the name of Pagan to deal with my difficult son, I would have laughed.
Now, though, it didn't sound so funny.
It sounded like a last-ditch option if nothing else I could come up with worked.
"You know all the cool people, huh?" I teased. "A woman named Gus. A man named Pagan..."
"Hey, Dad, what do you think?" Jelena's voice joined us in the kitchen, turning her head side-to-side, her braids swinging around.
"Lookin' beautiful, baby. This is Miss Eva," he said, nodding his chin toward me, giving his girl a 'don't forget your manners' look I knew all-too-well.
"Eva," I corrected, giving her a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Jelena. Thank you so much for letting my mom do your hair. She gets confused sometimes."
"It's cool. She was telling me about her wedding. Did you know there was a flood?" she asked, eyes bright, excited to hear the story that had fascinated me once upon a time as well.
"And that her fiancé carried her across town so her dress wouldn't get wet? Isn't that sweet, Dad?" she asked, tone almost too bright, too cheery, too... suggestive?
She was up to something.
And, judging by the brow raise her father had, I figured he sensed it too.
"Yeah, baby, very sweet. Now go on back home and get that book report finished, okay?"
"Okay," she agreed. "Nice to meet you," she told me, giving me an enthusiastic smile, big enough that I bet her cheeks hurt.
"You too, sweetie. And thanks again."
"I'll get out of your hair too," Colson said, and I just barely resisted the urge to tell him I'd very much like his hand in my hair, giving a good pull. And that was saying something. Because I didn't let anyone mess with my hair. Clearly, three hours of sleep was just not going to cut it.
"Thank you so much for helping me out. If you ever need a hand with Jelena, I promise I am not the terrible parent Jacob makes me out to be," I told him, giving him a wobbly smile.