Restricted MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 14) Page 7

  Dragon Mother came, and sat down by her bed. Bao let her hold the boy. “You point out my flaws as if you had none,” Dragon Mother said to Bao.

  “I have more than I can count,” said Bao. “There are a thousand good points about Chinese culture. But, the insistence that a boy is better than a girl is ridiculous. Or that one child should be favored over another.”

  “I have watched you,” said Dragon Mother, looking into her child’s eyes. “You make each child feel loved, cared for, and call them all beautiful names. You care for the daughter of the girl that first moved in over my restaurant as if she were your own.” She grunted. “I resented that Ivy and Callie were so free with their affections with Hu, and that you saw that as normal, did nothing to separate the girls, even moved near them. I thought when we moved into the duplex, which is now a triplex, that we would finally be free of them.” She sighed gustily. “I was so afraid of Hu losing her language and culture when you married a white man.”

  “Call him by his name,” said Bao. “His name is Nico.”

  “Nico,” said Dragon Mother. “Now you are happy? So... he has learned terrible Mandarin. His mother speaks Italian to the children.”

  “I am learning Italian, and I speak French,” said Bao. “Children who speak multiple languages make higher grades. But, they must be learned early.”

  “And now Hu goes to that school that is not a real school, and learns Paiute as well.”

  Bao sighed. “First, it is a real school. Most of the students test out of high school in their early teens. And, I repeat, learning languages makes children smarter. She also needs to be able to communicate with her grandfathers in their language.”

  Dragon Mother grunted. “Not Chinese grandfathers.”

  “Your husband and my first love’s parents have headed to Heaven a long time ago,” said Bao. “Do you have other candidates? Besides, we spend a lot of our time in Chinatown. They speak Cantonese there, not just Mandarin.”

  Dragon Mother sighed. “So many people that are not Chinese are in Hu and Jie’s lives, and the lives of this child.”

  “Give me back my child,” said Bao. She took her son back, and tucked him into her arms. “Go back to China,” said Bao to her mother. “You do not understand where you live. America is a melting pot of languages and cultures. It is what makes this country strong. I am done with you denigrating anyone in my life that is not Chinese. Henry and David are literally two of the best people I have ever met. Their dignity and honor are above reproach.”

  “They are tongxinglian!” said Dragon Mother, using the Chinese word for same-sex love.

  “The term here is ‘homosexual’ or ‘gay.’ The Native American have terminology for it as well. Grow up, mother. The ancient terms like fentao show that this love has been known for centuries! Now, please drag your mind into the twenty-first century. I will not have you denigrate the men who I love the most in this world any longer. How can I expect you to be a good role model for my son, if you can’t respect the men in his life?”

  “Role model, an American term,” said Dragon Mother.

  “Children learn from their mothers,” said Bao. “From you, I have learned strength, determination, the value of hard work, the priceless value of an education, and to appreciate all that is Chinese.” Dragon Mother preened. Bao narrowed her eyes. “You have also taught me to be narrow-minded, cruel, selfish, self-centered, arrogant, stubborn, and negative. I hope I have overcome these things. I will not let you teach these things to any of my children.”

  Dragon Mother stood there in the hospital room, her jaw wide open in shock. “You dare to say such things to your mother?”

  “A woman with true honor would not behave in such petty and selfish ways as you,” said Bao. “Use principles for your actions and you can never fall short of meeting your goals.” She kissed her son’s head. “My father taught me that. Do you even remember him?”

  Dragon Mother turned white. “I pray your children never speak that way to you.”

  “I pray that I never behave in such a way that they would desire to do so,” said Bao. Dragon Mother turned and walked away.

  Nico came in with a bag. He put it on the table over the bed. He took out a plastic cup of ice cream and a carafe of tea. “Walnut,” he said, handing her the ice cream and a plastic spoon. “I thought you would want to wash the taste of speaking to your mother out of your mouth.” He poured the tea into a cup, a fragrant jasmine. He took his son, and sat down.

  “I want to kill her and love her at the same time,” said Bao. “She’s just so… impenetrable.”

  “Let it go,” suggested Nico. “We have lots of kids to look after, and another we’ll pick up in a year or so when the adoption happens. Until then, let’s love our boy.”

  Nico held Dante up. “I promise to love you, and protect you, and teach you all five hundred languages of our sprawling family.” Bao laughed. “I promise to provide for you, and teach you the right ways, and to never judge your choices once you know who you are well enough to make them. You’ll grow up riding horses and kicking around a soccer ball, and beading ceremonial headdresses, and going to sweats and powwows, and with my mom to mass on Sundays.” Bao laughed again. Nico continued. “I promise these contradictions will make you stronger, and you’ll know how to love with all your heart. And we’ve got a mess of cousins for you to play with, too. Tarak and you will get into all sorts of trouble together.” He looked into Dante’s sleepy eyes. “I love you, little one, all of my days, and into all the next lives, too.”

  Bao looked at her husband, the tears falling down her face. Her mother had no idea of the gifts Bao had. She was treated like an empress, and surrounded by love. This is what her mother couldn’t see, and probably never would.

  Baby Mamas

  Ghost and Killa sat in the warm kitchen. They’d been to see the Ghosties, who were all doing well. They’d finished a bike, and could watch its owner strut, a well-built black woman who desired a black and silver panthery ride. They built her their best, and she walked it three times, her boots loud on the concrete.

  She stroked it like a lover. “You women be the best.”

  “What I keep sayin,’” said Ghost.

  The woman, Annalise of the Panthers of New Orleans, tilted her head back and roared out a laugh. “Ain’t no holdin’ back wit you, is there?” she said.

  “Not for a second,” said Ghost. The woman laughed again.

  The woman took pictures of the three-wheeled Harley, and sent them back. She walked around the bike again and again, then finally got on. It started up, and purred, then growled. Annalise waved once, and was gone.

  “That’s ten new orders,” said Killa. “We be rollin’ in da green.” They bumped fists. “Now, let’s get the last one outta here so we can get some o’ dat cornbread, collard greens, and chicken.”

  “Hear dat,” said Ghost, and they got back to work.

  Later that night, the food was gone, and they sat at the kitchen table drinking Coronas. Ghost got up and threw away all the trash and put the butter away, then sat back down.

  “I don’ wanna have no more kids fa othas,” said Killa. “I do, but I want one fa our own.”

  “Be sixteen crackhead mamas be willin’ to sell us a baby for a hit,” said Ghost. “Da Ghosties be affirmin’ dat.”

  “Yeah,” said Killa. “We get jus’ one a dem girls off da street, it be right.”

  “Kin do dat fosta-’dopt,” said Ghost.

  “Too many damn strings,” said Killa. “People all up in our faces, tellin’ us how ta live our lives.” She sighed. “Gotta get certified, take da damn classes,” Killa said. She took another sip. “Still tired an’ sore from da last one. Be great, havin’ babies fo’ da lesbians, but I’s tired.”

  “A’wright,” said Ghost. “I take any class ya want me to.”

  “We start next weekend,” said Killa. “Den we be keepin’ our ears open, see what we can see.”

  “Word,” said Ghost. Th
ey both sipped. “We gotta… the back room’s a workroom.”

  “We scored a real fine condo,” said Killa. “But I check dem prices. We could sell it, use da money buy one wif more bedrooms.”

  “Don’t want no house,” said Ghost. “Don’ wanna be callin’ dat Nico up every five, get him ta put it back togetha.”

  “Be good here,” said Killa. “Be white, black, Puerto Rican, dat Crow Nation brutha in back, ev’ry kinda people here.” She pulled up photos on her cell phone. “Dis one, be in da back, four bedrooms, so we gotta workroom an’ office fa you, and two bedrooms fa da kids.”

  “You shittin’ me?” asked Ghost. She looked at the property. “And what ours be sellin’ fa?”

  “I talked ta da woman sellin’ dat one. Someone done smashed holes in da wall, asshole went ta prison on da domestic-violence beef. Da woman done moved back to Ohio with her fam’ly. She be willin’ ta cut a deal. Even wif da closin’ costs, an’ Nico fixin’ up da place, we be gettin’ twenty thousand dollas back.”

  “What da fuck you say?” asked Ghost. “Why dis a question? O’ course we do dat.” She looked at Killa. “An’ you find out dat woman’s name. She be gettin’ a thousand-dollar Wal-Mart run afta dis.”

  “I do dat,” said Killa.

  The deal only took two weeks; there was a Korean family that wanted Ghost and Killer’s place. They moved the figurines to be finished at the Wolfpack and Ghosties’ places, put their stuff in storage, and went on vacation while Nico’s people made their house ready for sale, and fixed up the broken walls and doors in the new place. They painted it in white and blue, and the kitchen in a soft yellow, and moved everything in while Ghost and Killa were gone.

  They took a flight in business class, and relaxed on the way to the Caribbean. The Dominican Republic had a gorgeous hotel with a pool that zigzagged right by their cabana. Every morning, Killa and Ghost would eat fruit, then lie in the pool, swim a little. Then they would eat a lovely meal in the hotel’s restaurant, then spend the day by the beach, swimming, getting massages, getting their nails done, buying little shell-and-silver jewelry, necklaces, earrings, and anklets.

  At night, Ghost lavished love on the exhausted Killa. She drew her wife a bath with rose petals in it, and would wash down her body really slowly. Then, she’d cover her wife with creams and oils, and rub her neck and shoulders, down to her perfect ass. She would kiss Killa’s ears; run her hands down her wife’s neck. Ghost kissed her, ran her fingers over her wife’s breasts, so sensitive after so many pregnancies. Ghost arched her back, and came over and over, with simple kisses and touches.

  Ghost rolled Killa on her stomach, and stroked her all the way down, from her neck to her rounded buttocks, and followed her touches with kisses. She put her fingers in, her wife so wet and wriggling with pleasure. Then Ghost flipped her wife over, and licked, kissed, and stroked her into riding up, up, up, then took her over, then down, like a roller coaster. Then, Ghost wiped her wife down, and spent her time kissing Killa. Killa returned the favor, with light touches that turned insistent. Then, they would slip into sleep, and wake up to do it all over again.

  They went sailing and snorkeling, resting in the blue-green waters, watching the fish. They fell asleep on hammocks, exhausted from all the swimming. They awoke to grilled fish and seafood out on the beach with lovely icy drinks, and danced to a steel drum band. They then took the catamaran back in.

  “This be the life,” said Ghost.

  “We gotta enjoy it now,” said Ghost. “We got Ghosties at home. Dem girls need da lookin’ afta. We also gonna get dem babies, or olders.”

  “Does ya care if it be boys, girls, older, younga?” asked Killa.

  “Don’ care, but want one girl.” She hugged Killa, then kissed her. “Want someone sweet as you, sugah.”

  Killa laughed. “Dey gonna have motorcycle grease in da veins. Teach ‘em to hold a wrench. Buy dem little plastic sets.”

  “You go, girl,” said Ghost. “You gonna be da bomb as da mama.”

  “Feed ‘em collard greens, chicken, brown sugah carrots, make ‘em fat ‘n healthy,” said Killa. “Fill ‘em up wif dem chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Teach ‘em how ta cook,” said Ghost. “Clean, make stuff, take care o’ demselves.”

  “An’ keep ‘em off da street,” said Killa. “Dey not goin’ down dat bad path. Girls be sellin’ demselves, drug runnin,’ gettin’ kilt all ovah da damn place.”

  Ghost’s flat face got hard. “Anybody hurt ‘em, dey regret it dat same damn minute.”

  “Fo shoah,” said Killa. “We be da Nighthawks mamas. Nobody mess wif us.”

  “We gotta make friends wif more Valkyries,” said Ghost. “Be some powerful mamas dere.”

  “We got Ivy,” said Killa. “Stupid mutha mess wif her, that one be down on da ground, beggin’ fa mercy.”

  “An’ we got da Wolfpack,” said Ghost. “Little baby wolves. Be guardin’ da kids. Heard wif dat last sitchiation, dey on da roof, like Nico, ready ta take anybody out.”

  “Henry shoulda called us in,” said Killa. “We be protectin’ dem kids at da Nighthawks school.”

  “We be sendin’ our kids dere?” asked Ghost.

  “Fo’ sure,” said Killa. “Dey learn da readin’ an’ writin’ and lotsa languages, an’ music, and stuff. No bullyin’ either. No one says one color betta or worse dan da otha. Girls an’ boys answerin’ questions da same.”

  “Ain’t nobody mess wif ‘em,” said Ghost. “Henry done take ‘em out, an’ we be workin’ right dere, too. Bring ‘em in, do our work; even eat lunch wif ‘em.”

  “So, we gotta plan?” asked Killa.

  “Damn straight,” said Ghost.

  They went out on 4x4s to a rum factory, and had some bottles shipped back to the United States. Then they went to two plantations, one coffee, one chocolate. They bought a lot of both, and had it all shipped back. They visited a cave. Then, they went out on a dune buggy all over, from the town to the beach. They got sandy, wet, and hoarse from yelling with glee. The next day, they went swimming with sharks and stingrays. They spent the rest of the day in the pool, drank umbrella drinks, and lounged in the pool. They read books and laughed, and slept in the sun. They had the hardest time getting all the sand off when they went swimming and lounging at the beach, but they loved every minute of it. They went shopping for clothes, and bought shirts, skirts, and shorts in coral, lime green, black, and a soft red. They bought sarongs, silver and coral jewelry, and tiny wooden carvings.

  They ate delicious food. “Beans, rice, and meat,” said Ghost. “And plantains. Yum.”

  “And that flat bread,” said Killa. “Casabe.”

  “I can eat this all the time,” said Ghost. “Every day.”

  “I’ll talk myself inta some of dem recipes,” said Killa. And, she did. She took pictures and put the recipes in her cell phone for when they went home. They had international food at the all-inclusive hotel, and Killa scored the recipe for the strawberry soup they had with lunch one day.

  At night, they took their time exploring each other’s bodies. Ghost’s African-American/Asian skin glowed from all the sun and sand, and Killa loved brushing and braiding her waist-length black hair. They used oils, and spent hours rubbing them into their skin and hair.

  Ghost bought tiny bottles of electric colors of nail polish, and they buffed and did each other’s nails and toes with blue, and a yellow that was so bright it almost glowed in the dark. They had fun, running their bright nails down each other’s backs, and were careful when sliding their fingers into each other’s mouths, and deep inside, making each other wet.

  They made each other come, again and again, in the tub, on the great big white bed, and on the blue rug in front of the bed. One night, they ate strawberries and chocolate off each other’s bodies, and washed them down with champagne. Another night, they walked along the beach, and found a deserted cove. They turned their sarongs into a little tent, hidden among the sand and rocks, and made love with
the waves crashing nearby, the sound masking their moans and screams in the dark. They went back to the hotel, laughing so loud that they had to shush each other so as not to wake up the other guests. Then, they floated in the pool and looked up at the stars, and went to bed to make love to each other all over again.

  On the flight home, Killa was scared. “We not da mos’ educated people,” she said, sipping a Mai Tai in business class.

  “I ain’t scared,” said Ghost. “Like ya said, we gotta jump through da hoops, but we is ready fa when it goes tru o’ not. We’s knowin’ people.”

  “We do,” said Killa. Ghost held her hand, and they relaxed.

  David and Inola came down to sing the pain and suffering out of the new house, and Ghost and Killa moved in. The woman in Ohio sent them a teary thank-you video, which said that her husband took half the money, and was using it to try to get out of jail. The woman was going to use their money to get the kids into a good school, and on track; back home in Ohio.

  The classes went like clockwork. One of the caseworkers teaching the class was overjoyed to get them, and told them a foster-to-adopt situation was likely, considering the glowing recommendations they were getting from Bonnie, Henry, and half the rest of the Nighthawks. They had good, solid jobs, and made good money.

  The home study took all of a Saturday. They had the house up to code in no time. They were scared, at first. “We have da high school, and we both be takin’ business classes online,” explained Ghost. “We could have babies of our own, but we’ve seen too many like us. Ghostie girls, those with nothing.” They hadn’t mentioned their Ghosties to their caseworker, a large, no-nonsense woman named Rebecca Fields. No one wanted interference with the mothers/sisters and their kids.

  The caseworker loved the double pods in each room, giving each child half the room. She thought the miniatures were ingenious. Ghost showed her how all the solvents and paints would be locked up in special cabinets far above kid height. Ghost loved her new workspace. With all the overhead storage, she had a lot more room to work.