Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
"He's being raised like a biker," Pagan demanded, as he had from the day we knew we would finally be parents. He had been really stern about wanting to keep the baby grounded, not wanting he or she to grow up in a rich kid bubble. And, from humble beginnings myself, and believing whole-heartedly in the concept of hard work, I had absolutely agreed.
"Yeah, but you know... Robert kind of makes sense, don't you think? I mean, I thought you looked like Robert Di Nero when we first met. Maybe we can name him Robert so he keeps the four since that is so important to Gramps... but we can call him Niro."
Then we did.
Pagan - 10 years
"Oh for fuck's sake," I groaned, seeing a seven-year-old Niro walking into the compound.
Looks-wise, he took mostly after me. He had my height, my build, my dark hair, most of my features. But the eyes, yeah, those were all his mother. The brightest fucking blue you could imagine.
And currently blue and busted.
His lip was swollen and slit and his fists looked bloody.
Niro also, in many ways, took after me in the personality department. He was mostly laid-back, but also fast to action, not afraid to use his fists. Growing up around a biker compound, they were traits he needed. All the kids scuffled. It was just part of how things were around there.
But he also came in from after school busted up from playground fights.
Hell, at six-years-old, I was pretty sure he had been the youngest kid in his school to be suspended for fighting.
Thankfully though, it was summer break and whatever scrap he got into wouldn't result in accusatory looks from teachers when I came in for parent-teacher nights.
"Little homie can't get enough of the bloodshed," Virgin said, moving past, ruffling his hair as he did. "Takes after his Pops."
"Alright," I said, folding up slightly as he moved to sit across from me. "What was...
"Hey, what do you think about... oh, hey Niro. When did you get bac... oh," Kennedy said, exhaling a breath, shaking her head.
Really, all things being considered, she had almost gotten over her aversion to blood over the years. I guess having me come home in all stages of fucked up would do that to a woman. And when I stepped down and gave up Hex to the young bloods, Niro stepped up to give his mother's stomach some churning.
I reached up, dragging her down with me. "I was just asking what went down," I said, giving her a squeeze, reminding her silently to not do the mom-thing and run to him and baby him over his scrapes. She could do that later. After we got answers.
"It wasn't my fault, Dad," he said, immediately getting riled, eyes lighting up, using his hands to speak. "We were at the park and these guys walked over to Andi and pulled her hair," he declared, his voice full of indignation. "I couldn't let him get away with that!"
I looked over at Kennedy, trying like hell to keep my lips in a firm line, a thing about parenting that no one talked about enough- how hard it was to keep a straight face when your kid was hilarious. Hilariously bad, often, but hilarious.
Little kid turned out just like me.
I saw the recognition of that in Kennedy's eyes as well.
"He shouldn't have pulled her hair," Kennedy agreed, trying to not condone the fighting behavior, though she knew that she agreed with it underneath it all.
Fact of the matter was, Andi, Reeve's girl, was small for her age, a delicate little fucking China doll replication in human form, all soft, all sweet, all golden hair and big brown eyes. The idea that anyone, even some little seven-year-old shit would do something to hurt her had me wanting to go whoop his ass.
So, quite frankly, I was going to go ahead and do the 'bad parent' thing and verbally condone his behavior. "And you needed to show him why he shouldn't put his hands on her," I agreed with a nod, ignoring the big eyes I was getting from Kennedy. "If there is ever a time I'm going to tell you it's alright to start shit with someone, Niro, it's always going to be when you're defending someone who can't defend themselves. Case closed. Now go let your mother help you get cleaned up so that cut near your eye doesn't get infected."
"Think it'll scar?" he asked, jumping up, excited about the idea. Guess I was to blame for that too, being covered in scars myself, making it seem cool to him.
"Looks like it," I agreed, nodding.
"Yeah!" he said, running off toward my room which we rarely used anymore, but was ours nonetheless.
"He's going to be brought home by the cops one day, I just know it," Kennedy said, shaking her head.