Chapter 241: Momma
*Dad, I really need you right now. This is not a talk I want to have with momma. – Chance*
Having heard the motorcycle pipes, Alana opened her front door before Chance even knocked. Her loose shoulder-length black hair had silver strands that she refused to cover. With five children and three times as many grandchildren, she felt as though she had earned every one of those gray hairs.
Her deep blue eyes could already tell that something was wrong. It was in the way his shoulders were hunched and his head hung low. She had not put on any makeup that day and her bare lips curled into a sympathetic smile.
Dark gray fleece pajama pants with multicolored hearts graced her long legs. An oversized shirt with a Disney princess on it covered her braless chest and slight pudge. The socks on her feet did not match each other, or anything else that she wore. He grinned at her feet as he closed the door behind him.
“Nice socks.” Chance said kissing her upturned cheek. Alana squeezed her son, and he held on a little longer than usual.
Just as when her kids were little, she hugged them until they pulled away. His grip loosened and she stepped back letting him enter her condo.
The Saltillo tiles were complimented by the pale aquamarine walls. Her furniture was all custom mission style that Sticks had made when she moved into the condo after Coon died. The cushions were a bright blue while the pillows were made from blankets from their trips to Mexico.
Sticks had already drawn up the specs for the furniture. It was going to be an anniversary gift from their dad. Then Coon was killed by a drunk driver. Her kids decided that she would still get her new furniture. Shortly before it was done, she bought the condo. It was fully furnished when she moved in.
Chance crossed the room and stood in front of the corner fireplace, removing his leather jacket and cut as he went, tossing them on the back of a chair. He warmed his hands as Alana moved around in the kitchen. She walked back into the living room and offered him a mug of coffee.
Accepting the large mug from his sister’s restaurant, Chance smiled his thanks.
“We can sit around and do the small talk bullshit, or you can grow some balls and tell me what’s bothering you.” she said bluntly as she sat on the couch and tucked her feet underneath her.
“Am I a bad person?” he asked softly.
Alana reached over and grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table. She paused the movie she had been streaming and then tossed the remote back onto the table.
“Maybe a little small talk?” Alana suggested and then sighed. “No, TJ, I don’t think you’re a bad person. A slut? Without a doubt. An asshole at times? Definitely. But, no, you’re not a bad person.”
She watched her son for several minutes. He stood with his back to her and holding his mug at his waist in front of him.
“Either sit down or turn around.” She ordered with a light laugh. “You look like you’re pissing in my fireplace.”
Chance sat in the chair at the end of the coffee table, still close to the fireplace.
As he sat there staring at his coffee, Alana studied her youngest son. He was always a wild child. Always pushing the limits.
But there was a deep need to protect that ran to his core.
“Tell me what has you upset.”
Chance took a drink of coffee. “Do you remember me telling you about the girl from work?”
“The one that called you out on your slutiness?” she asked, hiding her smile behind her mug. Previously, the only women that he talked about were his sisters-in-law or one’s married to one of his club brothers. Never had it been just a woman.
He nodded. “She barely knows me. Hardly talks to me. And yet… she was right.” The last part was barely audible.
He sat embarrassed as he tried to figure out how to have this talk with his mother.
“Coon was in a training accident in the army. Shortly after we were married. He had chemical burns over almost all of his body.”
“Except where his safety glasses were. Making him look like a raccoon. I know the story, mom.”
“I know you do. But do you understand it?” She asked and he looked at her confused. “The explosion and chemicals burned away his clothes. He had burns everywhere. I mean *everywhere*.”
She looked at her son waiting for understanding to register. When it did, his eyes widened.
“Your dad was basically chemically castrated. But we both wanted more kids. You come by your slutiness honestly.”
He took a drink of his coffee wishing it was something stronger.
“What I’m saying is that I know about sex. You can talk to me. Or I can tell you who your biological father is, and you can go talk to him.”
“I need something stronger.” He lifted his mug a little bit.
“As your niece says,” Alana said getting her phone off the table, “there’s an app for that. I even have an app for food.”
“You get the booze; I’ll get the food.” Chance said pulling out his own phone. “Italian or Mexican?”
“Big hat Mexican.” She said smiling. “Add some ice to your order. Where is the margarita salt…”
“On the rim of the glass.”
“Shut up, or I’m leaving my toy collection to you.” She warned with a smile.
“Please, don’t.” He said looking up from his phone.
Laughing, she clicked something else on her phone. “Just remember, you piss me off, you’re getting them.”
“Duly noted. Guac?”
“Are you asking? That’s like asking someone if they like bacon.”
“The answer should always be assumed to be yes.” He replied with a small laugh.
“Exactly.” She replied as she went to the kitchen to see how many beers she had. Clicking on a twelve pack of his brand, she went back to the living room. “You staying here tonight?”
“I can’t. I’m dog sitting the giant hairballs.”
“Then don’t drink too damned much.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He knew what she was thinking of. It had been a drunk driver that had killed her husband. His death shook the whole family. And just a few years ago, Mia's ex-husband crashed and died while drunk. None of the Lowery’s drove or rode within a few hours of drinking.
