Erica cleared her throat. “It started a long time ago, maybe fifty years.”
Gigi’s eyes went wide. “That long?”
Erica grinned. “Yeah. A long, long time. A bunch of friends liked to ride motorcycles, and they weren’t happy with the way the world was. Like, they fought in a war, and when they came home, they felt different about their jobs and their lives. Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” Gigi said.
“It’s like this. They felt unhappy and didn’t understand why they had to fight in the war. It didn’t make sense to them. And nobody would give them any answers that made sense. It felt like all they did was make war and hurt people for no reason. So they decided to make up their own club, and sorta live together and make up the rules for how they would live.”
“Did Lance do that? Is he that old? He looks young!”
Erica giggled. “No, Lance wasn’t there back then. But my granddaddy was. He was one of the first members. And my daddy joined, too, when he got old enough. I used to hear stories about when they first started, all the time.”
“Does everybody live here?”
“No, sometimes we stay here. But we have our own houses and stuff, just like everybody else.”
Gigi nodded, taking it all in. “I was wondering why everybody was always here. Don’t you have jobs?”
Both Erica and Traci laughed softly. “That’s complicated. For us, this is our job. We cook and clean up and pour drinks and stuff. The guys do all sorts of things.” She left it at that. Gigi looked satisfied enough. I wasn’t satisfied—I was curious as to how the men made their money. They all seemed fairly well-off, for all their scruffiness. The clubhouse was beautiful. The money had to be coming from somewhere.
Gigi fell silent, and I knew her well enough to see the wheels turning in her head. Her eyes drifted toward me more than once. What was on her mind?
“Jamie?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Do you like Lance?”
I was so flabbergasted, the only thing I could do was laugh. She was serious, though, waiting for me to answer.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think he’s a nice person?”
“Yes,” I said. “I think he’s nice.”
“You fight with him a lot.”
I smiled. “Grownups do that sometimes.”
“But you think he’s okay? A nice man?”
“I really do. I think he likes you a lot.” I rubbed her back, but glanced at the girls with questions in my eyes. They shrugged, just as lost as I was.
Her little voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe you guys could get married.”
Traci sounded like she was choking. I ignored her and Erica, my eyes only on Gigi.
“Uh, I think we can find something to do elsewhere. Traci…?” Erica got up, dragging her friend with her. I waited until Gigi and I were alone before I continued speaking.
“Sweetie? Why would you want me and Lance to get married?” I asked as gently as I could.
“That way, maybe you could be my other mommy. Other kids have other mommies when their daddy and mommy don’t live together anymore. Like Olivia and Spencer do.”
I nodded. There were more than a few kids in class whose parents were divorced. Somehow, I never thought any of that filtered through Gigi’s consciousness—then again, she was a very smart, perceptive kid. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d picked up on it.
“That’s true. Some people have more than one mommy and daddy. Step-parents, they’re called.”
“Right. So maybe you could be my step-mommy. Since you like Lance. I know he’s my daddy, my real daddy.”
“You do?”
“Mommy told me that’s who I was going to live with.”
I chose my words carefully. “Honey, people don’t get married just because they like each other. They do it because they love each other. I don’t love your daddy.”
“Oh.” Her face was a mask.
“Talk to me, please. What are you thinking about?”
She shook her head. “I just thought you could be my step-mommy, that’s all.”
“What about your real mommy? Don’t you love her anymore?”
“I love her. But I don’t think she’s ever gonna come back.”
My blood ran cold. She sounded so sure. “Why do you say that?”
“When she would walk me to school, she would always say, ‘See ya later.’ When she left me here, she said ‘Goodbye.’”