Page 52 of Rebellious

“Is Ms. Miller available?”

Ms. Miller. Informal. Cryptic. Sneaky. Kendall was using her maiden name.

Johnnie’s guard went up.

“She’s busy,” he informed the mystery caller. “I’ll take a message.”

“I’m just calling to verify that Mrs. Phillips can meet Ms. Miller tomorrow at her office. Please have her give us a call back to confirm at her earliest convenience. Thank you.”

With that, the lady hung up, leaving Johnnie confused. Grabbing his own phone, he powered it on again and opened Google to see who the fuck Anne Phillips was. It didn’t take him long to find a LinkedIn profile of the woman, a divorce attorney based in Boise, Idaho. Horrified, he suddenly understood that Kendall wasn’t going away to fuck Mortician again, but to take steps to dissolve their marriage.

He’d told Kendall what he’d do if she tried to leave, and yet even with the threat of losing custody of the kids, she was sneaking around, behind his back, and contacting divorce lawyers. Did she really hate him that much?

Unable to bear the thought, he grabbed his phone and went to his texts. Mortician, no doubt, was the reason that Kendall was pursuing a divorce. After hearing the way she spoke about him, he knew she saw their marriage as a nuisance, blocking her from her darling enforcer. If Mortician wanted to fuck with Johnnie’s marriage, Johnnie would fuck with his. He’d see how he liked being outed to his wife.

Johnnie: Hey Bailey. It’s me. I have news. Yeah, Kendall and Mortician went away together again.

Bailey: I see. Thank you for letting me know.

Johnnie: No problem, sweetheart.

Sitting at Roxanne’s breakfast bar and finishing his second cup of coffee, Mort hoped his news about Rebel’s near drowning wouldn’t set off Bailey again. Or news of Tabitha’s death. Or anything about Prez, Meggie, and their children that had befallen them in the span of hours yesterday.

The old Bailey would’ve been sympathetic and offered herself in whatever way the family needed her. This one? Yeah, chances were high she’d pitch a bitch over his concern or gloat that Meggie had almost lost one of her children again. But if Roxanne hadn’t told her, Mort didn’t want Bailey to accuse him of hiding information from her like she had when Johnnie wrongly believed she and Meggie were cousins.

There was also another, more urgent reason for seeking out Bailey. Tomorrow, Mortician would go to Kendall’s office and file for legal separation. As much as he loved his wife, he couldn’t break through to her and feared he never would. Their lives were in limbo, which wasn’t cool for them or their kids. Even if Mort left the club like she’d asked months ago, another problem would arise to set her off. She refused to respond to any of his overtures, and he just couldn’t live with such uncertainty any longer.

Or on the fringes of her life. She’d been at her mother’s house for days and refused to tell him why. Maybe he was being a motherfucker, but he hadn’t asked Roxanne, Knox, or Grant and they hadn’t volunteered any information.

Besides, Harley needed him. Bailey was back on her wanting-an-apology-from-everyone kick, offended that Harley preferred Zoann. Fuck, at this point, Mort did too.

Harley returning to Val and Zoann’s also made it easier for Mort to spend time with her whenever he wanted, not when Bailey set the rules like she did with Lou and Kaleb.

He planned to cancel Carissa and Alexia’s high limit credit cards, which he only gave to his sisters-in-law to make Bailey happy. Those two took full advantage of that shit, too. He couldn’t remember the last time they worked. Alexia was a stay-at-home mom to two kids when her old man didn’t do jack shit but…fuck, nothing. Carissa and her wife were a little better. The wife had good job. But…no…just fuck no.

In his quest not to be like Sharper fucking Banks, he’d spoiled Bailey so much that whatever she’d asked him for, he’d given to her. Fine, materialistically. Fucked, when it was a baby she was throwing a fucking tantrum over. A baby she might have in her belly because he’d made love to her two weeks ago during their ill-fated getaway to Long Beach, where he’d lost his goddamn temper and she’d lost the rest of her fucking mind, costing him thousands in damages. He hadn’t sold the diamond he’d intended to give her, but he sure the fuck was keeping that motherfucker. She probably wouldn’t accept it. She resented him too fucking much.

Speaking of her feelings toward him, he didn’t want her to have the power of his life and death in her fucking hands. At least for the time being. Maybe if they managed to save their marriage and she got her senses back, that would change. Tomorrow, he also planned to ask Kendall to file backup medical proxies, so it wouldn’t default to Bailey. He’d list Prez, Roxanne, Digger, Val, and Meggie, in that order. And he was only placing Meggie last out of respect for Bailey. It was why he didn’t include Bunny and Chester. Because Kendall was his attorney, he didn’t want Bailey to find a loophole and cry conflict of interest.

He wasn’t planning on croaking any time soon, but he lived a dangerous life. He needed people who’d want to take every measure possible to save him, not a woman who might pull the fucking plug herself.

A noise brought him back to the present and anticipation filled him, but nothing. Not Roxanne, Bailey, Grant, or Knox.

Mort had expected his boys to be there. Discovering they were with Mark JB annoyed him, though he’d hidden it from his mama-in-law. All he needed was to show his ass and she’d get her broom or collapsible baton. He didn’t need a fucking ass beating on top of an emotional one.

Once she brewed a fresh pot of coffee just for him, Roxanne left Mort alone, promising to send Bailey to him. That was almost forty-five minutes ago. He’d wait fifteen more and then leave.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Knox walked in, wearing Chinos, a long sleeve Polo with a check-collar, and leather loafers. The motherfucker had loosened up a bit, and even wore jeans more often, but he still had a hard time dressing down, so this casual outfit impressed Mort.

“Let me guess,” he said, debating on a third cup of coffee. Maybe he’d wait until he saw Digger. His brother had moved back to his house because he was a lucky motherfucker to have such a good woman as his wife.

“What are you guessing?” Knox asked.

“Bailey don’t want to see me.”

“It isn’t personal.”

“It’s very much fucking personal.” Fed up, Mort got to his feet. “Tell her I’m headed to the hospital to check on Rebel and Meggie, Knox, and that I’ll see her soon.”