He was.

I just didn’t know how he could be. He’d had a crappy life and now he belonged to a club of bikers.

But he was definitely easy.

“I’ll take him,” I offered, moving my other hand to Travis. “You go first.”

We did the baby transfer. Then we took our turns doing morning stuff in the bathroom. While Joker did his, with practiced ease balancing my baby, I made coffee.

We had our mugs and Joker was behind the bar, I was on a stool as Travis shook away sleep in my arms, when Joker asked, “What’s on for your day?”

“Gotta get my car,” I murmured as Travis made movements I read so I slid off the stool and bent to put him on his tush on the floor.

I went and fetched a variety of things from a basket in the living room area. I brought him his selection of toys and Travis stared at them, still shaking off sleep but also deciding.

“Get you that,” Joker said and I looked to him. “After we get your car, you need to do laundry? We can take it to the Compound.”

He’d said we.

I liked that but I shook my head. “I do that kind of thing when I don’t have Travis so I can be with Travis and not with him in a Laundromat.”

“Groceries?” Joker went on.

“Same,” I told him. “We’re good.”

He nodded and looked over the bar as Travis leaned forward, pressing his baby hands into buttons, making noise on the toy keyboard. He enjoyed the sound. I knew that from experience, but it was confirmed when he tipped back his head and giggled.

I grinned at my son as I thought about it, decided what I wanted, so I went for it.

I looked to Joker. “Are you, uh… busy today?”

His gaze went from Travis to me. “Nope.”

“Wanna, maybe… spend the day with Travis and me?”

His lips curved up. “Yep.”

And again I was goo.

“Travis needs breakfast and bath. I need a shower. And then—” I began.

“Got the first two covered, you take care a’ you.”

The idea of a shower that wasn’t necessarily quick for the purpose of getting clean and getting out so I could rescue my child from his secure place in a jumper seat or because I had a million things to do when my son wasn’t with me was a promise of heaven.

“His baby tub is in—” I started.

“Get me what I need, Carrie, then I got it.”

I tipped my head. “You sure?”

“Been a few years, but you’re not gonna be on the moon. I run into problems, I know where to find you.”

In the shower.

I felt goose bumps spread on my skin.

Then I nodded.

After that, I got him what he needed and gave instructions on how to make Travis’s cereal and do his bath. Then I laid out a new diaper and my boy’s clothes for the day, got my own stuff, and hit the shower.

I didn’t luxuriate in it. I didn’t hurry.

But I’d been right.

Knowing Travis was in good hands and I could just take care of me was heaven.

* * *

“It looks… interesting,” I said, struggling with Travis in my arms. We were in the bowels of the garage at Ride, and Travis wanted not to be in my arms but crawling all over the new and interesting things around him while charming the pants off of all the men working.

It was after we ran the errand of picking up my car. It was after Joker treated me to a big breakfast. A breakfast that was yummy and filling, but punctuated with me calling Angie with my report as well as me contacting my landlord to give him notice that I was moving out.

Angie made note of the Aaron visit and did it with glee, knowing like I did that they were worried.

My landlord informed me my notice was not one but two weeks, but regardless, the first of the month was coming up and I had to pay the whole month, or when I vacated, I’d sacrifice my security deposit.

This wasn’t the greatest news, and when I shared it with Joker, it didn’t make him look happy either.

But he had no verbal response and I decided to figure it out later, not wanting to ask Tyra and Tack to wait a month but also not wanting to lose my shot at that house.

We now were at Ride, looking at Joker’s “build.”

But to me, it seemed like a bunch of scrap metal laid out on a garage floor. There were shapes. I just wasn’t a car person so I couldn’t put them together.

Joker sauntered to the wall, where there were a number of holders jutting out where you’d put papers and files. He pulled a folder out of one and came back.

He flipped it open and turned it to me.

“This is what it’s gonna be.”

I stared because in the file was a sketch of the coolest car I’d ever seen. There were subtle hints of color shaded on it (canary yellow and fiery red). But it was the lines forming Joker’s vision that enthralled me.

“Did you draw that?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I looked up at him, surprised and also humbled by what appeared to be a remarkable talent.

“That’s, well… it’s totally amazing.”

He flipped the file his way and looked at it. “Not my best. Not my worst.”

If it wasn’t his best, I wanted to see his best.

“Would you show me more?” I asked and his eyes came to me.

“You’re interested, yeah,” he answered casually.

“I’m interested,” I said softly.

This time, Joker stared at me and I watched, standing as still as I could with Travis fighting my hold, doing it mesmerized.

Again, the steel of his eyes was not a guard against me. Those eyes were working, and I knew down deep they were working in a good direction.

But he said nothing.

“If it’s private,” I said quickly, “you don’t have to share it with me.”

“Sell this shit, Carrie. Not private.”

I nodded.

He flipped the folder closed.

“Can I look at it again?” I requested.

His attention came back to me before he flipped it open and I again looked at it.

It really was amazing. I could see it framed. The car was probably going to be fabulous, but the sketch was a thing of beauty.

But suddenly, looking at it, something struck me. I cocked my head and kept looking, that something tugging at me.

“Just a car, babe,” Joker muttered before I could get a lock on that thing.

I looked again to him. “You’re very talented. I mean, really. If whoever eventually owns the car doesn’t own that sketch, you should frame it and sell it.”