MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings Vols 1-5 Complete Series Set by Cummings Bink

Author:Cummings, Bink [Cummings, Bink]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-11-02T16:00:00+00:00

“Are you sure you’re gonna listen?” Big questions from inside his bedroom closet. “I don’t wanna roll out tomorrow, and something happen to you.”

Walking out of the closet with an arm full of clothes, he drops them on the bed beside me. I take one look at them and inhale deeply to keep from crying. Two hours ago, after our argument in the clubhouse, I can’t stop thinking about him leaving me for two weeks and what he’s going to be doing, or more specifically, who. This is going to be harder than I thought.

“I’m going to be fine,” I reassure him.

Grabbing a t-shirt from the pile, I begin preparations for his trip by laying out a pair of jeans. “I need socks and boxers for five outfits,” I explain, trying to keep myself occupied with the task and less on my thoughts. “Are you going to have a washing machine to use?” I add, as he goes to the dresser and pulls out what I requested.

“Yes.” He walks over to the bed and drops five pairs of black boxers and white crew socks next to the clothes.

First goes jeans laid out lengthwise, folded in half and then folded in half, lengthwise. Flattening a t-shirt to the tops of the jeans, I smooth it out with my palm and lay the folded socks and boxers next. Then I curl up the edge of the jeans and begin the roll. Each roll forms one compact outfit and makes it much easier for me to pack in his saddlebags.

“What bike are you taking?” I ask, working on the third set of clothes, as he messes around in the closet for whatever else he needs.

“Onyx.”

“Must be a lotta miles if you’re takin’ her.” Onyx is a 2011 custom Road King. She’s Big’s newest bike and the least flashy, but she’s the best for long trips.

“Stop fishin’, Sugar Tits. I’m not tellin’ ya where we’re goin’; you know the rules. But yeah, we’re gonna be eatin’ up some serious asphalt,” he says, walking out of the closet with two hoodies in hand. He drops them on the bed.

I take them and do my folding duties. Once I finish rolling up his clothes and setting them aside, I sit down on the bed and watch Big rifle through his shaving kit.

“Where are your bags? In the garage?” By bags, I mean the zippered, weatherproof bags that most of the brothers use to pack for long trips. They keep things nice and tidy and are made to fit into their saddlebags perfectly.

Sideways glancing at me, a shaver clutched in his hand, Big nods, and tosses it back into his kit. “Yeah, I’ll get ‘em… Ya know you don’t have to help me pack.”

I know I don’t have to do shit, but it’s something you do for someone you love.

“Just get the fucking bags,” I tease, grinning at him, my arms curled around my giant belly.

Big quickly zips his kit and tosses it across the bed next to his clothes.

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