Kyuhyun's mom is a woman with history that she's not willing to share with her son.  Having never knowing who his father is, Kyuhyun listen and did everything his mom wanted him to, yet their relationship are bad. 

After a night gone bad, Kyuhyun finds himself woken up by his mom and jetted away into a life style he never expect to taste. 

So much stories to tell and honest words to shares between the two.  Yet Kyuhyun find it hard to trust and stand by his mom whom been with him for twenty-one years.  Instead he finds himself attracted deeper and deeper into the life and people his mom so desperately trying to shield him from. 

 
I've seen Masi pop in and out of the club here and there.  He comes in covered in grease and makes my heart do that flip-flop thing. We don't talk to each other; we try to keep our distance. But I catch him staring at me a lot. He stares at me with hungry eyes and the most breathtaking, yet arrogant smile a man can have. He makes my clench and harden with every megawatt smile; he is so infuriating. A few times, when he had to walk past me, he would brush his arm against mine. The spot he briefly made contact with would feel ablaze. It's the worst ever; pure ual torture. His kissable lips, beefy arms, chiseled abs, cute and amazing dimples make my lips swell with the anticipation of exploring every inch of him.
 
It's been a few days since I've seen Masi, so I casually bring up to Babs that I've noticed some of the men missing. “They've gone on a bike run, Kiddo. Something the boys do to handle club business. They should be back soon.” She's wiping the bar clean after feeding me a delicious breakfast. “Other than that, we don’t get the privilege of knowing what their runs consist of or how long they'll be out.” I am shocked to realize that while her husband is gone doing god knows what or for how long, she just stays at the house and plays Betty Crocker for the rest of the club men. She talks a lot about club rules and the responsibilities of being an Ol' Lady. If this is one of the duties, I'm not sure I'd make a good one.

It’s midnight and I'm wide awake listening to my iPod. Music has always been an outlet for my emotions. In my roughest troubles it speaks the words of healing that I can’t find for myself. I haven’t been able to sleep this entire week; it’s all so new to me. My stomach speaks, too, with a growl, so I grab some plaid shorts to throw on. Maybe if I eat I can finally fall asleep. I tuck my iPod in the waist of my shorts and hang the headphones around my neck. I’ll just grab a bite and run back here. I open the door and notice most of the lights are off in the hallway. But I can tell there are lights on in the main room that has the bar. I tip toe down the hallway and into the kitchen quietly, not noticing anyone in my quick jaunt.

I open the big, stainless steel refrigerator and see food stocked on all the shelves; clearly for the upcoming charity event. I grab a dish and open it to find barbecued pulled pork; the smell capturing my senses and making my stomach growl louder. I pull it out and set it on the c