Crash & Burn (9 page)

This is the asshole that I let slip and he stole from us. You steal from us, you’re
not only stealing from my club and brothers, but you’re stealing from my family. Stealing
from our Old Ladies and our kids. Fuck that shit. I may have missed what he did, but
we’re here to get it back. You don’t have our money? I’ll be taking something worth
value. Whether that be your car, your fucking house, or your life, I’ll get back what
you took from me.

Walking inside the run down crack house, we split up and start looking. I know I’m
not going to find the money, but who the fuck knows what else I’ll find. These trap
houses are always filled with all kinds of goodies like drugs, weapons, and other
stolen shit. The house is filled with filth, that’s for sure. Fucking gross. This
shithole makes the club look like a goddamn castle. I dig and tear shit up; break
this and that and tear shit up. I could ask the guy, but you know that motherfucker
isn’t going to give up shit, at least not yet. Plus, it’s kind of fun to give him
time to try and think up something sneaky and creative to tell me about where my money
magically went.

“Tank,” Blade calls for me.

Walking down the hall, I find what I came looking for. Blade has the little thief
on his knees in the middle of kitchen, gun to his temple. Sad part for him, his little
partners aren’t in here to take some of the blame, he’ll get it all. This part is
the fun part though. I like to taunt and scare them. I like to fill him with false
hope and ideas of life and all that grandeur. Let him think shit is good and then
surprise, you’re dead.

“Didn’t think I’d come lookin’ for you, did you asshole?” I ask him.

The man starts to shake violently, pleading with me in broken sobs. He pretty much
offers me everything, including his first born to let him live, but he doesn’t offer
what I came for. Never understood why people act so damn scared when we show up looking
for what ya took from
us
. You’re stupid enough to fuck with us, then you shouldn’t be scared when we come
looking for ya. You know what you’re going to get when you deal with us.

“Sorry man. I’m fuckin’ sorry.” The bitch sobs. “I got half the money.”

“Sorry man. Half ain’t the number I’m lookin’ for. I bet you can do better than that.”

             
             
             
             
             
****

             
We cleaned up our mess and got what we came for so I head back to the club. I haven’t
been home since Lil left and I won’t go back there ‘till she’s back, so the club is
where I’m staying now. It’s been a few weeks and I haven’t heard from her. I fucking
hate it. The only people who have are Gin and Peaches, but I don’t bother asking about
her any more ’cause they won’t tell me shit. It bothers me. It eats at me. All Peaches
said was she’s good and I have to be okay with that, ’cause that’s all I’m getting.
I pray every fucking day she’s somewhere safe and someone is keeping an eye on her.
Every day is a struggle, but I’m trying. Fuck I’m trying.

I miss her so goddamn much it makes me sick. It’s hard to function without her here.
She’s all I fucking think about and I can’t seem to see past her. This is what I wanted,
wasn’t it? To have her out of my life so I wouldn’t worry about her every second of
the day?

I’m starting to see there isn’t a life beyond Lil for me. She’s the only goddamn person
on this planet I want. After Lil left my ass, Cali’s hateful but heartfelt lecture,
along with the vote around the table for me to step down if I can’t pull my shit together,
I had to choose. I had to fix shit in my life. I had to get better for Lil, the club,
and myself. I’ve decided I’m not gonna lose Lil or this club. I won’t live without
either of them. I’m suckin’ shit up and I’m pulling myself together. I’m trying to
move the fuck forward, but I need my fucking woman back. If I want to get her back,
I have to get better. I need to work on moving past the nightmares and live in the
here and now. I can’t change the past, so I have to work on the future.

             
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the red and blue flashing lights approaching quickly.
Fuck. Just what I fuckin’ need. Pulling over, I know I’m about to face a shit storm.
I’ve been running from this for a while now. The officer gets out of his car and heads
straight for me with his cocky walk. Stuffing his glasses into the front pocket of
his uniform, he bends over slightly to look right at my face.

“Evenin’, Roman.” The cop nods his head at me. I can see the little gleam of accomplishment
there in his eyes. He’s been waiting for this for a while. Fuckin’ asshole.

“Sheriff.” I nod back.

Giving me a once over and then looking over at the guys, he looks back over me. He’s
outnumbered, but it’s not like one of us are gonna kill him, but he doesn’t know that.
No one is trying to spend life in prison right now.

“You’ve got a warrant out for your arrest, Roman. Remember that assault you skipped
out on?” 

“That guy survived I take it then?” The officer stiffens and gives me a hard stare.
He doesn’t look like he enjoyed my little joke.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while now.” Knew that was coming. “I’ve got to take
you in.”

No point in fightin’ him. If I’m gonna take care of this shit, now would be the time.
I look at Gin and give him a chin lift. He knows. He returns it and pulls off. They’ll
come back for my bike.

“Alright. Looks like we’ll be spendin’ some time together then, huh Sheriff?”

“Turn the bike off and put your hands behind your back, Roman.”

“Sure, as long as I can ride shotgun on the way to county.”

Positive

Lil

“Holy fuckin’ shit. Read it again.” I shake my head holding the offensive little life
changer away from me. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” My stomach rolls, and a cold sweat
dots my brow. I feel faint. Why? Why? Why? Someone somewhere hates me. Like, really
fucking hates me.

“Girl, you throw up, I’ll throw up.” Peaches warns me from the bathroom counter.

“Try another one, doll,” Lailah encourages softly from beside me. She’s rubbing small
circles on my back, trying to comfort me, but it’s not working and I’m still freaking
the fuck out. Cali is going through plastic bags and tearing open boxes like a mad
woman.

“You fuckin’ try one.” I tell Peaches.

“Babe, already did. It’s all you.” Yeah I’m going to throw up. Sticking my head back
into the toilet, I dry heave some more. My stomach squeezes and my body shakes. Why?

“This can’t be happening.” I groan into the toilet.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” Those are some famous last words if I’ve ever
heard any. I think I just need to lay down.

             
The four of us lay on Peaches giant bed. I lie down and listen to them tell me how
things will be okay, we’ll figure it out. They make plans and figure things out for
me. We work through point A to Z. I can’t see past that stupid blue line. Oh fuck
I think I might throw up again. I can’t be pregnant. I haven’t had sex in months.

“I’m like, almost three months pregnant.” I damn near cry. Now I want to throw up
again.

I haven’t seen or spoken with Tank in a few months. I haven’t heard anything about
him either. No one brings him up and everyone avoids the topic of us. Everyone just
stopped talking about him completely around me.

I think about him constantly. I miss him so much. It’s like I’m missing the most important
part of myself. Everything I do makes me think of him. I stayed away from home for
almost a month, but it didn’t do a goddamn thing to help. I still fucking missed him,
even though I still kinda hate him.

I stayed at my Uncles for three weeks after I left. It helped a little. It helped
to be around new faces and a different scenery. Sammy, Trace, Tyler, and the guys
kept me occupied and busy. I then spent a week with Cali and Peaches in the city.
We did some major retail therapy. We ate expensive food at some of the best restaurants
in the city, we pampered ourselves with various highly priced spa treatments. That
too kept me distracted, but it was only momentarily. My happiness was short lived
and in sporadic intervals at best. No matter what I did, Tank was always there in
the back of my mind. I wish things could have been different.

When I got back into town, I rented a town house in town, about thirty minutes from
the club. I needed to start putting shit back together and keep my life moving forward.
As much as it killed me to do this without Tank, I had to for my own sanity. I couldn’t
give up, so I picked up a few classes at the college and continued tutoring Lailah.
I spent some much needed time with my girls. Gin comes by and usually brings one of
the guys with him so I visit with them that way and they bring any important paperwork
I need to keep up with club shit. I talk to my dad every few days and I visit when
I can. I left the club that day and I haven’t been back since. Right now, I don’t
think I could ever go back there, in that office, even if I wanted to.

“We should make you an appointment.” Lailah says softly as I stare at the wall. 

“You really think you’re that far along? Is it? … Oh Jesus.” Peaches asks me. She
almost looks like she might be sick too. Oh fuck me.

“Seriously Peaches? I haven’t had sex with anyone but Tank, and yeah, it’s been that
fuckin’ long.” What the fuck was she thinking with such a stupid fucking question.

“Well fuck,” Peaches grumbles. Cali actually looks excited. If I wasn’t having an
emotional breakdown, I’d slap that sappy look right off her face.

“What the fuck am I gonna do about Tank?”

****

             
The doctors words echo in my head. They just float around in my numb mind, around
more numbness. This cannot be real.

“You are most definitely pregnant. I’d say almost eleven weeks. Congratulations.”
She said with an elated smile. To my doctor, this is fantastic news. Shit couldn’t
be better news to her. To me? Not so much. For me this is life altering news; Life
changing shit. Eleven weeks. Eleven fucking weeks. How the fuck did I let this happen?
God we weren’t even having sex regularly. We’re not even good. We haven’t spoken in
forever. What the hell am I going to do?

I sat in the parking lot of the doctor’s office for three hours Googling all things
baby related. Labor, Braxton Hicks, stretch marks, diaper rash cream, cord blood,
car seats, amniotic fluid, colic, all words I’ve heard, but never given much thought
to before now. Now I’m neck deep in everything baby and I think I might be sick again
and I feel a panic attack coming on. There’s a baby inside of me. I’m going to be
a mom. My baby is growing in there. It has legs and arms, it has hair, and it even
moves around in there. Holy fucking shit, there’s a baby in there.

The last few weeks I’ve been tired and not feeling so great, but I chalked all that
up to stress. Shit hasn’t been easy these past few months, but I would have never
pinned it on a baby until Peaches put that shit in my head. She filled my head with
worry until I gave in and peed on that stick. And fuck, she was right.

Laying my hand on my stomach, I let it sink in. That’s my little baby in there. I
tell myself that I will figure this out. Whatever it is, I’ll push through it, just
like I always do. We’ll be okay ‘cause I’ll take care of us, but I’ve gotta tell Tank.
No matter what’s happened, he should know. It’s only right. Whether he wants it or
not, I’m keeping it and I’ll take care of my little person.

****

             
Sitting at the club, I stare at Stitch like he’s lost his fucking mind because I’m
really starting to think he has. They all have. He’s being so goddamn evasive it isn’t
even funny.

“So you have no idea where he is?” I let the baby news sink in for a few days before
I decided Tank needed to know. I called him. I called for three days to no avail.
I went by his place, I waited at his place, but I got nothing. I left a note on his
door, but still got nothing. I was starting to think he was avoiding me so I tried
the only place I knew he’d be, the club. So here I am like a fucking loser, hitting
up everyone, looking for my baby daddy.

“No sis. Told ya I don’t.” I find that hard to believe. He’s the fucking acting President.
No one seems to know shit about him. He’s disappeared, just like that nasty gash bitch
Trix? Coincidence? I don’t fucking think so.

“When’s the last time you saw him then? What about his nasty slut Trix?” He shrugs
his shoulders and looks away as he starts picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“A shrug ain’t gonna work with me Stitch.” I want to tell Stitch it’s important, but
he’ll ask why and I can’t tell him yet.

“Don’t worry ‘bout her anymore babe. Bitch won’t be back. She got
handled
.” I don’t push more on Trix. He said she was handled, then she was handled. Plus,
I really don’t give a fuck about her. I have bigger and more important things to deal
with right now.

“You really got no fuckin’ clue where he is?”

“Why?” he counters. “You need somethin’, I’ll help.”

I can’t tell him, although I want to. It’s bad enough Peaches, Cali, and Lailah know
before Tank. A part of me feels it’s only fair he knows before
everyone
else.

“I just need to talk to him. How longs it been since you’ve seen him?” I try everything
and I’ve asked everyone.

“A while,” he says shortly. A while? That’s pretty fucking vague. I know that’s all
he’s going to give me. Fuck.

“Whatever. If you talk to him, will you please tell him to find me?”

Kissing my forehead, he looks a little skeptical but says, “Sure thing sis.”

****

             
“Imma tell you where he is, only ‘cause I fuckin’ hate seeing this shit.” Rampage
growls from the couch looking uncomfortable as I cry. He’s sitting as far away from
me as possible without it being completely obvious. He won’t look at me and he looks
antsy. It’s been two weeks and I can’t reach Tank. He’s nowhere. I tried everyone
and no one would be straight with me. I’m always getting the run around and no one’s
stories match up. If and when I can get some sort of answer from someone, they’re
always half-assed and a bunch of bullshit. I feel like I’m losing my mind.

Finally I called Rampage in tears. I’d run out of options and people. He was my last
hope. And no matter what, Rampage is always straight with me.

“Please, I’m fuckin’ desperate. Like a fuckin’ loser, I’ve tried everything and no
one will help me.” Giving me a small smile he nods gruffly.

“He’s in county babe. Been in there for a few months now.” My heart stops. I feel
all that stuffed down anger float to the surface. He’s in jail? He’s been there this
whole fucking time, all while I stress and worry. I’m sitting here crying like a mess
and he’s in county.

He’s in jail and no one thought I should know? Not a goddamn one of them thought to
tell me? He never thought to tell me? What the fuck is wrong with everyone?

“What the fuck did he do?” Shaking his head, he looks me in the eyes and says, “Ya
know I can’t tell ya that babe. Club business. He wants to tell ya, then that’s his
business.” Suddenly telling Tank about the baby doesn’t seem like a good idea. 

“Why the fuck wouldn’t anyone tell me?”

“He didn’t want you to know.” Rampage says sadly. He didn’t want me to know? “Why?”
He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulder.

“Don’t know sis.”

             
So like an idiot, I still tried to reach out to him, again. I don’t know, probably
because I’m a glutton for punishment or I could just be desperately stupid. I’m overwhelmed
with the thought of having a baby. I don’t need him to like it, I just need him to
know it, so he can decide if he wants to be a part of my baby’s life and I can prepare
myself for his answer.

At first I tried to send letters, but they’d be sent back unopened. I tried to call,
but he won’t speak with me. I even went and visited to only be turned away. He wouldn’t
even see me. I wanted to tell him about the baby even after he didn’t tell me he was
in county. I still thought he should know.

Not now. Now I don’t care if he knows or not. He doesn’t care enough about me to
even tell me that he was in jail. He won’t even see me, take my calls, open my letters.
Fuck him. I guess he’s finally got what he wanted; rid of me. I’m okay with that so
fuck him. He doesn’t deserve to have me or
my
baby in his life.

So I was sad, and then I was mad, maybe a little sad and mad again before I got reasonable.
I had to stop thinking with my heart and emotions and start thinking with my head.
I thought long and hard about it. I agonized for so many sleepless nights over it.
I’ve looked at the negative and positive, and I’ve looked at all sides. I think its
best right now if Tank doesn’t know about the baby. With all the shit he went through,
and now the whole jail thing, I don’t need that in my life. I don’t need it in my
baby’s life. Call it selfish, inconsiderate, or whatever you want, but I’ve got to
think about the baby. I can’t have all that bad shit in our lives right now, or ever.
I need to focus on my baby and me. I’ll tell Tank at some point. I won’t keep the
baby from him, but I also have the responsibly to keep my child safe, happy, and healthy,
and right now I don’t think Tank can contribute to that, especially with my sanity.
He has too much shit to work through. He needs to fix himself before meeting my baby.