If I Should Die: A Kimber S. Dawn MC Novel (9 page)

A child who’s alone looks pitiful. Pathetic.

But an adult who’s alone—well, that just looks like they prefer to be alone. Or they’re too badass for friends.

“I don’t know what your mother’s problem is, sweetie. I never could keep up with that wild one. I do know that her heart is usually in the right place. So, there’s that. Let’s just give it some time, Evie. Give her some time. Let her tell her side of the story. And besides, Eden’ll be there. You’ll get to see Eden.” She smiled at me, and I remember looking up at her from the very official-looking letter and smiling in return.

“She will?” I asked in a whisper, almost too afraid to hope, or wish. I may get to see my sister. Again. Soon!

My grams just continued to smile. And as she hobbled away, I heard her mutter, “God save us all, she will. That child’s the nearest to Ilsa as I’ve ever seen, I swear.”

“I’m sorry, Eves.” Lauryn’s voice pulls me from last Thursday. “Are you okay? I mean, you haven’t really talked about it—”

I slap a bright smile on my face as quickly as I can. “Of course I’m okay.” I nod in the direction of our English teacher, Mr. Brunson, just as he finishes quoting George Orwell’s
Animal Farm
, then quickly scribble a note, before passing it to her.

‘Hey L—don’t worry about it, really. I’m fine. Plus, you’ll get to meet my sister soon!!!’

After she’s read it, she looks up and nods before smiling, then mouths, “I know! So cool!” And not long after that, both of us are up to our eyeballs in English final notes.

It’s much easier to distract and be distracted these days. It’s much easier to dodge the limelight too, I’ve noticed. All you have to really do is keep your head down. And be polite. Smile when someone smiles at you. Wave if waved at—but that’s rare. And continue about your own business. That’s about it. That’s the trick to being normal, wrapped up like a present.

But the key...the key is belonging. And that’s something I haven’t felt in almost forever.

***

I was somewhere in the middle of putting my face on, and belting out the words right alongside Meredith Brooks, singing I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, when Grams came into my room a little later in the week.

It took a minute and I fumbled, I admit, spilt powder freaking everywhere, but once the volume was at an appropriate speaking level, I smiled and motioned for Grams to come in.

“The mail came today, Evie.”

I continue smiling, waiting to see if this is another senior moment, or if there’s something
more
than just the mail coming today that she wanted to tell me about.

And I wait. Blinking. Smiling.

“Yes, ma’am,” I offer in hopes of showing she’s got my full attention. “On time too. Lookie there. Four pm. Straight up.” Still smiling…

I know she’s lucid and here with me when her eyes land on mine. “Yeah, well I’ve been waiting for some paperwork to go through and come back. There was so much lost...dropped between the cracks. And your mom couldn’t keep up with herself, much less the two of you little ones. Anyway, your birth certificate came in today, hon. We can go get your driver’s permit whenever you’re ready. Just let me know.”

Elation like no other swells inside my poor heart. “Really?” I ask her in a whisper. I’m up and trying to stop her before she turns to shuffle away. “Grams, are you serious? I didn’t even know you were—” I shake my head, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m actually going to get my permit! Still trailing behind her, I follow her down the hall—make-up and Meredith Brooks forgotten. Then I wrap my arms around her middle when we enter the living room, and I swear if she sees the tears in my eyes, I’ll deny, deny, deny! “Thank you, Grams.” I whisper from the bottom of my heart.

Then I turn, tucking my tail, before showing any emotion, and hurry back to my bedroom. This is my way of dealing, okay? Don’t judge.

Once I’ve reassembled my face, I flip open my phone and text Lauryn and Ty. ‘Holy shit! I’m getting my driver's license!!! Grams just got my bc in the mail!’

To which Lauryn’s response is: ‘Bc?’

And mine is: Birth certificate.

You don’t even want to know what Ty’s was: Birth control.
Pfft.

After I’ve achieved looking like what I want the rest of the world to perceive me as for the day, I throw my bags over my shoulder, swipe a piece of toast and some coffee, and kiss Grams goodbye before heading over to Ty’s before school.

And I’m halfway down the street, when a huge cluster of bikes roar by. It causes me to shudder as I light my cigarette. When I get to Ty’s driveway, I let my eyes follow the motorcycles the further away they drive. And I can’t help but admit, I wonder what it feels like sometimes to fly.

“Jesus Christ, what’s with all the foolishness and fuckery? Baby, what the hell was that?” He looks like a baby bird. Why is his mouth always flapping open?

“Pick your chin up, Bae. You’re drooling.” When he gets closer to me we both snicker and he winks.

“Umm...if it’s them’s Mr. Hotty’s knob I’mma be slobbing, then good. I’ll need the drool.” He laughs and I gag around rolling my eyes at him.

“Gross, whatever. Did you get your purse?” I’m joking. But he’s not.

“Of course I did. Coach, baby. Just got it in.” After he displays it, effortlessly too I must add, I concede my jealousy.

“Damn, I was freaking kidding, too. Joke’s on me, I guess. I flove it, I do. Where’d you get it?” I ask as Lauryn pulls her Bug up along the drive.

“Shotgun! K-Mart. I bought the Coach key chain off eBay, though. It kinda matches? Right?” he asks as he ushers me into the back seat. He called shotgun first. I was in the middle of looking at his bag—jackass.

“Yeah, it matches. I couldn’t tell.” I shrug, having no freaking idea what he’s talking about. My bag’s an old army one. Like the sandy camouflage ones. From Salvation freaking Army. Do you think I know what Coach is? I’m assuming it’s the opposite of what it means in airport lingo? I don’t know. Again, don’t judge.

***

After acing the shit out of my English final paper, I felt pretty damn close to awesome leaving school on my last day of high school, I must say. And the fact that I was two years younger than my two best friends didn’t bother us in the least. Nope, not one little bit. But it for damn sure made Grams extra proud. When all three of us come filing in the front door of my house, my friends wave at Grams as I dramatically let the bags hanging from both arms fall to the ground.

“I’m done! I finished! I did it! Damn, you
Animal Farm
! I won! An eighty-nine, Grams. I passed my last needed class with an eighty-nine!” I drop to the couch before draping my arm across my face and I hear her chuckling.

“Well, a damn eighty-nine it is then, Evie May. I’ll take it!” She gets up from her spot, which just so happens to be a recliner parked in front the TV set, so she can watch her daytime stories. And when she’s close enough, she sits down on the couch and hugs me. “Good God. I don’t know how I’ll ever get up now,” she mutters before I feel her lips brush my forehead. “I’m proud of you, my Evie. Damn proud. Ya done good, sweetie. I don’t know why you pushed yourself to graduate with these two, but you did it. You put your mind to it, and you did it. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” She smiles and the feeling in my chest, right next to my beating heart, is absolutely indescribable. But damn it, it feels good.

“Thank you, Grams.” After covertly wiping my tears with my t-shirt covered shoulder, I let out an exasperated breath. “Gah! The emotions! Ahhh!” I laugh and look over at Ty and L both shaking their heads and smiling. And after Grams settles back in her chair she shoos us off when
General Hospital
comes back from commercials.

“So I think me and Ty are going to go to that party tonight. Are you okay with that? And I was kidding—about Brad. I was just pouting. I really want you to go,” Lauryn explains as she shuts my bedroom door after Ty walks in.

“Yeah. That’s cool. You know I don’t care about Brad, L.” I laugh, tossing my bags on my bed.

“Not unless Brad has a motorcycle, right? Have y’all seen all the bearded gifts of God coming through lately? Must be a convention or something going on.” Ty tosses his
Coach/ K-Mart
purse on a beanbag by my door. “Hey, when are you and Grams going to Jersey for that thing tomorrow? Tonight or in the morning?” After he trips me on my way from the bathroom, he halfway catches me and I fall the rest of the way onto the bed.

Once we’re snuggled, L flops down on my vanity stool and kicks her feet up on my bed, crossing them at the ankles. “Grams told her in the morning, right, Eve?”

“Yeah. Not looking forward to it, either. Hopefully I’ll get to bring my sister back though. That’d be cool,” I mutter. I’m hoping, but I doubt this meeting or whatever it is, is something I’m going to skip away from with my sister and mom holding each of my hands. As much as I’d like to believe my mom is going to be able to make everything better, I’m doubtful. Sue me.

I’m used to being let down. Especially where Ilsa Blakeney is concerned.

Ty turns from looking up at the ceiling on his back, and he faces me and Lauryn when he’s on his stomach, but his eyes zero in on mine. “Okay, so what’s up? You never told us your story, morning glory. Do you live with your mom? Are you going to live with your mom? Where’s she been at?” His questions hurt more than he could ever know. And I don’t fault him for them. Not at all. But that doesn’t help the sting. Or my uneasiness about the whole subject.

“Obviously, I live with my grams. My story...I don’t know, guys. I don’t have a story. Or I’m still trying to figure out what it is. I’m not thrilled about having to go to this thing tomorrow. At all. I don’t like change. Mainly because it’s never meant good things for me. But hopefully I’ll get my sister back out of it. I miss her. A lot.” I shrug, and somehow keep back the tears. Even when my two closest friends engulf me in a group hug, right there on the middle of my double bed.

And once the moment has thankfully passed, and I’ve had a minute to collect myself, I smile at them. “Now, go! Shit, get! You two have a party to go get dolled up for, and I have a driver’s permit picture to get ready for! Go! Get! The both of ya!” After some hugs and air kisses, my friends leave me with my thoughts, and just like always, the melancholy feeling that invades me every time I’m alone creeps back in.

I haven’t slept in I don’t know how long. I can’t fucking eat. Hell, I can hardly breathe lately, I swear. And the tension within the club just keeps getting higher with every new member that arrives in town. And it’s not like it’s a small town! It’s fucking New York City, for Christ’s sake! But I guess like most, we stick to our own, and tend to prefer the company of others like us. So, where’d most of the brothers decide to set up shop and call home for the next few days? You guessed it. My MC’s compound.

And don’t get me wrong, usually the motto is the more the merrier, but not as of late. Not with the rift that continues to grow between Pops and Uncle Chase. And with tension this goddamn high? I’m surprised Pops hasn’t had a coronary. Every time I see that motherfucker, his face is red. Every time. And I’ve heard the other brothers talk lately. But I’ve clocked them and it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

I don’t give a shit what Butcher, the doc, says. Pops is fine. Or at least he will be now. He’ll be fine now they got his meds right, right? I mean, can’t he double up his dose on the days the stress elevates his blood pressure a little more? Hell if I know, and I’m not telling the man how to take care of himself. He’s done fine this long. Shit, look at him.