Overdosed: Fury's Storm MC (37 page)

Gabriel

What was it about this girl? I couldn’t figure her out. Most women I could read from a mile away. They were always after something. Money, a good lay, whatever. Most of the time, if it was a lay, I was happy to give them what they wanted. This one was a puzzle.

One thing I knew for sure: I’d never met a woman like her. She was strong and fragile at the same time. She had no problem beating on me, punching me until she exhausted herself. She didn’t back down, no matter how many times I told her to. I had to admire her for that.

What surprised me most was what an animal she was in bed. That was another thing that set her apart. She was such a good girl on the outside, but when it came down to it, she had an appetite almost as big as mine was. That was saying something. We went all night, and she still seemed to want more. It was like I finally met my match.

I knew I should go home, like, as soon as I woke up. If this were any other woman in any other place, I would have gotten right out of bed and put on my clothes. She would have gotten a pat on the ass and a kiss on the cheek, then she would have been history. I never did more than a one-night stand or a casual fling with one of the club’s regular girls. That was as far as I was willing to go.

Except now, I wanted to stay. I wanted to touch her, see her, hear her voice. She was like some drug I was already addicted to. And she was dangerous, for sure. She had no idea how dangerous she could be.

No woman ever made pancakes for me the morning after we slept together, but that was exactly what Kat did. The smell of them, and of coffee, was what finally woke me up. I put my clothes on and stumbled downstairs, feeling like I ran a marathon. She’d kept me going all night. I couldn’t get enough.

When she heard me walk into the kitchen, just off the living room, she turned to me and smiled. Like she was happy to see me. When did that ever happen?

And it was like that all day. She was happy I was there. She didn’t hang over me. She just smiled, and chatted, and poured my coffee for me. She was a good cook—they were the best pancakes I ever had—and she was fun to be with. She made the morning nicer. Usually, I woke up and there was a hungover chick slung over my arm. Her makeup would be running down her face, and her hair would be sticking up all over the place. Kat was like an angel, especially compared to those other women.

Why didn’t I just leave? Why did I want to hang out all day? It wasn’t like she asked me to stay, and I didn’t ask permission to stay either. It seemed normal, like the way it was supposed to go. Sometimes she would touch my hand, and I’d feel a little jolt like she shocked me.

What was so special about her? Was it the way she made me feel like I was protecting her and being taken care of at the same time? Because that was exactly it. I told myself I was staying so she wouldn’t be worried that someone was going to come and hurt her, but really, it was more because she made me feel good. She listened to me, really listened. She didn’t just laugh too loud, or tell me I was so smart when I said something that wasn’t very smart at all. She didn’t go along with everything I thought either. She wasn’t afraid to argue with me. When she wasn’t arguing, she was listening like she cared what I had to say. She would ask questions like she wanted to know more.

There was something about that feeling of being cared about. I hadn’t felt it very much before then, so it was hard to think about leaving. It might not happen again.

By the time it was mid-afternoon, we were hanging out on the sofa in front of the TV. She was stretched out with her head at one end. I was sitting in the middle, my feet on an ottoman, with her legs across my lap. We weren’t paying attention to the TV, though.

“What made you join the club?” she asked at one point. I laughed, but she was serious.

“You really wanna know?”

“Yeah. Why would I have asked, otherwise?”

I laughed again. “I don’t know. It’s not an easy question to answer. There’s no easy way to describe what it felt like when I was young and I just discovered the Crooked Souls.”

“Did you like the lifestyle?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you know. The fast-paced stuff.”

“How much experience do you have with an MC? And don’t tell me it’s all from television and movies.” She didn’t say anything, but her face turned red. I nodded my head. “I thought so.”

“Tell me I’m wrong, then.” She sat up. “Tell me. What was it that made you wanna join? I can’t imagine it was an easy decision.”

“No. It wasn’t easy. But it was the only choice I had.”

“How come?” She was so intensely interested. I couldn’t avoid answering.

“I didn’t have the best childhood.” Was I seriously telling her this? Thorn was the only person who knew the shit I went through. But something about the way she smiled made me think she would understand. And I knew, from what she told me already about the way she raised Sabrina, that she could relate to stories about parents who didn’t give a shit about their kids.

“You don’t have to tell me the specifics if you don’t want to,” she said. I could have kissed her for that. But I did want to tell her, that was the thing. Maybe I’d been holding it in for too long. I had been waiting for the right person to spill my guts to.

“It’s okay. I want to tell you. Only my best friend knows about this stuff. Maybe…I don’t know, it’ll help you understand me a little better. Sometimes I can’t explain the things I do or the way I see things, but I can, at least, tell you this. Does that make sense?”

She nodded. “Perfect sense. I’d like to hear about it, then.” She looked so totally sincere, like she genuinely wanted to know more about me instead of just kissing my ass. Had anyone ever treated me that way? If they did, I couldn’t remember. She took me seriously, not just because I was the leader of a club. I could have been anybody, done anything. She wanted to know me, the real me. I didn’t even think I knew that person.

“When I was eight years old, my parents both OD’d on a bad batch of heroin.”

“My God.” Her eyes went wide.

“You sure you still wanna hear about it?” She only nodded. So I kept going. “I was home with them—it was the middle of the night when it happened. I don’t think I remember a time when they weren’t addicts. Not just to heroin. I think that was the last thing they took. Before that, it was pills. Crack. Cocaine. And they both drank, all the time.” I watched, wanting to see her face when I got to the worst stuff.

“And they beat me. Well, my mom did. When she was awake and with it enough to beat me, anyway. Most of the time she was a zombie. But when she was dying for a hit, and there was nothing in the house? She would beat the shit out of me, just because she was so desperate.”

“What about your father?” Kat asked.

“He was always out hustling, trying to score for them. I don’t even know if he was really my father, to be honest with you. He was the only man I knew who I called ‘Daddy.’ I do remember a few times when we played together, like actually played. Maybe they weren’t too deep into it yet. He helped me build a little castle out of Legos, and sometimes we would toss a ball around. Those were good times. But then that stopped. Now that I’m old enough to understand, I know nothing meant more to them than the drugs. But when you’re a kid, you think it’s about you. You did something wrong to make them not love you anymore.”

Kat put a hand on my shoulder. “I know how that feels,” she whispered.

I nodded. “That’s why I’m telling you, because I think you know a little bit about it. Only for me, it was worse than being left. I was invisible. Like they totally forgot I existed sometimes. They forgot to enroll me in the second grade—an officer from the school district came to the house. For a minute I thought he would take me out of there, or, at least, make them pay attention to me. But he didn’t. He just made sure I got enrolled. I wanted…I wanted to tell him I was hungry. But I was too ashamed. Then there was the time I got home from school and all my toys were gone. I thought it was because I did something bad. I know they sold them all for drug money.”

“Christ,” Kat muttered. I heard how disgusted she was. There might have been a time when I would have defended them, like back when I was younger. But I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t care that she was disgusted. I was disgusted, too.

“You can imagine how shitty our house was. We hardly had anything. I’m talking bare light bulbs, a TV that was always half-broken, a couple of pots and pans that were always dirty. I was always hungry. I used to hate weekends, because I didn’t know if I’d get anything to eat at home. At least there were free lunches and school. And the summer was the worst. The house would be hotter than hell, and I wouldn’t be able to get any free food at all. Sometimes they would even come home from being out, and they would have fast food bags. But nothing for me. I really think they forgot about me.” I could remember it like it was yesterday, being so hungry and seeing them come home with food, and thinking it was for me. It wasn’t.

“Then,” I said, “there were the times when other people would come over. I was never allowed downstairs when that happened. But one time I sneaked down—of course I did, right? I was a kid. I was curious. I never sneaked down again.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Kat whispered.

“They were all stoned out of their minds, and two guys were…doing things to my mom.” Kat gasped and put her hands over her mouth. I nodded. “There was money on the table. That’s how they made money when there was nothing else to sell. My dad was sitting right there, too. Getting high.”

“My God. I am so sorry,” Kat said.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not even that. I’m sorry for you. I wish I could give that little boy a big hug,” she said. I had to smile.

“Then there was the day when I woke up, and they were both dead. Just like that. Dead on the living room floor. I had come downstairs to leave for school, and I found them. I knew people were there the night before, so I don’t know if it happened when they were partying or afterward, when they were alone. I sat on the couch and wondered what to do. We didn’t have a phone. I couldn’t call the police. I didn’t know where the station was. And besides…I loved them. Even though they forgot about me and acted like I didn’t matter, I still loved them. I thought, maybe if I were a better kid, they wouldn’t have done what they did. It’s amazing, isn’t it? The shit we tell ourselves when we’re little? Like that would have made a difference, either way.”

“But they were your parents. Of course, you loved them. That’s all kids know how to do. They just love. I remember the rush I used to get when Sabrina would smile when I got home from work. It was the greatest feeling in the world. No matter what her day had been like or even if she felt sick, she was always happy to see me.”

We were quiet for a little while. Then Kat asked, “What happened? I mean, with your parents?”

“Oh, I went to a house across the street. The ones on either side of us were empty, but the one across the street had a nice old lady living there. I told her I thought my parents were dead, and she said something about them being no-good junkies. But she felt sorry for me, you know? She took me inside the house and fed me before she called the police. I was asked a bunch of questions, and put in a boys’ home.”

Kat didn’t ask any more questions, and I didn’t want to talk any more about it either. There were too many bad memories. Getting beaten up the whole first year I was in that home. Wishing a family would come to foster me out, then adopt me. Nobody ever did, so I decided to rely on myself. I started working out as soon as I knew I needed to bulk up if I was gonna get anywhere. By the time I was twelve, I was the biggest kid I knew. Nobody fucked with me after that.

The one constant in my life had always been Thorn. He was there for me. He understood some of what I was going through—his parents were alcoholics, his older sister died of an overdose when he was ten. We never had to explain ourselves to each other. And when he found the club, he told me about them. It sounded like the family we both needed, even though we told ourselves and each other we didn’t need a family. But everyone needed to feel like they belonged somewhere.