Overdosed: Fury's Storm MC (9 page)

I heard her come closer. “Yeah, I see some.”

“My foster father decided to put his cigarettes out on my back one night.”

“What?” It came out as a whisper. I turned around to see her horrified face. Her hands crossed over her mouth, tears filled her eyes. She whimpered.

“Yeah.” I leaned on the desk again. “That was the worst night. That was the last night he ever did anything like that, too. I didn’t go to school the next day—the pain was so bad, I couldn’t. I went the day after that, though. I tried to put a burn cream on my back, but I couldn’t reach all the burns. Anyway, the cream went through my shirt, and so did some blood and other stuff. My teacher saw it, pulled me aside, took me to the boys’ room to get a look. I never saw a man cry before that day.”

“Oh God. I’m so sorry.” She touched my arm. Her hand was shaking.

“Now you see why I can’t put her in one of those homes. There’s no way of telling how those people are, you know? They could look totally normal on the outside. My foster family did. On the inside, they were fucking evil.”

“I get it. I do. I’m sorry.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she couldn’t. She stood very close to me, though. Her eyes were still wide, shiny with tears. And very green.

“Not your fault. But now you know why I feel like I do. Why I wanna take care of her myself. It’s important to me. You know?”

“I know.” She opened her mouth again to say something else, then closed it. She looked around. “I guess I’d better go to bed. Big weekend ahead, need lots of sleep.”

“Sure.” I waved at her as she left the office, saying goodnight to a few stragglers having a last drink before going up themselves. We’d have a full house that night. I didn’t mind—being an only child, I liked having other people around me.

“You okay, boss man?” Erica winked, leaning in through the open doorway.

“I’m good.”

“Goodnight, then.” She went upstairs. I was the last person down there, which was the way it should have been. I was the boss, like Erica said. I locked up, making sure everything was off and the burglar alarm was set. Then I went upstairs, exhausted all of a sudden.

I couldn’t help poking my head into Gigi’s room, just to be sure she was okay. She was sound asleep, arms around a teddy bear. Her nightlight gave me just enough to see by, and I went quietly across the room to make sure her blankets were pulled up. I ran a hand over her dark head, just like my own.

“Sleep tight,” I whispered. And silently I swore to her that I would make her life better than mine was. Even if it was the last thing I ever did.

Jamie

“Miss Jamie?”

“Jamie,” I corrected, mumbling as I rolled over in bed. I didn’t usually sleep well in strange beds, but this was different. Maybe I was just exhausted from being so worried about Gigi, meeting so many new people. Spending half the night thinking about Lance and the scars on his back. I had spent untold hours thinking about him, imagining what it must have been like to be that little boy. No wonder he turned out the way he did.

“Jamie,” Gigi corrected herself. “Good morning.”

I opened one eye, teasing her. She giggled, standing at the edge of the bed. I grabbed her, pulling her in with me. She giggled helplessly.

“Good morning. How did you sleep?”

She sat up. “Good. It was kinda noisy downstairs, though.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it did get noisy sometimes. I’m sorry. I tried to keep everybody quiet. I’ll make sure to do a better job tonight.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugged it off philosophically. “I’m used to it.”

There was no hatred in her voice, no anger or pain. That was just the way it was for her. She was used to living with noise coming from downstairs.

I took a chance, feeling my way into the conversation. “Did your mommy always have a lot of people over?”

“Yeah. I mean, not every night. But a lot of nights.”

“And you would always stay upstairs in your room when that happened?”

“Yeah. I had my toys up there, and a TV and movies to watch. It wasn’t so bad. Then I would go to bed. Sometimes I would leave the TV on so I didn’t have to hear downstairs.”

“That’s pretty smart,” I said mildly. “Did anybody ever come upstairs? I mean, did you hear people in the hallway, outside your door?”

“Sometimes.” She traced the floral pattern of the bedspread with one finger. Her hair was a mess, total bedhead. I smiled at her when she wasn’t looking.

“Did anybody ever come into your room?” I said it as calmly as I could, like it was normal for it to happen. I didn’t want to scare her off.

“No. I was always alone.” She shrugged. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“What do you think about Lance?” I asked, propping up on one elbow.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is he nice to you?”

“Yeah. I guess so. I mean, he wasn’t always. When I first got here, he pointed a gun at me.” She linked her hands in the shape of a gun and pointed it at my face.

“What?” I didn’t mean to shout it, but she’d shocked me.

“Yeah. He didn’t mean it, though. He told me he thought somebody left something bad at the front door. It was just me.” She shrugged, laughing it off like it was nothing. “But I cried when he did it. It was scary.”

“I bet it was!” I wondered how Lance would feel if I stuck a gun in his face, then reminded myself he’d probably already had that happen more than once in the past.

“After that, it was okay. He asked me lots of questions about my mommy, and where I live. He asked me for my address, but I didn’t remember it.” She avoided my eyes when she said that. The kid who could bluff her way through how many hands of poker didn’t remember her address?

“Why didn’t you remember it?”

“I was too scared.”

I looked at her in my best teacherly way. I had to assert authority again. “Gigi. I know you know your address. Why don’t you tell me the truth? Remember what I always say about the truth? It’s always better to be honest. Right?”

She nodded, looking down at her hands. “Is it wrong that I lied?”

“In this case, sweetie, I don’t think so. But why did you?”

“Because Mommy told me not to tell him. She didn’t want him to go there.”

I frowned. It made sense to an extent. “Did she say why?”

Gigi shook her head, tousled hair bouncing on her shoulders. “No. Just that I shouldn’t tell him, no matter what.”

Rae might have been afraid of Lance taking Gigi back to her. Or maybe something was scheduled to go down there that she didn’t want anybody else to be part of. Whatever it was, it was over by the end of the week. The house looked dark and deserted when I checked it out. Rae had most likely fled somewhere.

“So if Mommy told me to lie, is it okay that I did?”

“Yes, it’s okay. You did it because Mommy asked you to.” I patted her on the back, then hugged her when I saw how upset she looked. “Don’t you worry about it even one little bit. You’re a very good girl.” Then I pulled away. “Though you did trick everybody you played cards with last night.”

She grinned. “That’s not lying. That’s bluffing.”

***

When we went downstairs, teeth and hair brushed, both of us dressed, we were the only people there. I knew more than a few people had spent the night—I remembered watching them stumble upstairs. Lance was one of them. It was already past eight o’clock, but I guessed that was practically pre-dawn to the people sleeping it off in the upstairs rooms.

“It’s so quiet down here right now,” Gigi whispered. “It’s always quiet like this in the morning.”

“Are you always alone like this when you first wake up?”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I watch TV and play games until people get up. I don’t have to wait too long.” She was the most patient child I had ever known. I guessed a lifetime of waiting made a person more patient.

“What do you say we make breakfast for everybody?”

Her eyes lit up. “You know how?”

“Are you kidding? I know how to do lots of things.” We went to the kitchen, which was fully stocked. I guessed once Gigi came along, it became important to be sure there was plenty of food available. I looked around.

“What will we make?” Gigi tagged along behind me, watching as I pulled out ingredients.

“I think this is a good day for pancakes. What do you think?”

“Pancakes are my favorite!”

I smirked. “Have you been eating them every day this week?”

“No. Yesterday we had eggs, and the day before that, we had cereal.”

“Okay. Pancakes it is.” I didn’t want to serve something they’d been eating for days on end, like the spaghetti.

“Gee,” I said, looking at the ingredients. “I’ve never cooked them for this many people at once before.”

“You can do it.” Gigi smiled at me in that way only a totally trusting child could smile at an adult.

“You’re right. I can do it.” I pulled up a recipe on my phone and multiplied the ingredients to make more servings. Flour, milk, eggs, sugar, salt, butter, baking soda. They even had vanilla extract.

“What are you doing?” Gigi asked as I poured a splash of white vinegar in a measuring cup full of milk.

“I’m making buttermilk. It’s science. See, when I add the vinegar, watch how the milk clumps up.” She watched closely as the milk separated. “It makes it very tangy. I’ll leave it there for a while, until it gets thick. When I mix it in with the baking soda, it’ll make the baking soda foam up a little bit, too. That makes the pancakes fluffy.”

“I didn’t know cooking was science!” She giggled. “I feel like I’m in school with you and it’s only Saturday.”

We laughed together over that. Then I went to the large griddle pan and turned it on.

“I think I saw bacon in here somewhere…” I found a large package and laid the slices on sheet trays.

“You’re cooking it in the oven?” She sounded amazed.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s easy to do it that way when you’re cooking a lot at once. My mom used to do that when she made big breakfasts at home.” My heart clenched a little and tears squeezed my throat. How many Christmas mornings had I spent in the kitchen with her? I used to watch the milk turn to buttermilk, just the way Gigi did.

“You had a mommy, too?”

I smiled through the threatening tears. “Sure, I did. Everybody has a mommy.”

“Not everybody. Some people have two daddies, the way Evan does.” Evan was one of Gigi’s classmates.

“That’s true. He has two daddies. Some people have two mommies, too. Some people only have their mommy or their daddy. You’re very right. I had a mommy and a daddy.”

“Did your mommy teach you how to cook?”

“She sure did, kiddo.” Again, it was tough to fight back the tears. I turned away, putting the bacon in the oven, then tested the griddle for readiness.

“Okay! Let’s put some pancakes on the griddle.” Gigi watched in fascination as I poured batter onto the pan, and explained how the batter got hot and cooked. “This is science, too,” I explained. “It’s all science.”

“And it’s yummy,” she added.

“Yes. Science can be yummy.” I left her to watch the pancakes under strict orders not to touch the pan, and turned to the coffee machine. It didn’t take long before a large pot was brewing, and I flipped the pancakes when I finished getting it set up.

We repeated this process through four batches, keeping the pancakes warm under foil. By that time, I heard noise coming from the lounge.

“See who’s out there,” I whispered. “Tell them breakfast is almost ready.” She marched out proudly to announce that it was almost time to eat. I heard cheers, and chants of “Gigi! Gigi!” I smiled from ear to ear, admitting that it was extremely sweet to hear her treated that way.

“I can’t believe you did all this!” Erica walked in, still in her pajamas. I waved a hand, showing it was nothing. She helped me finish up, getting the syrup, plates and such. By the time the last batch was finished, the bacon was also ready. I put it out on a big platter, and Erica called the troops in for breakfast.

What I saw nearly stopped my heart, it was so sweet. Lance carried Gigi on his hip, and she told him all about the science of cooking. There was something incredibly adorable and natural about them, like he’d been carrying her that way all her life. I wondered if he even realized he was doing it, or if he did it without thinking.

It was incredibly sexy, too. I couldn’t deny it even to myself that the sight of him taking care of her, listening very closely as she told him how buttermilk is made from milk and an acid, made my heart skip a beat. I smiled, turning my head away so he wouldn’t notice. I didn’t want to break the spell.

After we sat down, picking seats at random throughout the clubhouse, Lance sat beside me.

“What made you do this?” he asked, motioning to the food.

“I was hungry.” I shrugged.

“But breakfast for everybody?”

I shrugged again. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

He nodded thoughtfully before digging in. “Well, I’m glad you did,” he said before shoving in another mouthful of pancake. I had to chuckle at how eager he was.

“I have to say, you and Gigi seem like you’re getting closer.”

He looked at his plate, and I wondered if I’d gone too far. It was a risk, getting personal like that. He seemed to let it roll off his back, though, replying, “Yeah, we’re pretty good friends already. She’s an easy kid to like. I’m glad she’s not one of those whiney brats you see in stores and places like that. Begging for a toy or a treat.”

“I have to admit, I can’t stand that either,” I murmured. We laughed together.