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ROMAN
The trailer smells like stale beer, tobacco, and body odor.
“Where you been, boy?”
I tense at my father’s words. If you can even call him that. Sperm donor is what he is. Fucking waste of a human. It makes me sick that this is the man my mother married. Was he always like this? Fuck, I can’t remember that far back, but when Mom was sick…I remember the way he put his hands on her and me. She was weak from all the chemo; she fought for a long time.
Fuck. I run my hand over my face. I don’t want to think of Mom like that.
“Out,” is all I give him. I don’t tell him shit. He doesn’t care where I’ve been as long as I bring money back to pay the rent and keep the power on.
He would notice if I died, of course, but only because the lights would go out, an eviction notice stuck to the front door.
I move toward my room at the back of the trailer, but he grabs my wrist as I pass, stopping me. I shake out of his grasp. “Fuck off,” I mutter under my breath. I’m not in the mood for his shit tonight.
“Rent’s due. Billy came looking for it earlier. I said he gotta wait till you get back.” He looks up at me like I give a shit.
“Get a job.” I roll my neck and it cracks, but he doesn’t blink. He just stares at me like the lazy fuck he is.
“I’ll fucking get it.” I storm down to my room. I’m the child here. Not him. Yet, everything is paid for by me. I keep the roof over our heads. I keep food in the kitchen. He never cleans or cooks. I open my door and just stare at what used to be my room.
Everything been tossed out of the drawers. I’m not neat, but my room never looks like this. “What the fuck?” I roar to the shit stain in the living room. I go to where I stash the money for rent, and it’s all gone.
“You fucking stole it.” I screams as I stomp to him, and he just smiles like this is the funniest shit on earth.
“Nah, I borrowed some. Since you weren’t back, I couldn’t ask ya, now could I?”
The end of his cigarette glows orange as he inhales the tobacco. My fists ball up, and I’m ready to smash his face in.
“What. Did. You. Do?” I grit out between my clenched jaw.
He lays his head back on the dirty rotten armchair. “In me veins, and it felt so good.” He scratches at his arm, and he leans forward, waving at me to come closer.
If I come any closer, I’m gonna smash his skull in.
“Don’t happen to have more cash on ya, kid? I know you do good work down at The Shed. I told my dealer about ya. He gave me some extra smack on loan, cause he knows how good ya are. Says he seen you fight.”
I take a deep breath and shake out my hand. Two more years. Just two more fucking years, and I’m out. I look at a faded photo of Mom and me hanging on the wall. The only one that hasn’t been ripped up by the old prick.
“You know that’s all I had, old man. We’ll be evicted.” The foster system will come get me. I’ll end up in some group home far from here, and that can’t happen. “And don’t talk about me to your dealers. I have nothing to do with you.”
No one loans a junkie smack without wanting something in return. And I can tell he has used my name to score more. Just another thing I have to fucking worry about.
I don’t tell him that I have more cash. I have it stored somewhere safe. Somewhere he can’t find. This isn’t the first time he’s shot rent money into his arm, and I know it won’t be the last.
“Fucking junkie,” I mutter under my breath as I walk away from him.
I look down at my phone to check the time. Saturday night is the best night at The Shed to make money. I march down to my room, flip my mattress up and back into its spot for later when I need to drop on it and sleep away the pain. I grab a towel and extra clothes and jam them in my bag before marching out, slamming the door behind me.
He doesn’t hit me anymore. Not since I got bigger, and I hit twice as hard back. But this…I let out a deep breath. That money was for rent, and he knew it. He doesn’t work. He never could keep a job, even when Mom was around.
I start up my Harley, the one thing that’s mine. I worked hard, broke bones, for this baby. I throw my leather cut on; it says “prospect.” But one day, it’s gonna say “The Sons of Death MC.” I’ve been prospecting with them for only a month. I met them through The Shed. They have a few guys down there that get in the ring and fight.
I see how they treat each other. Like family. They all have each other’s backs, and I respect that. I know, with Hunter off to some fancy college across the country, and Jace waiting for a great college to offer him a place on their team and scholarship, I will still be here. Alone. If I choose to stay, I will become a full member of the MC. I will have family here. One I chose.
I won’t hold Hunter and Jace back with them worrying about me. I want them to live their lives to the fullest. Take every opportunity that comes their way. I’m glad they have dreams, but I have this…a deadbeat dad. As soon as I turn eighteen, I’m out of there. Fuck, I don’t know if I will even stay here in Ridgecrest. I live on the edge of town. The side you don’t walk the streets at night if you’re smart enough. Full of crack heads and junkies. Like my dad.
I might leave Ridgecrest. Find a new place to call my own. Ronnie has been teaching me all the skills I need to tattoo, and he says I can work with him at the shop full time when I’m done with school. He wants to retire and live a little by finally traveling. He knows about the MC, and he understands why. He didn’t try talk me out of it. Not like Hunter or Jace would. They would worry and not want to leave if they knew my plans. That’s why I haven’t told them, and I don’t ever intend on telling them. Ronnie also knows I might not stick around. He’s cool with that. He’s a good guy, says he only wants the best for me.
