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“Nah, I ain't in any trouble, just ain’t thinking straight no more. Home ain’t home to me without Carly here.” It’s crushing to see Skid, the hardest fucker I know, weak like this.
“I understand.” I nod back, hoping it’ll ease some of his guilt. I’ve known the guy long enough to know that he’ll be feeling bad for leaving me. We rarely speak about soft shit like feelings, we don’t have to. Skid knows how much he means to me.
“I just feel bad for—”
“Hey.” I quickly cut him off. “You got nothin’ to feel bad for, not when it comes to me. I owe you, remember?” Suddenly I regret that this is the first time I’ve ever told him that. “I gotta get back to work.” I sigh, standing up and moving past him before shit gets too deep.
I don’t do deep.
“The boys will look out for you, Rogue.” Skid follows me through to the workshop, and when my head spins round to throw him a judgmental look, he holds his hands up defensively. “I just want you to know, that if you need anything, all you gotta do is ask.”
“Skid, you've known me since I was eight years old, you ever known me to ask for help?” Tipping my head to the side, I wait on his response. The low grunty laugh he makes tricks me for a few seconds into believing that I’ve got the old Skid back.
Seeing a smile on his face feels good, even if it’s only brief.
“Guess you’re right.” His huge callused hand ruffles the top of my head. “I’ll be in touch soon.” He heads out the roller door toward his bike, knowing he ain’t about to get a long drawn out goodbye outta me.
“Hey, Skid,” I call across at him, catching him just before he starts his engine. When he looks up at me, I see the immeasurable sadness in his kind brown eyes.
“When you find that cunt brother of yours, you carve a huge chunk out of him for me.” I wink, placing my hands in the pockets of my overalls to stop myself from wiping the tear that’s about to drip onto my cheek. I haven't shed a tear in fucking years and if I wipe it away it means it’s really there.
“You got it, kiddo.” Skid nods at me with a sad smile. “You just stay out of trouble, think you can do that for me?”
“Ain’t making no promises,” I tell him, watching as he kick starts his engine, and his Bobber purrs beautifully.
I feel helpless as I stand and watch him disappear down the track, out the gates, and onto the main road. I have no clue when the next time I’ll see him will be, and suddenly I feel lonelier than ever.
THIRTEEN YEARS AGO
“Gotcha, lil’ shit.” A huge hand grabs my collar, stopping me from running, and drags me backward. My heart is throbbing from sprinting, and now I wish I hadn’t wasted all that energy. Of course, the guy was gonna outpace me.
Stealing in broad daylight was a stupid thing to do, I should have known better, waited until after dark, like I did a few nights ago.
“Do you know what we do to thieves around here?” the huge guy barks at me. My feet scrape over the dusty ground beneath me as he pushes me forward, marching me back toward the garage.
He’s built like a mountain, his eyes wild and threatening, any other eight-year-olds would probably be scared of him.
But I ain’t scared of no one.
“We tear their limbs off one by one, and throw them on the fire pit,” he spits, trying his best to draw fear from me.
“Let him go.” I turn my head toward the voice that’s calling from the other side of the yard and see another man jogging toward us. He looks a lot like the man who’s holding me and is just as big, just younger.
“He’s just a kid, Chop, we got the carburetor back, no harm done, right?” He struggles with the mean guy’s grip as he tries to set me free, but there’s no way he’s gonna let me go.
“I’m a girl, asshole.” I scowl at the man trying to help me, and I’m not sure which one of them rips the hood that's covering my head down, but they both share the same shocked look when the long blonde ponytail drops over my shoulder.
“Boy, girl, still a fucking thief, and she’ll pay the price.” Mean guy narrows his eyes at me.
“Come on, Chop, she probably doesn't even know what it is she was taking, or who she was taking it from,” the younger one says, and it pisses me off that he underestimates me.
“It’s a carburetor for a Chevy.” I raise my eyebrows proudly, and the guy who has me locked tight in his fist, ‘Chop’, gives his friend a ‘told ya so’ look.
“Jesus Christ, kid, I’m trying to help you out here.” The younger one crouches down to my level, his eyes seem so much kinder than the other guy’s.
“What’s a little wretch like you doin’ stealing car parts from a place like this?” He frowns at me. I shrug and turn my face away from him. I may be a thief but I’m not a rat.
They can throw me on their damn fire, in fact, they’d be doing me a favor.
