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“Bro, what the fuck?” Joker asked before taking a hit from his blunt. He coughed before passing it my way. “He almost handed you your ass. You gotta keep your head in the game.”
He was right. Once I got payback and my fucking money back, I would forget all about my past again. I would block that shit out even better than the first time and focus on getting my mind right. One thing was for sure: I had to ensure Victoria Walsh never showed her face at The Strip or my house again.
Another week passed, and I was positive I could put Victoria out of my mind. She was never returning, and although I was out of five hundred bucks, I would have paid double that never to see her again.
It was a lazy Wednesday at home. Joker was sleeping, and Crow pumped iron in the garage. My stomach was growling since I had slept past breakfast, but there wasn't anything to eat when I opened the cabinets. I dressed in sweats and a T-shirt and passed Crow in the garage before getting on my bike.
“Going to the store, you want something?” I asked.
He growled, straining against the massive weights he lifted. “Mountain Dew and Doritos,” he muttered, pushing the bar up again.
I nodded and cranked my bike. Clouds hovered in the gloomy sky over the city, hoarding the raindrops but threatening to let them fall. I sped through town, taking the curves hard and rushing past the slow drivers. The wind rushed over me, tugging at my T-shirt and pressing down on the top of my head as I rode low.
I slowed when I reached my destination, pulling into the parking lot and parking close to the entrance in case of rain. The grocery store was packed with people, and it took me longer to grab a few odds and ends, including Crow’s Mountain Dew and Doritos. It had begun drizzling outside by the time I went through self-checkout and made it back to my bike.
I cranked my bike and put my helmet on, but I spotted Victoria getting off a bus on the corner before I could take off. She pulled her hoodie over her head and ducked down as she walked across the parking lot toward the grocery store entrance. It was strange to see the Princess riding the bus, but the fact was, I had no idea what her life was like these days.
I paused, perched on top of my rocket, and watched from my spot in the parking lot as she adjusted an empty canvas grocery bag on her shoulder and entered the store. She wore jeans with holes in the knees that I somehow knew weren’t put there on purpose. The T-shirt under her hoodie had a stain on the bottom, and I could see the soles of her shoes coming apart from where I sat.
Why hadn’t I noticed these things before?
I had run into her several times and never noticed these things. Perhaps I was too caught up in the moment to realize her clothes were stained and ripped.
I told myself to leave. I told myself I didn’t need to wait and confront her, but my anger and curiosity got the best of me. Instead of going home, I sat on my motorcycle in the drizzling rain, pondering what I would say to her when she came out.
Thirty minutes later, Tori exited the store with her canvas bag full of groceries. I got off my bike and started in her direction, but the bus pulled up at the stop before I reached her. She sprinted toward the bus stop without seeing me, barely making it on board before the bus pulled away.
It was wrong, but I followed the bus when it pulled away from the corner. I was behind it as we cut through town, stopping at several stops before reaching the worst parts of the city. Most people stayed away from that part of the city, but I was familiar with it. Slinging drugs meant knowing all the shady spots, and we were in the darkest area of Atlanta.
So when the bus stopped, and Victoria got off and started toward the shittiest set of apartments in town, I could hardly believe my eyes. The place was a fucking dump. The building itself had cracking brick and busted windows. There were cars on blocks sitting in the broken parking lot and a set of dealers selling what I knew was heroin on the corner of the building she was about to enter. Squatters sat out front on buckets, smoking and hacking up their lungs as she passed them.
Just then, a young girl met her outside and pulled her into a hug. Her dark hair was shorter than Victoria’s, and when her face turned in my direction and I could see her features, I knew she was none other than little Gracie.
My stomach went weak seeing them in such a place. The girls lived in a shit pile, and I knew deep in my gut it was my fault.
Why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut?
Thanks to me, Victoria and Gracie lost everything. They had a good life—a rich house on the right side of town—and now they lived in the lowest of the low areas in the worst apartment complex. It was no place for two young women to be, especially alone. It was dangerous—no telling when the next drive-by or murder would occur.
They disappeared inside, but I saw them going upstairs before the main door closed. There were only two floors to the apartments. If they were going up the stairs, that must have meant they weren’t on the first floor. At least, that was good news. The second floor was always safer. The first floor was more likely to get broken into. Life on the streets with Joker taught me that.
I didn’t leave right away. Instead, I sat and watched the apartment complex. People came and went. I figured out the front first-floor apartment of Tori’s building was dealing. I couldn’t figure out what but could tell by the traffic flow. It wouldn’t take but a few calls to find out what kind of shit was brewed beneath her.
An hour passed before I cranked my bike and pulled away. My brain was a mess. Things were chaotic and blurry. Lines I had never considered crossing before didn’t seem so straight and black and white. Tori and Gracie lived in the slums. They weren’t safe, but it wasn’t like I could walk in with a solution. I didn’t even know why I felt the need to fix it. It wasn’t my problem.
I didn’t eat when I got home. Instead, I went straight to my room. I slept like shit that night, tossing and turning and wondering if the girls were safe. I left before Joker and Crow were out of bed the following day.
I drove to Tori’s apartment and waited until she came out. Even though I knew it was wrong, I followed her again. Knowing my bike was loud, I fell back since the bus was large enough to see from far away. When the bus stopped at the corner of Fifth and Twelfth, Tori got off and started walking, and I pulled into the gas station across the street from her stop. She crossed the parking lot in front of Hank’s liquor store and stepped down into the parking lot of The Huddle. It was then I noticed her uniform.
She worked at The Huddle, which was nowhere as good as Waffle House but similar. They mainly served breakfast foods to the drunks and druggies on the shittiest side of town but had burgers on their menu. The fact that she was working at such a fucked-up place made things a little worse.
Once she was inside, I drove across the street and parked on the side of the building. This shit was beyond ridiculous. I could help them out. I could give them money and get their asses away from their apartment complex, but even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew it was a bad idea. She might have been a smart-ass who took my money before, but I doubted she would take it if I offered it to her like charity.
It wasn’t my business or my problem. I had nothing to do with Tori and Gracie; how they lived wasn’t on me. I was sure they had gotten some money from their father’s death, even if he had been in prison when he croaked.
The best thing I could do was forget about both of them—no more. I had lost too much to the Walsh family. Maybe Tori and Gracie weren’t directly responsible, but I wasn’t about to lose anything else to them. When I pulled away from The Huddle and started toward my place, I planned to stay away from them.
8
