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“Not entirely.”
“What does it take to earn your trust?”
I thought about that. No one had ever asked me that before and I’d never given it much thought. I just trusted my gut, and when it told me I could trust someone, then I did. “I don’t know. I just know when someone has my trust and when they don’t. Guess time plays a big part.”
“Do you trust me?” she asked quietly, and I got the sense that my answer would mean a lot to her. I wouldn’t lie, though, and thankfully, I didn’t have to.
“Yeah,” I admitted easily.
“But you hardly know me.”
I glanced at her. “Got the feeling you’ve never lied to anyone.”
She smiled sadly. “Not true. I’ve been lying to my mom for weeks.”
I grunted. “She doesn’t count. That’s just fucking survival.” When she didn’t say more, I continued. “You ever lie to me?”
“No,” she answered quietly.
“Why not?”
She laughed softly. “I doubt I could get away with it.” When I chuckled, she moved on. “I guess I just know you’re on my side. You’re not a part of my life or, more accurately, the life I grew up in, so you don’t have to be on my family’s side. You’re just…” She hesitated before finishing. “Mine.”
Staring out the window, I wondered why the hell it felt so good to hear her say those words.
Mine.
“Where did you grow up, Tank?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Chicago,” I replied.
“Why did you leave?”
“Joined the Army right out of high school. Like I told you, I knew I’d land my ass in jail if I didn't. I’d already spent some time in juvie, and I knew I wasn’t giving any more of myself to a life of crime, so I cleaned up my shit, stopped what I was doing, and enlisted. Figured it couldn’t be any worse than where I grew up.”
“What do you mean?”
“My family was nonexistent. Got a couple of older brothers who are just like our old man. Know for a fact my oldest brother beats on his wife just like our dad did. Hate that shit, so I cut all ties with them.”
“Your dad beat your mom?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Probably, actually, but I never knew my mom. Only knew the women my dad brought around, but the good ones didn’t stay long, considering he’d start drinkin’ and using them as punchin’ bags. Until the last one. She stayed even after Dad started beating her, and she did that for us boys. We knew that. She was a mom. Couldn’t have kids of her own, or at least that’s what my dad said, so she fucking doted on us. I was thirteen years old and baking cookies with her. I’d never baked a fucking cookie in my life or had one baked for me until her.”
Jane laughed, and I grinned. “How old were you when she left?”
“She hung in there until I graduated from high school. Told me she wanted to make sure her boys were set. I was the youngest, so she spent a lot of years getting kicked around to make sure I had a mom. The day I enlisted, she packed her bags, gave me a hug, told me she was proud of me, and left.”
“Did you ever try to find her?”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “Always had a feelin’ she needed to start fresh. She didn’t need me bringing back all the shit she endured.”
“What was her name?” she asked.
“Erica.”
“I bet Erica would like to know how you turned out.” I didn’t reply to that because I wasn’t sure how to. I’d thought about calling her over the years. Even went as far as tracking her down a few years ago. She’s living in South Carolina and works as a manager at a big resort hotel. She did okay for herself. I always knew she would, always knew we were holding her back. When she met my dad, she was looking for a family, something she never had and thought she’d found with my dad and us boys, but that wasn’t what she got.
When I was quiet too long, Jane continued. “How did you find the club? We’re a long way from Chicago.”
