"She got charged with intent to distribute." She winced. "Crack."
"Of course." My jaw worked as I looked at Scarlet, saw she was still glowering at me, her hands balled into fists like she was waiting for me to do something that would let her off the leash again.
She hated Mom as much as me, so why she was defending her, I didn’t have a clue.
"Thank you for telling me, Rene. Is that everything? Can I go back to the gym?"
Rene hesitated, but then, she queried, "Scarlet?"
My sister’s mouth pursed up like a fucking prune, but when she didn’t answer, I snapped, "What have you done now?"
Like mother, like fucking daughter.
"I’m pregnant," she muttered. "I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. I’ll just get an abortion—"
Rene shook her head. "Honey, I don’t want you making any rash decisions—"
"Who’s the father?" I rumbled, temper whipping at me at just how fucking blasé she was about this.
That was Scarlet’s problem. Life was one big game. I almost wished she were the one heading off in a sheriff’s car. Maybe she wouldn’t get into so much trouble in juvie.
"Like you care," she sneered.
"I do, actually. You’re fucking fourteen, Scarlet. You’re a kid. Who the hell screwed you?"
She smirked. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"
Rene sighed. "She won’t tell us, Ash. Maybe you can talk to her? See if we can... I don’t know, get something arranged with the father?"
"I just want an abortion. Mom said she’d sign the form. I don’t see what the problem is."
No, because just like her, our whore of a mother was more than willing to use abortion as family planning. Condoms existed for a fucking reason.
I never wanted kids. Ever. If there was a pill for a guy to take, I’d swallow that shit down if it meant I didn’t get any bitch pregnant. The cunts in my family didn’t share the same philosophy.
I worked my jaw a second, trying to contain my annoyance, before I snapped, "Didn’t you use a condom, Scarlet? What the fuck is the matter with you? Why can’t you do anything right?"
"Fuck you," she hissed.
"Yeah, bite back because you’re in the wrong and you know it."
"Asher, honey, this isn’t…" Rene heaved a sigh. "You can’t blame your sister for this. She’s only a child."
"Old enough to be screwing someone. Was it that douche in your class? That prick Alex?" When she popped her gum, I grumbled, "You’re just like Mom, and if you ever do have a kid, I’d bet that that poor bastard would be just as happy as I am at the thought of you rotting in jail." I shook my head. "Rene, there’s no point. If she ain’t gonna tell us who raped her—"
"It wasn’t rape," Scarlet retorted. "I wanted it."
"I’ll just bet you did," I sneered. "But you’re fourteen. It’s statutory rape, dumbass. Probably a good thing you’re not talking about who the father is because he’d be sitting in jail right this second too."
With that, I turned away, and for the first time in my life, I ignored Rene when she called me back. Instead, I headed past Grizzly who was still getting it on with Hot Lips and moved toward the front door.
I needed to run.
Fucking Scarlet.
Why did she always have to give Rene and Bear shit?
I needed to clear my head.
Why did she always have to make Rene worry?
Why couldn’t she just be grateful that they looked after us like we were their kids?
God.
I needed pot.
I needed to get away from her.
Mom was inside. She’d forget about us for eight years. But Scarlet was trouble. Always trouble.
I ran.
But instead of running around the compound like my friends and I usually did to build our endurance, I found the break in the chain link fence that King had made last year, and I slipped through it. It cut my shoulder, but I didn’t care. I’d wash it later.
For now, I had to find Johnny Regis—the only fucker dumb enough to sell marijuana in Sinners’ territory. The only jackass with fewer brain cells than Scarlet who’d sell pot to a Sinners’ kid—because I needed to escape.
The day, my life, the world.
I needed all of it to be one big blur.
Six
Keira
PRESENT
The second I stepped into Storm’s office, my nose crinkled with distaste.
It stank in here.
Not only of old soft furnishings that had way too much stuff spilled on them, stuff I didn’t want to even question, but there was the faint scent of faded tobacco and weed.
Of course, until Storm, I’d never known what weed smelled like, but he’d come home drenched in the sickly/sweet notes far too often for me not to recognize it now.
Dumb me, I’d thought his brothers smoked it. Never thinking he’d be getting high as well.
I really had been too stupid to live.
In the weeks since I’d first visited this place, I’d expected him to make changes here, but he hadn’t. Maybe a splash of paint on the walls, but if anything, it was as shitty now as it was then.
Seventies’ era in style, the place wasn’t exactly prezidential. The only thing in any way luxurious about it was a bunch of houseplants squatting over in one corner.
The sight had something inside me churning. Storm had never been green-fingered, and I couldn’t imagine a brother tending to them. That meant a clubwhore probably did it.
A clubwhore came in here, shook her ass in his face, waggled her tits at him, and he...
He, what?
I didn’t know what. I’d never know, either.
I’d heard a bunch of stuff, tales of Storm’s apparent prowess in the sack, and yet, the guy who’d apparently fucked around with half of West Orange had padlocked his penis up like it was the door to a garage that contained an expensive frickin’ ride.
I guessed the intention with the whole padlock thing was to stop him from being able to get his cock in anyone.
Did it work?
Was the key around my neck really the only way to release him?
To believe that, I’d have to trust him.
Wasn’t it ironic that the one thing I trusted him with was the only thing of value to me? My kid.
Well aware that I shouldn’t be jealous about the clubwhores because he wasn’t mine anymore, well aware that the imagery of that long, fat shaft with the obscene padlock wasn’t something that should have me drooling, I forced myself to shift focus.
Those damn houseplants kept catching my eye…
What was he doing with so many? They were probably another sign that I’d never understand him.
Glancing at MaryCat, I winced at the sight of her on the wrecked sofa. Partly because it was gross, mostly because it was a sign of how fatigued she was if she could sleep on that shitty, old thing.
I was, however, relieved to see that Storm had misunderstood the situation.
Didn’t come as much of a surprise. And I meant that with zero shade.
For all that he’d been hands on as a dad, that didn’t take away from the fact that some of the minutiae of day-to-day care for a small infant had escaped him and fallen on my shoulders.