“Katie, how long have you been at this?”
She hesitates, then replies, “Three days.”
“Have you eaten?” I don’t know why that’s my knee-jerk reaction, but it is. The first few days I had money, so I didn’t know what the hunger pains would be like later on.
“Not since yesterday. I left with my boyfriend. He said we would be able to be together without the rules of my parents. Only, he put me in this car yesterday, said he would be back, and he didn’t come before the train took off. He has all the money I saved and stole from my mom’s purse. I only have my backpack with a change of clothes and a dead cell phone.” She begins to choke back sobs as the emotions get to her. I give her hand a squeeze.
I wish I had a protein bar, or even a pack of crackers, to give the girl. Emotions are certainly harder to tame when it’s time to face that first real hunger. “Where are you from?”
“Arizona,” she replies, “Flagstaff.”
Relaxing into the small space, I continue to learn about Katie. Idle chitchat is something I don’t do often anymore. Every question I ask, she answers, no longer hesitating but with a longing in her voice.
A familiar feeling washes over me. She wants to go home.
“It may take some time to sort out where we end up, Katie, but I’ll get you back to your parents,” I promise, fully intending to get this girl home.
“What about Caleb? That’s my boyfriend.”
Frustration fills me at her kindness for a man who left her behind. Whether he’s new to hopping or not, Caleb talked Katie into this life, and he never should have left her in a corner of a boxcar alone. Obviously, he doesn’t realize how dangerous this can be, and not just from a legal standpoint.
“I don’t know if we’ll run into him or not. He could be anywhere. But I’ll get you back to Flagstaff, Katie.”
“Do you,” she pauses, “Never mind.”
“Katie, we got nothin’ but time. This ain’t a bus where they stop in every city. Wherever this load is headed, so are we, and there isn’t any getting off beforehand. Trains run longer than you expect for such large pieces of equipment.”
“I don’t know if I can go home. My dad always said if we left, we had to be prepared to make it in our own.”
I sigh, knowing without a doubt I am no longer welcome at home after the way I left a wake of disappointment and angry men behind. Plus, there is no question they all assume I told everything I know to anyone who would listen. Even though I haven’t said a word to a soul about where I come from, no one will listen.
“That’s a risk we gotta take, Katie. But finding out for sure is better than living this life and not knowing. If you get there and your dad turns you away, then you know you gave it your all. How old are you?”
“Fifteen,” she whimpers, and my heart shatters knowing I was just fourteen when I took on this lifestyle. I’ve barely made it myself, and I left for reasons other than teenage love.
“I’m willing to bet your family misses you. They may not be happy with your decision, and that’s understandable, but I don’t think they will turn you away, Katie.”
“This isn’t at all how I thought it would be,” she admits, and I feel that sentiment down to my very bones.
This isn’t what I thought it would be either. Granted, I don’t really think I had expectations in the beginning. I was running on adrenaline and fear.
“Try to rest. I’ll do everything I can to get you home, Katie.”
While I know my words are just words to the girl beside me, they come from my heart, and I mean it. I’ll do everything to get her home. This isn’t the life for her. She has options.
Options I wish I had. No, my life is one from city to city, boxcar to boxcar, and it isn’t because of a nomadic soul.
No, this is my only way to survive.
Three
Jinx
“O be careful little eyes what you see.” Bible verse. The eyes of a child tell an innocent story. Too bad life always has a way to cloud one’s vision, Jinx.
“What the fuck?” Chaos mutters looking around the clubhouse. We just made it back from a ride to Haywood’s Landing, North Carolina where we negotiated a transport with Tripp from the Hellions Motorcycle Club. They run the Carolinas and have a transport business that is another way to move loads of product.
The old firehouse is the perfect conversion for us. Over time, Uprising has grown as a town. The old volunteer firehouse was closed when the city switched to making that a paid position and put in a new station by the police department. This building and the accompanying land came up for auction. Chaos, knowing the club needed a fresh house, scooped it up cheap.
We’ve put in the blood, sweat, and beers (sorry, we didn’t shed tears) to make it the get-up seen today.
The two-story building is in an open field that no one really passes by anymore. The three-bay garage on the bottom is great when we want to open the doors for a party. The space where the firetrucks used park is now a wide-open area for our parties that can sometimes get a little out of hand. Looking around, apparently none of us were paying attention to just how wild things got.
“Fuckin’ slobs,” Bash says with a smirk as he looks around the place.
I haven’t been here much lately, so I’m a little lost as to when we became pigs. I love the open road, and I see the appeal Bouncer has in living life as a Nomad. Since I’ve been so busy lining up different business opportunities, I haven’t spent as much time at the clubhouse as before. Sure, I was here last night, but after a few drinks, I went home knowing I would need to lead the almost eight-hour ride to the coast of North Carolina today.
“Where’s the prospect?” I ask, wondering how in the hell last night’s party ended up with the clubhouse trashed, yet most of us weren’t even around that long.
“Life’s a party, live it and die,” Sly jokes, slapping me on the back, “Can’t believe you spoke without a prompt, brotha.”
Sly is a slick son-of-a-bitch. He has detailed ink running up and down one arm and even some serious shit on his neck that to most makes him unapproachable. The brother is seriously one easy-going guy, as long as you’re on his good side. Piss him off and that fucker will straight ruin your day or your life. He likes to razz me, as we all do each other.
“Fuck you, Sly,” I tease back. Okay, yeah, I’m not one to speak unless spoken to, but seriously, where are the fucking prospects? It’s an understood thing. We make the mess and they clean it up. So, why the fuck is the clubhouse trashed at seven o’clock at night?
“Found the prospects,” North says, sliding down the pole from upstairs. He arrived just moments before us, and obviously, saw the state of things and took action. North is the enforcer for the Kings and had a job to look into so he left the meeting with the Hellions ahead of us. His feet hit the concrete, and he laughs. “Never worry, I got ‘em up.” The joy in his voice tells me he had fun waking the sleeping beauties.
“You didn’t piss on their heads or something fucked up, did you?” I ask because North is crazy and finds it funny to fuck with people any way he can. I wouldn’t put it past him to pee on them