Itinerant Child

by Sarah Osborne

  Mouse nodded. “Yeah, although don't ask me to cover hair metal.”

  Nitro laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Mouse has terrible taste in music.”

  “But not as bad as her taste in men.” Carter smirked, and Mouse now realised that their earlier exchange was borne more of habit than actual dislike.

  Despite being completely ignored, the girl—no one had bothered to introduce her—was still sticking close to Carter. She glared at Mouse and opened her mouth to speak, then shut it with a snap when Carter turned to look at her. “You still here?”

  Again, Mouse felt a pang of sympathy as the girl turned on her stripper heel and tottered back to her friends. Growing up in care, she'd seen plenty of girls like her: Desperate for attention, and prepared to do anything to make themselves feel wanted. She'd been different—or at least she'd thought she had—too many people in positions of power would take that desperation and use it to their own advantage, and too many girls ended up on the game or in abusive relationships as a result. She'd slipped once, and had built strong defences, determined that it would never happen again. Nitro was pulling them down, but she doubted he'd ever fully succeed, and there was a tiny part of her that was sorry about that.

  As the conversation turned, inevitably, to bikes, Mouse gazed around the room. Again, the hierarchy was plain to see. At the top of the tree were the officers, followed closely by those like Nitro, who wore a patch, but had no designated rank. Then there were the prospects—two, as far as she could see—they ran the bar and were, in no doubt, subordinates. Below them came the guys who wore no patch, but on the chests of their cuts wore badges proclaiming support for the Freaks. The old ladies, while treated with respect, clearly came way down the pecking order. And last, and almost certainly least, were the girls who clustered at the corner of the bar, watching the single patches closely and waiting for a signal that they were required. Her eyes fell on the girl who had recently rejoined her friends. Some were ambitious, and wanted more than to be just a convenient fuck, and no doubt Nitro had been high on the list of eligible bikers. Little wonder they were all shooting dirty looks in her direction.

  She slipped her hand under Nitro's cut. “Where's the loo?”

  He pointed to a door by the staircase. “Go through there and it's on the left.”

  With a degree of trepidation, Mouse wandered over and pushed open the door marked 'Bitches' and stepped inside. To her surprise, the toilets were spotlessly clean, and although small with only two stalls and a single hand basin, remarkably stylish. A huge, ornate mirror filled one wall, and the other three were covered with art nouveau tiles. She guessed that this had been a bathroom in a previous life, and little had been done to change it. In fact it was probably the poshest place she'd ever pissed in. As she was washing her hands, the door opened, and Nitro's stalker and two of her friends walked in. Mouse forced herself to smile, despite the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. “Hiya.”

  One of the girls—a blonde who had somehow squeezed herself into a denim mini skirt that was clearly at least two sizes too small—curled her top lip. “Didn't anyone tell you it wasn't fancy dress?”

  Mouse couldn't deny that she'd have probably fitted in better had she just worn her old jeans and tee shirt, but Nitro liked what she was wearing, and so did she. Determined not to rise to the bait, she grinned and made a show of checking her reflection. “Thought I ought to make an effort.”

  Blondie snorted. “You're right, Scarlet, she doesn't have a clue. I'll give it a week before Nitro gets bored with her and starts looking for a real woman.”

  Scarlet lifted her chin. “No doubt. He always comes back to me.” She took a swallow of her beer, then stepped forward, and tipped the remainder over the front of Mouse's dress. “Oops.”

  Mouse had had a couple of really stressful days: She'd had to overcome her phobia of hospitals to visit her best friend, endured a shopping trip from hell, and then had to deal with Nitro's weird insecurities around his brothers. Until now, she'd dealt with it all pretty well, but as she stared at the stain on her new dress—the dress that Nitro had bought—something inside her snapped. Slowly she looked up at the sneering face in front of her... and punched it.

  “You fucking bitch!” Scarlet staggered back, clutching her nose, then launched herself at Mouse, slamming her against the mirror, and, grabbing a handful of hair, dragged her down onto the floor.

  Mouse was shorter than her opponent, and was now pinned to the ground. But she was wiry, and she wasn't above fighting dirty. If Scarlet had expected her to go down easily, she was in for one hell of a shock. Mouse was prepared to use nails, feet, teeth—anything to gain the advantage. She'd been getting into fights her entire life, and anyone within scratching, kicking or biting distance was going to get hurt. And she wasn't going to stop until the bitch on top of her stopped moving.

  She wasn't aware of what it was she'd done to make Scarlet back off enough to give her the upper hand, and was only vaguely aware of someone shouting and pulling at her back as, finding herself on top, she pounded her fist into the bitch's face. She certainly hadn't heard the door open, and only knew that Nitro was there when she found herself being lifted off the floor. “Chill the fuck out, Mouse.”

  “Let me go!” Mouse squirmed and wriggled in his implacable hold. “She ruined my fucking dress.”

  “And you've ruined her face. I'd say you were even.” He grunted as her heel connected with his knee. “If you kick me again, punk, we're gonna be having words.”

  “Shit. Sorry.” Mouse forced herself to relax in his hold. “You can let me go, I'm done.”

  Nitro set her on the ground and loosened his hold on her a little. “What the hell happened here?”

  Blondie pulled a bleeding Scarlet to her feet. “She attacked Scarlet. She’s fucking psycho. I... I'm gonna tell Denny, and get her kicked out.”

  Nitro was still holding Mouse as if he was scared she'd go again if he let go. “Three of you follow her into the john, an' you're saying that Mouse just, out of the blue, attacked Scarlet? Don't think so, sweetheart. And if anyone is getting kicked outta here, it ain't gonna be my ol' lady.” He turned to the little redhead who looked as though she was about to piss her pants. “What happened?”

  Mouse wriggled out of his grasp and turned to face him. “Scarlet spilled her drink over my dress and I lost my shit. It was my fault.”

  ~oOo~

  Nitro didn't believe Mouse, but for now he was prepared to let it go. He hadn't seen Scarlet and her little posse follow her into the toilet, and it was only when she didn't re-emerge a few minutes later that he'd noticed they were no longer sitting at the bar. He hadn't been overly concerned; both Trudy and the little redhead, whose name he could never remember, knew the score, and wouldn't step out of line, but Scarlet considered herself to be a cut above the others, and had been giving Mouse the stink eye all evening. He'd figured his little punk could take care of herself, and wouldn't thank him if he jumped to her defence. But then he'd heard a scream, and decided that it was time to step in.

  He frowned and gently touched a scratch on his girl's cheek. “You're bleeding.”

  “I'm okay.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Scarlet was examining her face in the mirror. “She's got long nails.”

  “She broke my fucking dose.” Scarlet dabbed her face with a paper towel. “I want her out of here.”

  “Lemme see.” He carefully pushed Mouse to one side and grabbed Scarlet's jaw, lifting her face to the light. “Nah. It ain't broke. Reckon you'll have a couple of black eyes in the morning, though.” Nitro grinned. “My girl packs one hell of a punch. You might wanna remember that, next time you try to start trouble.”

  “I want...”

  “You don't fucking learn, do you?” Nitro let go of her jaw and turned back to Mouse. “My ol' lady has given you an out. She's taken responsibility for what happened here. All it takes is one word from her, an' you'll not only be barred from here, but the pub a
s well. Now clean yourself up and fuck off. Oh, an' I'll be sending you the bill for the dress. I only bought it for her today, and you've got beer an' blood all over it.” He grabbed his girl's arm and led her through the main room to the kitchen area. “C'mon, punk. Lets get you fixed up.” He took a first aid kit from the cupboard and lifted her onto the counter. “I don't care what you say, Mouse. If this scars, she's gone.”

  Mouse blinked, and a fat tear rolled down her cheek. “I'm sorry.”

  Oh shit, he hated it when chicks cried. He gently started to wipe the blood from her face. “What for?”

  “For this. I was scrapping on a toilet floor, Nitro. All because she threw beer on me. I should've risen above it.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe, but it's done now. Ain't no point getting upset over it. Scarlet was trying to provoke you, an' you took the bait. It's no big deal. She'll get over it, an' maybe next time she'll keep her distance.”

  “But I was trying to be a good old lady.” Mouse sniffed.

  Nitro laughed; it was probably the wrong thing to do. His little Anarchist was sitting on a kitchen counter, covered in blood and beer, bawling like a baby, and he should have been comforting her. But she was just so fucking cute, and he couldn't help himself. “A good ol' lady knows how to take down bitches who disrespect them. It's fine, Mouse. You're a great ol' lady.”

  “A great ol' lady who's just kicked the shit out of my fuck for the night.” Carter wandered over and handed Mouse a large scotch. “You've got the voice of an angel, and you fight like a demon. Not sure Nitro's gonna be man enough for you.”

  Mouse took a sip and shuddered. “Thanks, but I really don't like whisky.”

  “All the more for me, then.” Carter took it from her. “How about a joint? Reckon you've earned it, even if I'm am a bit disappointed. Scarlet is a decent lay. But hey, there's plenty more where she came from, and I've gotta say, she's had it coming for a long time.”

  Nitro lifted her chin and examined a cut just below her eyebrow. “Jesus, Mouse. If you're gonna keep brawling, you're gonna have to learn to keep your guard up.”

  “Maybe you should train her up. Get her in the ring.”

  Sure, like that was gonna happen. Mouse gave a shaky grin. “That'd be really cool.”

  “Not happening, punk.” He glared at Carter, who'd perched next to his girl and was rolling a joint. “Stop putting ideas in her head. She's already punched me once and kicked me twice. And this is the second time I've had to stop her getting her ass kicked. The last thing I need is for her to get better at this shit.”

  “I was not getting my arse kicked.” She winced as he stuck a Steri-strip over the cut. “And I didn't mean to kick you.”

  “There were three of them in there, Mouse. Luckily for you, the other two don't put half a gram of coke up their noses every night, and didn't want to get their asses kicked from the club.” He kissed her and gave her face one final check. “You're gonna be the death of me.”

  “Sorry.” For a moment it looked as though she was going to start crying again, but she took a deep breath as if to compose herself. “I'll try not to let it happen again.”

  “Maybe we should let her prospect.” Carter passed Mouse the joint. “She'd make a great enforcer.”

  “Funny.” Nitro snatched the joint from her, and handed it back to his VP. “C'mon, let's get you home before he comes up with any more dumb suggestions.”

  20

  “Fucking hell, Mouse. What happened to your face?” Steve dropped his rucksack onto the floor and grabbed her chin. “Did Nitro do this?”

  Mouse turned her face away and continued rolling up her sleeping bag. “No he didn't. And I don't want to talk about it.”

  She'd been back at Hope Farm for two days, ostensibly preparing for the upcoming occupation in London, but in reality, was there because Maggie was spending most of her time in Bath visiting Digger, and was worried that the place would fall apart without her at the helm. It had been a wrench leaving Nitro, but she couldn't desert her friends when they needed her, and the protest in London was important. Although, since meeting him, somehow less than it had been. Mouse wasn't sure how she felt about that.

  “You sure, Mouse? Cos if he's laid a finger on you, I'll...”

  “Nitro didn't do it, okay? I know you don't trust him, but he won’t hurt me. I just got into a bit of a scrape is all.” She tore a bin bag from its roll and stuffed the sleeping bag inside. “And where the fuck have you been? Digger isn't going to be discharged for at least another couple of days, and you know Mags doesn't like to leave him. There's hardly anyone here; half have gone to the Earthdance, Holly is about to give birth, and those two idiot punk friends of yours spend too much time off their tits to be of any use. I can't run this place on my own.”

  “Had a bit of business up north.” Steve rummaged in the rucksack and pulled out a baggie. “Best acid I've had in ages. There's a big rave on the other side of Bristol on Saturday. If I can shift this lot, we'll be in the back in the black for a couple more months.”

  “I thought you were coming to London with me.”

  Steve shrugged and pulled a face. “What's the point? The pigs will tear down shelters and confiscate banners, just like they did last time, and it won’t be covered in the press. The only people who'll know are the ones who follow us on social media. I'm getting sick and tired of preaching to the converted, Mouse. We're broke, and my time will be better spent earning some cash to keep the wolf from the door.”

  “Pretty sure Mags won’t see it that way. You know how she feels about drugs.”

  “Then we'll have to make sure she doesn't find out, won’t we.” He returned the baggie to its hiding place. “I'm selling a bit of acid to some ravers, it's hardly the crime of the century, and Mags is cool with weed. I really don't see the difference.”

  “There's a big difference with growing a bit of pot for your own use and dealing acid, Steve.”

  He ignored her, and wandered over to the stove. “What's in the pot?”

  “Vegetable curry. It'll be ready in about an hour. Why don't you make yourself useful and collect the eggs.”

  Steve sighed and headed for the door. As he pushed his feet into his boots, he turned back to face her. “Mouse, if Nitro...”

  “Nitro's a good bloke. He didn't do this.”

  ~oOo~

  The Freaks were a family—Nitro's family. But tonight, it really didn't feel like it.

  Ever since he'd first laid eyes on that viper, he'd wanted to wear it on his back. To be a Freak meant you had respect, that there was always someone who'd stand shoulder to shoulder with you. A Freak was never alone in the world; his family stretched far and wide, and he had brothers all over the world. Freaks were free from the confines of regular society. They would do what they wanted, when they wanted, and how they wanted. Freaks lived by a code of honour and loyalty. Family was everything. Nothing else mattered.

  Except...

  Nitro would have liked to have drunk until this odd feeling of doubt passed, but even at the wildest parties, he tended to keep his drinking to a minimum. He'd learned, many years ago, that getting blind drunk and passing out in a clubhouse full of drunken Freaks would result in his leg being stolen.

  Because that was what families did, apparently.

  The stripper in front of him weaved around a pole, all big hair, fake smiles and dead eyes.

  How many of these girls had he fucked? It must have been dozens. Did they all look like that? Were they all so detached from what they were doing that they only saw the men in front of them in terms of how much money they'd earn? Was that how they'd looked at him when he'd fucked them?

  Was this what he wanted? Nitro looked down at the flight details in his hand. He guessed what he wanted wasn't really that important; no one wanted to go to a funeral, and this was about paying your respects.

  And family. It always came back to that.

  “You okay, bro?” Biff pulled up a stool and sat down, his eyes neve
r leaving the girl on the podium. “Fuck, I wouldn't mind those ankles on my shoulders.”

  “Apart from the fact that Josie would cut your balls off and feed them to the dogs, she ain't all she's cracked up to be.” Nitro folded the sheet of paper and stuffed it in his pocket. “She makes all the right moves, but it's like fucking by numbers. Boring as all hell.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? You've had a face like a slapped arse ever since you got here. Is this about you going back to the States? Cos if it's a problem...”

  “It's not a problem.”

  “So what is it? Please don't tell me it's this bloody girl of yours. She's a cute kid, Nitro, but don't let her start putting ideas in your head, cos trust me, that won’t end well.”

  “Has is ever occurred to you that maybe I just ain't in a party mood?” Nitro stood so abruptly, his stool crashed to the floor. “This has nothing to do with Mouse. Or me flying back to Cali. I'm just bored with the same old all the fucking time.”

  “Smoke?”

  That was the last thing he wanted. “Sure. Lead the way, Sarge.”

  “What's going on, son?” Nitro hadn't even sat down before Biff started. This was starting to get old. “If you're gonna be half arsed about everything, I don't want you on the run tomorrow. That big festival is gonna be bringing a lot of traffic, which is also gonna bring a lot of attention from the filth. I don't need another road rage incident, Nitro. Low profile, remember. Not dragging some poor innocent driver out of his car, over something that was your fault.” Biff took a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his cut, and passed one to Nitro. “You're a good rider, so I know the reason you nearly tail-ended him was because you weren't paying attention, and that isn't like you. Now, don't bite my head off, and this isn't me acting like a tart, but this is about Mouse, isn't it? Ever since she showed up, you've been moody as fuck. You've missed church, not shown up at parties, an' when you have, we all wish you hadn't. What's going on? She putting pressure on you to quit?”

  “No. Mouse has nothing to do with this.”