by Voss, Deja
I know things are changing between me and Hank, but I can’t let that be the focus right now. The way I feel about him, and the way I think he feels about me, that’s not going to change. Having Jesse dumped into our lap made me realize how selfish of a person I’ve been, probably for my whole life.
It’s always been all about me, protecting myself, taking care of myself, doing whatever is in my best interest. Now, I have a lot more to think about. Stacy Smith is turning into a person I never imagined myself being. She’s definitely got a lot on her plate.
“Not in front of the kid,” Hank says, frowning, filling up his coffee cup and sitting down next to Jimmy at the kitchen island, looking over the stack of papers he has laid out.
“I can take him for a walk or something,” I say. “It’s a beautiful day.”
Little Jesse is sitting on the couch while cartoons blare in the background, sorting dry cereal from his bowl on the coffee table, intently concentrating on the marshmallow ratio as he lines the pieces up.
“No,” Hank says. “I need you here for this.”
“Hank, I’ve known you since you were Jesse’s age,” the gray-haired guy with the short ponytail and thick black glasses says. “I’m not trying to steer you wrong.”
“It’s not that,” he says. “It would just make me feel better if she knows what’s going on. Just in case something happens.”
“You’re just as bad as your sister,” he laughs. “You kids are the most paranoid people I’ve ever met.” I really didn’t chalk Jimmy being here at 7 a.m. on a Monday up to paranoia more than diligence, and Esther was the one who set the meeting up. I just assumed it was because we technically have a child under our roof that we don’t know who he belongs to and an erratic mother. It seems like a mess waiting to happen.
“First and foremost, you’re gonna need a paternity test,” Jimmy says, holding up a sealed plastic envelope. “Although anyone with eyes can see that child is yours. He’s even got your signature sneer perfected. But the more hard evidence we have, the more likely you’ll be able to have full custody of him.”
“That’s what I want,” he says. “I don’t want Delaney anywhere near him ever again.”
“You can’t do that,” I say. “That’s not right, Hank.”
Even though she might have some issues, she’s also human. She might end up cleaning her life up and becoming a great person. She also might not ever come back again. Making this child hate his mother is nothing but selfish.
“What?!” he snaps. “She’s a junkie. She hurt him. You heard the way he was screaming last night.”
“We need to take him to therapy,” I suggest.
“That would definitely be in your best interest,” Jimmy says. “It’ll help your custody case tremendously, plus, he’s going to need all the help he can get to be able to function in a classroom and get along with his peers. You want to give him normal, you have to give him any tools you have at your disposal.”
“Yes,” Hank nods. “I just want him to have a normal life. I want him to be a happy kid with a decent upbringing.”
“I don’t want to look too far into the future until we get this test back, but if it comes down to a custody battle, you’re going to have to go to court and prove that you are the more suitable parent. Judges around here don’t like taking kids away from their mothers.”
“He has a new mother. A better mother. Stacy has taken better care of him in the last twenty-four hours than Delaney did his whole life.”
“And you two are getting married when?”
I raise my eyebrows. As much as I want to give this kid the best chance I can, marriage isn’t really on the table right this second. Hell, the man just told me last night that he ‘likes’ me.
“My brother is getting married next week. Probably early next fall.”
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ve always wanted a fall wedding. Why don’t you give me that swab so I can go take care of that.” I need to leave the room before I start banging my head off the countertop.
“Open up, bud,” I say to Jesse, holding out the Q-tip. “I’m gonna tickle your tonsils.”
He laughs and sticks his tongue out at me and I swab his cheek with the Q-tip and put it in the plastic envelope. I grab a marshmallow from his neatly organized row and pop it in my mouth.
“What’s Uncle Hank doing in there?” he asks.
“Well, he’s making sure that you’re allowed to stay here as long as you want to. Do you like it here?”
He nods furiously.
I can’t help but hug him. He’s such a sweet little thing. I squeeze him until he starts to squeal, and kiss him on his head. “I’ll let you get back to work,” I tease, grabbing another marshmallow from his project.
“What’d we figure out?” I ask, handing Jimmy the envelope.
“Well, if we’re going to court, your man here needs a haircut.”
The rest of the conversation with Jimmy was as expected, there were a few things that were going to be tricky, especially because we have no documentation of Jesse, no birth certificate or social security card. The fact that Hank is a predominant member of a biker gang doesn’t help, especially after the drama of the weekend, but as long as we do our best to do everything by the book, Jimmy assured us he’ll do everything he can to make sure that Hank gets custody.
The only thing concerning me is the fact that I’m basically a living scam, an imaginary person, and I have two options here—ride it out as long as possible, or blow my cover, potentially putting us all at risk.
As soon as Jimmy leaves, I grab Hank by the arm.
“Me and Uncle Hank are going outside for one minute,” I say to Jesse, dragging him to the door.
“Don’t leave, Stacy!” he shouts.
“You can watch by the window. We’ll just be one minute.” It breaks my heart that this kid is so used to being abandoned that I can’t even go outside. It makes me sick that someone made him this way.
I step out on the front porch with Hank, and he wraps me in his arms, hugging me, kissing the top of my head.
“Everything is going to be alright,” he says joyfully. “God, I feel so much better.”
“You’re nuts,” I say. “Do you realize you can’t marry Stacy Smith?”
“Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t fucking exist! Furthermore, until yesterday, you were literally repulsed by me. You sent your sister over to shake me down. You pointed a gun at me.”
He just shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs.
“I don’t want to marry Stacy Smith, anyway. I’m going to marry you, Azalea.” For the second time in my life, I’ve been proposed to under less than ideal circumstances. I don’t know if I’m just a magnet for this shit, or if there’s something about me that makes me a great target for men on a mission.
He’s never even had a girlfriend before. This isn’t how relationships work, is it? We are two insanely complicated people, and yet, the way he’s standing there, head cocked to the side, sexy grin on his face, it just seems way too easy.
“We’ll see about that,” I say. I’m not making the same mistake twice. Do I think he’s a great man? He’s probably the best man I’ve ever met. Do I think this is a recipe for disaster? Damn straight. “Let’s just take this one day at a time.”
“I don’t understand,” he says, I can see the frustration in his eyes. “I like you, you like me…”
“Somebody dumps a random child on us and we’re a happy family?” I stammer. “I have my own shit to sort out. Me going public with my identity could put us all in danger, and I don’t want to subject your son to that.”
The front door swings open and Jesse just stands there, watching. I have a feeling this kid might save me from a lot of speaking my mind. Maybe that’s a good thing.
“Jesse, we were just talking about how you need some new clothes,” I say, “and you’re going to get your own bedroom so we have to figure out how you want to decorate it.
What do you like? Dinosaurs? Baseball?”
“Trucks!” he says.
“Well you have excellent taste,” I say. “Come on, let’s all go inside and get ready to go.”
“We’re finishing this discussion later,” Hank says, running his hand down my face. I blow him a sarcastic kiss and follow Jesse inside.
I finish getting dressed for the day and dab on a little make-up. Hank helps Jesse tie his sneakers, the ratty things looking like they’re a few sizes too big and about to fall apart. Hank grabs his backpack and keys.
“We have to stop by the shop,” he says. “I gotta drop some stuff off for Tank.”
I almost forgot about the fact that I was supposed to help out at the shop today. Almost. There was still a selfish little voice in the back of my mind whining about the fact that I could be playing with motorcycles all day and not playing fake future wife with Captain Impulsive over here.
We go to the front door, but Jesse stands there in the living room like a deer in headlights, his eyes filling up with tears.
“Come on, bud,” Hank says. “You like trucks?” he waves his keys.
“We need a booster seat for him,” I say. God, the list is never-ending.
He starts with that screeching scream again, just howling away. “Please don’t take me!” he shouts. “I want to stay here. Don’t make me go away.”
Hank scoops him up in his arms. “We’re coming back, I promise. We have to go to town and get you some new shoes so you can play outside. I’ll even take you for an ice cream cone if you want.”
“You need some toys, too, don’t you think?” I ask, grabbing a tissue and drying his eyes. “Maybe a truck just like your daddy’s?” I slap my hand over my mouth as soon as I say it.
“I don’t want my dad!” he screams. “No, no, no!” He burrows his head into Hank’s shoulder and flailing his limbs, in the throes of a full-blown temper tantrum.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth. Of course he doesn’t know Hank is his dad. Now the kid thinks we’re going to dump him off on whoever the hell he’s known as a father for his life.
“I’m staying here with Uncle Hank,” he demands.
“That’s fine. You guys stay here. I can go without you.” They both look so helpless, and hopefully soon, this kid will feel comfortable enough that we’re not going to abandon him that we can do stuff like this together.
Hank hands me a wad of cash from his pocket, way more than I’ll need, way more than I’ve probably ever carried at one time in my life, and the keys to his truck. He must not think I’m planning on running off anymore, because he just gave me the chance of a lifetime all wrapped up in a pretty bow.
“We still get ice cream, right?” Hank asks, pressing his lips to mine as I stuff the cash in my purse.
“Holy crap,” I say. “I don’t even know what flavor ice cream you like and you think I’m going to marry you?”
“It’s ice cream. It’s all good.”
“Well what about you, Jesse?” I ask.
“It’s all good,” he says.
Hank gives me a burner phone of his to take just in case I get in a jam and basic directions to the shop. I know my way around downtown well enough, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere alone. Being able to get into the truck and go to the store is one of the simplest things in the world, and yet, as they watch me pull out of the driveway, I feel insanely confused.
I could take off now with reckless abandon. I could be out of here. I could drive this truck for the next six hours and ditch it somewhere and nobody would know the difference. It’s my chance for a big escape.
And yet, nothing in me wants that. The only thing I want is to get downtown and find Jesse a little bed frame and a mattress. I want to get him a comforter with trucks all over it and a pair of sneakers and all the toys and clothes I can get my hands on.
Maybe he’s testing me. Maybe I’m being watched. Too bad I’m more than willing to pass that test. I roll down the windows and put on some country music. For the first time in a long time, I feel free.
***
“When’s she getting out? How’s she doing?” I ask Tank as I hand him the backpack. Olive should be getting out of jail sometime this afternoon.
“Hopefully soon. The girls are going to get her. I’m not allowed to talk to her, but Jimmy says she’s holding up ok. I’m a fucking wreck.” He’s tearing down an engine, and it takes everything in me not to jump in and help.
“Well, let me know if you need anything. I feel awful. When you talk to her, will you tell her to call me on Hank’s phone?”
He nods as he unzips the backpack and looks inside, digging around at the contents while I pretend not to look.
“From what I hear, you guys are going through your own shit storm right now. I always assumed old Goob had sworn off women for life. I definitely never thought he’d have kids. You really think it’s his?”
“I do,” I say.
“It’s nice of you to help him out. He’s kind of an odd duck. Doesn’t really like to let anybody in.”
I keep hearing that over and over again, from him, from his family, from his friends, but that’s not what I’m seeing in him. How he is with me when we’re alone, it seems like the exact opposite of that, especially after today’s new development.
“Yeah, well, I don’t mind. He’s really helping me out, too right now. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be starting all over again in some strange town.” I cover my mouth. I’ve probably said too much. He doesn’t even look up from the engine he’s fixing, though. “Hopefully we’ll both be down tomorrow to help you out at the shop.”
“Bring the kid,” he shrugs. “I don’t care.”
I really don’t know if I’m going to be able to pry the kid out of the house. It’s a whole new set of complications that I have no idea how to cope with, but we’ll just have to take it one day at a time.
I drive off to the mall next. This town is small, and I can tell by the empty parking lot that this place doesn’t get a lot of action, but I’m sure I’ll be able to find what I need to get Jesse’s room started and at least get him some stuff to play with and get him dressed. I can’t believe how little his mother had for him. If I had a kid of my own, especially one as sweet as Jesse, I’d be showering him in toys and buying him new clothes every day. He’d be a spoiled brat. Maybe that’s what Aunt Stacy’s are for.
My first stop is one of those everything stores. I know it’s going to be an effort to get this kid to sleep in his own room, and when I come across a bed frame that has panels on it to make it look like a truck, I think I’m onto something. I finish checking out, and the man at the store helps me wheel the cart out through the parking lot to the truck and load it up into the bed.
The cell phone rings in my purse, and I take it out, not recognizing the number on the screen.
Duh. It’s a burner phone. Plus, I don’t have any numbers memorized. It’s probably Hank just checking in from the house phone.
“Hello?” I say into the phone.
The voice on the other line isn’t one I’ve heard before. It sounds like an older man with a loud wheeze. He can barely say hello back without hacking his lungs out.
“Who is this?” he barks.
“Who is this?” I ask, not really sure what the protocol is here. I don’t know who has this number. I don’t even know who I am.
“Why do you have my son’s phone?”
It must be Hank’s father. I don’t know much about the man except that no one has anything kind to say about him, but then again, nobody really talks about him much. I know he doesn’t have anything to do with the club anymore. Why? I never asked.
“I’m just borrowing it. Do you want me to give him a message?”
“I just drove by the mall and saw the truck parked there. Figured he might want to go out to lunch and catch up or something.”
I feel a chill go through my body. I’ve never met the man before, and yet something in his voice tell
s me he’s scary. I feel the evil oozing through the phone. The fact that he might be watching me makes me really nervous.
“I’m sorry, I think I’m losing service,” I lie, sprinting back inside the mall. I don’t want him to see me near the truck. I have a feeling this is a man I don’t want to meet. “I’ll give him the message.”
I hang up the phone and tuck it back in my purse, my hands shaking.
You’re being paranoid, I tell myself. Who cares if he’s watching you? He doesn’t know you from dirt, and you’re in a public place. You’re not back home. You’re safe. You’re fine.
I chant these things over and over in my mind, but they aren’t comforting to me. Every step I take, I’m looking over my shoulder. As I browse a rack of tennis shoes, I swear I feel the hair on my arms standing up. Something isn’t right here.
Chapter 22
Hank:
“What do you think, Jesse?” I ask as he sits on the edge of the bathtub and watches my every move. “Should I leave it like this?”
He starts laughing so hard I worry he might fall on the floor and smack his head off the tile. I figured I should take what Jimmy said to heart just to be on the safe side and clean my act up a little bit. The long blond hair and scraggly beard might be my signature look, but if I have to go to court and talk to Children and Youth Services, I need to look like I’m the kind of guy who can take care of this kid better than his junkie mother.
That shit’s not right now though. Right now, I have a pretty awesome mohawk going, and apparently it’s the funniest thing Jesse’s ever seen in his life.
“My turn!” he squeals, jumping up and trying to grab the electric razor from me.
“How ’bout you let me do it,” I say. He needs a haircut anyway. “You gotta sit perfectly still.”