by Jaci J
“I’ve been looking for you for a while now.” Knew that was coming. “I’ve got to take you in.”
No point in fightin’ him. If I’m gonna take care of this shit, now would be the time. I look at Gin and give him a chin lift. He knows. He returns it and pulls off. They’ll come back for my bike.
“Alright. Looks like we’ll be spendin’ some time together then, huh Sheriff?”
“Turn the bike off and put your hands behind your back, Roman.”
“Sure, as long as I can ride shotgun on the way to county.”
12
Positive
Lil
“Holy fuckin’ shit. Read it again.” I shake my head holding the offensive little life changer away from me. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” My stomach rolls, and a cold sweat dots my brow. I feel faint. Why? Why? Why? Someone somewhere hates me. Like, really fucking hates me.
“Girl, you throw up, I’ll throw up.” Peaches warns me from the bathroom counter.
“Try another one, doll,” Lailah encourages softly from beside me. She’s rubbing small circles on my back, trying to comfort me, but it’s not working and I’m still freaking the fuck out. Cali is going through plastic bags and tearing open boxes like a mad woman.
“You fuckin’ try one.” I tell Peaches.
“Babe, already did. It’s all you.” Yeah I’m going to throw up. Sticking my head back into the toilet, I dry heave some more. My stomach squeezes and my body shakes. Why?
“This can’t be happening.” I groan into the toilet.
“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” Those are some famous last words if I’ve ever heard any. I think I just need to lay down.
The four of us lay on Peaches giant bed. I lie down and listen to them tell me how things will be okay, we’ll figure it out. They make plans and figure things out for me. We work through point A to Z. I can’t see past that stupid blue line. Oh fuck I think I might throw up again. I can’t be pregnant. I haven’t had sex in months.
“I’m like, almost three months pregnant.” I damn near cry. Now I want to throw up again.
I haven’t seen or spoken with Tank in a few months. I haven’t heard anything about him either. No one brings him up and everyone avoids the topic of us. Everyone just stopped talking about him completely around me.
I think about him constantly. I miss him so much. It’s like I’m missing the most important part of myself. Everything I do makes me think of him. I stayed away from home for almost a month, but it didn’t do a goddamn thing to help. I still fucking missed him, even though I still kinda hate him.
I stayed at my Uncles for three weeks after I left. It helped a little. It helped to be around new faces and a different scenery. Sammy, Trace, Tyler, and the guys kept me occupied and busy. I then spent a week with Cali and Peaches in the city. We did some major retail therapy. We ate expensive food at some of the best restaurants in the city, we pampered ourselves with various highly priced spa treatments. That too kept me distracted, but it was only momentarily. My happiness was short lived and in sporadic intervals at best. No matter what I did, Tank was always there in the back of my mind. I wish things could have been different.
When I got back into town, I rented a town house in town, about thirty minutes from the club. I needed to start putting shit back together and keep my life moving forward. As much as it killed me to do this without Tank, I had to for my own sanity. I couldn’t give up, so I picked up a few classes at the college and continued tutoring Lailah. I spent some much needed time with my girls. Gin comes by and usually brings one of the guys with him so I visit with them that way and they bring any important paperwork I need to keep up with club shit. I talk to my dad every few days and I visit when I can. I left the club that day and I haven’t been back since. Right now, I don’t think I could ever go back there, in that office, even if I wanted to.
“We should make you an appointment.” Lailah says softly as I stare at the wall.
“You really think you’re that far along? Is it? … Oh Jesus.” Peaches asks me. She almost looks like she might be sick too. Oh fuck me.
“Seriously Peaches? I haven’t had sex with anyone but Tank, and yeah, it’s been that fuckin’ long.” What the fuck was she thinking with such a stupid fucking question.
“Well fuck,” Peaches grumbles. Cali actually looks excited. If I wasn’t having an emotional breakdown, I’d slap that sappy look right off her face.
“What the fuck am I gonna do about Tank?”
****
The doctors words echo in my head. They just float around in my numb mind, around more numbness. This cannot be real.
“You are most definitely pregnant. I’d say almost eleven weeks. Congratulations.” She said with an elated smile. To my doctor, this is fantastic news. Shit couldn’t be better news to her. To me? Not so much. For me this is life altering news; Life changing shit. Eleven weeks. Eleven fucking weeks. How the fuck did I let this happen? God we weren’t even having sex regularly. We’re not even good. We haven’t spoken in forever. What the hell am I going to do?
I sat in the parking lot of the doctor’s office for three hours Googling all things baby related. Labor, Braxton Hicks, stretch marks, diaper rash cream, cord blood, car seats, amniotic fluid, colic, all words I’ve heard, but never given much thought to before now. Now I’m neck deep in everything baby and I think I might be sick again and I feel a panic attack coming on. There’s a baby inside of me. I’m going to be a mom. My baby is growing in there. It has legs and arms, it has hair, and it even moves around in there. Holy fucking shit, there’s a baby in there.
The last few weeks I’ve been tired and not feeling so great, but I chalked all that up to stress. Shit hasn’t been easy these past few months, but I would have never pinned it on a baby until Peaches put that shit in my head. She filled my head with worry until I gave in and peed on that stick. And fuck, she was right.
Laying my hand on my stomach, I let it sink in. That’s my little baby in there. I tell myself that I will figure this out. Whatever it is, I’ll push through it, just like I always do. We’ll be okay ‘cause I’ll take care of us, but I’ve gotta tell Tank. No matter what’s happened, he should know. It’s only right. Whether he wants it or not, I’m keeping it and I’ll take care of my little person.
****
Sitting at the club, I stare at Stitch like he’s lost his fucking mind because I’m really starting to think he has. They all have. He’s being so goddamn evasive it isn’t even funny.
“So you have no idea where he is?” I let the baby news sink in for a few days before I decided Tank needed to know. I called him. I called for three days to no avail. I went by his place, I waited at his place, but I got nothing. I left a note on his door, but still got nothing. I was starting to think he was avoiding me so I tried the only place I knew he’d be, the club. So here I am like a fucking loser, hitting up everyone, looking for my baby daddy.
“No sis. Told ya I don’t.” I find that hard to believe. He’s the fucking acting President. No one seems to know shit about him. He’s disappeared, just like that nasty gash bitch Trix? Coincidence? I don’t fucking think so.
“When’s the last time you saw him then? What about his nasty slut Trix?” He shrugs his shoulders and looks away as he starts picking at the label on his beer bottle.
“A shrug ain’t gonna work with me Stitch.” I want to tell Stitch it’s important, but he’ll ask why and I can’t tell him yet.
“Don’t worry ‘bout her anymore babe. Bitch won’t be back. She got handled.” I don’t push more on Trix. He said she was handled, then she was handled. Plus, I really don’t give a fuck about her. I have bigger and more important things to deal with right now.
“You really got no fuckin’ clue where he is?”
“Why?” he counters. “You need somethin’, I’ll help.”
I can’t tell him, although I want to. It’s bad enough Peaches, Cali, and Lailah know before Tank. A part of me feels i
t’s only fair he knows before everyone else.
“I just need to talk to him. How longs it been since you’ve seen him?” I try everything and I’ve asked everyone.
“A while,” he says shortly. A while? That’s pretty fucking vague. I know that’s all he’s going to give me. Fuck.
“Whatever. If you talk to him, will you please tell him to find me?”
Kissing my forehead, he looks a little skeptical but says, “Sure thing sis.”
****
“Imma tell you where he is, only ‘cause I fuckin’ hate seeing this shit.” Rampage growls from the couch looking uncomfortable as I cry. He’s sitting as far away from me as possible without it being completely obvious. He won’t look at me and he looks antsy. It’s been two weeks and I can’t reach Tank. He’s nowhere. I tried everyone and no one would be straight with me. I’m always getting the run around and no one’s stories match up. If and when I can get some sort of answer from someone, they’re always half-assed and a bunch of bullshit. I feel like I’m losing my mind.
Finally I called Rampage in tears. I’d run out of options and people. He was my last hope. And no matter what, Rampage is always straight with me.
“Please, I’m fuckin’ desperate. Like a fuckin’ loser, I’ve tried everything and no one will help me.” Giving me a small smile he nods gruffly.
“He’s in county babe. Been in there for a few months now.” My heart stops. I feel all that stuffed down anger float to the surface. He’s in jail? He’s been there this whole fucking time, all while I stress and worry. I’m sitting here crying like a mess and he’s in county.
He’s in jail and no one thought I should know? Not a goddamn one of them thought to tell me? He never thought to tell me? What the fuck is wrong with everyone?
“What the fuck did he do?” Shaking his head, he looks me in the eyes and says, “Ya know I can’t tell ya that babe. Club business. He wants to tell ya, then that’s his business.” Suddenly telling Tank about the baby doesn’t seem like a good idea.
“Why the fuck wouldn’t anyone tell me?”
“He didn’t want you to know.” Rampage says sadly. He didn’t want me to know? “Why?” He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulder.
“Don’t know sis.”
So like an idiot, I still tried to reach out to him, again. I don’t know, probably because I’m a glutton for punishment or I could just be desperately stupid. I’m overwhelmed with the thought of having a baby. I don’t need him to like it, I just need him to know it, so he can decide if he wants to be a part of my baby’s life and I can prepare myself for his answer.
At first I tried to send letters, but they’d be sent back unopened. I tried to call, but he won’t speak with me. I even went and visited to only be turned away. He wouldn’t even see me. I wanted to tell him about the baby even after he didn’t tell me he was in county. I still thought he should know.
Not now. Now I don’t care if he knows or not. He doesn’t care enough about me to even tell me that he was in jail. He won’t even see me, take my calls, open my letters. Fuck him. I guess he’s finally got what he wanted; rid of me. I’m okay with that so fuck him. He doesn’t deserve to have me or my baby in his life.
So I was sad, and then I was mad, maybe a little sad and mad again before I got reasonable. I had to stop thinking with my heart and emotions and start thinking with my head. I thought long and hard about it. I agonized for so many sleepless nights over it. I’ve looked at the negative and positive, and I’ve looked at all sides. I think its best right now if Tank doesn’t know about the baby. With all the shit he went through, and now the whole jail thing, I don’t need that in my life. I don’t need it in my baby’s life. Call it selfish, inconsiderate, or whatever you want, but I’ve got to think about the baby. I can’t have all that bad shit in our lives right now, or ever. I need to focus on my baby and me. I’ll tell Tank at some point. I won’t keep the baby from him, but I also have the responsibly to keep my child safe, happy, and healthy, and right now I don’t think Tank can contribute to that, especially with my sanity. He has too much shit to work through. He needs to fix himself before meeting my baby.
13
Bars
Tank
This place is depressing as fuck. It’s sad and lonely and I’m stuck in this tiny ass, six-by-eight foot brick walled room for twenty-two hours a day. I see day light one hour a fucking day, the other is spent in general population. The bed is terrible with its thin mattress and one blanket. It fucking blows. The food’s disgusting. I try not to go crazy in here, but it’s pretty hard. I’m too fucking big for a room this size. I feel caged. Fuck, I am caged. Not a goddamn thing to do in here but workout, read, and think.
I’m alone in here. The corrections officer said, and I quote, “Roman is a risk to room with other prisoners with his gang affiliations.” Guess I’m a fucking gang member now. Don’t remember joining a gang, but I’m good with not sharing a room so it’s a win/win. It’s not like I’m going to go crazy and start a riot or kill everyone, but I’d rather do my time alone than with some asshole I don’t fucking like. I prefer the solitude to the drama of a celly anyway.
I spend all day thinking about Lil in this tiny ass room. She’s all I think about while stuck in hell. God, I’d kill to be out of here and with her. A few weeks ago I heard she was looking for me. That shit made this place worse knowing she was out there needing me and I’m stuck in this fucking place. There’s not a goddamn thing I can do for her in here and I fucking hate it.
She’d sent me letters and I couldn’t bring myself to open them. She called too. I don’t deserve that shit right now. I don’t know if I could handle reading or hearing her voice yet. That shit’s like a drug to me. One taste and I’ll need more. Best to cut it cold turkey.
She came by here and I couldn’t see her. It would fucking kill me, eat me alive to be able to see her and not fucking touch her. That’s my girl and I’ll be goddamned if someone tells me to keep my hands off her. I can’t bring myself to see my baby while in here. I also don’t want her to see me like this. She doesn’t need this shit on top of all the other shit I put on her. This is my mess and I’m dealing with it.
I fucking miss her. I miss her like nothing I’ve ever missed before, but one week and I’m out of this fucking place and I’ll be working hard as fuck to get my woman back. While I’m in here, I let shit settle and I work on ways to fix shit once I’m home. I work on pulling myself together enough to get Lil back home with me.
****
Flicking my headlights off, I duck down in my seat. Sitting in my truck around the corner, I’m stalking these motherfuckers like some dumb fuck. I’m tired of the bullshit, tall tales everyone’s been feeding me since I got home.
Been out for three days and all I can get are shoulder shrugs and stories from everyone. No one seems to know where my girl is. I find it hard to believe she was here looking for me and now she’s magically gone when I come back. I know one of those motherfuckers know where she is. If they think they can hide her from me, then they are fucking crazy.
No one’s gonna give it up, so I’m gonna find it out for myself. They underestimate my ability to find shit out. I’m like a goddamn detective, so I followed Gin and Rampage. I want my baby back and I’ll do what the fuck ever it’s gonna take. I’m not going down without a fight this time. She better come out swinging if she wants me to back off.
My two asshole brothers pull out of a complex of town houses in town, both of them splitting off in opposite directions. No fucking clue what or who is in this place, but I’ve seen Peaches, Cali, and the two morons come and go from here. These motherfuckers wouldn’t all be coming to the same place for nothin’. There’s only one person who’d bring the club in like that. Lil.
Hopping out of my truck, I walk toward the place. I left my bike at the club ‘cause I’m not trying to get caught being a fuckin’ creep. I didn’t spent two days working this shit out to only have my bike get my ass caught.
They’ve all been coming from the one on the end. It’s the place with the white front door and flowers on the porch. I feel like a fucking psycho doing this sort of shit, but I’ve gotta know. I’ll do what the fuck ever it takes. Lil was looking for me, so she must need something. I need to know what it was now that I’m out.
Walking down the sidewalk, I work my way through the complex. It’s dark and cold outside tonight. The only light is coming from the street lamps above. Walking up the steps to the front door, I pull my gun. I have no clue what I’ll find inside so better to be prepared than to be shot.
Squatting down, I pick the lock. Thirty seconds and I’m in. That lock was a fucking joke. I find out this is Lil’s place with a lock like that, I’m gonna beat the fuck outta Gin for letting her stay in a place with a lock that took thirty seconds to break into.
Pushing the front door open, the lights are killed. It’s silent and dark inside. Looking around I don’t see anything, nothing that even looks familiar. I walk through a living room with a kitchen attached and I don’t see shit that says Lil. The place is void of any personal items and the furnishings are sparse.
The first floor is empty. Hitting the stairs, I head up to the second floor. Walking lightly, trying to be quiet, I look through open doors into empty rooms. A light on at the end of the hall has my attention. Walking to the end of the hall, I look around the corner. What I find stops me dead in my fucking tracks. I feel like the breath has been kicked the fuck out of me.
Fuck I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her so goddamn much it hurts just to look at her.
Three raised scars on her tan back,that long, soft dark hair is wet and pulled over her shoulder. I follow that smooth back down to the curve of her ass to the tattoo I want to lick. Jesus Christ, I missed her. I’d know her from anyone. She doesn’t even have to look at me, I know that’s my woman. I feel her all the way down to my bones, and they fucking ache for her. The need is almost too much to handle. I take a few steps into the room, needing to be closer to her.