Squatting down, I play with the sand too. Her long dark hair is a mess, but I don't know how to style it the way my mom did mine. I can't even work it successfully into a ponytail like I do with my long brown hair. Reaching out to run my fingers through her soft locks, I sense movement.
I think fast and grab Lula. From the corner of my eye, I see Perri and Flora panicking, but they can't help me.
"You're coming with us," says one of the purple Mohawk teenagers.
"F U C K off," I say, spelling my cuss word for Lula's benefit.
"I really only need you," he says, pointing the gun at my baby's head.
My mind imagines him pulling the trigger and all the light in Lula's dark eyes vanishing. In an instant, I suffer in a world where she no longer laughs. My heart dies a little at just the thought of my baby gone forever.
Seeing her already dead, I gasp, "No, please."
"Then get up and come with us, bitch."
Tears burning my eyes, I pick up a shaking Lula. "Where are we going?"
"No questions. Just hurry the fuck up."
Believing in my heart that he'll hurt Lula, I walk with him. I glance back at my friends and see them collecting their kids. Other moms are doing the same. Many of them are dialing their cells. I know the suburban broads are calling the cops, but Perri is calling for help from the real power in Little Memphis.
2
Pax
Superman is a Schmuck
I can paint a red "S" on my chest and strap on a cape, but it won't make me a hero.
As a killer for the Little Memphis Motorcycle Club, I take lives instead of saving them. I'm not all bad and treat my asshole brother Ford pretty good. I'm a lover and a fighter, but I don't do good deeds. Well, unless going down on a chick counts.
Hero or not, I'm the one who gets the call to save Bebe and her kid.
If his dick didn't do his thinking these days, Ford would be at my side. Instead, he's playing at an out-of-town hotel complete with water slides and other lame shit. I blame his new woman, Shay, who's turned him soft. Hell, I can only imagine how annoying they must be right that moment. Kissing and giggling like horny turds. Well, maybe not too horny since Shay's younger brothers, Donnie and Devin, are with them. Still damn annoying, I'm sure.
With them out of town, waiting for Ford isn't an option. The guy who grabbed Bebe and her kid is a freaky jack-of-all-trades. Pimp, dealer, collector of teenagers with purple Mohawks, he doesn't want Bebe for a friendly chat.
I drive to the asshole's house alone, but my club brothers aren't taking the day off. Our club VP, Joker, is making moves and calling in our loyal guys to make sure I don't end up dead. Even appreciating the backup, I'd walk into hostile territory alone to save Bebe.
The chick is hot, leaving me hard for her for months. My club brother Taco says Bebe has almond-shaped eyes. They remind me more of cat eyes than nuts, but I dig them. They're soft when they look at me. Even when I piss her off by saying something stupid, which happens on occasion, her eyes never get mean. She thinks I'm funny, and I think she's hot. Why we haven't hooked up yet, I don't know. If I had to guess, the reason is a tiny version of Bebe who cock-blocks me at every turn.
No way do I want to think of the kid inside Taz's pervert den. Imagining her and Bebe scared or hurt will send me into a rage. Hell, I don't need to be a hero to know going into a dangerous situation with wild-bitch emotions never saves anyone.
So I don't feel. I barely even think. Nothing to think about anyway. Taz is just another weirdo I face in my line of work. He has a group of idiot followers who think he's god. I also heard he's really into LEGOs.
Scratch that. He's a big Transformers fan.
Two teenage boys with purple Mohawks escort me into a narrow, white house on a run-down street deep inside the West Side of Little Memphis. They demand me to hand over my weapons. When I say nothing and don't hand over shit, they just walk me into the living room, where Taz sits in a big, purple recliner.
He's in his mid-twenties and sports a purple Mohawk. Barely restraining my smirk at his stupid hair, I instead frown at the nipple rings shining at me from his Transformers tatted chest. I tear my gaze away from his man-tits to glance at where more teenagers sit on the floor and smoke pot. On the bookshelves are Transformers dolls. The guy has Transformers posters framed on his wall. If he wasn't a pimp, the freak would likely never get laid.
"I'm here for Bebe Green," I say when no one speaks.
"She's mine."
"How do you figure?" I ask, crossing my arms.
The Mohawk flock shifts uneasily, thinking my arms crossing is a sign of aggression. The idiots should be more worried about when my hands rest near my weapons.
"Wolfman owes me," Taz says. "He's getting out of prison soon and making things square. The chick and her kid are my payment."
Whenever I think of hairy-as-fuck Wolfman ever touching the prettier-than-pretty Bebe, I get a little nauseous. She's too damn hot for that guy. Too good in every single fucking way, but they share a history that's shitting all over the present.