“Just another minute,” I say in a shaky voice.
Last night the possibility of being pregnant wasn’t so scary, because Duke was suffering some kind of crisis and he needed me. But now that he’s back to being pushy and bossy, I’m thinking more clearly. And thinking more clearly when I’m holding a positive pregnancy test in my hands pretty much equates to me freaking the fuck out because I’m so not ready for this shit. This was never something I thought I wanted, but now that it’s here, a tiny part of me thinks I might want it. A piece of Duke and me together—bossy and mouthy, and stubborn as can be—makes fear-induced spinning stop. And I think… maybe? I don’t know. Maybe I could do this right. But maybe I can’t, and the thought of fucking up an entire human being is terrifying.
My mother was a club favorite for another club somewhere south of here in the Bay Area, and that’s how she ended up with me. When she met the man who became my dad—Butch Whelan—she was supposed to stop that shit. Even after she’d had Jeremy and taken on the domestic role, she was still wild as all get out. It didn’t seem to matter that my dad would come home every night and tuck both me and my brother into bed before he headed back out. It didn’t seem to matter that he put a roof over her head and food in her belly and gave her enough spending money that she could blow on stupid porcelain dolls from QVC. None of that seemed to matter. She’s a whore who likes a whore’s lifestyle, and because of that she couldn’t handle the mommy role, nor could she handle the wife role—and she left. From what she told me about my grandmother before she split, my grandmother left her, too. I don’t know what caused that, but if genes have anything to do with it, I’d be willing to bet that dear old grandma was a whore, too. And whores have no business raising kids. So instead of perpetuating the cycle, I’d decided to take myself out of the loop. Or, I thought I had. But now?
Nothing makes sense, but nothing’s spinning.
Duke’s heavy boots clop against the carpeted floor as he paces outside the bathroom. It was almost ten minutes ago when I told him I had to pee real quick. I knew what I was coming in here to do, I just couldn’t handle the ‘what if’ anymore. His boots stop at the door and he throws his knuckles against it again and jiggles the handle.
“What are you doing, taking a shit?” he asks, his tone on edge. My face heats even though I’m not doing what he’s accused me of, and I take one last look at the positive test and toss it in the garbage.
“You’re so fucked,” I whisper, placing my hand on my flat stomach, then I curse myself for the action. I can’t let myself get too attached to this just yet. Duke might not want this, and if he doesn’t want it, I won’t have it. I had a dad who left me and my mom when I was little, then I had a mom who left. The only one who stuck around was a guy who didn’t have to. But he did, and despite how much my dad loved me—formally adopting me and giving me his last name—there’s still a hole there where my mom used to be. Not being wanted fucks people up, and I refuse to do that to my kid. Duke knows that—he wasn’t wanted by his dad, and he’s spent his entire life trying like hell to fit into the only family he’s ever known—the club. It’s selfish to have a kid and give it the job of keeping its parents together. I can’t do that.
And it’s not like I’ve done very well with Jeremy on my own. We had a meeting with his principal that lasted over an hour last week. Apparently, he’s failing his summer class and has no chance of catching up. To make matters worse, he now has Saturday school the next three weekends in a row for telling his teacher to eat a bag of dicks. The principal couldn’t tell me exactly what Jeremy was reacting to, but I could guess. The boy pretty much mouthed off about anything and everything—still, telling his teacher to eat a bag of dicks was kind of an extreme situation. Duke seems to think I’m wearing rose colored glasses when it comes to Jeremy, and maybe I am. He’s a total shit head, but he’s still my brother and I can’t help but wonder if other people are provoking him sometimes. Even though my heart’s in the right place, I’m still screwing him up at every turn.
I check my reflection in the mirror above the sink and quickly braid my hair for the ride to Jim and Ruby’s house. It was probably poor timing to take the test right before we’re leaving, but oh well. After I’d calmed down about Chief last night, I told Duke I wanted to see Alex. I may not know her all that well, but she’s one of the few friends I have who doesn’t know my every dirty little secret.