The aging car radio crackles under the strain of the weakened signal the farther we get from town. Fort Bragg doesn’t have any good radio stations, but that doesn’t stop us from turning on the radio and trying anyway. It’s sad really. You would think we would have learned by now.
The news personality, whose name I don’t even know, blabs on and on about the fucking weather like it’s some big surprise that it’s raining in Mendocino County in winter. Frustrated, I reach over and change the station, hoping for something more entertaining. There are few choices, and even fewer that sound appealing, but one word catches my attention, and I dial back to hear the story.
Sure enough, the station is delivering a news report, too, but this one is far more interesting than the last one about the rain. The whiny newscaster voice chirps through my Bug’s speakers, but I push through the annoyance because just a moment ago he said the name Darren Jennings.
“Quoting an unnamed source who reached out to us earlier today, ‘the attack on Darren Jennings appeared to have come out of nowhere, but without a statement from the police department, our community is forced to assume it was a gang-related attack, possibly in retaliation for Jennings’s father’s supposed gambling debt.’ Again, this statement is coming from an unnamed source in the community. Rumors have circled our small town since Darren Jennings was admitted to Coast Hospital last summer. While the police appeared to have a few leads initially, they have since reported no further progress in determining who is behind the former football star’s attack. St. Mary’s Catholic Church has asked on behalf of Jennings’s absent family that the people Fort Bragg continue to keep an eye out for suspicious activity and an open heart for the grief the Jennings family is suffering.”
They’re not reporting anything I haven’t heard already. Two days ago, I was left alone at Duke and Nic’s house while the three of them took Robin to the hospital for a supposed fever. But when they got back, Nick said it was just gas. I don’t know anything about babies, but even I know you can’t possibly confuse a fever with gas. Later that night, when the news reported that Darren Jennings had been found in his hospital room with a needle of methamphetamine pumped into his stomach, I knew it was the club. And I didn’t give a shit. That bastard hurt Nic, and he tried to hurt Robin. I may not be a brother, but I am Forsaken. That means he hurt my family, and fuck him if he expects any sympathy.
I want to ask Jeremy about Darren, but I don’t dare. He seems freaked. He did well to shower right after he came back from the hospital, and then he basically forbid me to even ask what happened. I wanted to press the issue, but he just crawled into bed with me and held me as if his life depended on it. Later that night, when he had fallen asleep, I lay awake, restless and fearful. That’s the worst part of being a woman in this world. We can ask questions and even beg for answers, but if the club doesn’t want to give them, they won’t. And there’s nothing we can do about that. Sometimes, it feels like I’m being punished by straddling the edge of the world but never been fully welcomed into it.
I choose this, I tell myself. Because I do. I choose Jeremy. I don’t regret it, even when he flops around for hours, struggling to find peace and refusing to tell me why he is so troubled. I suppose if it is this difficult for him to deal with, then I should respect his wishes and let him have his privacy.
So when we pull up to Ruby and Jim’s house and Jeremy cuts the car, I lean over and place a kiss on his cheek. I don’t really have to say anything to let them know that I’m here.
I climb out of the car and head directly for the house, but Jeremy doesn’t follow. He wanders off toward Ryan and Squat for some kind of crazy intense conversation that I want no part of. So instead, I sneak into the house through the sliding glass door that opens into the hallway near Alex’s room. I don’t think I’m supposed to know that, but the brothers are a bunch of chatty bitches. I figure if Jeremy is busy, then maybe I can actually hang out with Alex for a few minutes. We have been friends long enough but have never actually hung out. It’s kind of sad, really.
I close the door behind me and tiptoe down the hall but pause at the sound of a familiar gruff voice. Dad.