“Don’t do that,” I say, letting my head fall into my hands. I’m worn out and figuring that it’s just not worth the fight. As much as I want to do right by the kid, there’s only so much I can do. In less than a year he’ll be eighteen and my guardianship will be over. The only thing I’ll have then is the roof over his head and the fact that we’re the only family each other has. When Butch-- Jeremy’s biological dad, and my step-dad-- went down for something club-related back when I was in high school, we ended up living with the club president and his wife. It didn’t last long though and the president managed to get social services off our asses and me and Jeremy back into our own home. Now, looking at my brother, with all his attitude and arrogance, I can’t remember why I wanted to take this on myself.
Rounding the table, he walks up behind me and kisses the top of my head, saying, “Love you, Sis.”
“No more fighting?” I say, lifting my head and tilting it back to meet his eyes. His eyes are a navy blue that he’s used to melt the panties off more than one of his female peers.
“No more fighting,” he says, backing up into the living room and then turning and walking into his room. I know it’s bullshit, but it’s better than nothing. If I can just keep him off the principal’s radar for the remainder of summer session, he might be able to graduate on time next spring.
Pushing up from the table, I cross the kitchen to my purse atop the counter by the stove, and pull out my small compact mirror. Checking my makeup for signs of wear, I make sure I don’t look half as much of a mess as I feel. I powder my nose and then shove the compact back in my bag and rush out of the house. I’m a total disaster with my bleached blonde hair as messy as ever and my makeup half worn-off. The only thing worse than the way I look right now is the way I feel.
Jeremy’s going to be home for the rest of the week doing God only knows what, but I don’t have that luxury. I have to get back to work and explain to my boss why I had another family emergency.
I lock up the small ranch house Jeremy and I share and take a look up at the sky overhead. The cool air hits my exposed skin, leaving faint droplets of condensation behind. Rushing to my car, an old Toyota Corolla, I yank the driver side door open and slam it behind me before I get too wet. It can’t be above sixty outside and I’m wearing a low-cut black tank top and tight ripped jeans. I’d grab a sweater, but business has been slow this week and I need the tips, especially after missing half of my shift this morning to deal with damn teenage shit.
The engine grumbles to life as reluctant as ever. She’s on her way out, I can tell, but she’s got to hang in a few more years until I can figure something out with my brother. I make a mental note to take her by the shop in Willits. Hopefully she makes it that far without issue. Backing out of the driveway she practically wheezes, then makes a grinding sound as I cut the wheel. I grit my teeth at the thought of having to take her to the shop in town— the only shop in town— Forsaken Custom Cycle.
I haven’t been on Forsaken property in almost two months— not since the night I decided it would be totally cool to act like an idiot and sleep with Duke. Not since he all but claimed me, something most Lost Girls pray for, and then totally disappeared. Not that I give a shit-- or rather-- not that I’m trying not to give a shit. He’s been back in town from wherever he went for weeks now. I’ve seen him ride by Universal Grounds enough times just like he always has. He never stops in, never checks on me. I spent weeks making up excuses for why he’s been absent-- weeks where I let myself think that bullshit where he claimed my pussy was anything more than punishment for making him wait so long. But now I’m done and fuck him.
He knows where I live, and he knows where I work, and still-- nothing. Like a moron, me believing him, and him being Duke and being untrustworthy, I should have seen this coming. But no. Like a moron I avoided the clubhouse because the Old Ladies don’t spend much time at the clubhouse. It seemed like the right thing to do, if I was going to take myself off the market. And even though I knew it was going to hurt when he eventually got tired of me, I set myself up for the prospect of spending more time in Duke’s bed, and maybe even a little time on the back of his bike. But he never showed up and now I’m left with a bad case of embarrassment.
I make the drive through the straight-up blue collar residential side of town and into downtown in less time than I’d like. I’ve tried to consider the best course of action in explaining my continual disappearances to my boss, but so far, I’ve got nothing. It’s not easy having to apologize for your fuck ups again and again.