Born to Ride_A Clubhouse Collection

chapter 5 ~ Ryder

If anyone knew how unfair life was, it was Max. And me. Born on the wrong side of the tracks to a wild-child mother was a tough life for any kid.

Marianne Knox got knocked up before she turned sweet sixteen.

She was a pretty runaway teenager who lived a carefree life as a rock band groupie—with no fixed address and no ambition in life other than to be a hippy. My father could have been any one of the band members she was sleeping with.

Free love, peace, smoking weed and rock concerts were what filled her days. Unlike most other hussies who fell pregnant, her sweet, easy-going nature ensured that she was taken care of by the band. Marianne was their lucky charm. Especially after they wrote a song about her, which went straight to number one, and put the band on the international map.

The contracts and the money rolled in. It ensured that Marianne and her offspring always had a place to stay, even though it was a constantly moving home, because they were usually traveling the country—from one concert venue to another.

Spreading her own unique brand of love and peace, the band members shared her loving. Even when her belly was round and she couldn’t give them much more than a blowjob in return for a place to sleep, and food in her stomach.

She took care of the band member’s needs, and in return they accepted her bastard child as their own. Since she was underage, not one of them wanted to claim being my father; instead they took turns to look after me when they needed Marianne to service one of them.

Most days she walked around with me on her hip, humming a tune, with a sweet smile on her face. Everything worked out well for her. She even managed to breastfeed me for a full eleven months before one of the guys refused to share her tits with me any longer.

That was when she fell pregnant with Max. Same scenario: father unknown. The only thing that was certain, was that we were definitely not fathered from the same loins. Max and I couldn’t be more different. I was labelled the grumpy one, serious and brooding. My eyebrows were permanently knitted into a frown and I learned to scowl before I could walk.

Max was the “sunshine boy”, always happy and smiling and cooing his way into everyone’s heart. As he grew older, his blue eyes and blond curls softened the heart of every female within a thirty foot radius. My scowl became permanent as Max got away with just about anything.

Yet even I couldn’t help loving the little shit. As much as I wanted to hate him for stealing the limelight, Max had a heart so generous and forgiving, he epitomised loving freely and unconditionally. He was every inch Marianne’s baby.

Actually, a paternity test in Max’s case was quite unnecessary. It was clear as daylight who his father was. The lead singer of the band, Jake, had the exact same eyes and features as Max, down to the slightly crooked Romanesque nose. Both were left-handed and walked with the same swagger. Like father like son.

I always got the feeling that Marianne was in love with Max’s dad, and that he was the real reason she stayed with the band for so long. But because Jake was married, she only got to sleep with him on tour. Whenever the tour bus got back to Los Angeles, I noticed the sadness in her eyes as he went back to his home and family for the duration of our stay. It was then that we shacked up with any one of the three other guys who weren’t in a serious relationship at the time.

Any one of them could have fathered me. They were all tall, dark haired men.

Yet only Tiny, the six foot three, hard muscled drummer, had eyes the color of mine. Steel grey. Usually he was high, sniffing white powder up his nose with a rolled hundred dollar bill. Sometimes he’d give the bill to Marianne once he’d finished snorting with it. And the fact that she always used that money to buy something I needed, further convinced me that it was more than a hunch that Tiny had indeed fathered me.

It turned out that Tiny was aggressive as all hell when he came down from a high, so Max and I were kept out of his way. He was angry most of the time and I often heard him and Marianne scream at one another through the curtain that separated us in the bus. He kept on telling her that she was his woman and that he didn’t want to see her sleeping in anyone else’s bed.

Every muscle in my body coiled when I heard him say that. My chest grew so tight that I could hardly breathe. I wanted to jump up and punch him, because my mom was mine and Max’s—nobody else’s.

Luckily she told him no. She said she wasn’t in love with him. That’s when he said nasty things about Jake, which only made my mom cry and tell Tiny she hated him. He’d hit her, then he’d call me and Max ‘little bastards’ and her a whore and laugh, his voice thick with anger.

The last time they had an argument was when Max was only eight and a half years old. It was a week before my birthday, and Marianne had asked Tiny for money.