Shit. Talking to people in general fucked me up.
I doubt I would’ve ever been a member if I hadn’t grown up with Skull. He’s a brother, the closest I’ve ever had to one. The only constant in my life was Skull’s madre, Maria. None of the others know that. That secret is mine and Skull’s and, as far as I’m concerned, not one fucker will ever know it. My old man was loaded. He had more money than God. What he didn’t have was time for me or my mother. Then again, my mother was a miserable drunk who only had time for her tennis instructor—and she didn’t know how to play tennis, not even a little bit.
Skull’s mother Maria lived in the adjoining coach house with Skull and, though she cooked and cleaned in our home, it was that small coach house I remember as the only home I’ve ever had. When my father died of an unexpected heart attack, I didn’t grieve for him. My mother and her lover ran off together leaving me with Maria, and I fucking rejoiced. When I turned twenty-one, the only contact I had with my mother was when I got my trust. She had burned through her money and wanted mine. I had no use for the money. She dropped my half-brother Terry in my lap saying she had to have a way to support him. I took Terry in, but I spat on her and walked away. I never liked Terry, but I tried. He was a miserable son of a bitch, and if what Jan said was true, I should have given up on him way before I did.
The only smart thing I’ve apparently done in my life was give my money to Maria and Skull. We used it to fight the cancer and make sure Maria was comfortable. When Skull’s uncle came into the picture and Skull decided to become a prospect to Devil’s Blaze, I followed him. It wasn’t because I wanted to be part of the club so much; rather, I couldn’t imagine not having Skull beside me. He was all I had left. Maybe it’s my fucked-up past, but if you don’t get close to people, they can’t fucking hurt you. They don’t get the chance to. Women were too much effort. So besides the occasional fuck, I didn’t bother with them.
Fucking Jan without a condom trapped me. I got drunk off my ass one night and woke up in bed with her the next morning, damage done. I panicked the whole fucking time, terrified she’d be knocked up. I prayed even. Not that I knew much about praying, but it seemed like the thing to do. When she turned out that way, I stepped up. Made her my old lady, even though Skull did his damnedest to talk me out of it. I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to put much effort into having a woman. This made that easier. The only fucking time I had to talk much to Jan was when she wanted something and that got me sex. It was easy and it protected my child. I may not have wanted Jan pregnant, but I did want Annabelle.
It’s four in the morning and I’ve drunk so much that I’ve come full circle—I’m practically sober again. My head is foggy and it hurts to breathe, but I don’t think that has shit to do with the hangover. Torch and a couple of the boys grabbed a cage and insisted I ride with them to the Boot. The Boot is an old honkytonk. It doesn’t get much business, and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want to be bothered; I wanted to sit at a bar and drink my ass off, and that’s exactly what I got. The men know me, so they didn’t talk to me either. They just watched my back. Still, I didn’t want them around me. They saw that fucking shit with Jan and I didn’t want anyone to realize what a sad fuck I was or how stupid I’d been.
I make my way down into the shelter part of the club. I should have stayed topside in my room up there as far away from Jan as I could. I need to see Annabelle just once. Her and Jan’s room is separate from mine, and Jan stays in there sometimes. I doubt it’s out of any motherly feelings; she’s a piss-poor mom. It’s probably to get away from me, and I’m okay with that.
Luckily, the bitch isn’t here tonight.
I clean the loose money out of my pockets. I’m not sure how much is there, four or five hundred dollars. Hell, I think I tipped the bartender two hundred. I lay it down, as well as the keys to the Durango that Torch threw me when we parked up. They drove me home, but it was my cage. I guess he trusted me not to take off again tonight. Softly, I lie down on the bed beside Annabelle. She’s truly beautiful: dark-brown hair that glistened, a cute little button nose, and the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. You can’t see them right now because her eyes are closed, but when they’re open, her irises are a mixture of browns, golds, and greens, and they sparkle. I have blue eyes. My baby’s eyes are totally different and always makes me smile.
I find myself thinking how Terry’s were the same color.