The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Completely unfazed by the surrounding chaos, I turn to Linc expecting for him to be having an out-of-body experience or whatever it is that happens to socially awkward people. After all, I’m not an idiot. This whole debauchery is enough to send any sane person running in the opposite direction. However, he surprises me by meeting my gaze head on. For a moment I forget my own troubles and simply stare at his expressionless face. Lost in the dullness of his sad eyes, I wonder about the silent creature in front of me, about where he’s from and what he’s seen. I don’t get a chance to express any of that as he takes advantage of my bewilderment and grabs my hand before dragging me down the narrow hallway. At the last door, he turns the knob and pushes me inside before slamming it closed behind him.

  “Are you hard of hearing or something?” I snap, shoving back his shoulders. “I told you to keep your hands off me.”

  Ignoring me, he pulls my hands away from his body and pins them back to my sides before releasing my wrists and pinning my arms to my sides.

  Without a word, he leaves me standing at the door and crosses the room. Curiously, I watch him sit at the foot of the bed. A bewildered expression covers his face as his gaze sweeps around the room. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was looking around for the first time but, he’s been here for days—inside this very room. At this rate, he can probably tell me how many threads are in the worn carpet.

  “You’re staring,” he accuses, turning his attention back to me.

  I open my mouth to reply but, the only response I give is a silent nod.

  I am staring at him because despite being a weirdo he’s not that bad on the eyes and the piercing under his lower lip is kind of hot. I wonder if he’s got any others.

  “So, you robbed a car huh?” he mutters, swiping a hand over his face.

  The tone of his voice tells me he couldn’t care less if I robbed a bank much less a car.

  “What’s it to you?” I retort, crossing my arms under my chest.

  Raising a single eyebrow, his eyes wander over me.

  “You always this sweet?”

  “No, I suppose I’m not. I guess there’s a special place in my heart reserved for recluses that brings it out of me. You should consider yourself lucky.”

  “Lucky,” he parrots, shaking his head. “My luck ran out somewhere between Nashville and wherever the fuck this place is,” he adds, clenching his jaw as his eyes dart around the room once more.

  Intrigued for reasons unbeknownst to me, I uncross my arms and step further into the room.

  “Is that where you’re from? Nashville?” I ask.

  Silently, he ignores my question and I watch him drift miles away into the past that plagues him. I’ve heard of the term dead man walking before but, until now, I thought it meant someone with a price tag on their head. I didn’t realize anyone could be amongst the living and still be dead inside.

  It’s a sobering thought that actually makes me feel bad for the mute. As shitty of a mother as mine is, she’s still here and I’m lucky enough to have my uncle. I can’t imagine not having anyone in the world. I mean, if he had a family or even just one person he could trust, he wouldn’t be here. No one voluntarily chooses this shit.

  Maybe it’s not sadness that pours from his eyes.

  Maybe it’s loneliness.

  Or maybe it’s both.

  Either way, he’s fucked and, it dawns on me that these last few minutes I’ve been too distracted by his pain and suffering that I forgot my own. It’s emancipating and selfishly I want more. I want to forget my mother is a drunk who half the time doesn’t know I’m alive. And while I’m at it, I’d like to forget my father died and all the pathetic fears his death left behind.

  “Well, if you’re just going to ignore me, then I’ll get out of your hair,” I announce, slapping my hands to my knees. It gets his attention and before I can lift myself off the bed, he grabs my wrist.

  “I told Wolf I’d keep you out of trouble,” he reminds me.

  Lowering my eyes to my wrist, I take in his bruised knuckles and lift my gaze to meet his.

  “You can try,” I reply, baiting him. “Or you can join me.”

  After all, a little trouble never hurt anyone…right?

  Wrong.

  -Nine-

  KELLY

  Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse, it did. My little fender bender threw everything into chaos and on top of not being able to get my license, I was ordered to do community service. Every Saturday for the next I don’t know how many weeks, I must wear an orange vest while I pick up garbage on the side of the thruway. In case you were wondering—orange is not my color. However, that’s probably the least of my problems.

  Sin wound up paying for the repairs on the cars I crashed out of pocket, which meant I was indebted to him. The son of a bitch decided I should clean all the guys rooms and do their laundry on a regular basis. If you’ve never been inside a biker compound then, you can’t truly comprehend the filth. Aside from the empty beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays, these fools can’t aim for shit. I’m starting to think they wave their dicks like a flag every time they take a piss. Oh, and let me not forget to mention the used condoms littering the floor inside Shady’s room—yeah, that was special.

  In between my Cinderella duties, I still had to go to school, and no one trusted me enough to make my own way there. So, guess who became my personal chauffeur? Yep, you guessed it…the mute. Apparently, he needed a job, and I was it. Monday thru Friday he was responsible for getting me to and from school and on Saturday’s he took me and my orange vest to community service. Anywhere I went, he was ordered to shadow me and make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.

  If that’s not a joke I don’t know what is.

  The guy barely speaks except to tell me when I’ve missed a spot wiping the piss from the floor. That may or may not have resulted in me swapping the tube of toothpaste in his bathroom with a tube of Preparation H. I thought about dousing his underwear in gasoline too but, then I caught him smoking a joint the other day and figured if he lit himself on fire that would buy me a one-way ticket to Hell.

  Anyway, that guy, the one who has the personality of a wet sponge is supposed to be the guy who keeps me out trouble and basically out of everyone else’s hair.

  Like I said, what a joke.

  However, I’m the only one who finds the humor in all of this. Even my uncle agreed Linc should be the one to watch over me. In fact, his exact words were, ‘Linc, keep a tight leash on this one. She’s a wild one.’

  Good ol’ Uncle Al.

  My eyes rolled so hard they almost got stuck in the back of my head.

  Of course, my mother jumped on the bandwagon too. Then again, there isn’t much she wouldn’t agree to when it comes to pawning me off on someone else. I swear sometimes I think she’d be happier if I just disappeared. Well, that’s providing she realizes I’m gone.

  A knock sounds on my door, disrupting my thoughts.

  “Come in,” I call, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. The door opens and to my surprise my mother walks in, looking slightly disheveled.

  “Hey baby,” she slurs.

  Don’t roll your eyes, Kelly. Don’t do it.

  “What’s up Mom,” I say, forcing a tight smile.

  “Sin is taking me for a ride,” she says, walking over to my dresser. Lifting one of the perfume bottles, she spritzes it all over making herself smell like a French whore and my room like a department store.

  “Good for you,” I reply. Coughing through the fumes, I grab the perfume from her hands before she sprays anymore.

  “He’s finally started to come around since you smashed those cars,” she mutters, swiping a tube of lipstick from my makeup organizer. “Anyway, he mentioned Shady’s girl canceled on him tonight,” she continues, rubbing her lips together. “Poor guy.”

  “Shady has like six girls on rotation,” I retort, narrowing my eyes as I lean my hip against the dresser. “What does
it matter to you, anyway?”

  “Well, I was just thinking how handsome he is,” she replies innocently. “He’s only a few years older than you, you know?”

  Of all the shitty things that have come out of my mother’s mouth, this takes the cake.

  “He’s like twenty-five,” I sneer, leaving out the fact he’s a fucking pig.

  “Age ain’t nothin’ but a number, sweetheart,” she says dismissively. “Besides, it would do you good to have a boyfriend and it would do us both good if you were with one of the brothers.”

  Willing myself not to punch her in the face, my hands curl into fists and my nostrils flare. Glaring at her, she shrugs her shoulders and pulls a cigarette from her bra.

  “I’m just saying, if Sin should grow bored with me he won’t be able to throw us out on our asses if Shady claims you.”

  “You’re disgusting,” I seethe, shaking my head.

  “I’m only looking out for you, Kel,” she defends, shoving the cigarette between her lips. Unable to look at her a moment longer, I grab my knapsack from the floor and brush past her. “Where are you going?”

  “Away from you,” I growl, bending to pick up a pair of converses. Without another glance in her direction, I storm out of the bedroom and make my way down the hall. The tears stinging my eyes feed my rage and the overwhelming need to punch something washes over me. Reaching the end of the hall, I don’t bother knocking as I open the door to Linc’s room.

  As expected, he’s lying on his back with his hands folded behind his head. Keeping his gaze directed to the ceiling, he doesn’t acknowledge my presence which only makes me angrier. Blinking, I hold back my tears and throw my sneaker across the room, hitting him in the head.

  “Get up,” I order. At the sound of my voice, I cover my hand with my mouth and hold back the emotions suffocating me.

  “Are you shitting me?” he growls, jolting upright. Grabbing the shoe, he rears his hand back to throw it back but pauses. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing,” I snap. Diverting my eyes, I shove my foot into one sneaker. “I need to go to the store.”

  “It’s late,” he argues, tossing his legs over the bed. “Nothing’s open.”

  “It’s nine o’clock,” I retort angrily. Closing the distance between us, I snatch my sneaker from his hand.

  “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” he questions with a groan.

  I can feel his gaze willing me to look back at him and explain why I have tears in my eyes. Using my anger as a defense mechanism, I shove my other foot into the shoe and glare at him.

  “Should I really wait until tomorrow to get tampons?”

  “Tonight, it is then,” he mutters, grabbing the keys to Sin’s beat-up pickup truck. Jutting his chin toward the door, he urges me to walk and I’m grateful he doesn’t press me anymore. As we make our way through the clubhouse, he pauses to tell Sin we’re headed to the store and I stupidly glance at my mother who is hanging all over the president.

  If looks could kill, I’d be pushing up daisies.

  Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I turn my back to her and march out the door. Linc follows me and silently we get into the truck. The ride to the drugstore isn’t long and I quietly stare out the window the entire drive, thinking about how heartless my mother is and wishing my father was still alive.

  For some reason, I turn to Linc and for the first time, I wonder about his mother. Based on the grief radiating from him, I bet she was nothing like my mom. She probably loved him more than anything and put him before herself every day.

  He turns off the ignition and I don’t give him or his mother a second thought as I hurry out of the truck. I just want to get lost. I want to drift away into a fog and forget I’m a mistake.

  “Hold up,” he calls.

  “You can wait in the truck,” I tell him. Forgetting how tall he is and how long his legs are, I quicken my pace and try to lose him. It takes him three strides before he’s leaning over my shoulder, his breath against my ear.

  “Someone switched my toothpaste with hemorrhoid cream so, I think I’ll come in and grab some stuff too,” he says gruffly.

  Unwilling to admit I’m the culprit, I shrug my shoulders and enter the store. Seems like I was spot on with the hemorrhoid cream considering I can’t get rid of the bastard. Every aisle I turn down, he tags along behind me occasionally throwing shit into his basket. Toothpaste, mouthwash, a deck of cards and a Rolling Stones magazine.

  “Tampons are down this aisle,” he points out.

  “Would you like to pick them out for me too?” I hiss exasperatedly. “Look, I rather you weren’t hanging over my shoulder watching while I choose between super absorbent or regular.”

  Shoving a hand into his pocket, he cringes before pointing his thumb toward the checkout counter.

  “Gotcha, I’m going to go pay,” he says. “I’ll wait in the car.”

  “Good idea,” I retort sarcastically.

  Turning around, he heads to the front of the store. Once out of sight, I make a beeline toward the last aisle where the beer is located. Drawing my bag from my shoulder, I unzip it and grab the first six pack I see. Glancing from left to right, I make sure no one is watching before shoving it into my bag and zipping it closed. Lifting the hood of my sweatshirt, I pull at the drawstrings and hike the bag over my shoulder. Head cast down, I walk briskly down the aisle.

  “Hey, you! Get back here!”

  Without bothering to see who is yelling at me, I start running.

  “Stop her!” the guy shouts after me.

  Running faster, I dodge the cashier trying to tackle me and knock over a display of toilet paper. I push through the glass doors and jet through the parking lot. As I reach the truck, the guy who caught me emerges from the store. Pulling open the passenger door, I climb in as he shouts again.

  “Drive!” I bark breathlessly, slamming the door. Diverting his eyes from me to the man charging toward us, he quickly shifts the truck into drive.

  “What the fuck did you do?”

  “Unless you want to spend the night in the slammer hit the gas,” I tell him, leaning my head against the headrest.

  “Fucking hell,” he mutters, slamming his foot against the pedal. The tires screech across the asphalt as he speeds away, peeling out of the parking lot. Leaning forward, I peer at the side view mirror watching the drugstore staff fade away.

  “You lost them,” I announce, leaning back to catch my breath.

  “I should fucking hope so…they were on foot,” he growls, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “What the fuck was that, Pinky?”

  At the sound of the nickname, I turn my eyes to him. As angry as he is, he doesn’t look at me like he wishes I would disappear. I’m no doubt a pain in his ass but, you could never tell by the concern in his eyes.

  “My mother tried to hook me up with Shady,” I blurt, regretting the words as they fly past my lips. “Forget I said that.”

  “Your mother tried pimping you out to that asshole?” he asks, slamming his foot against the brake.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, pointing toward the road. “They probably called the cops we need to keep driving.”

  “Answer the question,” he demands, ignoring me.

  Blowing out a breath, I reach for my backpack.

  “She didn’t pimp me out,” I tell him as I open the bag and pull out the six pack. “I’m not a prostitute,” I add, pulling one of the bottles from the case. “She thinks if I cozy up to anyone with a patch then Sin won’t kick us out of the clubhouse when he gets bored screwing a drunk like her.”

  Twisting the top off the bottle, I lift it to my lips but pause before taking a sip.

  “I don’t get it. Why would crawling underneath Shady keep you and your mother in the clubhouse?”

  Lowering the bottle to my lap, I narrow my eyes.

  “You don’t know much about club life, do you?”

  “You’re not answering my question.”

&nbs
p; “Neither are you,” I point out. Instead of cowering down, he leans back and makes it clear he won’t drive until I answer. “Fine, so, if a patched member stakes claim on you, you become his property which means you’re taken care of by the club. Anything you need, they’ll bend over backward to give you because you’re someone’s old lady.”

  “So, in exchange for fucking Sin, your mother gets free board for you and her,” he replies, cupping the back of his neck.

  It sounds horrible when he says it out loud and in response, I take a sip of my beer.

  “You got it,” I reply, cringing as the bitter ale slides down my throat.

  “You don’t even like that,” he mutters, watching me intently.

  “Sure, I do,” I lie, taking another sip to prove a point. Reaching over the console, he takes the bottle from me.

  “Hey! Give that back to me.”

  Leaning over, I try to grab the bottle from him but, he tosses it out the window before I can. As the bottle shatters against the asphalt I narrow my eyes at him and shove his shoulder forcefully.

  “Why the hell did you do that?”

  “Admit you didn’t like it,” he presses.

  His gaze penetrates through me, stripping me down to the bone. Feeling vulnerable for the first time in my life, I want to admit the truth. I want to lose my bravado and tell him I didn’t like the beer. Hell, I don’t even know why I stole it in the first place but, my pride won’t let me. Instead, I swallow the lump in my throat and turn away.

  “You ever play poker?” he asks, dragging my attention back to him.

  “What?”

  “Ditch the beer and when we go back to the clubhouse, I’ll show you how to play,” he says.

  “You want to hang out with me?” I ask surprised.

  Shrugging one shoulder, he turns the steering wheel and slowly pulls away from the curb.

  “You know what I see when I look at you?”

  Dreading the answer, I silently recite all the things I see when I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m a rebellious girl with a wild heart. A victim of circumstance, I’m bitter and angry. Misplaced in a world I never asked to be part of, I am lonely. I’m so fucking lonely.