My teeth clench. “Ron was mistaken? He hadn’t been tested?”
“Oh, he knew alright. He knew there was a twenty-five percent chance of our child getting the condition. He was just blasé that we’d win those odds. He thought the risk was insignificant as neither him nor his sister had developed the disease. He played with my son’s life.”
“Jesus!” I stand, brushing my hands over my head. “Fuck, woman. Is the man fuckin’ insane? And you stayed with him?”
I can hardly keep up as the words tumble out. “I didn’t have much choice. I had a baby to look after. My parents told me they wouldn’t help if I walked out of the marriage, and at that point I’d lost touch with my sister. But that’s when I started to hate him. Oh, to anyone else he played the part of a devoted husband and father, but he had a child who was broken, and he couldn’t handle it. He came home later and later—sometimes not at all—and would start arguments. Celine made contact, and I told her everything. She offered me a place to get away if I ever needed it. But I stuck it out as long as I could, too nervous about striking out on my own. Then came the final straw. He took his hand to me, and I knew I had to leave. Staying was no longer an option, so, well, as you can see, I came here.”
I hope he does come to find her. I’ll kill him.
“You regret having Tyler?”
Her sharp look tells me all I need to know. “I could never regret that. But I would never have had children with another carrier if I had known. What Tyler’s going through? You saw his pain just now. No child should have to suffer like that.”
She’s silently weeping now, tears falling down her face, but she’s making no noise. I’ve never seen a woman cry this way before, it seems she just can’t help it. I take a seat beside her again, and it feels natural to pull her into my body. “What’s his prognosis?”
She starts talking as if quoting from a book. “People with sickle cell disease have a shortened life expectancy, but they’re coming up with new things all the time. And not everyone has painful episodes like the one you just witnessed.”
“He get these a lot?” Poor fucking kid.
“Too many.” A sob escapes. “The doctors want to try out a drug to limit the frequency, but I’ve found out all about it, and it might be dangerous at his age and have serious side effects. If he takes it, he’ll need biweekly blood tests for the first year to check he’s not having adverse reactions. They’re even talking about regular blood transfusions if it keeps getting worse. And it costs money, Dart. Money I haven’t got.” She half-turns to look at me, but it’s through her eyelashes, and she swallows a couple of times as if she’s guilty of something. “Ron gets insurance through his job…” She breaks off, stares at the floor, and mumbles, “But now he’s getting worse…”
“That’s why you haven’t started divorce proceedings. To stay on his insurance.”
“No. In fact, if I get a divorce I might be able to get Tyler’s additional needs taken into account as part of the child support.”
Something is niggling at me. I test out the waters. “If you’ve nothing to lose, file for divorce, doll.” I hate the thought of her being tied to that motherfucker.
My arm still around her, I can feel her go tense. “I told you he hit me. That sounds like nothing, doesn’t it?” Her hand goes to her cheek and traces the scar I’d noticed. “He knocked me out, then left me bleeding on the floor. He didn’t care if I was alive or dead. When I came around I managed to call for an ambulance. They kept me in as I was in quite a bad way. I needed stitches and had a concussion.”
She breaks off, as if there’s something else that she should be saying, but I don’t push. After swearing under my breath, I keep my voice fairly calm as I ask instead, “What caused the argument?”
“The same thing that caused all the others before it, only those were just verbal. That both Tyler and I were a waste of space. And that he’d be better off without us.” She grabs hold of my hand, and I can feel her shaking. “I thought he was going to kill me, Dart. I think he thought he had. And he’d have passed it off as an accident, I slipped and fell. There was a bottle of oil lying spilt on the floor when I regained consciousness. It hadn’t been there before.”
There it is, the real reason she ran. She was afraid for her life. And from what she’s told me, she had good reason. Just who is this man who’d leave his wife quite possibly dying, and set it up so it looked like her own misfortune? What am I dealing with here? “Doll, what does Ron do for work?”
“He’s a detective.”
Shit. She’s tried to keep under the radar, but from his job I’d bet good money he knows exactly where she is. Why hasn’t he come for her? One answer is that if she’s too scared to go through with a divorce, he won’t have to pay support. The other thought I can’t now get out of my mind is that if she’s right and he really does want her out of his way, he could be biding his time. If I, we, the club, give her our protection, what possible blowback could come down on us?
Parking that thought, I get back to the subject of her son. I don’t know anything about this disease he’s got. “Is there no cure for what Tyler’s got?”
“For Tyler, maybe.” Her words take me by surprise, I didn’t expect that. She’s still trembling, my arm holding her tightens. “Sickle cell carriers seem to have a higher incidence of carrying twins. And that certainly happened to me.” She takes a gulp of air., As there doesn’t seem to be another child around, I have a gut feel how this story is going to end. “They’re usually identical, but in my case, they weren’t. And oh yes, I won the lottery with my babies. As well as discovering Tyler had sickle cell, they discovered his twin, a girl, had anencephaly, a rare condition that stops brain and skull development. She was likely to be born dead, or only live a short while. I couldn’t abort her, as I could risk losing Tyler, so I carried them both to term. They were born early, at thirty-four weeks. Tyler seemed healthy, we knew she was going to die.”
I’m a tough biker, but there’s moisture in my eyes at her story. Fuck! She’s one hell of a strong woman to be able to cope with all this.
She resumes without prompting, “I’d already had so many discussions with the doctors by the time she was born, and they tested her immediately. She didn’t have sickle cell, and being a twin, there was a twenty-five percent chance she’d be a match as a tissue donor for Tyler, should he need a transplant in the future. She only lived an hour, but they harvested stem cells from the umbilical cord and were able to confirm she was a match.”
This is all alien territory for me. A cure? So why hasn’t she already gone for it? “What happened to the stem cells…?”
“They were frozen. The idea was if Tyler’s condition worsened we could try a bone marrow transplant using the cells. If it works, that will cure him.”
It sounds simple. Easy. But if it was, I wouldn’t have seen that boy suffering. “Why didn’t he have the procedure?”
“Money.” She breathes. “Sickle cell manifests in different forms. By the time we knew how much his disease was affecting him, we found that we weren’t covered for a stem cell transplant. The insurance company won’t pay, as it’s too expensive. They want us to go with the alternative and cheaper treatments. But they’re not a cure, just something to keep it under control.”
“If you need to pay out for this procedure, we’re possibly talking tens of thousands here, aren’t we?” I say the cold statement, not having a clue how I could help. Her nod, followed by a few more tears, tells me I’m right.
“At least half a million, possibly double that.”
Shit. That’s more than I thought. “And without the transplant, there’s no other cure?”
She shakes her head. “It’s the only chance he’s got, and even that might not work. His red blood cells are shaped like a sickle, that’s what gives the disease its name. They can get stuck as they pass through his veins. The idea of the transplant is to encourage his body to produce properly shaped cells.”
I’m
processing that when she adds, “Time’s against us. And it could already be too late. I’ve looked into it. Though I’ve read some research that suggests frozen stem cells are good for up to fifteen years, doctors don’t normally use them after five. Tyler’s six.” She waves her hand toward the bedroom her son is currently asleep in. “Blood transfusions could help him, reduce his episodes, but if we resort to that, the chances of the transplant being successful drastically diminish. And if he experiences organ failure, then it will be too late.” She nods her head toward the short hallway. “That episode today, the cell must have got trapped in his leg. Many sufferers get heart attacks…”
I can fill in the gaps for myself. Fuck, that child I was so impressed by is a fucking time bomb. And it sounds like she’s got a long list of impossible decisions to make. Amazed at how strong she is, how she’s holding herself together, all I can think is, poor kid, poor mother. I want to help, but I have no fucking idea how.
Chapter 7
Alex
I knew that it had shocked Dart seeing Tyler have one of his episodes, but the difference between his reaction and that of my ex couldn’t be more different. Ron just used to walk out and leave me to deal with it. Dart had stayed to help, even though he’s just my boss and owes us nothing at all. But he’s sitting beside me, his arm around me, and selfishly I’m taking all the comfort I can. It feels a relief to get it off my chest.
What mother ever wants to learn they’ve given birth to a child who has a lifelong disease with complications which could arise at any time, shortening or ending his life? It’s the first thing you do, find out everything to watch out for, wanting to make every moment precious.
I’m trying to give Tyler as normal a life as possible, and to be honest, since we’ve come to Tucson the frequency of his episodes have reduced. Until this afternoon, I’d been hoping the change to this dry heat and no longer being exposed to the stress of my strained relationship with Ron had been beneficial to his health.
Dart’s gone silent, as if he knows there’s nothing he can say or do to help. Slowly he pulls his supportive arm away and stands up. He stares at me for a long moment. “Doll, take the night off. Stay here with Tyler.”
“No, Dart. I can’t do that. Celine will be home and she’s happy to watch out for him. I need the money. If I save enough, I might be able to pay for the procedure.”
He gives me a sad nod. He understands my plight, and that I’m fooling myself that I could ever get enough dancing for tips, but I won’t give up trying, I owe that to my son. I watch him fidget for a second as though he doesn’t know what to say or do, and it doesn’t surprise me when he tells me he needs to go.
Of course he does. I’ve taken up too much of his time. I get to my feet, wiping the last of my tears away. It’s unusual for me to cry, normally I’m stronger than this. I cried my heart out in the first year of Tyler’s life, before realising getting upset about what can’t be fixed doesn’t change anything. Just as I’m stepping up to get the door for him, it opens.
“Hey, we got a visitor? Who has the bike?” My brother-in-law Craig swaggers in, his muscles bulging as he carries in heavy bags.
“That would be me.” Dart steps forward and holds out his hand. “Dart.” He introduces himself.
Craig drops one of the bags and complies with the handshake. They seem to hold it a little too long, as though testing each other out.
“He’s my boss,” I explain. “He just dropped by to give me my tips from last night.”
“Nice sled, man.” Craig jerks his head backward.
“You ride?”
“Sure do. Got an Indian out back.” And then they’re off talking bikes. Craig drops the other bag and they both go outside to inspect Dart’s bike.
Celine’s standing wide-eyed in the doorway. As the men disappear she pretends to fan herself. “My, but he’s hot, girl.”
“I work for him,” I hiss, pretending like I haven’t noticed. But I’m not blind. It’s just right now I’m more concerned for my son and sorting out my predicament than getting laid, and the last thing I would do is risk my job by making things awkward with Dart. Sure, I’m not blind, and he’s been so kind and caring this afternoon, but I need to squash any thoughts in that direction down. Knowing how easily my sister can read me, I change the subject fast. “Tyler had an episode.”
She closes her eyes and takes in a breath. “Is he alright?”
“He’s come through it. He’s having a nap.” My sister loves her nephew as though he were her own. I know she’d like a child herself, and she’s the lucky one, Craig doesn’t carry the sickle cell gene. “Dart offered me the night off, but I need to go to work.”
“Of course you do, Tyler will be fine with me. I’ll keep him quiet.”
“Yes, but don’t fuss.” It’s important to me that Tyler is treated like the six-year-old he is, the cotton wool I’m wrapping him in kept invisible. He goes to school and plays like any child. We just have to watch him so he doesn’t get over-fatigued, dehydrated, too hot, too cold, too anxious… The endless list of possible triggers continually goes around my head.
I nod at the bags. “Want help putting those away?”
She accepts my offer, and we’re still putting packets and jars in the cupboard when I hear the roar of an engine start up, and then the sound slowly fades. He’s gone. Why do I feel this sudden emptiness?
When I enter Satan’s Angels later on that night, I’m still trying to suppress any improper feelings toward my boss. I mean, he’s hot as fuck, but I’ve so much on my plate. I can’t do anything to risk losing the one job I was able to get. Everything between us must be kept strictly professional, and I must forget that I spent the good part of the afternoon in his arms. Yeah, I’ll just be casual when I see him, I’ve too many complications already to add anything else into the mix. Already I regret telling him so much, but having such a sympathetic ear that’s not been offered before, somehow everything just came spilling out. When I see him tonight, I’ll just be polite, and maybe offer an apology for taking up so much of his time.
Yesterday I was a bag of nerves when I arrived, tonight I walk in with confidence. The tips that I’d made showed me while Ron had never appreciated my pole dancing, other men have no such aversion. Ironically, I’m being well rewarded for doing what I love. That they’ve made allowances and I don’t need to get completely naked is the icing on the cake.
Despite my resolve to treat him no differently, I’m more disappointed than I should be when I don’t see Dart, and it’s another biker who comes into the dressing room to check on us girls.
“Hey, you must be Alex.” Well, as I’m the only black girl here, that’s a fair assumption to make. “I’m Joker.” In the middle of putting on makeup, I just give him a nod. Perching his backside against the counter he stands with his arms folded. “Dart told me to watch out for ya. You get any trouble, you come to me, okay?”
“Hey, Joker! Why’s she so special?” One of the other girls calls out. I haven’t really bothered to get to know them as yet. Last night my nerves kept me to myself, and today I’ve been preoccupied with thoughts about Tyler. But my back goes up at what could be a catty comment.
Joker turns around, and glancing up I can see him glaring. “Because she can dance.” He waves his hand around, indicating all the girls who have now stopped what they’re doing to see what’s going on. “All of you are important to us. If we don’t keep you happy, you won’t make us money. And Alex is new, she doesn’t know the score yet.”
The girl who’d spoken comes over and lays her hand on my shoulder, looking at my face reflected in the mirror. As our eyes meet, I can see she’s smiling. “I’m Vida, anything you want to know babe, just ask me.”
As I nod, Joker pats my shoulder and goes. Now the others introduce themselves, and I’m surprised to find no obvious bitchiness at all. In fact, they all seem to agree it’s a good place to work, knowing that the bikers are there to protect them.
Vida si
ts down next to me. “Hey, there was this one guy, he was a bouncer. Started laying his hands on us girls, thinking his job gave him privileges, you follow?”
Yes, I do. “What happened?”
“One day he went too far. The girl said no, he ignored her. Slapped her. Huh. He got a beat down to remember and was tossed out on his ass.”
“I didn’t want to work here,” I start to tell her. “But I couldn’t get any other kind of job.”
“Why do you think any of us are here? Not many of us would be here by choice, hun.” She stares at me for a moment. “And you’re certainly not the normal type.”
I freeze and wait for her criticism, my obvious differences to their slim, slender forms.
“Watched you on the pole last night. And boy, Joker’s right, babe. You can dance.”
“Those tits real?” Another girl who’d introduced herself as Bambi joins in the conversation. She’s holding her own up as if for inspection. Hers are obviously fake.
“Unfortunately, yes,” I reply, wincing as they make me top heavy.
“Alex, time to go on,” a voice calls from the hallway.
I smile at the girls, who I didn’t expect to be quite so friendly, and walk out on the stage with a spring in my step.
When I’m dancing I can forget everything and live only for the moment. It’s my respite from all the worry in my life. Even the audience fades into the background as I twist, turn, climb, and slide for myself, not for anyone else. It’s only when the music ends and I finish my set that I’m suddenly aware that all eyes are upon me, but the smile on my face is for me, the satisfaction of another flawless performance.
Targeting Dart Page 7
