Infinitely Human

by Candace Blevins

  “Thank you.”

  “Slick promised they’d follow long enough to be sure the asshole isn’t tailing you. Drive Mama’s car tomorrow and let her drive yours. I’ll go with you this weekend to trade your car in on another.”

  I loved my little car, but my sister was right, because I lived smack in the middle of the Disciple Playa’s territory. He’d tell his people to keep an eye out for a lime green Neon, and they’d find me. No one would confuse me for Mama — she’d be safe in it. Decades of drug use meant my thirty-nine-year-old mama looked like she’d long since passed fifty. Plus, all she had to do was call Marlin or Jiminy and there wasn’t a sane Playa in town who’d mess with her.

  Neither my sister or I touched the shit. Etta had kicked my ass the first time she’d caught me using anything stronger than weed, and threatened to do a lot worse if she caught me again. I was seven the first time I smoked weed, and nine when I tried crack. Hadn’t done anything but weed since I was fourteen, though.

  I stowed everything in my bag and made my way across campus. I didn’t have to wait long before two bikers pulled up, and Etta hadn’t been kidding about Bubbles. Damn, he was the biggest white-boy I’d ever seen in person.

  The other biker handed me a helmet and helped me fasten it. “Don’t worry about the fit,” he told me. “We’ll be in the parking lot the whole time. It’s just to keep security from stopping us.”

  “Thanks for doing this. I appreciate it.”

  “Betty’s one of ours, you’re one of hers. I’m Slick, this is Bubbles. It’s nice to meet you.”

  I smiled at Bubbles, and he smiled back. I hoped his dick wasn’t proportionally sized or I’d really owe my sister for this. I’d wondered about it being two against three, but with these two, it could be two against five and I’d bet on the bikers.

  Bubbles looked like he could be on one of those fake wrestling shows, though I doubted this man would wear anything besides jeans and biker boots. His shirt stretched over cords of muscles, and I worried he might accidentally bend his handlebars if he got pissed while he was riding.

  Slick’s bike vibrated and rumbled under us. I liked it, but there wasn’t much time to properly like it because we were only a half-mile from my car. Slick and I went in front until we neared my Neon, and Bubbles came around us when the lime green came into view.

  The gangbangers were still sitting on the hood, and they turned to look when the bikes pulled up behind it and shut off.

  “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Bubbles asked, still sitting on his bike.

  “Yeah.” The asshole from the morning swaggered to the back of my car, his boys just behind him.

  “Bitch saw somethin’ she shouldn’t have this morning. Mind yo own business, fuckers. You don’t wanna interfere.”

  “I didn’t see shit you lyin’ sack of fuck! You wanted my parkin’ space and I got to it first.”

  Slick put his hand on my leg, and I stopped talking.

  “Do we need to bring Marlin into this?” Slick asked. Marlin was the leader of the Playas, and no one wanted to get on his bad side. I was surprised the biker went that route instead of threatening to kick their asses. I hadn’t known the two organizations had a working relationship, but it explained why Etta had gone to the bikers.

  The asshole looked from Slick to Bubbles and back to Slick. “I don’t guess we do.”

  “Girlfriend’s gonna get in her car, and we’re gonna follow her out,” said Bubbles. “You gonna give us any trouble?”

  “She rats, it’s on you and nothing will protect you.”

  “No cops. She’s cool.”

  Bubbles got off his bike, walked to Slick’s bike, unfastened my helmet and lifted it off my head, took me by the hand, walked me to the door of my car, and put me in. He squatted beside me, inside my door. “We’ll follow you. You’re safe.”

  “I didn’t see anything. He’s lying.”

  “All that matters right now is getting you out of here in one piece. We’ll give you room to back out of the parking space, and I’ll follow you until I’m sure the coast is clear. Where do you live?”

  I didn’t want to tell him I lived in low income housing in the Orchard Knob area, but I didn’t see a way around it. I didn’t see any judgement though, just acknowledgement.

  The truth is, I easily pass for white because my biracial mom must’ve gotten knocked up by a white dude. We’d always assumed Etta’s dad was Asian, but she did one of the DNA things and it turns out she’s nearly half African, about a third Asian, a little Native American, and bits and pieces from all over Europe, so who knows what-the-fuck her dad was. Doesn’t matter, because she’s the most beautiful woman I know, and she’s my big sister, and she was waiting for me when I pulled into the apartment parking lot with Bubbles still following. Slick had turned off a few miles from campus, but Bubbles stuck with me the whole way.

  I’d called her from my car to let her know I was safe, and that the asshole was saying I saw something go down. He’d have to be an idiot to sell on campus, but… whatever. I didn’t care, so long as he left me alone.

  “Hey, bouncin’ Betty,” Bubbles gave Etta a fond smile when he’d parked his bike behind my car and shut it off. “Your baby sister’s a cute little thing, but she’s got Fury pissed at her, and that ain’t healthy.”

  Bubbles looked at me. “I had the control room check into him on the way here, to make sure I have my facts straight. Fury’s out on parole, and one of his conditions is he either works or goes to school. He’s at Chatt State in their mechanic program.” He looked at Etta and back to me.

  “Bubbles took classes while he was inside. He works in the MC’s classic car shop.” Etta stepped behind me, wrapped her arms around me, and told Bubbles. “Lexi went into foster care at fourteen and went to Hixson High. I made Mama apply for a two-bedroom apartment ahead of time, so Lex could move in with her when she graduated high school and had to move out of the foster house, since she turned eighteen before she graduated.”

  Etta moved to my side but kept an arm around my waist. “She’s nineteen, and she lived in the suburbs for four years, but she grew up here and knows the rules. She wouldn’t rat even if she’d seen something.”

  “I’ll walk her up and let her pack a bag,” said Bubbles. “She can stay with me a few days, till we get this sorted. She won’t be safe here.”

  Etta shook her head. “I was going to take her to my place.”

  He chuckled. “She’ll be safer with me. I just bought a house in the MC’s neighborhood. Got a spare bedroom and everything.”

  The sun was bright, and she moved so Bubbles’ shadow was on her face when she looked up at him. “What does this do to our deal?”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t change our arrangement for rescuing her, but she can’t stay here. She can pay for her room and board by helping me pick out curtains and furniture and shit.”

  “I can do that,” I told him. “And I can cook and clean.” People offered to help each other all the time when I was with the fosters, but nothing is free in the hood.

  He looked at his phone and put it back in his pocket. “I need to get a few more hours of work in. I’ll follow you to the MC’s shop, and I’ll set you up in a room so you can do homework. I’ll take you to class in the mornin’ and pick you up, so we’ll leave your car in the shop overnight.”

  I turned and gave Etta a hug, and she put her mouth to my ear. “He’s a good guy and he’ll keep you safe, but he’ll probably try to get in your pants. Tell him no, Lex. You’re going to get a good job and get out of here.”

  I’d felt safe with Bubbles following me to the apartment — watching out for me. In any other situation, he’d have terrified me, but knowing he was there to make sure no one hurt me was comforting. I knew Etta wanted me to go home with her, but I wasn’t going to turn down his offer. He was right — it wasn’t safe for me here, and I didn’t want to put my sister in danger by going there.

  I turned to Bubbles. “Thanks for
watching out for me. Our mama might shoot you if you follow me up. I should be okay just to pop in and get some clothes.”

  He eyed the apartment building. “What floor are you on?”

  “Second.”

  “I’ll walk you up and wait in the hallway.” He looked at Etta. “I have her. We’ll get it sorted with Marlin and I’ll be sure she’s safe before I turn her loose.”

  Etta sighed and hugged me again. “I’m not in the mood to deal with Mama, so I’ll go. Call me if you need me.”

  The last part was an order, and I didn’t dare argue. “I will,” I promised. “Thanks for calling them for me.”

  I grabbed my biggest duffel when I made it to our apartment, threw four changes of class uniforms in and six changes of regular clothes, along with makeup and hair shit. It was Thursday afternoon, so I’d only have to be scared in class one day before we hopefully had time to resolve shit over the weekend. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few extra days of clothes in case I needed to borrow Etta’s sofa a couple of nights before going home.

  When I met Bubbles back in the stairwell, he said, “If you’re good with it, you should leave your car here. You can report it stolen out of the parking lot Saturday morning, and the MC will sell you something comparable and dependable with a thousand-dollar discount. We occasionally have the need for a car not associated with any of our people. We’ll paint it a different color and it’ll blend right in.”

  Right, and that was technically insurance fraud, but it might take me a few weeks to find a buyer who could appreciate my little car properly enough to understand its worth. I wouldn’t get even close to its true value if I needed to sell quick, and I did. The insurance company wouldn’t give me its worth, either, but their check along with the MC’s discount would be more than I could sell it for.

  “Maybe,” I told him. “I’m gonna need another car sooner rather than later. I help out at a tattoo studio on the weekends and some nights. I’m not scheduled for tonight, but I am tomorrow night.”

  “You got ink?”

  I nodded. “Etta told me to make it concealable, and not to get visible ones until I’m sure of where I’ll be working. Some of the high-dollar salons might not want someone with tons of ink showing.”

  “Your sister’s smart.” He eyed my bag. “You’ll have to hold it between us. It’s too big to stow — what the fuck did you pack?”

  “Clothes, shoes, hair stuff, makeup. I don’t have a helmet.”

  “Got a prospect bringin’ one.”

  Sure enough, two helmets were on his bike when we came out, and another biker was parked beside it. When he saw us, the guy nodded to Bubbles and roared away. I’d wondered about him just leaving his bike out where people might fuck with it — he must’ve known the other guy was close.

  “We don’t have far to go, so you’ll be okay with the duffel between us. I can strap it to the back to take you home from the shop. If you need me to slow down, pat my stomach.”

  Bubbles rode smooth and easy, so I didn’t feel like I might get slung off the bike if I didn’t hold on tight. Traffic was heavy, and I don’t think we made it over thirty miles an hour, but I was still surprised at the finesse he seemed to put into driving. Also, his bike was way bigger than Slick’s had been, and the vibrations were… OMG. In the right frame of mind, it’s possible I could orgasm.

  “I need an hour, maybe more, but it should be less than two,” Bubbles told me when we arrived at the shop. “You can hang out in the office or walk to the restaurant and get something to eat. I’ll watch you until you get there, and I’ll text Dawg to make sure they take care of you, and that someone sees you back to me safely.”

  I was hungry, but my budget didn’t allow for a lot of extras, and I had no idea how much food would cost in their place. “I’ll be okay here. I need to read the next chapter before class tomorrow.”

  He looked at me a few seconds and I thought he’d argue, but he shrugged and walked me through a lobby and into a small office. A tiny woman was behind a desk — not like a little person, but a beautiful, supersexy, four-foot-tall woman. I’m only four foot ten, and I’m usually the shortest person in the room, but I felt tall next to her.

  “Pixie, this is Lexi. She’s gonna do some homework until I can take her home.” He pointed me towards a second desk, leaned down, kissed the tiny woman on the forehead, and left.

  The phone rang as the door closed, and she answered, “Rolling Thunder Automotive.”

  She told someone their bike was ready to be picked up, gave them a total well over a thousand bucks, and I opened my book and tuned her out.

  I was relieved to see my duffel still on Bubbles’ bike when we came out. He’d said it’d be fine, but I’d worried. There’d been an excuse to take my backpack with my school stuff, but not the big bag.

  True to his word, he strapped my duffel to the back of his bike so I wouldn’t have to worry with holding onto it. “I have steaks and potatoes at my house. Also, some bison and chicken, lots of bacon, some sausage, I think I have at least a dozen eggs. No veggies, no salad stuff, no coffee. Do we need to stop by the store, or are you good with that?”

  “No coffee? How do you survive?” I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so I rushed to add, “If you can stop by a convenience store, I’ll grab a few bottles of the premade stuff for my morning. I’ll be good with whatever you have to eat, and the offer to cook and clean is still there.”

  “I’ll cook, you clean. We’ll go furniture shopping while you aren’t working this weekend.” He eyed me a moment, considering. “You’ve never been on a bike before, have you?”

  I shook my head. “Not until today. Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. Try to lean with me, and pat my stomach if you need me to slow down.”

  The twenty-five-minute drive into Georgia was an experience. We were in traffic a while, but when we got out of town and he could take off, he did, though he was still smooth, and his bike is huge so it wasn’t at all like I thought riding a motorcycle would be.

  By the time he pulled into his driveway and coasted into his garage, I was kind of sorry the ride was over.

  “You liked that?” he asked while he unstrapped my bag.

  “I did. Thanks for not scaring me. You’re a good driver.”

  He gave me a half-smile and nodded to the door going into the house. “I moved in last week. The folding table and chairs in the kitchen are borrowed from the clubhouse, and they’ll need them back before next weekend’s party. I had a king-sized mattress delivered for my bedroom, and queen size for the guest room, but they’re just sittin’ on the floor until I buy beds. I bought black dishes, and heavy flatware, and stuff to cook with. That’s it. Haven’t even bought glasses yet, but I drink a lotta beer, so it wasn’t a priority.”

  “How long have you been out?” Had he just gotten out of prison? I couldn’t think of any other reason he wouldn’t even have dishes, but Etta had made it sound like he’d been out a while.

  “Year and a half. Stayed with another brother on parole at first, then rented a tiny house near some woods, but it had furniture, dishes, pots and pans. I like it up here and I’m stayin’, so it’s time for me to put down roots.”

  “Okay. I can help.”

  “You aren’t going to ask what I was in for?”

  “You’ll tell me if you want me to know.” Asking why felt rude. Etta trusted him to protect me, and that was enough. I didn’t need to know his life story.

  “They tried to get me on murder but it didn’t stick. Got me for abuse of a corpse, which basically just means I’m not a licensed funeral whatever and they caught me burying it.” He shrugged. “A couple of felony charges stuck, just not the murder rap. I was inside seven years.”

  “You got caught with the body and skated on murder? You must have a superstar attorney.”

  “The club only hires the best. You don’t wanna bolt?”

  “On the contrary. I feel safer.” I didn’t want him to kill to prot
ect me, but having the reputation that he’d done it in the past meant his enemies were less likely to fuck with me.

  “You don’t talk like you grew up in the hood.”

  I shrugged. “The foster family wasn’t terrible. My mama’s pissed I’m still in school, like I’m trying to prove I’m better than her or something. She’s proud of my sister for being a high-priced whore instead of a street whore.”

  His look went from friendly to cool, and I clarified, “I don’t call her a whore. I was telling you what our mama says. I love my sister more than anyone else in the world, and I’m proud of her for standing up for herself. She doesn’t hate her job and she makes a ton of money. She has a plan. She’s doin’ just fine.” I sighed. “One of Mama’s childhood friends got a scholarship and went to college, then law school. She’s the assistant district attorney now, and I don’t think Mama will ever forgive her. I’ve heard her bitch all my life about how Jamala changed her name to Jamie and got all uppity. Sometimes it feels like she’s comparing me going to cosmetology school to her friend going to law school, like she can’t tell the difference.”

  “She should be proud of both of her daughters, and it’s on her if she isn’t.” He paused a second. “If you went into foster care at fourteen — your sister’s probably at least four years older than you, right?”

  I nodded. “She’s four years and three days older than me.”

  “What’s your mom’s story? She can’t just be a…” He motioned me up some steps. “Street pimps usually insist on abortions if their girls get knocked up.”

  “It’s safe to talk here? No bugs?” Etta had told me to be sure I didn’t lie to him about anything. She’d made it sound as if he had some kind of built in lie detector. I figured it was safe to tell him about Mama’s primary career path, but only if there wasn’t a chance the cops were listening in.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “The whole neighborhood’s safe. We own it.”