Overdosed: Fury's Storm MC

by Zoey Parker

  It was disgusting in there. Bodies everywhere, either passed out, half awake, shooting up. In a couple rooms, I saw people fucking right out in the open. Nobody around them cared. They were all in their own worlds. I felt sorry for them for a minute. Nobody would choose a life like that.

  I didn’t know what The Scarecrow looked like, so I asked around. “You seen The Scarecrow around here?” The few people who were still alert shook their heads. One of them said, “Man, if he was here, I wouldn’t be here. Scary dude.”

  “Yeah. Scary dude.” He looked at me like I was crazy for even asking. Why would anybody look for a person like him? I couldn’t explain that I wouldn’t if it didn’t have to do with a little girl and a woman who used to mean something to me.

  When I left, it was like walking out of hell. I took a deep breath of fresh air. It was amazing, the difference from inside to outside. There was actual light outside. It could’ve been any time of day or night inside, with the boarded windows.

  “You find what you need, man?” I looked down at one of the men who was outside when I went in. He was alone.

  “Where’d your friend go?”

  “In there. Couldn’t even wait for the rest of the cash.” He shook his head. I shook mine.

  “Here.” I handed him another fifty and went back to my bike. It was fine, so he did his job. I was even more depressed than before I went into the drug den. I thought about all the lost people inside, then told myself they were a lost cause. There were other people to think about, people with an actual future. Like my daughter.

  And Jamie. I tried not to think about her, but she kept pushing her way into my thoughts. The way she looked when she told me off, with those flashing green eyes and heaving tits. She made me catch my breath just thinking about it. I had wanted to do so much more to her than just kiss her. I still wanted to do it.

  Then I thought about Rae as I rode to her house. How the fuck did she get herself mixed up with a guy like The Scarecrow? He was a legend in our town. A scary legend, the kind you told kids when you wanted to scare them away from drugs. If you weren’t careful, The Scarecrow would eat your soul.

  Funny how he disappeared, and Rae was gone, too. Did they go somewhere together? I couldn’t imagine the two of them on a beach somewhere. I actually laughed a little at the thought, it was that crazy. No way they did that. So what, then? Where would they go? What could they do together?

  They didn’t go away together. He sent her away. He probably killed her. I couldn’t ignore the chance that he had. My daughter probably didn’t have a mother anymore. How would I tell her that? How could I break the news to a seven-year-old that her mommy got mixed up with the wrong guy and he killed her?

  How did the police tell me? They didn’t have to tell me. One thing Gigi and I had in common was a sort of sad understanding. It was the only way I could think to describe it. We both knew more than we should have from a young age. We understood how shitty life could be. I wished I could have protected her from that. When my mom OD’d, nobody had to explain it. I just knew she was dead and that was it. It felt like it had to happen sooner or later. What a shitty thing for a little kid to know without being told.

  Obviously I couldn’t tell her the truth right away. She’d have to know someday, though. That day would come faster than I wanted it to. I would worry about it when it happened—I had more important things to worry about at that time.

  I turned my bike in the direction of Rae’s house and hoped I would find something, anything, to settle the mess she had gotten us all into. Otherwise, I didn’t know what I could do to keep my daughter safe.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jamie

  “Am I ever gonna go back to school?”

  I sighed. The poor thing looked more miserable than I had ever seen her, which was saying something, considering the fact that I’d seen her looking pretty miserable. I’d seen her half frozen, half starved, exhausted from staying up all night, listening to Rae’s parties. Despite the cheerful pink sweater and tutu she wore, she broke my heart.

  I did my best to stay positive for her sake, smiling and stroking her dark hair. She had a set of bangs that were just a little too long, and I brushed them away from her eyes. “Of course you will, sweetie. But aren’t you having a nice vacation?”

  “Is this what a vacation is?” She looked skeptical, then looked around the lounge.

  I opened my eyes wide, smiling. “Heck yes! That’s what a vacation is. You take time off, you relax, and you have fun. Aren’t we having fun?”

  “I guess so.” It was painful trying to draw her out that way. She wasn’t buying it. I felt sorry for her—my heart broke a little more, in fact. I knew how much she loved school, how much she cared about her friends. School was probably the only happy thing she had in her life, the only place she felt like she belonged—ironic, seeing as how she was so different from the other kids. It couldn’t be easy for her to be the only little person in a world full of grownups.

  I craned my neck, lowering my head until our eyes met. “Hey. Everything’s going to be okay. You believe me, right?”

  She nodded, frowning. She looked completely dejected, but she would do her best as long as she thought it would make me happy. I gave her a little half hug, but I was burning up with anger. I would have to have a little talk with her father whenever he decided to come back from running around.

  Erica and Traci came out, and the three of us sat down to play poker with Gigi. It was the only thing that seemed to cheer her up. I worried that she might end up being a hopeless gambler one day, but it amused her in the moment. I couldn’t deny her.

  I found myself watching the girls more closely than usual, mainly because they were so different from me. Both of them had long hair, which they curled down their backs. Both of them wore heavy makeup. Traci wore a tight tank top and skinny jeans. Erica wore a t-shirt she’d cut the neckband out of until it hung over one shoulder, and a pair of leather pants. They were buxom and sexy—if a little cheap. But nice girls.

  Was that what Lance liked? Was that his type of girl? I would never be that girl. I would be a novelty to him for as long as we knew each other. He would never take me seriously. I was the bitch with the stick up her ass. He kissed me, but it didn’t mean anything. It was a heat of the moment type thing. I didn’t mean a thing. He wanted the type of girl Erica and Traci were. Nice, fun, sexy. And a little trashy.

  It reminded me of the end of Grease, which always annoyed me. Sandy changes herself to make Danny happy, so they can be together. What sort of message was that for a girl? I would never do something like that. If I wasn’t good enough for Lance as I was, I would never be good enough.

  Wait a minute. I completely messed up my hand of poker when it occurred to me that I was thinking about Lance as something more than Gigi’s father. When had that changed? When we first met, he was only a filthy criminal. I couldn’t stand being in the same room with him, much less the thought of killing him. Now I was wondering if he’d ever like me. How pathetic.

  I paid more attention to the way Gigi interacted with the girls, and that took my mind off my mixed feelings. I could enjoy myself when I wasn’t thinking too much.

  “So, Jamie,” Traci asked, glancing at me over her cards, “do you have a boyfriend?”

  I blushed and cut my eyes at Gigi. It wasn’t the sort of conversation to be had in front of a little girl. She was way too interested in the answer, too.

  “I don’t know if certain little people need to hear about this,” I joked, looking right at her.

  “I won’t tell. Promise. I won’t even listen.” She put her hands over her ears—after laying her cards face-down, of course. She was a sharp kid.

  “It’s okay.” I gently pried her hands from her ears. “The answer is no, anyway.”

  “No? A pretty girl like you?” Erica shook her head in disappointment.

  “You are pretty, Jamie. Everybody in class thinks so.” Gigi beamed.

  “Thank
you, sweetie.” I bit my lip to hide a smile. “And I love how the two of you sound like old ladies giving me advice, when I’m older than you.” I looked at Traci and Erica. They both giggled.

  “You’re right. We sound like gossipy old ladies. My grandma was like that. Her friends would sit around the kitchen table, drinking coffee or whatever, and when I walked in the kitchen they’d start talking about me. How it was a shame a pretty girl like me didn’t have a boyfriend.” Erica laughed. “I’m turning into my grandma. It’s all over.”

  “You look young,” Gigi assured her, very seriously.

  “Thank you, honey.” Erica winked at me.

  “So, how come?” Traci asked. She wasn’t going to let it go.

  “I just don’t. It’s a long story.”

  “We have lots of time.”

  “It’s a private story.”

  “We won’t tell.”

  I shook my head. “I just never met anybody I liked well enough.”

  “Wait. You’ve never had a boyfriend? Like, never ever?” All three of them put their cards down to stare at me. Even Gigi.

  “You shouldn’t be listening to talk like this,” I told her, shaking my finger.

  “I’m pretty grown up,” she said. “I know how things are. With boyfriends and stuff.” I wondered how true that was, and thought she probably knew a lot more than any child her age should. My heart ached a little.

  “Okay.” I put my cards down, giving in. They weren’t going to let me off the hook, so it was pointless to keep wiggling. “I had a boyfriend in college. He was nice. I liked him a lot. Only he…liked a lot of other girls, too.” Erica and Traci nodded their heads sagely. Gigi was transfixed.

  “He liked other girls better than he liked you? That’s impossible!” She was so serious, I didn’t want to laugh at her. I bit my tongue and managed to nod seriously.

  “I thought so, too,” I said once the urge to laugh had passed. “So we broke up—well, I broke up with him.”

  “And you never had a boyfriend since then?” Erica asked.

  “I’ve dated a little here and there. Mostly people I got fixed up with. You know how it is. It never worked out. It was fun, but there was nothing there. Nobody to get serious about.”

  “And you like living alone,” Gigi added. I smiled at her while wishing I had never told her that.

  “You can’t be alone all the time,” Traci pointed out.

  “Thanks for the advice,” I joked, wanting to change the subject. I had the feeling that wasn’t going to happen.

  “It’s true. You’re young. You have it together. You have a lot to offer. Just because some creep hurt you…”

  “It’s not because of that,” I said, knowing it was. That was exactly why I steered away from commitment, because Steve was a jerk who walked all over my heart. When I found out he’d been cheating on me, I blamed myself. Hadn’t I seen the signs and dismissed them? Hadn’t I told myself I was paranoid for wondering why he’d drop off the face of the Earth sometimes? Hadn’t I accused myself of being too hard on him, of putting up blocks to my happiness? Yes, all that and more. And look where it got me. I couldn’t trust my judgment with men.

  I couldn’t trust my judgment. Which was why I had to steel myself against Lance. I couldn’t trust myself to be level-headed, especially when he did sweet things like carrying Gigi around and listening to her stories. Just because he decided to give the whole father thing a shot didn’t make him a good person, worthy of my affection. It didn’t change him into an upstanding citizen, either. I would never commit myself to a criminal. I was too smart for that, too focused on a solid future.

  I looked around. “Where’s Lance, anyway? I haven’t seen him all morning.”

  Erica shrugged. “I guess he had things to do. Who knows? He’s got a lot on his mind right now.”

  “How do you stand it when he gets that way? All tensed up, I mean. Is he always like that?”

  “No,” Traci said. “He’s usually pretty even and calm. There’s a lot going on.” She nodded her head toward Gigi, who was dealing a new hand.

  “Have you ever seen him like this before?”

  “Maybe when he first started as president,” Erica said.

  Traci nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he was pretty wound-up then, too. I guess it makes sense, though. He had a lot to take care of. He did a good job, though.”

  “Oh yeah. Everybody thinks he’s the best president the club ever had,” Erica added.

  “What’s the club do?” Gigi asked, all innocence. I looked at the girls, who looked at each other.

  Erica cleared her throat. “It started a long time ago, maybe fifty years.”

  Gigi’s eyes went wide. “That long?”

  Erica grinned. “Yeah. A long, long time. A bunch of friends liked to ride motorcycles, and they weren’t happy with the way the world was. Like, they fought in a war, and when they came home, they felt different about their jobs and their lives. Does that make sense?”

  “Not really,” Gigi said.

  “It’s like this. They felt unhappy and didn’t understand why they had to fight in the war. It didn’t make sense to them. And nobody would give them any answers that made sense. It felt like all they did was make war and hurt people for no reason. So they decided to make up their own club, and sorta live together and make up the rules for how they would live.”

  “Did Lance do that? Is he that old? He looks young!”

  Erica giggled. “No, Lance wasn’t there back then. But my granddaddy was. He was one of the first members. And my daddy joined, too, when he got old enough. I used to hear stories about when they first started, all the time.”

  “Does everybody live here?”

  “No, sometimes we stay here. But we have our own houses and stuff, just like everybody else.”

  Gigi nodded, taking it all in. “I was wondering why everybody was always here. Don’t you have jobs?”

  Both Erica and Traci laughed softly. “That’s complicated. For us, this is our job. We cook and clean up and pour drinks and stuff. The guys do all sorts of things.” She left it at that. Gigi looked satisfied enough. I wasn’t satisfied—I was curious as to how the men made their money. They all seemed fairly well-off, for all their scruffiness. The clubhouse was beautiful. The money had to be coming from somewhere.

  Gigi fell silent, and I knew her well enough to see the wheels turning in her head. Her eyes drifted toward me more than once. What was on her mind?

  “Jamie?”

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Do you like Lance?”

  I was so flabbergasted, the only thing I could do was laugh. She was serious, though, waiting for me to answer.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think he’s a nice person?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I think he’s nice.”

  “You fight with him a lot.”

  I smiled. “Grownups do that sometimes.”

  “But you think he’s okay? A nice man?”

  “I really do. I think he likes you a lot.” I rubbed her back, but glanced at the girls with questions in my eyes. They shrugged, just as lost as I was.

  Her little voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe you guys could get married.”

  Traci sounded like she was choking. I ignored her and Erica, my eyes only on Gigi.

  “Uh, I think we can find something to do elsewhere. Traci…?” Erica got up, dragging her friend with her. I waited until Gigi and I were alone before I continued speaking.

  “Sweetie? Why would you want me and Lance to get married?” I asked as gently as I could.

  “That way, maybe you could be my other mommy. Other kids have other mommies when their daddy and mommy don’t live together anymore. Like Olivia and Spencer do.”

  I nodded. There were more than a few kids in class whose parents were divorced. Somehow, I never thought any of that filtered through Gigi’s consciousness—then again, she was a very smart, perceptive kid. I shouldn’t have been surpr
ised that she’d picked up on it.

  “That’s true. Some people have more than one mommy and daddy. Step-parents, they’re called.”

  “Right. So maybe you could be my step-mommy. Since you like Lance. I know he’s my daddy, my real daddy.”

  “You do?”

  “Mommy told me that’s who I was going to live with.”

  I chose my words carefully. “Honey, people don’t get married just because they like each other. They do it because they love each other. I don’t love your daddy.”

  “Oh.” Her face was a mask.

  “Talk to me, please. What are you thinking about?”