I tossed the last in and said, “That should do it.”
I was about to start walking but glanced his way first.
I halted completely because Joker was frozen, leaning into our cart, his eyes aimed down the aisle, a look on his face that could be described no other way than haunted.
I turned my head the other way and that was when I froze.
I did this because there was a man at the other end of the aisle. Tall. Broad shoulders. Silvered black hair that was messy and ill-kempt. Exceptionally handsome profile. Terrible clothes that were wrinkled and well-worn and not in a good way. Serious beer belly. He was glowering at the shelves, his side turned to us.
But Carson Steele was written all over him.
Joker’s father.
Oh my God.
Joker’s father.
I forced my head Joker’s way and saw he was on the move.
This move being he had straightened. Hands on the bar of the cart, he was flipping it around.
“We done in this aisle?” he asked tersely.
We weren’t.
But now we very much were.
“Yeah, sweetie,” I said softly.
He didn’t even look at me.
He exited the aisle immediately.
I looked back the other way and watched Joker’s father’s profile as he scowled at an elderly woman who was turning her cart into the aisle as he was walking out of it. His scowl was so ferocious the lady stared at him in blank shock.
I waited and saw him move opposite to the way we were heading.
I let out a relieved breath and quickly followed Joker.
Had a father beat on me. Had to let that go. Had to get it out. So I did.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t get it out. He might have tried, illegally fighting (whatever that meant but it conjured images of Fight Club, images that were daunting, images that made me sick for him that he’d turn to that to let out his rage, rage given to him by his dad, so I hadn’t yet asked).
But if he’d gotten it out, he wouldn’t have left the aisle.
He would have walked down it, which was where we were heading, and ignored his father. Or, if his father saw him and didn’t ignore him, he would have faced him secure in the knowledge that he was past it.
He hadn’t done that.
I knew from what I’d just witnessed that he also hadn’t seen him since he’d been back.
Of course, he wouldn’t search him out. He was past that.
Or telling himself he was.
They undoubtedly didn’t run in the same circles.
Further, Joker lived in a room in a motorcycle club compound. He didn’t have a kitchen to keep stocked. Happening onto his father in a grocery store wasn’t going to happen.
But now he was with me so he had a kitchen and it did.
And Joker didn’t let it roll off his back.
He retreated.
My Joker didn’t retreat.
He moved forward. He built fabulous cars. He took on a single mom and her kid. He patrolled the streets with his brothers to keep them safe.
But from his father, a still-handsome but aging, beer-bellied man who’d scowl at an old lady for getting in his way in a grocery store, Joker retreated.
This troubled me for obvious reasons.
But mostly because what just happened proved my biker was not good, as he said he was.
He was not good at all.
And that was very, very troubling.
* * *
“Yeah?”
“Linus, it’s Carrie.”
“Carrie, darlin’, what’s up?” Linus asked through the phone at my ear.
I was hiding in the bathroom.
This was immature and possibly hazardous, considering why I was doing it and the fact that Joker might get angry about it.
But I was doing it.
I’d also filched Joker’s phone to get Linus’s number. I had Kam’s and Mrs. Heely’s.
But this had to be Linus.
“Can you talk for a second, Linus?” I asked back.
“Sure,” he said, but that one word was cautious.
I drew in breath.
Then I did what I had to do.
This being whispering, “How bad was it?”
“Sorry, darlin’?” he asked.
“Carson’s father,” I kept whispering. “How bad was it?”
There was a pause before he asked, “Is Car okay?”
“Tonight, we saw his dad.”
“Fuck,” Linus muttered.
“He, well… Linus, he… ran away,” I shared, guilt plaguing me that I gave Joker’s friend that weakness, but something stronger was driving me onward. “My Carson… my Joker isn’t about that.”
“No,” Linus bit off.
“I saw the cigarette burns,” I confided.
“Yeah, Mrs. Heely told me about that,” he replied immediately. “She saw ’em too when Car was eight.”
Oh no.
Eight?
“Before my time,” Linus carried on. “But she told me about ’em. She also told Social Services about ’em. No clue how that motherfucker got off on that one. Just know he did and the burns stopped.”
Eight.
He got those burns when he was eight.
I didn’t want to ask what I had to ask.
But I asked because it had to be asked.
“What else?”
“He talk to you about this at all?” Linus queried in return.
“He doesn’t hide it,” I told him. “He speaks freely of it. You’d think he was what he wants me to believe, over it. But when I saw the burns, he tried to hide it, pull away, pass it off. I… well, I don’t know how to broach it or even if I should, since he’s convinced himself he’s beyond it.” I paused and shared softly, “He’s not beyond it, Linus.”
“Lotsa ways to fuck up a kid, and Jefferson Steele did ’em all,” Linus declared.
My chest depressed.
Linus kept speaking.
“Had women over, didn’t hide it, sight or sound, what he did with ’em even at an age way too young for a kid to see that shit. But also when Carson was gettin’ older and all that would be on his mind was that shit. Car, do not know what he’s made of, have no idea how he didn’t get twisted by that, but I’d see him with his girls. I knew there were a lot of ’em, I figured he got some from ’em, but from what little I saw when he was with ’em, he respected ’em.”
I saw that too. And every girl who had him loved being with him (which was torture for me at the time, luckily, fates changed).
Those girls just never had him for long.
“On top a’ that, beat the shit outta him,” Linus said. “Left him standin’ but didn’t mind doin’ it visible. Shouted at ’im. Not sure more than a couple days went by before the whole block heard him lay into Car. Call him a piece of shit. Tear him up. Never heard Car say a word back, Carrie, not once.”
I was pretty certain I could feel my heart bleeding, and as much as I hated the feeling, I had to concentrate on containing it so I was unable to respond.
Regardless, there really was nothing to say.
“Got no good from the man,” Linus continued into my silence. “If he wasn’t yellin’ at him or beatin’ on him, Carson didn’t exist. That is, except to serve him. Anything got done in that house, vacuum goin’, trash out, food cooked, Carson did it because his old man ordered it. No way he’d court gettin’ what he’d get if he told the guy to go fuck himself, so he did it. He was a slave, Carrie, whipped and broken. He was a strong kid, built, no clue why he didn’t fight back. But he didn’t. Then he took too much and fought back. That was the end.”
“It wasn’t the end,” I whispered.
At that, Linus didn’t reply.
“What do I do?” I asked.
“Be with him, give him what you’re givin’ him. He appreciates it, darlin’.”
I knew he did.
It just wasn’t enough.
I didn’t
say that.
“Listen to me, sweetheart,” Linus said gently. “Car has already won. He’s on the other side. Good job. Good people around him. Pretty girl. Nice house. A boy he gets to love on and right the wrongs done to him. Just be patient. Carson is not dumb. He’ll come to terms and do it through and through. Just be with him while he goes through that process.”
Linus probably wasn’t wrong.
But that also wasn’t enough.
“Okay,” I lied, more guilt hitting me because I wasn’t a big fan of lying.
“You okay?” Linus asked.
Joker’s friends were so wonderful.
“I’ll be fine,” I told him, hoping that wasn’t a lie.
“All right, Carrie. Hang tight, stay tough, the hard part is done, gettin’ to this spot and findin’ each other. Now you get the easy.”
He was only half right.
Joker gave me easy.
I just wanted him to have his.
“Thanks, Linus,” I said.
“Not a problem, Carrie. See you later, darlin’.”
“Yes. Say hi to Kam and the kids for me.”
“Will do.” He didn’t bid me to do the same considering he probably knew Joker would never be privy to this conversation. “Later.”
“’Bye.”
I disconnected but continued to hold my phone and poke the screen. I did it quickly and I did it before I could think about it.
And once it was done, I put my phone to my ear.
“Hey, girlie, it’s late. Everything okay?” Elvira asked.
“I… no,” I answered.
“Travis?” she asked quickly.
“No,” I answered just as quickly, then launched in, “Okay, listen, I’m sorry. I’m sorry to drag you into this again but Joker saw his dad at the grocery store tonight. His response was…” I shook my head, not about to give to her what I gave to Joker’s friend, and carried on, “Promise me you will not go to your boss and I promise you I’ll do something to pay back this favor, but I want his dad’s address, and I’m hoping you can get it for me.”
“What you gonna do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. I just… I’d just feel better having it.”
Elvira didn’t respond and through her silence I thought about her question.
What was I going to do?
Nothing.
I was going to do nothing.
“You’re right,” I said, my shoulders slumping. “This is stupid. The last time I started this, Joker told me—”
“I’ll get you the address on one condition. You don’t go in without backup.”
My head jerked. “Go in where?”
“Anywhere, girl,” she returned.
“I probably won’t do anything. It’s just—”
“You’re gonna do somethin’. It’s gonna be crazy. And a crazy bitch with a vendetta who wears butterfly shoes is gonna get her shit fucked up. I’ll get you the address. You get your courage up to make a move, before you make it, you make a call.”
I didn’t lie. I probably wasn’t going to do anything. What was there to do? Go to Joker’s dad’s house and browbeat him into apologizing for being an abusive, lowlife, child-burning, slave-driving… asshole?
Still, I told myself, I wanted that address just in case, God forbid, something happened like Joker needed a kidney.
I wouldn’t ask for said kidney. I’d use my savings to hire someone to knock Joker’s dad out and leave him in a bathtub filled with ice after harvesting his kidney and calling 911 so Joker’s dad could survive, just with one kidney.
It was extreme and it was a little scary I could even think like that.
But there it was.
“Okay, I promise,” I told Elvira.
“I’ll have it to you tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
“Always got your back, girl. Now I got a man to get in the mood ’cause I’m in the mood. Lucky for me, he goes from baseball mood to a little somethin’-somethin’ mood in half a second, and he reads eyes so all I gotta do is walk out and look at him. So I’m gonna get on that.”
I grinned. “Have fun.”
“Hope you get your fun too. Later, Carrie.”
“’Bye, Elvira.”
I drew in a breath, disconnected, and looked in the mirror.
I was just getting the address. That was it. I wasn’t going to do anything with it. I would just feel better having it.
Had a father beat on me.
Car was eight.
Yes, I would just feel better having it.
On that thought, I left the bathroom.
* * *
The next day I stood in the break room staring at the text on my phone.
It was an address.
My first thought was alibi.
My second thought was I had to do this when Travis was still at his dad’s and I had to do it before I chickened out.
I didn’t know what it was.
I just knew I had to do it.
And soon.
So that was why my finger moved on the screen and I put the phone to my ear.
“Hey, honey,” Tyra answered. “How’re things?”
“They’re great!” I chirped with fake enthusiasm. “Listen, Joker’s on patrol tonight and I haven’t had a girls’ night out in ages and I’ve got a tube top I haven’t worn.”
She didn’t say anything for long moments that kind of scared me before she said hesitantly, “Not sure that tube top is for a night Joker isn’t there to see you wear it.”
This was a point to ponder but I didn’t have the time to ponder it.
I could feel myself chickening out.
“I’ll wear a jacket over it,” I promised.
“I… well—”
“Are you free?” I spoke over her.
“Well, sure,” she said.
“Good!” It came out as another chirp. “I’ll, uh… call Tabby. And maybe Lanie. And Elvira. We’ll decide where to go and then we’ll go.”
“Okay, honey, I’ll look forward to it.”
“Fantastic!” I said with forced enthusiasm. “I’ll text you with the plans.”
“Great.”
“Okay, see you later,” I said.
“Right, Carrie, see you.”
We hung up. I did a lot of texting. I was nearly hyperventilating when I called Joker to let him know I was going out with the girls that night.
Not surprisingly, he thought that was a great idea since he liked me having a life and friends and fun (I left out mention of my tube top) and then he promised me he’d be good hanging with his brothers at the Compound before patrol.
With all this, I was three minutes late getting back to my register.
That had never happened before.
Sharon said nothing.
And I prayed I wouldn’t mess up my drawer because for the rest of my shift, my mind was whirling.
I was off a dollar and seventy-two cents.
That had only happened twice before.
Again, Sharon didn’t say anything.
Then I went home.
* * *
I sat in my car in my good jeans (the only pair I had, post-pregnancy), tube top, spike-heeled black leather booties (pre-divorce and pre-pregnancy, they were designer, cost a fortune, and luckily, my feet had not changed sizes with Travis), and black leather jacket (also pre-divorce and I was happy it still fit me and looked great) and I poked at my phone.
I group texted the girls, Running a little late! Sorry! Hair emergency! Be there soon!
I looked up from the phone and stared at the house.
Okay, I was going to do this.
Time to do this.
Right, just open the door and do this.
My phone rang in my hand and I jumped.
I looked down at it and my heart skipped a beat when I saw it was Tory.
I took the call and put the phone to my ear.
“Tory, is Travis okay?”
“I get it,” she whis
pered on a sniffle.
Oh no.
This was not happening.
I didn’t ever want to do this, I couldn’t imagine why she was calling me to do this, but right then, I simply couldn’t do it.
“Tory, I’m in the mid—”
“I stole him from you, of course you’d steal him back from me.”
Darn it!
“Really, listen, right now I can’t—”
“And if it wasn’t you, it’d be someone,” she spoke over me. “If he’d leave his wife who’s pretty and sweet and freaking pregnant, what was up for me? This. He told me he wanted space two weeks ago. So since it’s his house, I had to move in with a girlfriend. Tonight, he officially kicked me out.”
Ugh.
But, if Tory was gone, who was looking after Travis while Aaron was at work? And why hadn’t he told his attorney to tell my attorney there was this change in circumstance?
I wasn’t going to get into that with Tory. Unfortunately, I’d have to get into it with Aaron through Angie.
“Okay, I can hear you’re upset,” I told her. “But—”
“Don’t take him back,” she hissed, hiccupped, and kept going, “He’s just going to do it again.”
“I’m not taking him back, Tory. I’m with another man.”
“He said you were getting back together,” she told me, now sounding perplexed. “He said we were through because you were putting your family back together.”
“He lied,” I shared. “But this is between you and him. There is no him and me. When I say I’m with someone else, I’m with him. We’re unofficially living together. And Aaron knows it.”
“That asshole!” she yelled.
I shook my head. “I know you’re upset and angry, and I’m sorry about that for you. We have an odd relationship, and I can’t say you’ve been my favorite person. You made some choices that affected me in not-so-good ways. But in the end, I got where I wanted to be partially because of them. So I can’t really hold ill will. And because of that, I’ll say right now, it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re better off too. Now you can find someone who’ll be good to you. And Aaron isn’t very good at that.”
“You’re right about that!” she snapped just as my phone buzzed in my hand in the way it did when I had another call.
“Anyway, I’m in the middle of something and have another call coming through. I have to go. But take care of yourself.”
“I’ll start doing that,” she told me sharply. “And he can go fuck himself.”