Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos 5)

***

Too soon I’m peeling my tired body out of bed as the smell of Bacon wafts into the room. I vaguely remember B leaving the bed when Delphine woke the world with her cries. I force my body out of bed and walk into the bathroom. I brush my teeth, work the tangles out of my shoulder length hair and walk out. The women and Bolton are gathered in the kitchen. I smirk as I take in the looks being exchanged between Bolton and Whitney. Her cheeks flush like her mother’s do when things get too intense. I hide my laughter with a cough.

“Morning ladies, something smells good.”

“Morning, babe. We figured we’d make breakfast for everyone,” B says with a bright smile. I can see Blue looking between us. It’s amusing the way people respond to me and B when they’ve known me first.

“You need help with anything?”

“No, we’ve got it under control.”

“Thanks for letting us stay here, Freeze,” Blue says.

“Yeah thanks a lot,” Bolton adds.

“Our place is yours,” I say with a nod. “I’m going to hop in the shower, B.”

“Food’ll be ready by the time you’re done.”

I see the lump on the couch bed stir. It was a long night for Shadow. Daddy duty on top of club business. I can’t help but wonder if it’s a sign. My club family and B are merged seamlessly in the other room the day I decide to push for more. Trusting my gut has never steered me wrong yet.

***

Jagger,

I appreciate your honesty, and your willingness to try. It’s more than I deserve, or expected you to give me. I have vacation time built up, so if you give me a time frame, I can free up a week. I’m working at the Just a Buck store. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills, I like my co-workers, and as Assistant Manager, I’m on track to one day manage the store. There aren’t a lot of opportunities out there for people like me, with my track record at my age, so I’m grateful, and maybe even proud of how far I’ve come.

When I first got home, prospects were bleak. There are so many questions I want to ask you, but one sticks out in my head. The rest can wait. Are you happy? I look forward to your next letter.

Yours,

Karen.

Seated on a high back stool at the kitchen bar the answer to her question is yes. Things have changed drastically. I have a woman, a kid I’m starting to view as mine by proxy, and brothers I’m getting to know better every day. It’s one thing to be a brother it’s another to be friends. I didn’t get that distinction before when I was holding everyone at arm’s length. I been holding on to this letter for a couple of months trying to deal with the complex emotions writing my mother have stirred up. Hours have been spent boxing with Warp to cipher off the rage.

B thinks I should see a head shrinker. I don’t like the thought of sitting on some couch like a baby, opening up, talking about feelings and bad experiences. It sounds like hell on Earth. I want to write her back, but the words won’t come. Does this relieve her guilt? Does she think we’re going to stand in a circle, hold hands, and sing Kumbaya? How am I going to feel when I see her? The questions run through my head raising the slow boiling anger I know is bound to bubble up. I stand so fast the stool slams to the ground. What would life have been like if she’d gotten sober? Would Dad still be alive? One stupid decision stole an entire life. Had I been the cau

se of my grandmother’s death? Was it the strain of caring for a baby and then a toddler? Or maybe seeing her daughter sentenced for life?

Brushes out, of the bedroom. “What’s going on?”

“How the hell am I supposed to do this, B?” I pound my chest. “This is why I leave this emotional shit alone. Once it’s uncaged, there’s nothing I can do.”

Her mouth forms an O.

“How could she choose drugs over her family? Why the hell was robbing a bank a good idea? Jesus Christ, we put my grandmother in an early grave. I have to live with that. Me.” I slap my chest, but it does nothing to alleviate the ache in my chest where my heart lies.

“You didn’t do anything, Jagger. You were a child.”

“A child my sixty-five-year-old grandmother shouldn’t have been looking after. How much life did we steal from her?”

“It’s not on you.”

“Who is it on then? Cause she was never around to take any of the burden. Then she pops up like some ghost from my past, and I’m supposed to do what?” I kick the stool across the room.

She jerks. “Whatever you want to do or not do.”

“Then what? Do I stay in limbo? I lose the only blood connection I have left? I go on with all those questions I have unanswered?” I swipe my arm across the kitchen aisle sending utensils and decor clattering onto the ground. Glass shatters. She gasps. I wonder if she sees me for the monster I truly am. I’ve been hiding behind a mask. She steps over the broken glass and time stands still. She grabs a dish from the cabinet and throws it to the ground. I flinch.