Chapter Nine
Ruthie
“Why exactly did you force me to call off work and kidnap me?” Rochelle asks.
“Because I need you and you owe me. Did you know Dad was there the other day?”
“No. I only mentioned him because Mom brought him up earlier that day. It got me wondering about things.”
“You realize she’s the one who called him down here, right?”
“No. No way. She wouldn’t do that, Ruthie. She hates him with a passion.”
“Not as much as she hates motorcycle clubs, apparently.”
“You really can’t believe that,” Ruthie replies.
“He told me as much.”
“I just—I have a real hard time accepting that.” Rochelle glances out the window.
I can’t help but feel sympathy. “How the hell else would he know when and where I was going to be, Roch? Do you really have blinders on after all these years?”
“She’s the only parent we have. I don’t want to think the worst.”
I sigh. “That’s the difference between you and I…I already do.”
“What are you going to do when we get there?” Rochelle whispers.
The fear in her voice makes me smile. The smile every woman has before she loses her shit. She should be afraid of me right now. I’m a pregnant woman protecting her unborn child and my life with its parent. Unlike my mother, I don’t plan on doing this solo or letting outside forces drive a wedge between us. I can’t say what went wrong with her and Dad outside of his drug abuse. There was a long period of happy normalcy. We never talked about it. I know I’ll be damned, if I let the cycle of broken home continue with me.
Rochelle got her happy-every-after, and I’m going to get mine. Whether it looks like the traditional fairytale or not, is my business. I could never be happy with what people think of as the American dream. “I’m going to get answers,” I vow.
Rochelle clears her throat. “I don’t know if this is the best way to go about it.”
“You don’t get it. I’m fighting to keep my family. Not just the one in my belly, you, and maybe even Mom if she decides to stop acting bat shit crazy. I’m Skull’s Old Lady now. What he and his President say goes. If they think you’re a threat, or a liability to the club, that’s it.” I snap my fingers.
“And you would let that fly?” she asks incredulously.
“I signed on for this, Rochelle.”
“Ugh, it’s disgusting, archaic, male chauvinist bullshit.”
“It keeps everyone safe. I can depend on any of those men and women to help me if I need it. Can you say that about many people with one-hundred percent clarity? I know you don’t understand it. All I ask is you don’t judge what you don’t know.”
“You sound brainwashed right now,” Rochelle says.
“No, I sound real. I hope to God, you didn’t have anything to do with what went down at the festival. Because if you did, I can’t save you.”
“Save me? Are you saying they’d hurt me?”
I remain silent, letting the seriousness of the situation sink in.
“Oh, God. I didn’t know. I swear. I would never do that to you.”
Her words sound true, but the test will come when I see her and Mom together. I would never let anyone hurt my sister. But I would cut her out of my life if she betrayed me. I chose this life and now I have to live it.
An uncomfortable quiet comes in the car. I turn on the classic rock station and let Journey drown out my racing thoughts.