Crow: Kings of Carnage MC - Prospects

They don’t say a word as they pass us and head to the door in the back that’s locked. I’ve tried to jimmy it open a couple times but it’s locked for sure. I have no idea what they’re keeping on the other side of that door but I know it’s not good.

“What if they have a prisoner down there,” Dime whispers and my mouth parts.

Jesus, what if they do?

“Surely we would hear racket or crying.” I look to her, unsure. “Right?”

She shrugs, dusting her hands of the crumbs of her banana muffin.

“It’s probably drugs, you know that, right?”

Turning away from where they disappeared, I grab a rag from under the counter and wipe where we were just eating. I don’t want to think about it. Drugs, the devil’s escape from the real world. I don’t know how many times Dime and I were locked in a room while our parents got doped up. They didn’t just get their supply from the Kings though, they’d get it wherever they could find it, so me being salty at the Kings for my parents’ demise isn’t really fair. I guess just the idea of drugs in general hits a spot in my chest that makes me angry.

“Maybelline, the light went out in the oven again!” Dime whines, down on all fours, she peeks inside of the small slit that allows us to slip a small pan inside and cook it with a bulb.

“Are you sure?” Getting on my knees, I try to look inside too.

Grabbing the purple spatula that extends, I place it inside and pull up the metal flap that helps contain the heat, I don’t see any light. Lifting my head, I look at the outlet across from us to make sure it’s plugged in, it is. But the light on the lopsided side table next to our air mattress is off. We blew a breaker. The wind blows outside, old man winter seeping through the splintered cracks of the trailer and making the room chillier.

“It’s the breaker.” I sigh, pulling out the spatula.

Dime’s eyes widen, and she curls up under her torn ratted blanket, her footie pajamas she’s been wearing for two days turning gray. “Do you want me to go this time?” she offers with a shaky voice.

Glancing at the door that is locked from the outside it occurs to me that we haven’t heard anything from our parents in about an hour, so they’re either asleep or passed out from drugs. I don’t want Dime to see that, it’s scary but I’ve seen it a few times to the point it doesn’t bother me anymore. I’m afraid she might think they’re dead and wake them up, that would be horrible. I remember the first time I did that. I got a belt for ruining their high. I remember them telling me their stuff cost money and I just threw it away.

“No, I’ll do it.”

Dime perks up.

“Grab some flour, and…”

“I’ll get what I can, they didn’t have any last time.”

Dime looks to the window.

“I can crawl through Miss Seeburg’s doggie door and get some more things.”

My eyes flick to the frosted glass. We are out of things to bake in the oven and I’m hungry, so I know Dime has to be starving, as small as she is compared to me. Miss Seeburg is so old if she did see Dime or myself crawling through her house she’d think we were one of her dogs.

“Yeah, do that but be quick.”

Standing up, I grab the side of the glass and push it to the side. Our parents locked the door to the room and always kept the front door locked, but they never checked our window to see if it’s unlocked.

A gust of winter brushes across our faces and goose bumps spill down my back.

Dime gasps as if it took her breath away. Our eyes lock and I put on my serious face.

“Hurry up!”

“I will!” She nods and jumps down from the window onto the frozen ground.

Looking behind me, I glance toward the closet where an old wire hanger is hidden, I slip it under the door and flip the lock so I can get out. It’s thirty steps to the breaker, and thirty back.

Let’s pray our parents are asleep like the dead.

“Earth to Maybelline!” Dime’s voice breaks from the memory and brings me back to the now. Looking at her, I can’t help the anger that washes over me from being disturbed from my daydreaming.

“What?” I snap.

“You have a customer.” She points and I follow her finger, finding Crow standing on the other side of the counter. He’s on the phone whispering something but when he notices me he pulls it away from his face and slides it in his pocket. Coming up to the counter with his head down, his hair in his eyes, and a sly look on his face. God, stop tormenting me with such a sexy man, and to make it worse the Lord done and made this guy funny too. I’m weak when he’s around and I hate it.