And they’re bringing women.
Is it too late to change again?
Betz opens the front door.
It is.
Iron Jack enters, and the moment I see what he’s carrying, all my insecurities are replaced with concern. The woman is pale and dirty. She looks around, but I’m not sure she knows what she’s seeing.
Merrick enters next with another one in about the same shape. The rest of us silently step aside as they pass through the kitchen.
Betz pushes me. “Go on, get some warm water and towels. Then, find something plain to eat. Toast maybe. Or crackers.”She turns to Fancy as he comes in. “Are we going to try to freehab those two here?”
He shrugs. “Ask Iron Jack.”
That’s all I get to hear. I have chores. I head to the linen closet, then grab the big plastic bucket under the kitchen sink. I run the water for a while, letting it warm up. I hope Merrick will come out while I’m doing it and tell me what’s happening, but he doesn’t.
Betz enters the kitchen. “You in here?” She sticks her hand under the faucet. “Good enough. Go on then. I’ll wrangle some food.”
I should have done that while the water heated. I fill the bucket and tuck the towels under my arm.
They’re in the bunkhouse, I’m sure. I realize everything I own is in there, and now my space is occupied by two random people from a rival club.
The life of a mouse.
When I enter the room, Iron Jack and Merrick are talking in the far corner, near my bed and stacks of plastic bins. The women are both on lower bunks near the door. One is lying down. The other sits up when I come in.
I set the bucket between them. “I’m Marietta. A house mouse.”
“A what?” the woman asks. She pushes a chunk of faded purple hair out of her face.
Maybe they aren’t part of the club they came from. “Never mind. Do you want to wash up? If you’re steady enough, I can show you the shower.”
The woman stands but teeters and sits down again. “I’ll sit here,” she says.
I turn to the other one. She’s curled in a ball on the mattress.
Did Betz mean for me to clean her up? I have no idea.
The first woman dunks half the towel into the water and wipes it over her face and arms. She’s wearing a ragged T-shirt and shorts, no shoes.
The other woman has on a long-sleeve hoodie that might be covered in vomit. There seems to be some on her chin, too.
“What’s your name?” I ask the one sitting up.
“Jami.” She runs the dry side of the towel over her face. “That’s Crystal, but I don’t think it’s her real name. I think it’s a joke.”
I have to think about it for a moment to get the meaning. Meth. Crystal meth.
I stick the corner of one towel in the water and use it to clean Crystal’s face. She has warm brown skin and inky black hair. Pretty, probably, although she is yellow-tinged and terribly dirty.
She’s not wearing underwear, so I tug her hoodie down to cover her better. The beds aren’t made, so she’s right on the mattress cover. That can’t be comfortable.
When I turn back to Jami, she’s staring at my feet. “Are you wearing rabbits?”
I lift one. “I guess, yeah.” I should change. This is embarrassing.
Betz comes in. “Why aren’t the beds made up? Go get some sheets.”
