“Fine,” I huff out, pretending to be burdened instead of relieved.
“Okay, great, I need you to hop on the motorcycle,” Skipper says, already climbing aboard.
“You’re kidding. I have a child. You think Otis looks like he wants to ride on a Harley?”
As if suddenly familiar with every word in the English language, Otis turns around and looks at the bike.
And now Carter is looking at Otis’s face, which is arguably more dangerous than our lift out of here.
“It’s the only way out of here,” Skipper says.
“Ever heard of an Uber?”
“We gotta get back to yours,” Vex says. “Conrad paid us a visit yesterday. He came looking for you. We told him you were no longer staying with us, and he said we just made his life ten times easier. Regardless of whether he’s trying to scare us withpetty threats, we need to act. And since he doesn’t yet know your address…”
Yet.Charming.
“What are you suggesting? We all go back to mine for tea?”
Skipper pitches an eyebrow.
I sigh. “Sure, invite yourselves in, what the hell.”
“There’s no time for sarcasm. On the bike. Now.”
“We’ll go slow,” Carter adds.
First time I’ve heard him say that.
I bring Otis close to my chest and hop onto the back of Skipper’s bike. I can’t deal with Carter right now, and Vex is being quieter than usual, like this is one big mistake.
Great minds think alike.
I wrap my arms around Skipper’s impressive torso, sandwiching Otis between us.
We disappear in a cloud of smoke and cruise down the highway. And here I am balancing myself, a two-year-old, and my purse on the back of a Harley, doing the total opposite of what I was supposed to be doing today.
Am I thrilled that they’re all about to witness the shitshow that is my house? No. But when you have a child, you have to set aside all ego and pride in order to protect them. If that means the bikers see me for hobo Carmen—the Carmen who has mold growing from the ceiling and tinned spaghetti loops in the pantry, so be it.
These are gonna be my last few moments of mysteriousness.
When people don’t know your personal life, they can’t use it against you. Up until now, I’ve valued keeping that to myself. But ever since those red curtains drew back and revealed a ghost from the past, everything has changed.
Even my morals.
I feel my cheeks turn red as I direct Skipper into the neighborhood. The other two follow behind, Carter at the rear.
Is it possible for him to stay this far away at all times? I don’t want him looking at my son and figuring out Otis is also his. Things are already out of control enough.
I give my last direction and brace for the biker’s opinion as we make a right onto the street. As always, it’s desolate. Vultures are the only wildlife we get around here from the roadkill rotting on the side of the road.
I’m still convinced our neighbors have something to do with the dead rabbits.
“This one,” I say, begrudgingly pointing at my house.
It looks even more run-down than usual, especially with the morning sun shining down on it, highlighting every imperfection in the wood, the rubble out front that couldn’t be a bleaker shade of gray even if someone painted over it.
I climb off the bike and try not to let the awkward silence get to me.
