Every battle with Ace is hard won. Even going to collect my clothes from home was a heated debate. He felt it was too risky, but after I pointed out I couldn’t very well live in leather pants and their clothes forever, especially given the fact I had no underwear other than the pair I’ve now been wearing for far too long, he finally made a concession. I can’t go home, but we would go and buy me some things from a shopping mall on the outskirts of the next town over.
He also told me I couldn’t return to work tomorrow. I want to punch him for thinking he can dictate my life. After another heated exchange, I gave in. All three of the guys felt it was too dangerous and that I should simply call in sick. I reluctantly agreed. If I’d stayed with the Rusted Scythes, I’d be in the same situation. I’d told them that if the situation hadn’t sorted itself out in a week I’d have to return as I couldn’tafford to lose my job. Gage told me we’d worry about that when the time came, while Cash assured me that, if worse came to worst, the club had jobs they could offer me. I didn’t like it, I didn’t want to be further indebted to the Road Renegades than necessary, but I had no choice. Ace made that abundantly clear.
I’m back at the men’s house, left alone with Cash to protect me while Gage and Ace are out on business. Much to my frustration, they refused to let me know what they were doing. I wonder if they will meet with the Rusted Scythes to tell them that they won’t be returning me or if they will simply let the Rusted Scythes figure that out for themselves when we don’t show.
I’m pacing the living room like a caged lion. I hate feeling penned in, trapped. Any peace today’s ride on my motorcycle gave me was overshadowed by Ace’s indifference to my art. I can’t help but wonder whether Gage and Cash were simply being kind when they said they liked it. I knew ultimately it didn’t matter, but still it hurt.
“Is everything okay, Naomi?” Cash asks carefully, looking up at me from his spot on the couch where he’s been working on his laptop.
“Everything is pretty much as far from okay as it could be right now,” I reply, feeling hysteria welling up. When Cash doesn’t respond, just looking at me sympathetically, waiting for me to continue, I find myself opening up, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I hate this uncertainty, I hate not knowing my fate, I hate being responsible for dragging you all into a war that’s got nothing to do with you, I just… I hate feeling helpless.”
Cash nods. “We all do.” He doesn’t deny my feelings or tell me not to feel the way I do. He just accepts andacknowledges them, something I appreciate immensely right now.
“Why help me? Why not just take me back and avoid all this trouble? Ace clearly doesn’t want me here. Is it just because he thinks my brother can help you?” I ask, sitting down on the armchair opposite him, leaning forward, with my elbows on my knees. Eli has always been the gifted one, the one people admire and value. Even at his lowest points, he still had more to offer than I did. I thought I’d gotten over any resentment I felt against my brother and his gifts, but there’s still a bitter knot buried deep inside me that’s finally forcing its way out.
“It has nothing to do with your brother. We want to help you because it’s the right thing to do,” Cash answers without hesitation. He shuts his laptop, places it on the coffee table, and gives me his full attention. I feel almost hypnotized by his piercing blue gaze. “Ace is doing a damn good impression of someone who doesn’t care, but he does, more than you could imagine. He’s a good man; he’d help you even if there were no gain.”
I sniff, wondering why Cash and Gage think so highly of him when he bosses them about so much. “He’s got a funny way of showing it.”
Cash inclines his head in agreement. “You won’t hear any arguments from me. But give it time, and you’ll see, he’s deeper than he seems.”
“I don’t want to talk about Ace anymore. Tell me about you.” Out of the three, Cash is an enigma; he doesn’t speak much, and when he does, it fluctuates between wit and scathing observations that can leave you reeling.
“What would you like to know?” Cash replies, patting the seat next to him.
I sit down, angling myself to look at him. “Everything. How did you guys meet?”
“We grew up together, in and out of the same foster home. We all came from troubled backgrounds. Throughout our childhoods, we occasionally crossed paths in the many foster homes we were placed in. Eventually, we all permanently ended up in the care of Bill Forester, the former Prez of the Road Renegades, and his wife, Pam. They took in the no-hope cases, the kids no one else could handle, who would likely end up spending their adult lives in and out of jail without intervention. Ace was thirteen when he arrived. He had anger issues and had already been in juvie several times for fighting.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I mutter.
Cash nods in acknowledgment. “Trust me, this is an improvement from the angry kid he once was,” he says, holding up his hands.
“What about you and Gage? It’s hard to imagine either of you being that bad.” I think of how kind and caring they both are, trying to picture what made the adults in their lives write them off as lost causes.
Cash cocks a brow. “We’re no angels now. But we have Bill and Pam to thank for steering us in the right direction and teaching us how to channel our emotions into other things. Gage is the youngest; he’d just turned thirteen when he arrived six months later. I’m a couple of years older and arrived the following year.”
I’m surprised to hear Cash is the eldest. I’d assumed Ace was. Most likely because he’s the bossiest and his black hair has the most smatterings of gray. “So you already knew each other by the time you’d moved into the foster home together, you must have felt like you’d finally got a family,” I guess, trying to encourage Cash to open up.
Cash smiles ruefully. “You’d think. But no. We fought as all troubled teens do. I thought Ace was a self-righteous, stubborn prick, and Gage was his pawn.”
“Not much has changed then,” I interject wryly.
Again, this earns me a small smile. “No, but we learned the good things about each other, and eventually we became as close as brothers, maybe closer. And Bill and Pam steered us onto the right path. We’re not exactly model citizens, but we’re a damn sight better than we would have been without their intervention.”
“They sound great,” I say with the ghost of a smile. “Do you still see them?”
Cash nods. “Every week. Bill stepped down as president and retired a couple of years ago; they still live in the same house.”
“I wonder what they’d think of the situation that you’ve gotten into. I can’t imagine Bill would be happy that you’re about to lead the Road Renegades into war.” I imagine them cursing me for undoing all their hard work and making the guys resort to violence.
Cash studies me, as if he’s reading my mind. “Quite the opposite, actually. They’d be proud. They might have taught us that violence isn’t always the answer and how to be largely law-abiding citizens, but they didn’t teach us to ignore injustice, and they taught us that fighting back is okay. Reasonable force, Bill would say. If someone punches you, you don’t kill them, but you punch back. Give as good as you get and stand your ground, or the world will bulldoze over you.”
“That’s good advice.” I adjust my position, crossing my legs. “How did you end up in foster care, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Cash studies me closely, considering whether he should tell me. I understand his hesitation when he speaks. “My mom was addicted to heroin. The state took me from her for the first time when I was a newborn. I was born addicted and spent the first few months of my life in the NICU. Throughout my early years, my mom would clean up her act enough to get me back, only to then have me taken away when she inevitably began using again and would forget to change my diaper and feed me. As I got older, the neglect and abuse got worse. She had a lot of shitty boyfriends and was usually too out of it to notice or care. The length of time I was in foster care got longer each time until eventually she gave up trying to get me back. She died right before I ended up with Bill and Pam. Overdose. I was the one who found her.” He recalls this all matter-of-factly, as if it happened to someone else.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. No child should have to experience that,” I say softly, quickly reaching out to lightly touch his hand, which rests on the couch between us. I realize that though our stories are different, we’ve both had to deal with how addiction tears through a family like a forest fire.
