“Little kids are easy. All you need to do is both like cats, and you’re best friends. But that isn’t how it is as you get older. And by the time I got someone to talk to me, it was usually time to move on. So I mostly hung out on my own. At home or at a movie theater. I have to give my father credit; wherever we moved, whatever kind of place we were staying in, he always made sure we were within walking distance of a movie theater, since he knew that’s where I wanted to be when he wasn’t around.”
It still sounded kind of lonely.
It was no wonder she was still a bit of a loner. Even if she did have good interpersonal skills from that unusual upbringing.
“Is your dad still alive?”
“He is.”
“Still consulting?”
“God, no. He’s retired now. Over in the Everglades.”
“That why you settled down here?”
“Partly. Though I did want a little distance. He’s become a little more nosy in his older age. And I don’t need him questioning all my business moves. But Miami is also a big hub for crime. So it all just shook out nicely.”
“So he knows what you do?”
“Definitely. He’s the one to suggest it. Among other possible jobs that worked with the skills he taught me.”
“You ever work a job with him?”
“Oh my God, no. All we would do is butt heads. But I will sometimes call him and ask for his advice. He likes that. Why are we only talking about me?”
“‘Cause my story isn’t as interesting.”
“It led you to becoming an arms-dealing biker, so it must be at least a little interesting.”
“Parents were addicts. Are. They’re somehow still kicking. Dunno how that’s possible. But all their money went to that. No food. Hardly any clothes. It was bad enough when I was growing up. But then Dixon came along.”
“You’re a lot older than him, right?”
“About ten years, yeah. So when he came around, I was already practically raising myself.”
“But if your parents weren’t raising you, did they take care of Dixon?”
“Maybe the first few days. Honestly, I don’t remember. All that comes to mind from those days was the crying. He cried day and night, and I had no idea why until the lady from the state came because a neighbor complained. Dixon was severely underweight and had a diaper rash so bad it required wound care.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah, we got a ticket to foster homes then.”
“Separate?”
“That time, yeah. I guess no one wanted a newborn and me. My parents got me back first. Still not sure how the fuck that happened. They were high as hell the day they dropped me back off. Almost no food in the fridge. The place was a wreck.
“Dixon didn’t come back for another few months after that. By then, he was a little over a year. And I was able to figure out how to make sure he was eating enough. And getting his diaper changed. Which was good for him, but I guess bad for us in a way.”
“Because there was no reason for you to be taken away.”
“Yeah.”
“You wanted to be taken away?”
“I lucked out in my first two foster homes. There was no abuse. I was fed. Clean. Someone gave a shit if I got good grades. We got less lucky as we got older, save for one foster dad who kept us for almost two years. He was a biker. But a weekend warrior kind, not a one-percenter. He had a lasting impact.”
“Was he your last foster home?”
