I could go to LoneStar, but he can’t keep a secret from his woman to save his life, unless it’s in the name of the club that is. He says it’s for her protection, and in a way, I guess it is. In the grand scheme of things, the less she knows, the less she can testify to if she was dragged in by law enforcement. Although shecan claim spousal privilege, cops are good about twisting things and turning husbands and wives against each other if it gets them to their end goal. At least, the crooked ones do. Just like every aspect of life, there are some good eggs in the department, but it’s the bad ones that make people leery of trusting them and going to them when they find themselves in a bad way.
I learned in my preteen years to keep my mouth shut and not to trust everyone in blue with a badge. I was at the grocery store once, counting pennies while trying to come up with enough change to buy a loaf of bread and a package of bologna since I hadn’t eaten in two days. I was ten cents short and the cashier and I were going through the donation jar when a cop cleared his throat behind me. He was eyeing the newest addition of bruising on my arms, and when he asked about it, I told the truth just like the teachers at school taught us to do.
Find a police officer if you’re in trouble, they’re there to keep you safe and protected. I believed that with my entire heart and soul.
Officer Perkins paid for my purchase, allowing me to keep the quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies I’d scourged between the couch cushions and laundry basket so I could eat, taking me home. In the beginning, I thought he was honorable. He was going to be my white knight and whisk me out of my home, taking me to a new castle where I’d be taken care of. But like usual, my parents had a story that they weaved together and made me the culprit. They convinced him I was troubled, and liked to fabricate stories so that I’d get attention. I got a lecture from him about lying and the consequences I’d face if I ever lied again.
That night, I learned all about consequences, but not in the way he explained and thought I would. I couldn’t sit for a week and didn’t eat for days afterward unless it was at school. That’swhen I started splitting my lunches in half and tucking enough away to eat during dinner so I didn’t get sick from my stomach protesting the lack of food.
When my phone rings again, I get angry. All of those memories that just resurfaced cause me to lose my temper. Without looking at the screen, with fire in my tone, I answer, “What?”
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” a gruff voice, one I recognize, asks.
“Slayer? Sorry, I was lost in a thought that wasn’t a happy one,” I quickly apologize, feeling bad about the way I snapped. Confused because he never calls me, I ask, “Is everything okay?”
“Not really. You got a minute? I could use your perspective on something,” he tells me and it’s then I pay close enough attention to hear the discernment and exhaustion laced in his voice. We aren’t friends per se, but we’ve been working on getting there. He’s a nice guy, but he also scares me. I feel things when I’m around him that are foreign to me. There’s a spark between us that ignites each time his skin grazes mine, giving me the shivers. I still haven’t figured out if they’re the good kind or the ones that should send me scampering off.
“Of course, I’ll do what I can to help,” I remark.
He breaks down what’s been happening while he’s been away. Tears leak from my eyes for Carolina and Boston. They may not think along the same wavelengths as everybody else, but why should that matter? They have feelings. Love isn’t always about maturity, I’ve read some beautifully written articles about relationships that’ve flourished and lasted a lifetime with people who’re on the spectrum and suffer other ailments.
“When do they see the therapist?” I ask.
“Tomorrow, and I’m freaked out, Jersey.”
“Why does that scare you, Slayer?”
“Because if they don’t understand what’s happening and the fact that they’re going to have a baby, what does that mean for them? I won’t be that brother that runs roughshod over his brother, I won’t take his baby from him, I’d never be able to live with myself if I did that, Jersey. He may not think like we do, but my brother, he loves down to the depths of his soul. Taking away his lifeline, his girl, that’d destroy him.”
“Then don’t do that,” I advise. “There’s plenty of room for them with the Kings.”
“I can’t let them live at the clubhouse, Jersey. Especially not with a baby on the way.”
“Why not? There’d be eyes on them, plenty of people to help them if they’re struggling,” I argue.
“That’s true, but they’re innocent, Jersey girl. I can’t toss them into the lion’s den.”
“Then let them move in with me, Slayer. I’ll take care of them and you can see them whenever you want,” I offer. “It doesn’t have to be permanent, but it’s a better alternative than putting them into another care facility where they aren’t getting proper aid.”
“That’s a lot for me to put on your shoulders,” he says, sighing.
“I have special needs training, Slayer. I’m not going to be put out letting them stay with me. I wouldn’t have offered if I thought it would. It takes a village, Slayer, let me help you.”
“Okay,” he acquiesces. “We’ll give it a try. But if it’s not working out for you, if it does get to be too much and becomes a burden, you have to promise me you’ll come to me before it comes to a boiling point.”
“I will,” I promise. “And, Slayer, it won’t.”
CHAPTER
TWO
Slayer
I satin my hotel room for hours last night in the dark with a tumbler of whiskey in hand as I contemplated Jersey’s suggestion on where Boston and Carolina should stay. Nothing is ideal, but I’m leaning toward letting them live with her based on the fact that she has the training to handle two adults with disabilities.
When it comes to my brother, I’m cautious about the way I speak or think about him. To me, he’s special, unique, and has one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen in a person. Contrary to others’ beliefs, he’s not dumb, he just processes things differently and more slowly than the average person. I don’t know Carolina personally, but she’s going to be the mother of my niece or nephew so I need to rectify that, because if she’s captured Boston’s attention and protection, she must be one helluva woman.
Stepping out of the shower, I quickly dry off, wrap a towel around my waist and stare at my reflection. I look rough thismorning, I haven’t shaved since leaving the clubhouse and my whiskers are dark, making me look more threatening and that has to change since I’m meeting the kids, Mrs. Jackman, and Grady for a pow wow. Yesterday afternoon, the kids went to their therapist appointment, and this morning, we’ll be hearing what she thinks about this situation.
