Page 28 of Wreckage of My Life
Hi, this is Becca Garner. I am not available to take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll call you as soon as I can. If I’m on a shift, it’ll take me longer than you’re hoping. Bye!
Her voice sounds happy and full of life. Everything that I’m not. I don’t leave her a message, although, I am tempted. I drop the phone on the table and stare ahead at the wall in front of me.
I need to use this trip as a time of reflection. I need to decide if I still want to be in the MC. Biggest problem with that is that once you’re in, you’re in for life, however long or short that is. And its length can be determined by how loyal you are to the club.
Me going to my father to tell him that I want out will be an automatic death sentence, no questions asked. Because in doubt lies mistrust. Me doubting that’s the life for me anymore will make him not trust me. Hence, a grave with my name on it will be assigned.
This is not the life I want for the son I am about to bring home, I realize with a start. What am I going to do with a four-year-old boy in the middle of the den of hyenas that I live?
My food arrives, the waitress throwing me sure signals that she’d be down for a quick fuck in the back room. The old me would’ve jumped at the opportunity. The new me wants nothing to do with it. Plus, with how tired I am, I can barely lift my head to look at her. Forget about getting my cock up. Besides, it seems to only want one person now. And this trashy girl here ain’t it.
I start eating my burger, then walk to the cheap motel next door. My bike is close by where I can see it, and that’s all I need to know right now. I drop the small bag I grabbed off the Harley onto the bed, along with my leather jacket. I take my boots off but don’t bother with the jeans or shirt. I just need a couple of hours of sleep.
I close my eyes and let my mind wander. It keeps on wanting to go back to Becca. The more I fight it, the more she takes over my every thought.
“Fuck,” I punch the pillow under my head, angry with both her and myself. Maybe I should’ve brought that waitress here and let her suck me off a couple of times. My cock refuses to react in any way at the thought. It’s basically dead.
Becca staying in Texas could’ve possibly been my biggest nightmare and also my greatest pleasure. I’ve never found myself in this kind of a situation before.
And now I have a kid to worry about.
Could my life get just a little more complicated?
I close my eyes again, willing my brain to stop overthinking shit and just let me sleep. My last thought before it finally pulls me under is of my brother, Wyatt. I hate the fucker for having gotten out when he did. That could’ve been my life, too. But then, who would’ve made sure Ma stayed safe?
This life is just shit.
13
Wrecker
I make it to Madison,Wisconsin, in record time while staying within speed limits as much as possible. I rent a room at another crappy motel on the outskirts of town and, seeing as I’m dead on my feet, I drop on the nasty bed for a quick shut eye. I got five hours before I’m supposed to meet with the Vipers’ prez, so I make sure to set my alarm in an hour and a half. I want to be at our meeting spot early.
Seven hours later, I’ve been waiting for close to four hours. They’re two hours late, and I’ve been waiting for two hours before that. This is some shit.
“Nobody showed up,” I growl into my phone when I call my father to ask him what the deal is.
“Are you sure that you’re in the right spot?” He sounds off, I just can’t pinpoint how. Sort of like this is not new information to him, but he’s trying to play it off like it is.
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sure.” If I could kill the fucker through the phone, I’d be doing it twice, back to back, just for fun.
I need to get out of this mother fucking shit, I remind myself.
“Huh,” is all he says.
“So, this is not a setup,” I chuckle sarcastically. “Why did you want me out of the way,Prez?”
“I did no such thing,” the lie drips off his lips so easily. “Maybe they changed their minds about helping.”
Such a plain stupid statement does not deserve a comment, so I simply hang up. The motherfucker set me up. I just can’t figure out why. I look up Sully’s number, then press Dial. The phone rings twice, then he answers but doesn’t say anything. The call stays connected for five seconds, then it is cut off. He can’t talk. Fuck my life.
I look around, wondering what I should do. I’m close enough to the Illinois border, and I could be at Wyatt’s in less than two hours. But I worry that I’m being followed, and I’d rather not bring this shit to his doorstep.
I pull out my backup burner phone because I’m pretty sure the one I just called my father on is being tracked. He doesn’t know about the other one. I’ll use this new one to call the club in a few days, but I want them to think I’m in Wisconsin for longer than I am.
Before calling my brother, I decide to ride back to the motel I used earlier. I go back to the room and walk to the bathroom where I use the duct tape I grabbed from my saddlebag to stick the phone my father is tracking inside the water tank, close to the top where it won’t get wet.
I then walk back to my bike and start riding in the opposite direction of where they’re expecting me to go. After about an hour, I stop to call Wyatt. The phone rings and rings, but no answer. I stare at the screen, my mind completely blank. I try his house and leave him a message on the answering machine. Who uses answering machines anymore?
