Page 6 of Wreckage of My Life
All kinds of red flags come up when she says that. The area she is talking about is fairly close to Wisconsin. What are the odds of this happening right when my father tells me he wants me to go there on a solo run? I don’t believe in coincidences, and this situation stinks to high heaven.
“What do you want?”
“I thought you’d wanna meet him.” I swear she’s chewing on some gum, and she just blew a fucking bubble. She doesn’t sound like she cares one bit about what my response would be. I even doubt she has a kid at this point.
As if on cue, I hear crying in the background. Mia puts the phone down, and her voice becomes muffled, but I can still hear what she’s saying.
“Ethan, what the fuck did I tell you about getting food on your shirt? I don’t buy you shit so you can ruin it, you ungrateful brat.”
A door slams closed, then it’s quiet again until she comes back to me.
“Sorry about that,” she blows another bubble. “The baby needed me.”
“How do you know he’s mine if you were a club whore? The title itself proves that you did not fuck only one man in here, or woman for that matter.”
“He looks just like you, Wreck,” she whines. God, I fuckin’ hate whiny ass females with everything in me. My phone beeps with an incoming text, and when I look, I freeze. There’s a picture of a little boy, looking all sad. He’s got Wyatt’s eyes. The thought hits me out of nowhere. And since me and my brother have the same fuckin’ eyes, this little boy has mine, by default.
“What do you want me to do about it?” I am testing the waters here. I will obviously take care of my kid if DNA testing proves that he’s mine, but I want to see where she’s going with this.
“Well, I was hoping you’d…”
“How much?” I cut her off. I knew she’d want money. Why else would she call out of the blue like this? Almost four years later to boot.
“Fifty thousand.” Her voice changes in a split second, she is not the whiny bitch from a minute ago. Now she’s just a bitch.
“For what?” I snort like the asshole that I am.
“For your kid, you asshole.” Yeah, gloves are off, and she doesn’t need to hide who she is anymore. “I gotta feed him and buy him clothes all the time. The little fucker won’t stop growing.”
My heart is beating out of my chest at hearing her words. I may be a thug, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knowingly allowed my kid to live with an abuser. I need to play it smart.
“I want a DNA test,” I growl into the phone. “Once that’s done, I wanna see him.”
That seems to throw her off, which only makes me even more suspicious. “Why?”
“If he is my son as you say, why wouldn’t I want to meet him?”
“But you never cared, and he’s close to four,” is her reply, confirming that she is not very smart.
“That would be because I just found outtodaythat he existed,” I talk slowly to make sure she can process the information.
“Oh,” she blows another bubble.
“Yeah. Oh.” Jesus Christ, I really hope this kid didn’t take after her in the smarts department. “I’ll get a DNA test set up, and then…”
“Why do you need that? I already told you that he looks just like you. And I sent a picture as proof.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me,” I start laughing in earnest. “I need actual proof. Once I got it, I’ll wire the money and we’ll get together so I can meet him.”
“Oh okay.” She doesn’t sound as sure of herself as she did when she told me she wanted me to fork over fifty grand for a kid of whose existence I just learned about.
“Is this a good number for you?” I verify before hanging up.
“Uh, yeah, it’s my number.” Mia sounds completely out of it. Now I wonder if she is high.
“I’ll be in touch.” With that, I disconnect the call. There’s not much I can say, besides, I need to get on this asap. If that’s my kid, no way he can continue living with her.
I walk out of my room at the club and walk toward where our computer whiz guy is located. Shortie comes by his name honestly, I almost smirk when I about run him over. He smacks into my chest so hard, he falls back into his chair.
