Page 26 of Wreckage of Me
“Turn it up,” I put a hand up for everyone to be quiet when I notice Shortie talking on the screen with none other than Mia. The mother of my son. Although, I’m not sure she qualifies for that title. She never did.
We all fall quiet, thankful for the microphones Shortie insisted on installing when all this came about.
“Sugar, you have to listen to me,” he begs Mia, calling her by what the club used to call her when she was a part of us before she got thrown out.
“Fuck off, Shortie,” Mia cackles sarcastically. “I can finally be President’s ol’ lady, and now you want me to leave?”
“What ol’ lady?” Shortie shakes his head in confusion, adding more fuel to Mia’s need to make fun of him. I did get the vibe before that Shortie had a crush on Mia. I just never picked up on its intensity until last night when he told me he wanted her to come with him.
“You’re so stupid, Shortie,” Mia pushes at Shortie’s chest. “I used to suck your dick because I felt sorry for you. You were the worst lay I’ve ever had,” she continues twisting the proverbial knife in his chest.
“But I helped you…” Shortie seems to be at a loss for words. “I drove all the way to Illinois to help you kill Wrecker…”
Fuck it all to hell. My heart stops. I knew the male’s voice sounded familiar that night when I got chased down that empty road in Northern Illinois. But I was in too much pain after crashing my bike, and I couldn’t focus enough to place the voice.
A flashback of last night’s conversation with him pops into my head. The way he told me that Bricks played him too…
“This can’t be,” I stick my fingers in my hair, hooking them at the back of my head. “How did we miss this?” I ask no one in particular.
More drama ensues on the screen when Mia pushes Shortie against the wall, then spits into his face.
“Prez was so right,” she starts laughing her head off. “Youaredumber than a box of rocks.”
“But you promised, Sugar,” Shortie’s voice sounds almost child-like now. “You said you love me…”
“You disgust me,” she leans into him and screams into his face. “I just wanted the money Prez said he’d pay me if Wrecker died. You couldn’t get that shit done. He was just lying there in a cornfield, and you couldn’t fuckin’ shoot him dead,” she slaps him hard across the cheek.
I can’t watch this anymore. I turn my head away from the screen, my eyes clashing with Devereaux’s. He is finally showing some emotion. Shortie is his nephew, and he’s helped us a lot through our planning. We couldn’t have done it without him. What’s happening right now on the screen is a shock to say the least.
“Sugar, I tried,” Shortie’s voice sounds like he’s crying now, and my eyes drop to the floor. “I love you,” he continues. “I wanted to take care of you and the baby,” he sobs.
The baby.
He either got Sugar pregnant or he’s talking about when she got pregnant with my kid.
“You’re such a joke, Shortie,” Mia lets out a loud snort. “Like Prez would’ve allowed for anyone else to take care of me and his baby.”
“It’s not his baby though,” Shortie finds the balls to tell her.
“It is, you retard!” She sounds angry now. “As soon as Wrecker brought the kid here, we did a DNA test. It came back positive. And now we’re gonna takeourson back.”
“He lied to you,” Shortie sounds almost sad now. “I saw the results. Wrecker is really the father.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
I turn my eyes back to the screen just in time to watch Mia grabbing Shortie by the back of his head and slamming his face into the wall. She is a good head taller than he is, so it’s not a hard task for her.
She continues pushing his face into the wall, screaming expletives at him. By now, Snake and his group have noticed the commotion. They start cheering on Mia when they see her abusing Shortie in the corner of the room.
When it looks like she’s done with him, she lets go of the back of his head, and he just slides right down to the floor.
“Fuckin’ hell, Shortie,” I murmur again to no one in particular. “Don’t do it, man,” I scream at the screen when I see him pulling a cell phone out of his pocket. “Sully,” I turn to my friend, “do you have the app on your phone?”
He understands immediately what I’m asking. Shortie wired the whole place, then hooked it up where we could control the explosives via Bluetooth. That means we should be able to stop this shit show and dismantle the bombs rigged to the device.
I watch Shortie tapping on his phone a few times while Sully is doing the same on his.
“Fuck!” he yells at the room at large.
