Page 23 of Nothing to Lose: Lost Trilogy: Part 1
“When can we schedule a meet to get the legal papers going?”
“Uh, well, why can’t you come to me with everything?” I ask in a moment of clarity.
“The trust has very specific instructions. You need to be physically present in Texas at the time of the transfer of the trust.”
“And what happens if I don’t come?” I’m not sure I’d want to be in a place where my mother was demonized and thrown away like a piece of garbage. What they did to her ultimately affected me since she was never able to mentally recover from that trauma.
“Should you not come to Texas for the exchange to take place, the money will be donated to the Biblical Society of Texas,” Mr. Phelps informs me, and from the way he speaks, I can picture a tiny little man with his nose up in the air, explaining to me all the ramifications of me not going there.
“Biblical Society?” I ask incredulously. “What the hell is that?”
Mr. Phelps clear his throat, sounding offended by my words.
“The Biblical Society of Texas is one of the most prestigious charitable organizations in the great state of Texas, Miss Stewart. The money is used to care for children who are being displaced from their parents, and also assist with adoptions and…”
“Well, that’s ironic.”
I am laughing like a lunatic at all this. Also, he just made up my mind. There is no way in hell I will allow people to think my mother’s parents had been these amazing individuals who wanted to help small children. Hell, based on what Mr. Phelps is telling me, they should be canonized.
Oh no, not on my watch.
But first, I need to call my father.
8
Puck
The last twelveyears have been the worst and also the best of my life.
As I’m sitting in a seedy strip club, smoking one of the best joints I’ve ever had the pleasure of inhaling, my mind drifts to how I got my start in the club.
That first night was a nightmare. Wrecker took me to this abandoned property out in the boonies. He put my ass on a motorcycle and told me not to crash it.
First try, I ran it right into the side of this old barn there, left a giant hole in it.
“You’re gonna pay to get it fixed, fucker,” Wrecker cut me no slack.
Second try, I ran into an old flagpole. It knocked me off the bike, which landed on the side with my leg underneath it.
Third try, nothing happened. As in, the battery was dead. Or so I thought.
“Fucker, you have to turn the key on,” Wrecker was completely disgusted with me. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he shook his head at me. “You need to tell me right now if you’re gonna do this, or if I should just shoot you in the head right here and now,” he pointed a finger at me.
“Wrecker, I…” Bam, a fist to the side of my head hit me so hard, I flew back and off the bike.
“Fuck,” I mumbled, looking around, completely disoriented.
“Stand up,” Wrecker ordered in a tone so cold, it gave me instant chills. I didn’t waste any time and just stood up.
Bam, fist to my other side knocked me down again.
“Fuckin’ hell,” I said, or at least tried to. “How am I gonna ride this bike if you’re killing all my brain cells?” I tried to make him out through the damn stars I saw every time I opened my eyes.
“Stand up,” he ordered again. And again, I listened.
“I don’t think this is going to…” Bam! A fist to the center of my face dropped me like a hot potato.
This time, I didn’t try to move at all. I was actually hoping I was dead, and it was all over. Who the fuck cares about shit at this point anyway?
