Club Princess - Nicole James Page 0,38
my hand with his, stilling my motions. “Why?”
“Please. I want to know. I told you about my mother, didn’t I?”
“You did. All right, if you really want to know. I was put in it after a series of foster homes. My twin sister and I were split up, and I was sent to the group home.”
He’s quiet so long I lift my head to look at him. He’s staring at the ceiling, but I can tell he’s a million miles away.
“There was a whiteboard on the kitchen wall that contained house rules. When I was there a half dozen boys came and went. We had shared bedrooms, some with bunks, some not. We each had one drawer for our things, what little we each had. I remember there was a lock on the pantry door so we wouldn’t steal food.”
“Did you get enough to eat?”
“Not by a long shot.”
“I remember one night a new kid came. He was only seven. I lay awake that night listening to him cry in the dark, knowing there was nothing I could do to make it better for him, except maybe protect him.”
“From who?”
“When I was there I was ten years old. There were two kids around twelve or thirteen. They used to bully the shit outta me. There was an older kid about seventeen, named Corey. When he was around, he’d look out for me, but he stayed gone as much as he could.
“I remember the night that little boy came, when I couldn’t take the sound of his crying anymore I snuck outside. I saw the flame of a match as someone lit a cigarette behind the garage. I could smell the tobacco, and I knew Corey had snuck out again to smoke behind the garage.
“I walked over to him. He told me he’d be leaving soon. Being ten, I didn’t understand. He said he was aging out of the system. He’d been in it since he was my age.
“That was the first time I realized I might be stuck there forever. He shared a smoke with me. Told me he’d come by the school and check on me a time or two after he left.”
“Did he?”
“He did, actually. Beat the shit outta the other two boys for me, too. The last time I saw him I was fifteen. It was just before I split.”
“Split?”
“I ran away. I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“What did you do?”
“I lived on the streets mostly, stealing food to eat, hitchhiking, even started riding the rails in empty boxcars. Until one night in Kansas City, I met a Royal Bastard. I think he knew I was half starved. He brought me to his clubhouse, gave me a cot, and put me to work cleaning the place and washing bikes. The brothers treated me well, better than they did the prospects. The prospects didn’t mind me being around either; it took some of the work off their shoulders.”
“How’d you get your name?”
“Guy who took me in gave it to me. Said I had a crooked grin like Elvis.” He shrugs. “Stupid, I know.”
“I thought maybe you were born in Memphis.”
“Nope.”
“So, Kansas City, that’s where you patched in?”
“Yeah, but that Chapter’s not there anymore. They didn’t have enough members who weren’t in jail to keep it active. When the Chapter dissolved, I went Nomad.”
“Have you ever gone back?”
“Nah. The MC sold off the property. The new owners tore it down and built a parking garage.”
“And your sister, you never saw her again?”
“I tracked her down eventually. A good family adopted her. She’s married now and has a baby.”
“Do you know why your mother gave you up?”
“Nope. I barely remember her. I remember she’d dressed us in our best outfit, and I remember riding on the bus with her somewhere. That’s all I remember. We were only three at the time.”
“That’s so sad.”
By the time he’s done with his story, I’m sad and depressed, and sorry I made him go through it all again. I lay my head on his shoulder, and wrap my arms around him. “You made it through it all. I’m so glad that you did.”
“Yeah. Found the club and the brotherhood I was missing. Not all those kids made it. I heard on the street the year I ran away that Corey killed himself.”
“So the Royal Bastards saved you,” I say quietly.
“I guess you could say that.”
“Do you know how special you are? You could be so much more.”
“What do you mean?”
“You naturally take charge, like