Cut Wide Open
Page 19
Ace put his hand on my shoulder and nodded while Shane started his bike and yelled, “Let’s ride.”
Chapter Nine-Gunner
The apartment was in a shit neighborhood. Even shittier than that was the lack of any type of security at the large brick building. I spotted two guys dealing and a tweaker near a large green dumpster. Trash lined the fenced in parking lot that was wide open for anyone to come in and jack your car. No way were we leaving our bikes unattended. Ace gave a nod with his head to say he was staying, and that Shane and I should go. So far, there had been no sign of Enrico, or his men. The entryway had a few broken mailboxes hanging open. I double-checked to make sure the apartment number Shane was given matched up. Paint peeled from the walls. It made me want to get a lead check just standing there.
“What a dump,” Shane murmured under his breath. We walked to the elevator. Our motorcycle boots echoed with loud thumps down the deserted hall. Out of service. Shouldn't even be surprised. The stairway door was propped open, and a giant sign that hung on the door read, DO NOT PISS IN THE STAIRWELL.
“Christ,” I mumbled when I took a whiff of the rank air.
We reached our desired floor. The stairwell door slammed behind us making a loud bang as we stomped down the hallway. The walls were too thin in this place. A door at the end of the hall sprung open and I heard a kid shout, “It’s her, Mrs. Warner. It has to be.” A kid raced out of an apartment wearing Ninja Turtle pajamas. His sandy blonde hair hung over his face.
A woman yelled, “Gun, get your butt back in this apartment.”
I froze and swore, “The fuck?”
The kid looked up at me. His eyes connected with mine. The air left my lungs, and I dropped to my knees. It was like looking in the damn mirror. He was me, only a version of me from eighteen years earlier.
“You okay, mister?” The boy asked and my heart thumped.
“Did she call you Gun?” I asked and the older black woman halted her steps.
“Yeah, that’s my name. I’m Gunner. Gunner Reed. Do you know where my mom is?”
“Boy,” the woman called in a warning tone.
Shane sucked in a breath. I wanted to cry out in agony and in joy. I had a son. I had a fucking son, with my name. I had a son that I’d missed years of his life with. I had a son, living and breathing, a few hours away from me.
“Holy shit,” Shane muttered.
“Gun, you get back here, boy. That ain't your Momma. I don't know where she is, but she’ll be here.”
“I ain't his momma, but my name’s Gunner Reed.”
I couldn't read the woman. She seemed apprehensive, where Gunner looked shocked. “But, that’s my name,” he said searching my face.
“Yeah, kid. Your momma named you after your daddy.”
“But, I don't have a dad.”
“Yeah, you do. I just didn't know about you until right now. Why don't we go on into your apartment and wait for that mom of yours.” I had so many questions for her.
Mrs, Warner, the woman who apparently babysat my kid while his mom was out whoring, still wasn't sure. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Gun.”
I flashed her a look, then pulled out my ID showing her my name. “Look, I saw Charlie for the first time in eight years last night, and this is the first time I’m finding out that we got a kid. Swear to you, don't even know the kid, but I’d lay my life down for him.”
What more could she say to my more than honest declaration?
“She should’ve been home last night. I have to get to work, anyways. Here’s the key to her place. It’s not like her to not be here. You take care of that boy.”
I unlocked the apartment door and held it open as my son walked under my arm and into his space. Shane followed behind me. I took in the place. Clean. A blue and white afghan hung over the back of a brown suede couch. In front of that, there was a coffee table with a stack of coloring books and crayons on it. There was a TV with an X-box and a stack of games to the side. On the walls, there were a few pictures of Gunner and Charlie. Gunner was younger in the pictures. There were also several pictures of dinosaurs in bright green and blue crayons that were taped up amongst the frames.
Seeing her with him as a toddler made a place in my heart ache. My heart, which I just now realized, was fragmented. I could see the puzzle pieces, Gun, Charlie and me, but we were a bunch of square pegs trying to fit into round holes.
I eyed her apartment again, then Gun broke my silence.
“So, you’re really my dad?”
I ruffled the kid’s hair, “Yep, you look identical to me. Your mom gave you my name and everything.”
“Where you been then?” He was a little defensive, and I couldn’t blame him. I actually liked that he wasn’t afraid to speak up and ask. He was gutsy. Here he was with two large bikers he never met before in his apartment, and he was questioning me like I owed him answers, and boy did I ever. I wished I had more to give him, though.
“I gotta tell you, kid. I briefly saw your mom last night for the first time since I was eighteen. I lost touch with her, and then when I could, I tried to find her. Searched for a long time. Had no idea she was here, and no idea that you were born. Swear to you, I’d known, you’d both have been with me for a long time.”
He nodded his head at me like he got it. I had to find out what my kid had seen and how much Enrico was in their life. I also had this twisting feeling in my gut,because Charlie wasn’t home yet. It didn’t feel like it was Gun’s normal.
Shane sat on the sofa. I imagined it was to try to make himself look less intimidating. His long legs stretched out wide taking in my interaction with my son. My Son.
“So, do you know where Mom is?”
“Nah, kid. She ever not come home like this?”
He shook his head, then walked into the tiny kitchen, pulled up a stool and climbed up on the counter grabbing himself a bowl. I watched in fascination as he opened another cupboard and grabbed a box of cereal, poured it into the bowl, then opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. He was so young, but so independent. God, he reminded me of me. He poured the milk into the cereal and then he grinned, “I love Fruity Pebbles. Want some?”
“Fruity pebbles are the shit! I’ll take a bowl.” Shane said from the couch. The kid gave him a chin lift and said, “Help yourself.” This kid was seriously cool. Shane grabbed a bowl, then sat back down, and put cartoons on.
Chapter Nine-Gunner
The apartment was in a shit neighborhood. Even shittier than that was the lack of any type of security at the large brick building. I spotted two guys dealing and a tweaker near a large green dumpster. Trash lined the fenced in parking lot that was wide open for anyone to come in and jack your car. No way were we leaving our bikes unattended. Ace gave a nod with his head to say he was staying, and that Shane and I should go. So far, there had been no sign of Enrico, or his men. The entryway had a few broken mailboxes hanging open. I double-checked to make sure the apartment number Shane was given matched up. Paint peeled from the walls. It made me want to get a lead check just standing there.
“What a dump,” Shane murmured under his breath. We walked to the elevator. Our motorcycle boots echoed with loud thumps down the deserted hall. Out of service. Shouldn't even be surprised. The stairway door was propped open, and a giant sign that hung on the door read, DO NOT PISS IN THE STAIRWELL.
“Christ,” I mumbled when I took a whiff of the rank air.
We reached our desired floor. The stairwell door slammed behind us making a loud bang as we stomped down the hallway. The walls were too thin in this place. A door at the end of the hall sprung open and I heard a kid shout, “It’s her, Mrs. Warner. It has to be.” A kid raced out of an apartment wearing Ninja Turtle pajamas. His sandy blonde hair hung over his face.
A woman yelled, “Gun, get your butt back in this apartment.”
I froze and swore, “The fuck?”
The kid looked up at me. His eyes connected with mine. The air left my lungs, and I dropped to my knees. It was like looking in the damn mirror. He was me, only a version of me from eighteen years earlier.
“You okay, mister?” The boy asked and my heart thumped.
“Did she call you Gun?” I asked and the older black woman halted her steps.
“Yeah, that’s my name. I’m Gunner. Gunner Reed. Do you know where my mom is?”
“Boy,” the woman called in a warning tone.
Shane sucked in a breath. I wanted to cry out in agony and in joy. I had a son. I had a fucking son, with my name. I had a son that I’d missed years of his life with. I had a son, living and breathing, a few hours away from me.
“Holy shit,” Shane muttered.
“Gun, you get back here, boy. That ain't your Momma. I don't know where she is, but she’ll be here.”
“I ain't his momma, but my name’s Gunner Reed.”
I couldn't read the woman. She seemed apprehensive, where Gunner looked shocked. “But, that’s my name,” he said searching my face.
“Yeah, kid. Your momma named you after your daddy.”
“But, I don't have a dad.”
“Yeah, you do. I just didn't know about you until right now. Why don't we go on into your apartment and wait for that mom of yours.” I had so many questions for her.
Mrs, Warner, the woman who apparently babysat my kid while his mom was out whoring, still wasn't sure. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Gun.”
I flashed her a look, then pulled out my ID showing her my name. “Look, I saw Charlie for the first time in eight years last night, and this is the first time I’m finding out that we got a kid. Swear to you, don't even know the kid, but I’d lay my life down for him.”
What more could she say to my more than honest declaration?
“She should’ve been home last night. I have to get to work, anyways. Here’s the key to her place. It’s not like her to not be here. You take care of that boy.”
I unlocked the apartment door and held it open as my son walked under my arm and into his space. Shane followed behind me. I took in the place. Clean. A blue and white afghan hung over the back of a brown suede couch. In front of that, there was a coffee table with a stack of coloring books and crayons on it. There was a TV with an X-box and a stack of games to the side. On the walls, there were a few pictures of Gunner and Charlie. Gunner was younger in the pictures. There were also several pictures of dinosaurs in bright green and blue crayons that were taped up amongst the frames.
Seeing her with him as a toddler made a place in my heart ache. My heart, which I just now realized, was fragmented. I could see the puzzle pieces, Gun, Charlie and me, but we were a bunch of square pegs trying to fit into round holes.
I eyed her apartment again, then Gun broke my silence.
“So, you’re really my dad?”
I ruffled the kid’s hair, “Yep, you look identical to me. Your mom gave you my name and everything.”
“Where you been then?” He was a little defensive, and I couldn’t blame him. I actually liked that he wasn’t afraid to speak up and ask. He was gutsy. Here he was with two large bikers he never met before in his apartment, and he was questioning me like I owed him answers, and boy did I ever. I wished I had more to give him, though.
“I gotta tell you, kid. I briefly saw your mom last night for the first time since I was eighteen. I lost touch with her, and then when I could, I tried to find her. Searched for a long time. Had no idea she was here, and no idea that you were born. Swear to you, I’d known, you’d both have been with me for a long time.”
He nodded his head at me like he got it. I had to find out what my kid had seen and how much Enrico was in their life. I also had this twisting feeling in my gut,because Charlie wasn’t home yet. It didn’t feel like it was Gun’s normal.
Shane sat on the sofa. I imagined it was to try to make himself look less intimidating. His long legs stretched out wide taking in my interaction with my son. My Son.
“So, do you know where Mom is?”
“Nah, kid. She ever not come home like this?”
He shook his head, then walked into the tiny kitchen, pulled up a stool and climbed up on the counter grabbing himself a bowl. I watched in fascination as he opened another cupboard and grabbed a box of cereal, poured it into the bowl, then opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. He was so young, but so independent. God, he reminded me of me. He poured the milk into the cereal and then he grinned, “I love Fruity Pebbles. Want some?”
“Fruity pebbles are the shit! I’ll take a bowl.” Shane said from the couch. The kid gave him a chin lift and said, “Help yourself.” This kid was seriously cool. Shane grabbed a bowl, then sat back down, and put cartoons on.
