Cut Wide Open
Page 8
I growled at the old man. He was pissing me off, and I was scared shitless that Mouse was gone. “What about the girl?”
“I don’t know nothin' ‘bout no girl.”
I stormed away. I needed answers, but wasn't sure where to get them. For a month Mitchell and Claire had been dead, and I had to hold onto some kind of hope that Mouse was still alive.
The pit in my stomach grew even bigger. I got back on my bike, went to the school and sat on my bike for nearly an hour watching the only entrance at the school that was left unlocked, hoping like fuck I’d see her and this would all be some cruel fucking joke. Nothing.
I drove to the library and searched inside. Nothing there either. I tried to ask the librarian if they’d seen her, but no one seemed to know who I was talking about. I pulled out my phone and did a google search for the fire and there it was in black and white. Two dead in an accidental fire. Two. I had fucking hope, now, where was Charlie?
I waited outside of the school hoping I’d see her or someone who might be able to tell me where the hell she went. The chilly morning air heightened my senses. I watched every single person as they arrived for school, but still I didn’t see her. I saw those tools whose asses I handed to them pull up in their Jeep. They were blasting Timberlake. I wanted to punch them again for being such pussies. Their eyes widened as I approached. Sure, my down time at the club had a lot to do with me lifting weights. I built so much muscle that if someone hit me again, they’d have a lot to get through until they could crack ribs. Cracked ribs sucked.
I was also pretty sure the leather vest I now wore that sported the Hades Runners insignia had a lot to do with the scared shitless looks on their face.
“You guys seen Charlie?”
“Who?” The weaselly guy who talked to her the last time I kicked his ass asked.
“Charlotte,” I gritted out because I was damn sure they knew who I was talking about.
“Nah, man. She hasn’t been to this school in months,” A guy said from the back seat.
“Yeah, one day she was here, and the next she was gone,” the fucking little dick weasel answered.
Blood rushed to my head. The empty pit in my stomach intensified. I was pissed. I hit the fucker who delivered the news. He went down screaming. I didn’t give a fuck. I had to find my Mouse.
My heart thumped. I was so angry. Angry at my brotherhood for taking me away from her. Angry at myself for not coming back sooner. “Fuck!” I bellowed. This couldn’t be happening.
I went back to her house and searched her room for any sign. Her dresser was empty. I knocked it over because I was pissed off. Her mattress was mostly melted and in my anger, I picked it up and threw that too. Against the corner of the wall was a blanket. I lifted it. No sign that it was melted. It had holes throughout it and I wondered if that’s all she had? Was I so caught up in my own shit, that I couldn't see how bad she actually had it? I headed out to my bike, grabbed a couple small bungee cords from the small leather bag tucked under my headlight and rolled the blanket tight strapping it to my back seat. I had hoped she would be on the back, not this worthless rag, but it was all I had left of her.
I reached the clubhouse, which was an old store that the club had bought. We also owned the eight houses on the street. Each house had three or four bedrooms and a few of the houses were duplexes. The clubhouse wasn’t the traditional bar that you might think an MC would have. Inside, there were leather couches that lined two walls. In the middle of the room was a dance floor with a stripper pole. On the opposite side of that, there were large industrial-sized stainless steel refrigerators that were stocked with tons of food. Next to those, were coolers that you might find at your local Seven-Eleven. Some were stocked with soda, while others were filled with beer.
Once inside, I ignored the hellos from my brothers and went straight for the beer. I grabbed the first one I saw, tilted my head back and chugged the entire thing, then I grabbed another. I searched the room until my eyes landed on the man I needed to speak with; Dirk.
Dirk had mad computer skills, and was usually really good at finding out information.
“Brother,” I tilted my beer towards him as I approached.
“What’s got your panties all twisted? Your little girl find some football player, while you been hanging with the big boys?”
“Fuck off,” I growled ready to throw down.
“Cool it, just giving you a hard time. What gives?”
“What gives is she’s gone. House burned to the ground. Foster parents dead. I got no clue where she went and I really am curious as fuck to find out how come no one told me the house next to mine burned down. The house my girl lives in. You guys are supposed to be my brothers, but that shit was kept from me. Fuck, I need to find her man.”
Dirk’s eyes changed. No longer was he my ball busting brother, sympathy instantly flashed in his eyes. He saw me practically clawing at the walls to get out of here. They thought it was funny. Their new prospect, the president’s new old lady’s son, pining over a teen-aged girl--but they didn’t know. How could they? That girl was the only fucking saving grace for me. All those years, she watched me. And I don’t give a fuck if it sounds like I’m a pussy, but I wasn't alone. Even if she wouldn’t talk she was always right there, and I left her... alone. And now, she’s gone.
“I’ll find her. Let me get some paper, so I can write down what you know about her.”
While he walked away I thought about the details I knew about her. I knew her last name. That was a start. But I didn't know Mitchell and Claire’s. I knew her biological mom was dead, but I didn't know her name. When she told me the heartbreaking story about her piece of shit junky mom, I was beside myself. I wished I could bring that piece of shit back to life and kill her myself for doing that to Charlie. No one should be raised like that.
What else could I tell him? I could tell him how she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and how she had no idea. Or how when she’d get nervous, she’d bite her lip and try to hide behind her long dark hair. I could tell him how she was the sweetest pussy I’d ever had and that even though she was a virgin, she greedily took my cock. But no, those things were not for my brother’s ears. They were mine and I was holding them close. She was my fucking Mouse, and I didn’t want to share that with anyone.
So, I told him the facts I knew. Her name is Charlotte Morris. She sometimes goes by Charlie. Her birthday is December fourth and she’s sixteen years old. She lived with her foster parents Claire and Mitchell since she was eight. Mitchell worked various jobs. Claire was a drunk. That’s it. That’s all I had to go on. As I recalled the details, I wanted to hit something or someone. I had so much rage.
“I don’t know nothin' ‘bout no girl.”
I stormed away. I needed answers, but wasn't sure where to get them. For a month Mitchell and Claire had been dead, and I had to hold onto some kind of hope that Mouse was still alive.
The pit in my stomach grew even bigger. I got back on my bike, went to the school and sat on my bike for nearly an hour watching the only entrance at the school that was left unlocked, hoping like fuck I’d see her and this would all be some cruel fucking joke. Nothing.
I drove to the library and searched inside. Nothing there either. I tried to ask the librarian if they’d seen her, but no one seemed to know who I was talking about. I pulled out my phone and did a google search for the fire and there it was in black and white. Two dead in an accidental fire. Two. I had fucking hope, now, where was Charlie?
I waited outside of the school hoping I’d see her or someone who might be able to tell me where the hell she went. The chilly morning air heightened my senses. I watched every single person as they arrived for school, but still I didn’t see her. I saw those tools whose asses I handed to them pull up in their Jeep. They were blasting Timberlake. I wanted to punch them again for being such pussies. Their eyes widened as I approached. Sure, my down time at the club had a lot to do with me lifting weights. I built so much muscle that if someone hit me again, they’d have a lot to get through until they could crack ribs. Cracked ribs sucked.
I was also pretty sure the leather vest I now wore that sported the Hades Runners insignia had a lot to do with the scared shitless looks on their face.
“You guys seen Charlie?”
“Who?” The weaselly guy who talked to her the last time I kicked his ass asked.
“Charlotte,” I gritted out because I was damn sure they knew who I was talking about.
“Nah, man. She hasn’t been to this school in months,” A guy said from the back seat.
“Yeah, one day she was here, and the next she was gone,” the fucking little dick weasel answered.
Blood rushed to my head. The empty pit in my stomach intensified. I was pissed. I hit the fucker who delivered the news. He went down screaming. I didn’t give a fuck. I had to find my Mouse.
My heart thumped. I was so angry. Angry at my brotherhood for taking me away from her. Angry at myself for not coming back sooner. “Fuck!” I bellowed. This couldn’t be happening.
I went back to her house and searched her room for any sign. Her dresser was empty. I knocked it over because I was pissed off. Her mattress was mostly melted and in my anger, I picked it up and threw that too. Against the corner of the wall was a blanket. I lifted it. No sign that it was melted. It had holes throughout it and I wondered if that’s all she had? Was I so caught up in my own shit, that I couldn't see how bad she actually had it? I headed out to my bike, grabbed a couple small bungee cords from the small leather bag tucked under my headlight and rolled the blanket tight strapping it to my back seat. I had hoped she would be on the back, not this worthless rag, but it was all I had left of her.
I reached the clubhouse, which was an old store that the club had bought. We also owned the eight houses on the street. Each house had three or four bedrooms and a few of the houses were duplexes. The clubhouse wasn’t the traditional bar that you might think an MC would have. Inside, there were leather couches that lined two walls. In the middle of the room was a dance floor with a stripper pole. On the opposite side of that, there were large industrial-sized stainless steel refrigerators that were stocked with tons of food. Next to those, were coolers that you might find at your local Seven-Eleven. Some were stocked with soda, while others were filled with beer.
Once inside, I ignored the hellos from my brothers and went straight for the beer. I grabbed the first one I saw, tilted my head back and chugged the entire thing, then I grabbed another. I searched the room until my eyes landed on the man I needed to speak with; Dirk.
Dirk had mad computer skills, and was usually really good at finding out information.
“Brother,” I tilted my beer towards him as I approached.
“What’s got your panties all twisted? Your little girl find some football player, while you been hanging with the big boys?”
“Fuck off,” I growled ready to throw down.
“Cool it, just giving you a hard time. What gives?”
“What gives is she’s gone. House burned to the ground. Foster parents dead. I got no clue where she went and I really am curious as fuck to find out how come no one told me the house next to mine burned down. The house my girl lives in. You guys are supposed to be my brothers, but that shit was kept from me. Fuck, I need to find her man.”
Dirk’s eyes changed. No longer was he my ball busting brother, sympathy instantly flashed in his eyes. He saw me practically clawing at the walls to get out of here. They thought it was funny. Their new prospect, the president’s new old lady’s son, pining over a teen-aged girl--but they didn’t know. How could they? That girl was the only fucking saving grace for me. All those years, she watched me. And I don’t give a fuck if it sounds like I’m a pussy, but I wasn't alone. Even if she wouldn’t talk she was always right there, and I left her... alone. And now, she’s gone.
“I’ll find her. Let me get some paper, so I can write down what you know about her.”
While he walked away I thought about the details I knew about her. I knew her last name. That was a start. But I didn't know Mitchell and Claire’s. I knew her biological mom was dead, but I didn't know her name. When she told me the heartbreaking story about her piece of shit junky mom, I was beside myself. I wished I could bring that piece of shit back to life and kill her myself for doing that to Charlie. No one should be raised like that.
What else could I tell him? I could tell him how she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and how she had no idea. Or how when she’d get nervous, she’d bite her lip and try to hide behind her long dark hair. I could tell him how she was the sweetest pussy I’d ever had and that even though she was a virgin, she greedily took my cock. But no, those things were not for my brother’s ears. They were mine and I was holding them close. She was my fucking Mouse, and I didn’t want to share that with anyone.
So, I told him the facts I knew. Her name is Charlotte Morris. She sometimes goes by Charlie. Her birthday is December fourth and she’s sixteen years old. She lived with her foster parents Claire and Mitchell since she was eight. Mitchell worked various jobs. Claire was a drunk. That’s it. That’s all I had to go on. As I recalled the details, I wanted to hit something or someone. I had so much rage.
