Crash & Burn (10 page)

Bars

Tank

             
This place is depressing as fuck. It’s sad and lonely and I’m stuck in this tiny ass,
six-by-eight foot brick walled room for twenty-two hours a day. I see day light one
hour a fucking day, the other is spent in general population. The bed is terrible
with its thin mattress and one blanket. It fucking blows. The food’s disgusting. I
try not to go crazy in here, but it’s pretty hard. I’m too fucking big for a room
this size. I feel caged. Fuck, I
am
caged. Not a goddamn thing to do in here but workout, read, and think.

I’m alone in here. The corrections officer said, and I quote, “Roman is a risk to
room with other prisoners with his gang affiliations.” Guess I’m a fucking gang member
now. Don’t remember joining a gang, but I’m good with not sharing a room so it’s a
win/win. It’s not like I’m going to go crazy and start a riot or kill everyone, but
I’d rather do my time alone than with some asshole I don’t fucking like. I prefer
the solitude to the drama of a celly anyway.

I spend all day thinking about Lil in this tiny ass room. She’s all I think about
while stuck in hell. God, I’d kill to be out of here and with her. A few weeks ago
I heard she was looking for me. That shit made this place worse knowing she was out
there needing me and I’m stuck in this fucking place. There’s not a goddamn thing
I can do for her in here and I fucking hate it.

She’d sent me letters and I couldn’t bring myself to open them. She called too. I
don’t deserve that shit right now. I don’t know if I could handle reading or hearing
her voice yet. That shit’s like a drug to me. One taste and I’ll need more. Best to
cut it cold turkey.

She came by here and I couldn’t see her. It would fucking kill me, eat me alive to
be able to see her and not fucking touch her. That’s my girl and I’ll be goddamned
if someone tells me to keep my hands off her. I can’t bring myself to see my baby
while in here. I also don’t want her to see me like this. She doesn’t need this shit
on top of all the other shit I put on her. This is my mess and I’m dealing with it.

I fucking miss her. I miss her like nothing I’ve ever missed before, but one week
and I’m out of this fucking place and I’ll be working hard as fuck to get my woman
back. While I’m in here, I let shit settle and I work on ways to fix shit once I’m
home. I work on pulling myself together enough to get Lil back home with me.

****

             
Flicking my headlights off, I duck down in my seat. Sitting in my truck around the
corner, I’m stalking these motherfuckers like some dumb fuck. I’m tired of the bullshit,
tall tales everyone’s been feeding me since I got home.

Been out for three days and all I can get are shoulder shrugs and stories from everyone.
No one seems to know where my girl is. I find it hard to believe she was here looking
for me and now she’s magically gone when I come back. I know one of those motherfuckers
know where she is. If they think they can hide her from me, then they are fucking
crazy.

No one’s gonna give it up, so I’m gonna find it out for myself. They underestimate
my ability to find shit out. I’m like a goddamn detective, so I followed Gin and Rampage.
I want my baby back and I’ll do what the fuck ever it’s gonna take. I’m not going
down without a fight this time. She better come out swinging if she wants me to back
off.

             
My two asshole brothers pull out of a complex of town houses in town, both of them
splitting off in opposite directions. No fucking clue what or who is in this place,
but I’ve seen Peaches, Cali, and the two morons come and go from here. These motherfuckers
wouldn’t all be coming to the same place for nothin’. There’s only one person who’d
bring the club in like that. Lil.

             
Hopping out of my truck, I walk toward the place. I left my bike at the club ‘cause
I’m not trying to get caught being a fuckin’ creep. I didn’t spent two days working
this shit out to only have my bike get my ass caught.

They’ve all been coming from the one on the end. It’s the place with the white front
door and flowers on the porch. I feel like a fucking psycho doing this sort of shit,
but I’ve gotta know. I’ll do what the fuck ever it takes. Lil was looking for me,
so she must need something. I need to know what it was now that I’m out.

Walking down the sidewalk, I work my way through the complex. It’s dark and cold outside
tonight. The only light is coming from the street lamps above. Walking up the steps
to the front door, I pull my gun. I have no clue what I’ll find inside so better to
be prepared than to be shot.

Squatting down, I pick the lock. Thirty seconds and I’m in. That lock was a fucking
joke. I find out this is Lil’s place with a lock like that, I’m gonna beat the fuck
outta Gin for letting her stay in a place with a lock that took thirty seconds to
break into.

Pushing the front door open, the lights are killed. It’s silent and dark inside. Looking
around I don’t see anything, nothing that even looks familiar. I walk through a living
room with a kitchen attached and I don’t see shit that says Lil. The place is void
of any personal items and the furnishings are sparse.

The first floor is empty. Hitting the stairs, I head up to the second floor. Walking
lightly, trying to be quiet, I look through open doors into empty rooms. A light on
at the end of the hall has my attention. Walking to the end of the hall, I look around
the corner. What I find stops me dead in my fucking tracks. I feel like the breath
has been kicked the fuck out of me.

Fuck I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her so goddamn much it hurts just to look at her.

             
Three raised scars on her tan back,that long, soft dark hair is wet and pulled over
her shoulder. I follow that smooth back down to the curve of her ass to the tattoo
I want to lick. Jesus Christ, I missed her. I’d know her from anyone. She doesn’t
even have to look at me, I know that’s my woman. I feel her all the way down to my
bones, and they fucking ache for her. The need is almost too much to handle. I take
a few steps into the room, needing to be closer to her.

“Lil.” She jumps and spins around, an arm covering her naked tits. Her eyes are huge
when she looks at me. I want to look into her eyes, but I can’t. Holy fuck. Holy fucking
shit. Breathe. Breathe. I remind myself to breathe. In and out, deep breathes.

It’s been months since I’ve seen her naked body. It’s been so goddamn long. I can’t
stop staring. I’m stuck. So fucking stuck.

“Tank,” she clips. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I feel fucking dizzy. I need
to sit down. Yeah sitting down might be good. Backing up a few steps my legs find
the bed and my ass finds a seat.

No fucking way.
No
fucking way. She catches my eyes and turns around quickly hiding herself from me. 
For a long moment I try to put shit together. I try to make sense of it all.

“Turn back around Lil.” She doesn’t say anything and she sure the fuck doesn’t turn
around.

“Look at me.” I demand harshly. She sighs deeply and with an annoyed groan and an
arm securely covering her tits, she turns back around slowly. Her eyes are narrowed
now, her mouth tight and pissed. In those eyes, she’s nervous and unsure. Her other
hand is rested on her stomach protectively, shielding it. A tiny rounded stomach.

“You’re ….
Fuck
… You’re fuckin’
pregnant
?” I choke out. I choke on the fucking words. I choke and forget to breathe.

             
             
             
             
             
****

             
I’m now sitting on a stool in her kitchen, staring at her stomach. I’m not even fucking
sure how I got down here in the first place. So I stare, because I’ve no fucking clue
what else to do. I asked if she was pregnant and she gave me an obvious eye roll and
marched that ass right on past me. Now I’m stuck here in a house that does not, in
any way, say Lil, while sitting on an uncomfortable ass stool, trying figure this
shit out. A million questions fly around in my head, but nothing is coming out of
my mouth. Pretty sure I’ve opened and closed it six or seven times, but each time
I choke.

Nothing makes sense. I watch her move. I watch her body, her face and those fucking
eyes for something to point me in the right direction, but she avoids me. She’s fucking
pregnant. My girl is going to have a baby. She’s gonna be a fucking mom. I’m finding
this all fucking crazy and hard to swallow. Opening up a cabinet, I see a row of neatly
lined bottles.
Bottles
. Not beer bottle or wine bottles. Fucking baby bottles. Suddenly I find my voice.
All my shit just starts flowing out.

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ tell me?”

Turning around slowly, she looks at me like I’ve just asked her that shit in Spanish.

“Why?” She repeats slowly her mouth turned down.

“You heard me. You tryin’ to keep that shit from me?” A look of utter hatred flashes
across her face as soon as the words leave my mouth. She visibly flinches. Too late,
it was the wrong thing to say. With a quick jerk of her hand, she slams a plate down
on the kitchen counter, and she comes out swinging. The plate crashes on the counter,
breaking into pieces all around her, but she’s clutching that broken plate in her
shaky hands like it’s her last hope, as if her life depends on it.

“I fuckin’ tried! How the fuck would I have told you? You were gone.” She yells at
me. Her eyes are wild and her face so goddamn hurt and angry it burns all the way
to my
soul.

Taking a ragged breath, she shakes her head and I watch her reel it back in. She stands
there silent, pulling herself together.

“I tried. You wouldn’t see me or talk to me.” Her voice cracks and she chokes on a
sob. I have to take a deep breath to calm down. I’m watching her heart break and that
shit breaks me, but I need to know. I need to know what the fuck she was gonna do
about this
baby
.

“Shoulda told a brother. They would have got the message to me. I shoulda known this
shit, baby.”

She scoffs, snorting a humorless laugh. Her eyes are so goddamn sad and broken, that
full of life look to them is gone.

“You don’t fuckin’ get it.”

“Wanna try me Lil? If I never showed up here, were you ever gonna tell me?”

“You really think I wouldn’t tell you? Fuck. You really think that little of me? I
didn’t want everyone to know before you. I wanted to be the one to tell you. I wanted
to share that shit with you. Not one of guys while you were sittin’ in a fuckin’ cell.
It’s
our
baby, not theirs. I wanted you to hear this from me. Jesus Christ!”

“Lil, is that my baby?” I ask the one fucking question eating away at me. I know she
said
our
baby, but it doesn’t register with me.

She looks fucking shocked. Another choked sob escapes her lips and tears well up in
her eyes. Again, wrong fucking question. I’m a dumb motherfucker.

I know it’s my baby. I just need to hear here her say it. I
want
to hear her say it.

“It’s
my
baby.” she forces out. Picking up another plate, she smashes that one too. All of
her hate for me is evident in her body, in the way she looks at me, and in how she
talks to me. I broke her. I fucking broke the only person I have ever loved. I broke
my girl.

“Get out.” She whispers.

“Lil, baby.” I can’t leave here with her looking at me like that. We’ve got shit to
figure out.

“Out!” She points to the door. Her chest is heaving and her finger’s shaking.

“Fuck that shit Lil. Not leavin’.”

“Get the fuck out!” She screams at me with tears running down her face. Picking up
a cup, she hurls it right past my head. Hitting the wall it explodes, pieces of glass
flying everywhere. I fucked shit up so goddamn bad …

****

             
Space. Lots and lots of fucking space, that’s what I’m giving her. If that’s what
she needs, she’s getting it. She wants that shit, she can have it. I’ll give it to
her in spades. She wants support, fine. She wants some money, okay. She needs me,
I’m right here. I’ll do whatever the fuck she wants. I’m just trying my fucking hardest
to get shit back to right with her. I have to fix shit for her and this baby.

That baby. My baby.
Our
baby. It’s the craziest notion. We’re going to be parents.
The moment you hear it, or in my case, see that your girl is pregnant, an array of
emotions goes through you. From one end to the spectrum to the other, there isn’t
a fucking emotion you don’t feel. And it’s a fucking shit show. I’m living the fucking
shit show.

The first act of the emotional shit show is
Denial
. There is no fucking way I’m going to be a dad. I have twelve plus years of fucking
various women under my belt and not once in that time have I heard the words, “I’m
pregnant.” I can’t get anyone pregnant. That shit doesn’t happen to me. That baby
isn’t mine, but you keep that shit to yourself. Of course nine times out of ten, she’s
not lying and that baby is sure as shit yours. I spent that twenty-four hours high
as a kite, locked in my room.

The second emotion is probably
Blame
. Something along the lines of “the bitch is lying” probably crosses your mind. The
bitch did this on purpose to trap me. She didn’t take her pill, poked holes in the
condom, or seduced me. Either way, it’s your goddamn fault ‘cause you didn’t ask or
do shit to stop it. You fucked that girl and you remember every amazing fucking second
of it. Of course you usually don’t verbalize these thoughts either, unless you’re
looking to have your dick removed, then maybe you’re stupid enough to say it out loud.
In my case, she wasn’t lying, she had clear proof.

The third emotion is pure unadulterated
Fear
. It’s the scared shitless kind of fear. Damn near want to cry, fear, pack your shit
run for the hills fear. I can’t be a dad. I’ve got too much other shit to do, to see.
How can I fit a baby into my life? I’ve got too much partying going on for this shit,
too many beers to drink, too many blunts to smoke, and too much riding to do, in my
case. Basically, a baby will cramp the fuck out of your style, and your life will
never be the same.

The fourth emotion in your shit show is
Guilt
. This is a big one. This is when you’ve finally accepted that you’re going to be
a dad. Your baby is coming one way or another, and there ain’t a damn thing you can
do about it now. This usually happens when you see that positive test, when you hear
the doctor confirm it, see an ultrasound, hear a heartbeat, or in my case, see the
physical evidence on your girl. You start feeling guilty for all the bad shit you
were thinking before you knew for sure. You feel bad for thinking the girl that’s
having your baby is dirty enough to cheat. You feel like shit for blaming her when
you were right there fucking her, condom be damned. You feel bad for wishing the baby
away. You feel like shit for the bad things you did before she said baby.