Wild Ride Page 2

  As the noises began to die down from having set the table and finished up dinner her blood ran cold when Chuck said, “Maybe your sister would want to come and eat down here.”

  The boys were suddenly silent.

  “She doesn’t come down here anymore,” Matt finally said. Tears flooded her eyes but didn’t actually fall.

  “Why not?” Chuck asked.

  Shut up! Stop asking questions! She wanted to shout down to the cute but stupid man who even now was making friends with her brothers.

  “She’s only got one foot now… not two like us,” she heard Ben say.

  “Shut up!” Matt said angrily.

  “So? I could carry her down here… and don’t tell him that… he was just answering my question,” Chuck admonished.

  Oh hell no! He wasn’t going to be carrying her anywhere and did he just say ‘so’? Was he really so dumb that he didn’t understand that being a spectacle at family dinner time wasn’t cool?

  “I miss her…” Ben said as though arguing his point.

  She reached up and brushed away the tears that had finally spilled over and onto her cheeks.

  She missed them too. It wasn’t so bad when they were quiet or playing video games in the basement, but since Chuck’s arrival on the scene she’d been reminded brutally of all that she was missing… and all that she had lost.

  Chapter Two

  Long minutes of awkward silence wrapped around him like a blanket. The boys continued to look at each other with the younger boy Ben watching the older boy Matt for a reaction. Rich people were ten kinds of fucked up. The daughter loses a foot so they keep her hidden away? From what? From who?

  “Alright then you take her up some grub,” he finally said to Matt. “I’ll pour her a drink and then you can come back down for that.”

  Matt picked up the plate and headed up the stairs. Chuck hadn’t missed the curious look in the single dark eye that had been poking through the curtains…watching every move they made.

  He might be a lot of things…but he wasn’t such a shit that he would lock someone away from their family… from everything… because of a missing foot! Were they embarrassed by her?

  “So why does she have to stay up there? This house is so big, why doesn’t she stay down here somewhere?” he asked Ben, as he began to dish up spaghetti onto a plate for him.

  “She doesn’t like to come out of her room anymore,” Ben said and then a look of sadness appeared on his little face. “Even for my birthday.”

  So it was a self-imposed exile. He had no idea what it would be like to wake up one day and be physically different than he was the day before, but he did understand change.

  Hell, change was his middle name…it was consistency he had a hard time coping with. If not for his job and the friends he’d made working there he’d have nothing dependable in his life at all.

  Being shoved from one foster home to the next to the next the entire time he was growing up had taught him not to expect anything to be stable. Back then he’d needed regularity in the worst way.

  That need had led him to hanging out with some local gang members. For the first time in his life he’d felt like he finally had a place to belong… that it mattered that he was even around.

  He mattered alright… he was just the tool they used to get what they wanted. By the time he’d figured that out he’d been arrested, charged and convicted of armed robbery at the ripe old age of fourteen.

  After being sentenced to the county Juvenile Detention Center that would be the last home he would know as a child, the gang had merely become a new source of torment to him.

  A month after turning eighteen he’d been released from the Juvenile Detention Center to find himself homeless and broke. He’d been homeless a few times as a kid but had always known in the back of his mind that if things got too rough he could go back into the foster care system again.

  This time there had been no foster system safety net, only the thought of real jail time if he screwed up.

  He’d made his way to the other side of town as far from the gang as possible and one rainy night had broken into a shed owned by a man named Richard Long. Instead of turning him into the cops like most people would do, ‘Dickie,’ as he was referred to, had helped him get a job at a local motorcycle repair shop instead.

  The repair shop had just been started by another man named Bobby Jackson. Bobby’s best friend Tommy McMurray worked there as well.

  Some four…almost five years later, those three men were the closest thing to family he’d ever had. Bobby had recently been married and his wife Lilly had moved from New York where her late husband had been involved in a major scandal.

  The trouble had followed Lilly to Florida in the form of a corrupt FBI agent who wanted her dead. The FBI agent had held Lilly hostage at the repair shop and Chuck had known her life was in serious danger.

  He’d stolen in through a window in the office area and crept up behind the guy and knocked him out… with a gun he wasn’t supposed to have since he was still on probation from the armed robbery conviction.

  He was tough and used to life knocking him around. The princess of this palace who lived upstairs obviously wasn’t. He got that, but seeing the disappointment on the little kid’s face bothered him… a lot.

  After serving up spaghetti and juice for Ben he prepared a plate for Matt as well just as the boy made it back into the kitchen. He handed Matt silverware wrapped in a napkin and a glass of juice and the boy headed back upstairs.

  After dishing up a plate for himself he sat down and watched as Ben began twirling his fork around in his spaghetti trying to wrap the noodles around the tines.

  “Watch this…” Chuck said.

  After Ben looked up at him he used his fork to put a few pieces of the spaghetti in his mouth and then sucked the noodles in. The boy laughed and then repeated what he’d done. Probably not the best thing to show a young and hyper little boy but… it did take his mind off of his sister potentially not making an appearance on his birthday.

  Matt snickered when he came back in the kitchen and saw what they were doing. He sat down but after a minute he said, “Meredith says we need to be a little quieter.”

  “Sorry, is she resting?” he asked.

  “No but she doesn’t like us to be too loud,” Matt said.

  “What happened to her foot?” he asked and quickly wanted to take it back when he saw the expression on Matt’s face.

  “About a year ago, she and our dad were in a car wreck. He died and she lost her foot,” Matt said and after a brief pause went back to eating.

  A year? He knew next to nothing about medicine or injuries but a year seemed like more than enough time for a wound to heal.

  “I’m sorry. I bet you miss the he… heck out of him,” Chuck said.

  Matt nodded his head that he did and then let out a small laugh. “You almost said another bad word.”

  “But I didn’t… so there!” He said with a smile. “Does her missing foot still hurt?”

  “Sometimes she thinks it does but not as much anymore,” Matt replied.

  “So why the need to be quiet and shh… stuff? If she’s not resting and not hurting…” he questioned.

  “It upsets her when we make too much noise,” Ben said as he shoveled in another mouthful of food.

  The television reception in his brain became a little clearer. The sister wasn’t coping with her missing foot very well and it seemed to be affecting the entire family. He felt sympathy for the girl but not to the point that he would let the kids suffer too.

  “Well last I checked your mom left me in charge… not your sister,” he said.

  The boys both looked at each other and then back to him.

  “So finish up your dinner so we can get on with cleaning up. After that maybe we can, like, make a fort or some shit in the living room,” he said. God Almighty he really would be broke by the end of the night.

  “You said another…” Ben started.


  “Yea, I know…I know,” he said taking out his wallet and slapping a dollar bill down on the table. “There I’m paid up in advance.”

  “Why do you have so many tattoos?” Matt asked.

  “I like art of any kind…drawings, paintings, photographs…that kind of thing,” he replied.

  “Why do you have one on the back of your neck? You can’t see that one,” Matt asked.

  Out of the mouths of babes… How to explain this? That tattoo was one he’d gotten while running with the gang…

  “I ran out of room on my arms,” he said.

  Matt looked thoughtful for a minute and then said, “Oh.”

  These two were as bad if not worse than Gretchen with their questions. Gretchen was Tommy’s five year old daughter. She was the coolest kid, bar none, he’d ever met. She was smart, sassy and talented…and she didn’t take shit from anybody. If he’d had any siblings he imagined they would be like Gretchen.

  She’d grow up to do great things…he had no doubt. Gretchen’s younger sister Melody was only three months old so it was hard to tell what her personality was like. These two were equally cool kids, though considerably more reserved and better behaved than Gretchen.

  After finishing up dinner he packed the leftovers into a container for Carla to take as dinner the following night. Then he gave Matt a dishrag to wipe off the counter, stove and table while he and Ben rinsed and loaded the dishwasher.

  Once the kitchen was back to looking as it had before dinner he turned to the boys, “So we have about an hour left before you have to take a shower and get ready for bed. What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “I want a fort!” Ben yelled.

  “Ok!” Chuck yelled back.

  Matt burst out laughing followed by Ben. Wonder how the princess upstairs liked them apples?

  “I’ll be quiet,” Ben said after his giggling subsided. “You have to be quiet too Chuck.”

  “You keep it down and I’ll keep it down,” he offered.

  They spent the next hour pulling cushions off the expensive looking couch in the family room and Matt drug the comforter off his bed which they draped across the cushions. The boys banned him from the fort deeming him an ogre since each trip through, he knocked down some of the cushion walls.

  Gone from their minds were any thoughts on being quiet as they crawled around through the maze of cushions and even an upside down kitchen chair he’d setup as their portcullis.

  After giving them an extra ten minutes of playtime he helped them destroy the fort they’d built and put things back where they belonged.

  “Shower time,” he said when they finished cleaning up the room. He figured the oldest boy was good on his own to take a shower but looked at Ben hesitantly. Gretchen showered herself and she was five so…he should be able to do the same. Right?

  “He makes too big of a mess taking a shower so he still takes a bath,” Matt supplied.

  Great. “You’re kind of big to be taking a bath, don’t you think?” he asked Ben.

  “I don’t like the curtain shut all the way,” Ben argued.

  “Mom bought a clear shower curtain but hasn’t had time to hang it up yet,” Matt said.

  “Well you’re the man of the house. Why don’t you do it?” he asked Matt.

  The boys looked at each other and then at him. “Ok, but I might need help,” Matt finally offered.

  It took twice as long to remove the old shower liner, put the new clear one on, then re-hang the curtain and tie it back than if he’d done it himself but the boys obviously liked to help.

  Matt went first and then acted as a coach for Ben who finished up with only minutes to spare before lights out. Television time was shot but at least shower time had been a success.

  The boys were ready for bed and asleep a mere ten minutes later when he went to check on them after cleaning up the bathroom. He headed back downstairs and grabbing his backpack pulled out his sketch book and began sketching her peering out the curtains at him.

  He hadn’t really got a good look at her as she’d been cloaked in shadows but his imagination filled in the rest.

  The curtains in the drawing were sheer instead and her look was more mysterious and sexy than curious. He hadn’t missed her reaction to him taking notice of her. He realized the inappropriate and potentially dangerous direction his mind was taking him where she was concerned, so after finishing the drawing he put the sketch book away.

  Judge Patterson’s granddaughter was off limits to him for a multitude of reasons.

  He heard Carla pull into the driveway and did a last quick check that he’d picked up and cleaned everything. Then he collected his things and tucked them in his backpack while waiting in the kitchen for her.

  “Hi Chuck. How’d it go this evening?” she asked as she came through the door.

  “It was good,” he replied.

  “Are the boys asleep yet?” she asked.

  “Yea, they’ve been out for a while now,” he said.

  She looked at him kind of puzzled and said, “Did they give you any problems going to bed?”

  “We played some football, cooked Spaghetti for dinner, made a fort in the living room and then hung the shower curtain up so Ben could take a shower instead of a bath. So I think all that made them really tired,” he explained.

  He didn’t miss the look of surprise and then confusion and finally resignation that crossed her face. She’d be inspecting the place when he left.

  “Don’t worry, we cleaned everything up. I put the leftovers in a container that you can take to work tomorrow night,” he finished proudly.

  “Did they spend much time on their video games or watching television?” she asked.

  “No, we kind of ran out of time…” he said. “Ben wants to make his own birthday cake tomorrow if that’s ok…”

  “Umm…well…sure I guess,” she stammered as more confusion lit her face. “Speaking of his birthday, I was going to take the boys out of town to Orlando this weekend. I was planning to leave on Saturday morning.”

  “We were going to stay overnight and then come back late on Sunday evening. Meredith won’t go so I wondered if you could possibly stop by on Saturday and fix her some lunch and then bring her some dinner later that evening. My father will stop by on Sunday afternoon to check on her…it would just be for Saturday,” Carla finished.

  Shit. He needed to spend as much time as possible on Saturday finishing the detail parts of the paint job he was working on for the last of four motorcycles the shop was building.

  The Bama Bike Fest was the following weekend and they were supposed to be delivering the bikes to the customer at the rally. He was already pushing the time on the bike as it was and it had to be complete by the end of the weekend.

  “Sure,” he heard himself say. “I think Judge Patterson might have said something about me not being around the following weekend. I have to go to a bike rally for my job. That’s why I went ahead and started this week instead so I could use the time from this week for other weeks when I have stuff going on.”

  “That sounds fair,” Carla replied. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Nah, I don’t mind,” he said. “Oh and they want to ride on my bike but I said no until they asked you.”

  A look of horror crossed her face. “I would only take them around the circle drive and we have a helmet at the shop that would fit them. I’ll bring it tomorrow,” he quickly explained.

  “I’ll have to think about that, Chuck. Motorcycles are dangerous…” Carla said.

  “So are cars…” he said before he could stop the comment from leaving his lips. Stupid! He glanced at her to judge her reaction. Tommy was right, he needed to stop and think before he opened his pie hole.

  “Yea…yea they are,” she sighed. Her expression changed as though she was thinking heavy thoughts.

  Wanting to snap her out of some obviously painful memories he’d brought on with his thoughtless comment he said, “I should go…ca
n you sign my sheet?”

  Carla Johnson studied the young man who stood before her with paper and pen. If she’d met him on the street she’d have steered clear for fear of being mugged or worse.

  He looked like some sort of gang thug between his clothing choices and the tattoos. Yet his expression showed his obvious discomfort and remorse at the comment he’d spoken. Had he spoken with Meredith?

  “Did Meredith eat much for dinner?” she asked.

  “Oh shit! I mean…shoot… I completely forgot to check after dinner. The boys and I got distracted with the fort and the showers and stuff…” he said, avoiding her eyes.

  “No problem, Chuck. I’ll check on her before I go to bed,” she said. “I must ask that you watch your mouth while you’re here…” she said nervously. Would her request anger him?

  A slow grin spread across his mouth. He was a very handsome young man, even with the tattoos. “Why? Does it do tricks?” he asked sarcastically.

  The giggle escaped her before she could stop it. His unexpected response to her request was inappropriate but somehow put her at ease. He could easily intimidate someone so the grin and the sarcasm softened him around the edges.

  “Sorry…I did put money in the swear jar. In fact I paid in advance,” he laughed. “I saw her up there in the window watching us play ball and Matt did take her some dinner so we didn’t completely forget about her.”

  Another look of confusion appeared on her face “What do you mean you saw her in the window?” she asked.

  “She was looking out the window…watching us play ball. When I caught her looking she stopped…” he explained.

  “How…I don’t understand…she’s not voluntarily got out of bed in the past two weeks. She only gets up to bathe and then goes right back,” she said. “She even refuses to take her depression meds now along with refusing counseling and physical therapy. It’s like…she’s completely given up…and I…don’t know… what else to do…anymore.”