HARDCORE: Storm MC(149)
“Where are your parents? Why are you here?” I didn’t want to sound pissed, but I wasn’t used to talking to kids. I wished one of the girls were around, the ones who took care of the clubhouse and the guys. They were better with kids than I was.
The little girl shook her head. She had pigtails, and they bounced around on her shoulders.
“No parents?”
She looked at me with wide eyes. She didn’t look stupid or challenged. She was still afraid. She glanced up at Flash, standing behind me.
I sighed. I was getting nowhere. I turned to Flash, who shrugged. I turned back to her.
“Can’t you talk? I just wanna know who you are, why you’re here. Are you lost or something?” No, that couldn’t be it. I heard the car. Somebody in the car tried to get my attention before they drove off. Who, though?
She sniffled, like she was about to cry. Then she reached into the pocket of her backpack to pull out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to me, slowly reaching out like she was still afraid I would hurt her.
“For me?” She nodded. I looked around again. “Hey, come inside. It’s cold out here. Come on. We’ll get you something to drink.” I wondered if we had anything. The bar gun dispensed soda and water. Was soda okay for a kid so early in the morning? How the hell did I know?
I turned to Flash again, and he caught my message. “Come on, kid. I’ll find something for you.” He held out a hand, and the girl took a step back. “Come on. I won’t hurt you. It’s warmer in here.” She looked inside, still not saying a word, but finally trusted Flash enough to step forward. He led her inside, sitting her on the sofa where he’d just been sleeping minutes earlier.
I unfolded the paper, almost afraid to read what it said. Whose kid was she? I hadn’t ever met her, so she wasn’t one of the guys’ kids. I thought for a split second one of them was dead, and this was a message that they had been murdered. We had enough enemies out there that it could’ve been anyone.
Only it wasn’t one of theirs. According to the note, which I read with wide eyes, she was mine.
I looked up at her, staring. My kid?
I read the note again, and again. It was from Rae. Rae? I searched my memory. Jesus, it had been years since I saw her. Maybe seven? Eight? She was a junkie, or started to be. Before I dumped her—I didn’t deal with junkies—we had been sort of tight. I had liked her.
She’s your daughter, the note said. My daughter? I didn’t even know Rae was pregnant. Shit, had she been using when she was pregnant? I looked at the kid again. She looked healthy enough. Maybe a little skinny.
Her name is Gigi. Sort of a cute name. Sort of a cute kid. I looked at her again, this time looking a lot harder. Shit. I couldn’t miss how much we looked alike. It was obvious. Same dark hair, same eyes, same nose. I was all over her face.
I motioned for Flash, handing him the note when he reached me. He read it, then stared at me.
“Is this for real?” he asked, looking over at her. She sat alone, hands in lap, crying a little. I could tell she was trying to hold it back. Brave kid.
“I don’t know. I gotta talk to her.” I walked to the sofa, and she went still. I thought she might be holding her breath, too.
“Relax, kid. I won’t hurt you.” I sat down on the other side of the sofa, looking at her. She was shaking. “You cold?”
She thought about it, then shook her head. “You’re scared of me, then. Right?” She thought about that, too, then shook her head again. “What are you scared of?”
She opened her mouth, and I waited for her to speak. When she did, all she could say was, “I wanna go home. I have to go to school today.” It was a whisper, almost too quiet to hear.
“You have school? Where’s your school?” I could leave her there.
She thought about it, squeezing her eyes shut. Then, “I don’t know where it is.” She trembled, chin shaking.
“Do you know what it’s called?”
She shook her head. Of course she didn’t. She was a little kid.
“How old are you?”
“Seven.” I did the math. Yeah, that added up. Son of a bitch. Rae never even told me she was pregnant.
“Do you know where you live?” Again, a head shake. Hadn’t her mother even taught the kid their address? Weren’t all kids supposed to know that? What kind of mother was Rae? I looked at the skinny, underdressed kid and got a few ideas.
She burst into tears. I didn’t know what the hell to do. I looked at Flash, desperate for help. He shrugged. He didn’t have any more experience with kids than I did.