HARDCORE: Storm MC(167)

“Do you really? Want her to be happy, I mean?” She sounded sort of breathless.



“You don’t believe me?”



“No, I do. I do. I just wanted to be sure you felt that way, because I didn’t know how you felt. I thought maybe you…I don’t know…resented her a little bit.”



“How could I? Shit, I know what it’s like to be resented by a parent. By foster parents, too. I could never do that to my kid.”



“I don’t mean to pry.” Jamie leaned forward, arms crossed over her knees. “What happened there? You talk about foster care like it’s the worst thing in the world.”



“Maybe it’s not for some kids. It was for me. I wasn’t treated well. We’ll leave it at that. Okay?”



She didn’t look convinced, and I didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, I turned around. Lifting the back of my shirt, I asked her to come closer. “See the circle-shaped scars on my back?” There were over a dozen of them, all over. I could close my eyes and tell her where each one was.



I heard her come closer. “Yeah, I see some.”



“My foster father decided to put his cigarettes out on my back one night.”



“What?” It came out as a whisper. I turned around to see her horrified face. Her hands crossed over her mouth, tears filled her eyes. She whimpered.



“Yeah.” I leaned on the desk again. “That was the worst night. That was the last night he ever did anything like that, too. I didn’t go to school the next day—the pain was so bad, I couldn’t. I went the day after that, though. I tried to put a burn cream on my back, but I couldn’t reach all the burns. Anyway, the cream went through my shirt, and so did some blood and other stuff. My teacher saw it, pulled me aside, took me to the boys’ room to get a look. I never saw a man cry before that day.”



“Oh God. I’m so sorry.” She touched my arm. Her hand was shaking.



“Now you see why I can’t put her in one of those homes. There’s no way of telling how those people are, you know? They could look totally normal on the outside. My foster family did. On the inside, they were fucking evil.”



“I get it. I do. I’m sorry.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she couldn’t. She stood very close to me, though. Her eyes were still wide, shiny with tears. And very green.



“Not your fault. But now you know why I feel like I do. Why I wanna take care of her myself. It’s important to me. You know?”



“I know.” She opened her mouth again to say something else, then closed it. She looked around. “I guess I’d better go to bed. Big weekend ahead, need lots of sleep.”



“Sure.” I waved at her as she left the office, saying goodnight to a few stragglers having a last drink before going up themselves. We’d have a full house that night. I didn’t mind—being an only child, I liked having other people around me.



“You okay, boss man?” Erica winked, leaning in through the open doorway.



“I’m good.”



“Goodnight, then.” She went upstairs. I was the last person down there, which was the way it should have been. I was the boss, like Erica said. I locked up, making sure everything was off and the burglar alarm was set. Then I went upstairs, exhausted all of a sudden.



I couldn’t help poking my head into Gigi’s room, just to be sure she was okay. She was sound asleep, arms around a teddy bear. Her nightlight gave me just enough to see by, and I went quietly across the room to make sure her blankets were pulled up. I ran a hand over her dark head, just like my own.



“Sleep tight,” I whispered. And silently I swore to her that I would make her life better than mine was. Even if it was the last thing I ever did.





Chapter Nine



Jamie





“Miss Jamie?”



“Jamie,” I corrected, mumbling as I rolled over in bed. I didn’t usually sleep well in strange beds, but this was different. Maybe I was just exhausted from being so worried about Gigi, meeting so many new people. Spending half the night thinking about Lance and the scars on his back. I had spent untold hours thinking about him, imagining what it must have been like to be that little boy. No wonder he turned out the way he did.



“Jamie,” Gigi corrected herself. “Good morning.”



I opened one eye, teasing her. She giggled, standing at the edge of the bed. I grabbed her, pulling her in with me. She giggled helplessly.



“Good morning. How did you sleep?”



She sat up. “Good. It was kinda noisy downstairs, though.”