“Nah, but pick me up a doggie bag. And one last thing. Repo does the talking, you hear me? These guys are pretty ruthless, don't piss anyone off!”
“My reputation precedes me. I'll be on my bestest behavior, brother. Cross my heart, hope to die,” I mumbled. My head was sore, I could feel the swelling starting.
Tee laughed. “That's what I'm afraid of. Stay outta trouble, man. Good talking with you, Ronin.” He hung up, the line going stale.
Sporadic dots of something wet nipped at my face. I opened my eyes.
Snow. It was barely October.
Fucking New England weather...
I dragged myself to my feet and took another drag off the cigarette. I didn't have to worry about the cold for long. The Knights of the Only Order had a way of heating things up, but I guess that's why our pres wanted me there personally.
In a climate like that, I would thrive.
Chapter One
Flora
I kicked aside the trail of empty bottles. Like usual, they'd accumulated into a pile, circling the body on the floor the way people might surround a casket at a funeral.
Okay, too grim, I chided myself. Bending over my unconscious mother, I wrinkled my nose as the smell of booze assaulted me. Finding my parents like this wasn't new, but each time, I swear it got worse.
Gingerly, I set a bottle of water beside her temple. “Mom,” I hissed. She didn't react. I checked her breathing and, satisfied that she was alive, placed a paper bag near the water. “Hey, Mom, it's Flora. There's a sandwich and some aspirin in there. Okay?”
Not waiting for the response that would never come, I stood up, cracking my back. Taking care of my parents was just part of my reality. Though I'd moved out over four years ago, the day I'd turned eighteen, I'd accepted the responsibility of watching over them. Dopefiends to a fault, they were awful at caring for their own basic needs.
Well, beyond satisfying their addictions.
Call me crazy, but even through all this shit, I still loved them.
Abandoning them never occurred to me.
Until now.
This is different, I reminded myself. It was my mantra, at this point. Things had always been messy in my life, but they'd been predictable. Small towns went one of two ways; they were either Christmas-card-picturesque where everyone new each others' names, or they were like my personal hell, Lakeville. Pretty name. Not a pretty place.
Here, no one cared what anyone else did. The lack of jobs and healthy distractions meant most teens—and adults—spent their time wasting away on whatever they could stick into their bodies. Alcohol was tame, people drove around with open cans of beer and bottles of straight whiskey.
The rest... the rest of them found solace in the warm kiss of a needle.
My parents were no exception.
But like I'd said, I was used to that. I didn't touch the shit, and I could thank my mom and dad for that. You'd think most kids wouldn't emulate their parents after seeing them sleeping in their own vomit for days at a time.
Most probably do. Just... not all of them.
My older sister, for example, fell in with the wrong crowd. It was easy for her, especially when she knew the dealers our own parents used by name.
So, yeah, there's a reason I hate the stuff. I also know it's just stuff, it's not who these people are. Not deep down. My parents are messed up, but they really love me.
Even if it isn't obvious.
But my sister? Claudine? She showed me that she cared. And that was new. She was all I had for a very, very long time. That's why, even if no one else gives a fuck...
I'm going to find her.
Inching around the rotting wood of the doorway, I leaned into the backyard. It was the last place my dad would be, but I had to check. The air was cool, the right kind of chill for Nebraska. Especially with Fall creeping around the corner. In no time at all, October would be on us. “Dad?” My voice was stale in the late hour. “Dad, you out here?”
Tugging my jacket high around my throat, I pushed my thick, reddish hair away from my ears. My skin was already turning pink; I hated the cold.
In the low light of the fading day, the backyard was some weird combination of junkyard and museum. Old, gutted vehicles sat in the same spot they always would. Next to a rusted lawnmower, a dusty, turquoise plastic tricycle appeared out of place.
Crunching on the gravel, I watched my breath flow into existence. I never liked coming back home, no matter how many times I did it. Will they be okay without me? The thought alone was twisting my guts. Of course they'll be fine. Worry about Claudine.
No one else would, after all.
It had been over a week, time had flown by. One night, she just didn't come back to the tiny studio apartment we shared together. According to her text, she was hanging out with her new boyfriend, but when neither of them answered their phones the next day... or the day after... I knew something was off.