Then, the unthinkable happened.
Mama suffered a stroke, which left her paralyzed on her left side, unable to care for herself and at the mercy of Einstein. Which means I’m at his mercy, because no matter how much I might want to, I’m not leaving here, and I’m stuck living with Einstein, because Mama Emmaline needs me.
Still, I see the writing on the wall. Something bad is going to happen soon, and I know that, because my stepfather has finally lost what little sanity he might have had.
He kidnapped one of the Deadly Scorpions. I don’t know who; I don’t know which one. I don’t know anything about the Scorpions, other than they’re an outlaw motorcycle club who owns a lot of Texas and has the firepower to back that up.
I don’t know much about bikers, specifically outlaw bikers, but I’m pretty sure having one of their own kidnapped calls for vengeance and a lot of blood.
I just have to find a way to make sure Mama and I don’t get caught in the crossfire.Chapter ThreeLangleyI can hear him moving around downstairs, and every time he grunts out, no doubt trying to escape, my heart speeds up.
Einstein’s passed out on the ratty couch in the living room, the pipe he just hit filled with crystal, but give him a few hours and he’ll finish that off.
I lean to the side, the kitchen chair I’m on squeaky from the shift in movement. Einstein doesn’t stir at all, remaining slouched to the side, the TV on but the volume off. The colors from the screen reflect off his body—reds, purples, blues, and whites. It’s like a kaleidoscope across his too-thin, junkie ass.
I look at the vent on the floor, the one that directly leads to the basement. I swallow, my throat feeling tighter when I hear the sound of shuffling filter up. I stand and head down the hallway to check on Mama. She’s sound asleep, her oxygen tank making this white noise I’ve become accustomed to. As I head back out, I see Einstein’s cigarette resting between his fingers and walk over to him. I take it, snub it out, and just stare at him. I hate him with everything I am.
He’s ruined more lives than I can count, and because of his fucked-up views and goals, he’s going to get Mama and me killed for this shit he just pulled.
I look at the basement door and exhale slowly. They’ll come for him—the MC—and I know when they do, they won’t care who’s innocent. They’ll take down anyone associated with Einstein, and that includes Mama and myself.
I swallow, my heart racing as I step closer to the basement door. The stench of cigarette smoke, old age, and the greasy shit Einstein brought home to eat linger in the air.
Instead of going toward the basement, I head back into the kitchen and grab a cup out of the cupboard. It’s cheap plastic, aged, and worn, the fast food logo on the side all but rubbed off.
I fill it with water from the tap, which probably tastes like chlorine, because the water in this shitty town is fucking disgusting, but I doubt the man in the basement will care about that. I doubt Einstein has given him food or water since he brought him here, so anything at this point is probably a delicacy.
Of course, I’ve thought about letting him go, saving Mama and me, but I’m not stupid. I know, even if I free him, the MC will still come after us for revenge. So right now, I need to make him see me as human, have him relate to me, view me as a person. Maybe, just maybe, I can have him empathize with my situation and spare us.
Just maybe, Mama and I can get out of this alive.
Einstein, on the other hand... I don’t give two shits what happens to him.
I grab a paper plate and head over to the fridge. There’s not much in the way of food selection, not when I have to scrounge this piece of shit house for money just to buy some fresh fruits and vegetables. But there is a box of pizza from last night, so I pull it out, take two slices, and set them on the plate. I nuke them for forty-five seconds, the scent of cheese and pepperoni filling the ‘70s style kitchen.
I glance at the basement door again, unable to hear him through the vent over the hum of the microwave. I zone out, thinking about the type of man he might be, how dangerous or violent he probably is, and if he’ll try to hurt me.
It’s the ding of the microwave ending that draws me back to the present. I take the plate out and grab the water, exhaling slowly and making my way toward the basement door. I glance over my shoulder at Einstein still passed out on the couch. He’d go ape-shit if he knew I’m going downstairs, but fuck his junkie ass. He doesn’t care about Mama or me, and he sure as shit doesn’t care if we make it out alive. He only cares about himself and whatever bent beliefs he has.