branded (phantoms mc #2)

twenty-two: in which she questions her purpose

"I feel what's home, so why don't I belong" –Orjan Nilsen (ft. Neev Kennedy), Anywhere but Here

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"Pussy," Ripper said, "everything okay?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you just mixed bleach with JD."

I stared down at the bottle in my hand as if it weren't mine. Rip was right. Clorox, not Coke, was what I had been pouring into the drink of our first customer that evening. The guy was staring at me, bug-eyed behind his glasses.

"Shit, I'm sorry," I muttered, turning to splash the entire drink into the little sink in one corner of the bar area.

"Yeah, you should go home," Ripper suggested, his voice filled with concern.

"She just tried to poison me!" Bug Eyes hissed at him.

Ripper poured some whiskey into another glass. "It was an honest mistake. Calm the fuck down."

"Calm the—"

"You're right, Rip," I said, scrubbing a hand down my face. "I should go."

I felt a weird sense of déjà vu. Just how many times was Ripper going to rescue me when my mind shut down at The Wreck?

But I ducked under the bar top, grateful. It wasn't like the place was packed anyway. Bug Eyes was our lone customer, which was normal for eleven in the morning. Rita, the cleaner, was mopping one side of the dance floor, AirPods popped in her ears. That was about it. I could leave.

I should leave.

Maybe to another town. No, better yet, another country.

Dana was going to be let out.

Camila seemed to think we could be some weird happy family once Dana was released from prison. She wanted the woman to come stay with us; wanted to fucking care for her. Until what? Until Camila decided that it was time for her and Leo to hit the road? And then who would be stuck with Dana? Me. I would be the one forced to watch her deteriorate, maybe even relapse and get back to the drugs she'd loved more than her own family.

No. No fucking way.

But Camila was adamant. She'd perked up. She'd started taking care of herself. She'd even taken over Eve's cooking, not that Eve even cared anymore. All because Dana would be coming to the place that had once been a safe house.

Thinking about it all over again made me sick to my stomach.

"Where you running off to?"

I froze in my tracks. Ghost was leaning against the doorframe of his office. I hadn't even noticed him there. How long had he been standing there?

"I can't believe we're playing this cat and mouse game again, Pussy." His voice was as harsh as if his words had just reached out and slapped me.

"I haven't been avoiding you. Specifically," I tacked on weakly. "I've just got a lot going on."

Ghost gave what sounded like a bitter laugh. "There's always some excuse."

I sighed. "What's up? What do you want from me?"

"Some fucking respect would be nice."

I was about to say something, but then it hit me: Ghost was shitfaced. And it wasn't even noon.

"What are you talking about?" I said, trying and failing to push him back into his office.

So...gentle nudging wouldn't do.