Page 12 of Snared Rider

He shakes his head. “No, kid, I’m good.”

I head towards the kitchen but slip out a door which leads outside. It’s chilly now the sun is setting, but dusk is coming in slowly. This means there is enough light to see even though the outside security lights are not yet activated.

Quickly, I make my way to the main gates of the compound. This is not what I need tonight; this is not what I need any night. I suppose I should be grateful because it’s been a while since Gina last turned up looking for money, but I’m not. It sounds terrible, but I wish she would just get bored and leave me be because dipping in and out of my life like this is draining.

In the past, I wanted desperately for her to be the mother I dreamed of having, but time (and a good dose of reality) made me realise she will never change. Not for me. She doesn’t care enough, which hurts.

I’m lucky, I guess, that at least I have Dad (and the Club). This has given me the confidence to know the issue is hers, not mine. But still, it plays on my mind.

Am I not enough for her?

Why does she not want me?

She walked out three hours after pushing me out of her body. I was five-years-old the next time I saw her.

Dad handled her back then, but as I got older she came to me directly. I don’t know how she got my mobile number, but if there is one thing I know about my mother it’s that she’s resourceful when it comes to getting what she needs.

I rush across the tarmac of the car park, the main gate in sight. Through the wrought iron bars, I can see a figure stood on the other side. Judging from the waif-like stature I’m sure it is her. No one else could look that emaciated and still be standing.

My heart is pounding as I move towards the gate; I’m angry and maybe a little nervous. I can handle my mother, but she’s unpredictable and that puts me on edge. I never know which version of Gina I will get: sympathetic, irritable, erratic.

She doesn’t come inside the compound, despite the gates being unlocked and unmanned; she’s not stupid. Most brothers know her on sight and most don’t like her for what she did to me and Dad. She wouldn’t have got within a foot of me if she’d tried to gain entry that way. No, her text was the best course of action; she knew I would come out to her, that I wouldn’t want her to make a scene. I hate that I played into her hands.

I pull the gate open enough to allow me to slip through it and storm over to her. I’m far enough away that I’m out of her reach, but close enough to yell at her, which is what I intend to do. I need to sort this shit out before anyone sees her; if Dad locks eyes on her he’ll lose his mind.

“You need to leave.” My voice is firm but unrelenting. It makes no difference; my mother has balls of steel when she needs something. And that is the only reason she’s here.

“But, baby, I just got here.” She throws her arms out in a dramatic fashion that grates on my nerves.

“Too bad. Time to go.”

She looks like crap. Her hair is a lank, greasy mess and her skin is washed out. On closer inspection I can see her clothes are dirty too. I wonder how long she’s been on this latest bender, then decide I don’t care. It’s one bender in a long line of benders and she’s not my problem.

Should I be more sympathetic towards the woman who gave me life? Probably, but she’s never shown me anything but disdain.

Gina waggles a finger at me. “Not until we talk.”

I rub my temple, a headache blooming behind the bone. This is not surprising because Gina can trigger headaches in most people.

“Talk about what?”

She shrugs. “Mother and daughter stuff.”

I snort; I can’t help it. We’ve never been mother and daughter. No matter how much I wish we were. Even now, I still hold out hope she might actually be here for me, even though I know she’s not.

“What’re you really doing here, Gina?”

She rolls her eyes. I’m not sure if she does this because I call her Gina and not mum, or if she’s just irritated by my question. “Like I need a reason to see my own kid.”

She’s drunk or high; it’s impossible to tell which. She’s probably both. She looks like she could do with a good meal over the drugs, but she won’t agree. Drugs and alcohol rule her life. The only time she’s ever been clean was when she carried me, and that was only because Dad made sure she stayed clean. Despite his best efforts, I was born six weeks early, with several health problems.

Unfortunately, not all mothers are created equal and mine certainly falls at the shittier end of the scale. Gina was not cut out to be a mother. I suspect the only reason she didn’t abort me was Dad.

“You need to leave. If Dad sees you here—”

Her hand flicks out. “I couldn’t give two shits about Jack. I’m here for you, baby.”

This time it’s me who rolls my eyes. Her words are so scripted I could speak them before she does. It’s the same words, the same lies, the same story. She couldn’t care less about me and she is definitely not here to see me. In fourteen years she’s never breathed the same air as me unless she needed money, which is undoubtedly why she’s here now. Do I wish that wasn’t the case? Yeah, I do. I’d give anything to have Gina in my life, but she’s made it clear that’ll never happen.

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